Disclaimer: The following work of fan fiction was created neither for sale nor profit nor to darken the reputations of the characters or their creators. "Pirates of the Caribbean" is the property of Disney.

~ Buggery on the High Seas~ by Ruby Isabella

"I fully expected we'd meet up someday." Commodore Norrington's gaze crawled the small ship from bow to stern. "But I assumed it would be under less...."


"Circumstances, yes." He settled his flinty stare finally on Will. "And where, Captain Turner--it is Captain now, isn't it?"

Will gave a single nod.

"Where is the feisty Miss Swan? I'd half expected to see her on deck, barking orders and cracking a whip." One corner of his mouth pulled into a tight, satisfied smile. His eyes, hard and suspicious, once again searched the deck.

Will, meanwhile, swallowed, took a deep breath, and attempted to form an answer that sounded like the truth even if it wasn't, in fact, really _completely_ such. He was saved from his lie by the crash of a wooden door against a wooden wall. Both he and the Commodore turned.

"Commodore Norrington," slurred the cause of the ruckus. A sour smile twisted itself across Jack's mouth as he dropped a shoulder against the door frame.


"_Commodore_ Sparrow," Jack corrected him. He swirled the liquid in the bottom of his rum bottle. "_Commodore_ Sparrow. And what brings you on board anyway? Defecting from the Royal Navy, are we?"

Norrington's eyes remained on Jack long enough to make the point that he was about to ignore him, and then they turned to Will. "Perhaps you and Miss Swan would care to join me for dinner this evening."

"Miss Swan," Jack announced as he pushed his rag-doll body off the door frame, "is not here, but I would be delighted to attend dinner with yourself and Captain Turner in her stead."

Norrington's lips thinned.

"At what time will you expect us?" Will asked.

Norrington narrowed his eyes as he glanced once more toward Jack. Then: "Seven. Dinner is at seven." Stiffly he turned toward the gangplank that had been laid between the Dauntless and Will's ship, the Forge.

"Seven it is then, mate!" Jack called after him. "We'll be there with bells on!"


Norrington settled back in the heavy wooden chair at the head of the table. "So, Turner. You still haven't said."


"Said where the fair lady has gotten off to. Don't tell me you dumped her in Tortuga to fend for herself."

Jack snorted.

Will tugged at his napkin.

Norrington lifted an eyebrow.

"Well, dinner's been great, mate--"

"Miss Swan has a mind of her own, as you well know," Will cut in quietly.

"Yes, and her absence gives me hope that it's mind that has finally realized the folly of cavorting with pirates."

Jack cleared his throat and when that didn't pull the attention of his dinner mates toward him, he lifted his knee sharply into the underside of the table. Bolted down as it was, it didn't move, but the silverware and glasses on its surface jumped.

"Well, dinner's been great, mate," he said again, having gained Will's sullen and Norrington's distracted attention. "And now Captain Turner and I would like to invite you for an after-dinner drink on the second finest ship in our fleet."

"You only have two ships in your...fleet," Norrington said.

"And that changes what?"

"I'm afraid I'll have to politely decline your offer--"

"Now Commodore." Jack lifted his cup and examined its amber contents. "We appreciate the trouble you've gone to, and the food has been first rate-- far better than the fare you'd find on the Forge. However, your liquor is little more than colored water and the least we can do to repay your hospitality is to offer you the same quality drink as you've given in food."

Norrington, folding his napkin, pursed his lips in preparation for a second polite refusal.

"Come on, Commodore. You've already had pirates to dinner in your private quarters. I hardly think that a bit of a tipple on board our own ship will further blacken your reputation. And perhaps--" Jack's left eye twinkled. "Perhaps a little rum might loosen our jaws when it comes to Miss Swan's departure...and her present whereabouts."

Norrington's gaze flickered up from the napkin at Elizabeth's mention.

"Come on, Commodore. Be a sport. Come have a drink with two old...acquaintances."

Norrington's eyes sought Will's approval. Will, in turn, shrugged. His attention was more focused on his cup, which he clasped with both hands and rubbed its filigreed metal surface with his thumbs, than in the prospect of having the Commodore as a guest on his ship.

"It's settled then!" Liquor splashed as Jack banged the bottom of his own cup on the table. The splashing seemed to remind him that liquor--even the weak, watery kind--was not to be wasted. He drained the remains in a swallow.


