ARG!!! Why must I fail in every attempt?!?!?! I meant to have this out a week ago, and look where I am. Jebus. Arg!!!!!!!!!! But I'd like to say thanks for loving me anyway. And if you don't, :: sniffs:: I'm sorry!!!!
D/c: I don't own anything that has already been legally claimed.
At first, Will hadn't been sure of the explanation of Jack's behaviour. After all, the pirate wasn't known to be shy or unsure of himself, so at first it had seemed completely unfeasible. However, he had decided to keep quiet and just watch the pirate, and after two days of doing so, he thought there might be some truth to the idea. He still hadn't been given a position, still remained in his own cabin and the crew didn't show any signs of letting up on the jokes. He was known as 'the pet', 'love', 'the lad', or, his favourite, 'whelp'.
However, the crew seemed to have adjusted to his presence well enough, as he was always onboard drinking, laughing, joking and singing with them. On the rare night that some form of party wasn't happening, (saving up the rum, Will supposed) he would simply stare at the stars, estimating how far they had travelled, imagine what Elizabeth was doing. Will would idly wonder if she was missing him as much as he was missing her. Will never thought he would admit it, but he was missing her almost to the point of sickness. They were never very close as lovers, but since Jack had come, he had discovered a wonderful friend in his wife. In a way, he had fallen in love with her again, but is a different context. It was almost if Jack and Elizabeth had traded spaces.
Will shook his head but grinned. For some reason, everything out on the open sea seemed to be better. Even if everything was pickled or dried, and his friends were drunken pirates, it seemed like he could never tire of this place. Maybe if was the promise of finding his father. Maybe it was the promise of discovering more about Jack.
Shaking his train of thought off, Will pulled on his shoes, and jovially skipped down to breakfast. Well, as much as a blacksmith can skip.
In all truth, Will HAD meant to go down to breakfast. After all, he was a hardworking pirate, and thus constantly hungry. However, he couldn't help but have his curiosity peaked when he saw Anamaria hunched over a rather large crate. Carefully he took a few cautious steps towards her, trying to avoid being seen.
"Will, if you're just going to hover there you could at least help, you know." The African woman grumbled. He took a step back, amazing at her omniscient knowledge.
"What ARE you doing, exactly?" He replied, staring cautiously at the rum bottle she had in her hands. At his inquiry, Anamaria smirked, a smirk full of all the evil and vileness of Satan himself could ever possibly hope for. It scared her companion a bit.
"Jack's been a bit odd lately, as we have discussed, righ'?" she asked. Will nodded, taking another cautious step back. "Well," she continued, without glancing at him, "I thought was sort of vile thing could possibly make Jack Sparrow act like himself again? And the answer came to me, like a rock hittin' me square in the 'ead. His rum. So I came up with an ingenious plan. Maybe I come across a bottle tha' don't taste quite right. Well, we'd 'ave to toss the rest overboard, or at least taste every bottle to see if the entire shipment is ruined. It's in the code, you see. Now Jack'll not only have no rum, the entire crew'll be drunk." Will frowned.
"That seems a bit overly cruel, seeing as who we're dealing with." Anamaria finally got up, bottle in hand and turned to shake her head at Will.
"When you become a pirate, things like this are child's play." She tucked the bottle in a sash tied around her waist. "Now c'mon. We have a crew to torture."
The crew wasn't totally stupid. Despite the fact none of them ever seemed to totally have their wits about them, they knew something was a bit disorderly when Anamaria complained of the odd bottle.
"Rum don't go bad." Dawkson, a scrawny yet surprising brawny 15 year old said.
"Wot 'e said." Nodded Smith, a former blacksmith who Will found quite talkative. "'Sides, 'ows it taste odd?" After many of these sorts of comments, Anamaria growled, and resorted to threats to get the crew to drink up the rest of the rum. After making several promises that Barbossa would have shied away from, the crew all but ran to the supply room to pick up a bottle or two. Anamaria and Will tailed along, not wanting to look like they had commit the crime.
Will was wondering what the only female pirate and he were going to do, when said pirate slammed a bottle into his chest. He looked up at her, startled.
"I'm not sure it's right to get drunk this early." Will admitted, taking the bottle anyway. Anamaria's eyes darkened slightly.
"Better get drunk while ye still can, lad. Jack won't be happy."
By the time Jack had come, the crew was pleasantly drunk and singing a rather lewd song about a certain queen. Will was pleasantly not there, and wondered why the sight of Jack was bringing a slightly dreadful feeling into his stomach. The pirate raised his eyebrow, looking around suspiciously at his drunken companions.
"What's this?" he demanded, just missing his unconscious cabin boy by one step. "It's rotten luck to get drunk before supper, and without me too."
"It's gone!" Anamaria crowed, giving a drunken swagger. Jack frowned.
"'It' wouldn't happen to be the rum now, would it love?" Anamaria giggled, then held onto Jack's coat to steady herself.
In his drunken state, Will once again saw Jack as someone worthy to study. He noted the dread locks in the pirates hair and beard were back, and at some point he had gotten the beads back. His hair still wasn't as long at it usually was, and his beard was just barely long enough to get the beads on. He seemed to be a bit deal grungier then before, and his skin was once again as bronze as gold. His English, which had been somewhat refined by his stay at the Swann household, was once again rough and rather crude. Over all, Jack was getting back to looking like himself.
Disentangling himself from the drunken woman, Jack made his way towards Will. The former-blacksmith eyed him warily, vaguely aware of how bad this could possibly go. A small fire seemed to glow angrily in Jack's eyes as he crouched down beside him.
