Setting: Two days post-movie
Captain Jack Sparrow awoke slowly, the familiar haze of a hangover making this a difficult process. Something felt very odd but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
He had only been restored as captain of the Black Pearl for two days, but that wasn't it. Far from feeling peculiar, the sway of his ship's deck beneath him felt right in a way nothing else did.
Jack put a hand to his forehead and brushed back his tangled hair and beads with a grimace. Definitely a rum headache. While the hangover wasn't exactly pleasant, it was by no means unfamiliar. So, no, that wasn't what seemed odd.
He wiggled his toes. They were still there. He made fists. They were still there, too. All his limbs were intact. That wasn't it.
He managed to clear his vision enough to take in his surroundings. This was his cabin. There was his hat on the table, next to his pistol. That was all normal.
Jack raised himself up on one elbow and squinted. It was nearly noon, judging by the sun angle through the window. Also not particularly unusual. Rum didn't make one into a morning person.
Just then he realized that the beads in his hair were all he was wearing. Again, not unprecedented. On sultry Caribbean nights it was far more comfortable to sleep that way.
He managed to sit up on the edge of the bed with an involuntary moan. The remedy for too much rum the night before was rum for breakfast, of course. He waited for the room to stop spinning before attempting to locate a fresh keg. Maybe a drink would help him figure out what it was that felt so odd.
Just as he was getting his bearings to stand up, however, it suddenly became excruciatingly clear.
"Morning, Captain Sparrow."
He turned around.
Anamaria was lying in his bed. She didn't have beads in her hair or anything else on her body besides a flock of tattoos across her shoulderblades.
Jack slurred out a startled profanity. He would definitely need more rum. Now.
She stretched luxuriously and gave a twisted smirk. "You still owe me a ship, you know."
He repeated the curse, throwing in a few new adjectives for emphasis. There wasn't enough rum in the Caribbean to get him out of this mess...
Disclaimer: Disney owns everything. This be just a fan tribute, and this lowly wench makes not a doubloon from any of it.