"I am so glad to hear," Norrington started unsteadily, "that Elizabeth came to her senses and in a swirl of petticoats took her leave." With a near- empty rum bottle curled in his hand, he leaned into Will's face. "She was too good for either of you. And _especially_ too good for you." He made an exaggerated turn toward Jack.

"Elizabeth, Elizabeth, Elizabeth. It's not as though you were madly in love with her, mate."

"I dare you to say that again," Norrington slurred. He patted his hip for a sword but found none. He had left it on his own ship. So instead he raised an index finger and pointed it at Jack's chin. "I dare you."

Jack, a bored look fixed on face, took a pained breath before explaining. "You proposed to Miss Swan because you felt that, considering your age, rank, and standing in the community, it was high time you acquired the accoutrements of such--the accoutrements in this case of course being a wife of appropriate standing in the community, in this case the Governor's beautiful and only daughter. Maybe you convinced yourself that you felt some great love for lovely lady, but you failed to convince anyone else of such. Savvy?"

"You're a selfish, ridiculous, drunk liar."

"Ah, here's where you're wrong again. The only one in these quarters who's drunk would be you. It's that weak rum of yours. It in no way prepared you for the real stuff. Cheers." Jack clinked the bottom of his bottle with Norrington's. "Drink up."

"I think," Norrington said as he leaned against the wall, his bottle of rum cradled against his chest, "that you could have done better with your life, Turner."

"_Captain_ Turner," Jack muttered. He frowned at his bottle.

Will ignored Norrington's opinion on his life and instead wondered how much longer the night could go on--and what, exactly, Jack was up to. The latter he had a pretty good idea about, however, and his suspicion was confirmed hardly a minute later.

"I've always wondered," Jack said, "what it would have been like if I'd joined the Royal Navy instead of...well, you know, instead of becoming a pirate."

Norrington snorted. "Please."

"What? I'm as good a sailor as the next." With a jingling of trinkets, he leaned toward Norrington. A dark finger poked Norrington in the arm. "Better even. And you can't deny that."

"But the Royal Navy...."

"You just don't have the imagination for it, Commodore. That's your problem. Utter lack of imagination. You have to have everything shown to you."

"Is that so?"

Will, eyes rolling upward--he could see Jack's plan sailing in from a mile off--took a pull from his own bottle of rum.

"That's so. Here, let me show you," Jack said. "For, like I said, you obviously need to be shown."

"Give me my hat!" Norrington reached but succeeded in grabbing only a handful of Jack's battered brown hat. He tossed it behind him.

"Your coat." Jack flapped his fingers.

"You're mad."

"I'm illustrating a point. Hand me your coat. I'll return it in good condition before you've even had a chance to miss it."

Norrington looked to Will for help. Will pressed the lip of his bottle against his own lips and turned the bottom of the bottle up. Norrington, as far as he was concerned, was on his own.

"Sparrow, give me back my hat." Again he swooped toward Jack, who caught him lightly by the shoulders.

"Stop it!" Norrington grabbed at his own coat, which Jack was pulling down his arms.

Jack's efforts met resistance at Norrington's elbows, which caused Jack to frown in thought. Then: "Turn around. That's a good man." His hands convinced the tipsy Norrington to put his back to him, though he argued the whole way.

"That's good. Be over in just a moment." He swept Norrington's coat off his back-stretched arms and deftly threw it over his own shoulders. "Am I starting to look like I could have joined the Royal Navy yet, Commodore?"

"Rubbish," Norrington said. He tripped over one of his own feet and lurched sideways. The narrow bunk and the wall alongside it caught him.

"Your imagination truly is unfortunate, Commodore. Give me your shirt." He dropped a knee to the bunk and reached for Norrington's shirt.


"_Commodore_ Sparrow." He stopped trying to work the topmost button nicely and instead ripped it free of its hole. "_Commodore._"

Norrington blinked at him.

Will began to count in his head. One...two...thr--

Jack, his fingers clutching Norringon's shirtfront pulled Norrington forward and pressed his lips against the inebriated Commodore's mouth.

