Now that the fight was over -- the battle won -- Barbossa was feeling his age. Every muscle in his body ached, carrying with it the memory of blows struck or parried, of the wheel twisting in his hands.
He wanted to do nothing more than collapse in his bed and sleep.
But Jack Sparrow had gotten there first. And by the trail of clothes he'd left strewn across the floor of the cabin, he was wearing absolutely nothing.
Watching him sleep, Barbossa was tempted to leave -- to find an abandoned hammock because he didn't have anything left for an argument. But then the younger man opened his eyes, and pride demanded he not leave without a fight. "Get out of my cabin, Sparrow. That's the Captain's bed."
"The Captain is in the bed."
Barbossa rolled his eyes, though irritation was fast losing ground to exhaustion. He groped for a witty rejoinder, but found none.
He was surprised -- and relieved -- when Jack said "Parley?"
"What terms are yeh proposin'?"
That we share the bed." He let the notion hang in the air for a moment before clarifying; "I take the port side and you take starboard.
"And you stab me in my sleep."
"I was thinking we should declare a truce. A temporary cessation of hostilities until the end of forenoon watch tomorrow."
"So no tryin' to kill each other -- " he bared his teeth at Jack " -- or succeedin' at it, either. No attempts to sieze the Pearl."
"None whatsoever, mate." He smiled, and moved so that he was only taking up half the bed. "So, do we have an accord?"
"Aye," Barbossa said. He removed his weapons (most of them, anyhow), hat, coat, and boots, and settled himself on top of the covers with his back to Jack. He'd almost dropped into an exhausted sleep when Jack curled up against him.
"Yer on me side," Barbossa growled, but Jack didn't move, and dislodging him would have required a fair bit of moving on his own part. Tired as he was, it was easier just to ignore the situation. Within minutes, he was asleep.