"Will," he said softly, dark eyes boring into him. Will suddenly couldn't remember anything, and felt like kissing the man in front of him. "I know you're not the kind of man to pull this stunt. Yer a good, honest whelp, eh? Well, just tell me what this is all about and you're off the hook."
At first, Will was a bit confused. This? What was this? Then something clicked, and he nodded slowly, his dark hair shifting. Should he tell Jack? He was such a nice man. But then Anamaria would be mad. Women weren't fun when they were mad. So confusing.
"Lad?" Will groaned as he felt something come up. He heaved over, missing the look of disgust on Jack's face as he lost his stomach contents of Jack's shoe.
"Is that the whole story Miss Turner?" Gillette asked.
"Yes." She replied icily, glaring at the lieutenant from under the safety of the Commodore's coat.
"I think that's enough questioning for today." James Norrington said, nodding stiffly at his crew member. Gillette nodded a bit more lucidly, bowed towards the lady, and all but ran out the door.
"Bastard." Elizabeth mumbled darkly. Despite himself, Norrington chuckled.
"He's quite a good man, if not a bit on the slow side." Elizabeth stared at the Captain a moment.
"Did you sleep with him?" Norrington raised his eyebrows, staring at the girl in a perturbed way.
"May I ask you to repeat that?" he asked, voice straining. Where did such a protected rich girl learn such vulgarity?
Elizabeth seemed to realize what she had done, and blushed a light shade of pink. "I beg your pardon. It's just… all the rumours you hear about the navy and the military, I thought…" her thoughts faltered as the intensity of the Commodore's stare increased. She put her head down, blushing brightly. Things like that could get her in serious trouble. "Forgive me, it was imprudent to ask." She mumbled. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the Commodore still staring, but nodding slightly.
"So, there's nothing more you wish to add to your testimony, Mrs. Turner?" Elizabeth widened her eyes, surprised at the change in topic. However she raised her head and allowed her somber mask to slip over.
"Alright." Norrington nodded stiffly, and did a jerky bow. "We will work our hardest on it. Thank you for your co-operation, Elizabeth." On the last word, his eyes softened slightly, and his companion nodded.
"Thank you for coming over, James." With another bow, Norrington left, never looking behind him. In spite of herself, Elizabeth smiled as she snuggled deeper in the Commodore's coat. She could have given it back. However, at this point, she wasn't sure she wanted to.
Jack wasn't happy. No one had expected him to be though, and even in their drunken states the crew realized how much trouble they were in as their captain paced back and fourth.
"Is anyone going to take the blame for this?" Jack demanded, looking around, the same fire still lit in his eyes. No one dared rat out his female mate. Jack was a scary man, but hell hath no furry like the scorn of a woman. Especially a woman pirate.
"Very well. We'll be forced to stop in the nearest town 'en. Charlotteville." Everyone, excusing the captain and Will, groaned. The blacksmith, who had slightly sobered up since decorating Jack's boot, looked around in confusion.
"What's so bad 'bout that?" Will whispered to Gibbs. Gibbs shook his head.
"Charoletteville's the mos' boring, poor town this side o' the Caribbean. Some say a good blast o' wind could ransack th' town." Will nodded, slowly sitting up straight. Land. Again. It seemed too good to be true, in a way.
"Can't believe the bastard is making up get off in Charloetteville." Anamaria fumed, digging her nails into her palm.
"Supposed we shouldn't mention 'oose fault 'his is." Don reminded her, taking the last piece of bread. The dark woman shot him a dirty look.
"I can't imagine 'm the on'y 'un who doesn't wanna stop." She pointed out.
"I don't know. I miss some things about land." Will broke in. Everyone stared at the usually silent man.
"Like firm ground?" someone else asked.
"Women." The entire crew laughed as Anamaria docked Ron upside the head.
"I miss me kids the mos'." Samuel, the crew's lookout admitted. Several of the men nodded.
"I've go' a daugh'er back in Tortuga." Jason, a burly man told. "She's 8 in 'bout a month."
"I've got a boy."
The conversation came to a halt as the Captain walked in. Surveying the room, he settled for a seat next to Don. The entire crew watched his every move, especially Anamaria.
"What're you up 'ere for?" She demanded. Jack frowned.
"Me dear, since ye all drank me rum, I guess I 'ave to talk to you scallywags for entertainment." The crew burst out into a hearty laugh, but as it died down there was an awkward silence again.
"Since you bough' up the topic Will, whadyou miss the mos' 'bout land?" Gibbs asked. Everyone stared at Will intently. The blacksmith frowned for a moment, then smiled.
"Roses." There was silence once again, then loud laughter. Will chuckled slightly. It was odd. But roses reminded him of Elizabeth, they way she smelt, the rosiness in her cheeks. He truly missed Elizabeth the most. Not as a lover so much, but as his best friend
By this time some of the crew were pounding their fists on the table, crying out 'Roses!' in a giggle. This wasn't the smartest thing, however, as the lead weights on the bottom gave way to their weight and all the dishes clattered on the floor and the crew. Everyone seemed to laugh harder, however, until they all ran out of breath. After another small silence, Will turned towards Captain Sparrow.
"What do you miss most about land, Jack?" They made eye contact, and after holding Will in his gaze, he replied.
"There's nothing to miss anymore."
Arg!!! I'm sorry, it's taking a awfully long time to get to the good bits. I promise a big make out scene in at least the chapter after the next. However I'll try and squeeze in one next chapter if I can :)