Will sighed, looked down at his now-empty bottle. Tossed it aside. When he looked up again, Jack had Norrington pressed against the wall alongside the bunk. His hand covered Norrington's mouth. Norrington's eyes were closed and he wasn't struggling too fiercely. Will couldn't see Jack's face, but by the movements of the tangled hair at the back of his head he was able to guess that Jack was nipping and licking on Norrington's neck. Or ear.

_Ah, well._

He pulled himself to his feet. He considered a fresh bottle of rum, decided on fresh air instead. Before letting himself out the door, he glanced over his shoulder. Norrington, in an improbable (yet not impossible) turn of events, was pulling at the front of Jack's trousers as he licked Jack's thumb.

The fresh air was welcome indeed. He tipped his chin up and regarded the stars.


"Captain Turner! A ship approaches!"

Will turned to see Crown picking his way quickly toward him.

"Have a look." Crown pressed a telescope into Will's hand. "It was too far off to catch its flags, but maybe now--"

"Oh no." Will pulled the eyepiece from his eye, blinked, and then raised it again. The second look verified the first. He handed the telescope back to Crown, hardly giving the man a glance, and turned hurriedly toward his quarters.

"Jack," he said, coming through the door. "Jack get up. It's her."

"Huh?" Jack half sat up beneath Norrington, whose mouth was working his way down Jack's bared chest.

"Elizabeth. Her ship."

Norrington froze. Jack cursed and flopped onto his back.

"Elizabeth?" Norrington asked, turning his head toward Will.

"Yes, Elizabeth. Jack, get up."

"Elizabeth," Norrington repeated. He seemed lost for another second, and then he mobilized. "Elizabeth! And here I am--Give me my coat!" He wrenched it from under Jack's shoulders.

"She ruins everything," Jack muttered. Scowling, he propped himself on his elbows. "She's a big wet blanket, always throwing herself on my fires. And putting them out," he added.

"Captain Turner!" called a familiar voice from outside--not loud enough to be on the other side of the door, but loud enough to at least be boarding his ship.

"Lady love calls you...." Jack gestured toward the door. Norrington, meanwhile, displayed increasing panic as he tried to get his shirt buttoned and his coat on straight, both at the same time.


Will backed out of the room. The door closed on its own as he turned. And there, smiling haughtily, stood Elizabeth Swan, captain of the Lady's Hope.


"Captain Swan. Where's your friend?"

Will nodded toward the door behind him.

"Ah. Indisposed or drunk? Don't tell me. Both."

Just then, the door banged open. Norrington, fitting on his hat, stumbled out. When he caught sight of Elizabeth, his breath hitched, and then he remembered himself. He straightened. "Miss Swan."

"_Captain_ Swan, Commodore. And I can't say I expected to see you crawling out of Captain Sparrow's little den of sin."

"It's not--"

"_Commodore_ Sparrow," Jack corrected wearily, leaning in the doorway. "_Commodore._"

"I can explain, Elizabeth."

"_Captain Swan._ And I can't wait to hear it. It must be a truly riveting piece of fiction."


Elizabeth crossed her arms.

"To what do we owe the pleasure of your...." Jack waved a hand as though searching for words. Finally, he settled on, "What are you doing on my ship?"

"Where's the Pearl, Jack?"

"Docked for repairs. It's having a canon hole or two filled."

"Of course." Then: "You don't look happy to see me, Will."


Elizabeth strode across the deck. She put her hands on the railing and looked across to the Dauntless. "Don't tell me your men are sleeping on the job, Commodore."

Will made a quick survey of the other ship's deck. Not a man was in sight. He turned his attention back to Elizabeth just in time to hear the splash of the gangway stretching between the Dauntless and the Forge hitting the water. Elizabeth turned, grinning. Then she lifted her chin toward her own ship, behind them.

Slowly, Will turned.

And found himself faced with Elizabeth's well-armed and well-numbered crew.

"Shhh," he heard Elizabeth say and turned to see her finger at her lips. She wasn't speaking to him, however. "Let's do this quietly," she said to her crew. "We wouldn't want to disturb the Commodore's men."

In what seemed like minutes--or hours, depending on which of the men you asked--the three men, along with the Forge's unfortunate crew, stood naked on the deck watching the Lady's Hope sail away with not only their clothes but their recently acquired plunder as well.

"A woman scorned," Jack said, scratching himself. "A woman _pirate_. It's even worse."

"What on earth did you do to make her that mad?" Norrington asked. His hands gripped the rail as he stared at the retreating ship.

Jack, Will noted, was tilting his head to get another look at Norrington's manhood.

"It's what poor, young, virile Turner _didn't_ do with her that's got her skirts in a bunch," Jack answered. He hung an arm over Will's shoulder. Will, too, watched the Lady's Hope shrink to a dark dot on the horizon. Eventually, he slid his arm around Jack's waist. Sure, Jack was...easy-- that wasn't news--but Jack was all he wanted. The rest...well, he could put up with that.

He squeezed Jack's waist. "She didn't dump all the rum."

Jack pulled away and gawked at him. "She turned the whole ship upside- down!"

"She didn't dump all the rum," Will repeated, a smile pushing its way across his face.

Jack, eyes twinkling, threw his arms around Will. "God, I love ya, mate."

"What am I supposed to do?" Norrington asked. His body shone pale--far paler than Jack's or Will's--in the moonlight.

"Have another drink," Jack offered. "As soon as Will here tells us where he hid it."

"Fat lot of good that'll do." Norrington frowned at his own ship, its deck and portholes still dark as its crew slumbered and shirked their duties. Norrington, Will guessed, was in no hurry to wake them and reveal his predicament.

"You can swim across, climb on board, find a stitch of clothing to climb into, and pretend as if none of this ever happened." Jack tipped toward him. "We won't tell."

Norrington studied Jack's face, then regarded the Dauntless, then narrowed his eyes at Jack once more as though trying to discern the trustworthiness of his statement.

"Go on," Will said. "Honestly, we won't tell if you won't."

Norrington again looked at his ship.

"Well, I'm going to find some rum. And Will here is going to come along to make my task a whole lot easier. What you do, Norrington, is entirely up to you."

"You promise?" Norrington asked Will. "You won't say a word?"

Will drew a finger across his closed mouth. Jack pulled on him. When Jack managed to pull him away, Norrington was still staring at the ship. Just as Will was about to climb belowdeck, he heard a splash.

Jack, below him, looked up, grinning.

"So," Will said, settling himself on the deck with his legs dangling in the hole that led below.

"So what?"

"So how come not one of the Dauntless's crew was on watch?"

"I might have...."

Will lifted a brow.

The words rushed out of Jack at once, right before he turned and headed into the darkness belowdeck. "I might have made a gift of a barrel--or two-- of rum to the crew while we were having dinner. In hindsight, it appears to have been a poor idea. Can we go find the last of _our_ rum now?"

Will shook his head. He looked up at the stars. He laughed. And then, finally, he climbed down the ladder to lead Jack to the hidden cache of rum where they would, mostly likely, sit around drinking said rum, right there, until they passed out. And perhaps before their lights went out, they might fool around a time or two as well.

"Are you sure," Jack said, grabbing Will by the shoulders. "That she didn't get _all_ the rum."

"I'm sure, Jack."

"Look me in the eye and say that."

"I can't even see your eyes. Did she take all the lamps as well?" He couldn't see, but he _could_ feel Jack coming at him, pushing his bare back against the rough wall. Rum-flavored lips slid against his own. Hot, rum- soaked breath filled his mouth. Maybe, he thought, they'd fool around a time or two before they groped their way to the rum, too.

Jack pressed his face against Will's ear. "I can't tell you, lad, how glad I am that woman walked in on us that day."

"And just how many times before that day did you try to set it up so she'd walk in us?"

After a moment and a few kisses on the side of Will's neck, Jack said, "Maybe...six?"

Will laughed. "We'd only been together five times before then."

"There was a time or two where I was a little farther from the goal of my plan than I'd hoped. Doesn't mean I wasn't making an effort to set it up."

"I wonder if he's got on his ship yet."

"Norrington? Maybe we should get up on deck and yell 'man overboard'. Wouldn't want him to drown, would we?"

"Maybe." He tongued the hollow at Jack's throat. "Maybe later."

"After sex."

"After rum."

"After a good night's sleep."

"All right."

"It's a plan, then."

"It's a plan, then, Commodore Sparrow."

"Say that again." Jack's fingers dug into Will's shoulders. "Say that again, but with a mouthful...."

"Yes, sir, Commodore Sparrow," Will agreed with a wicked grin.