SUMMARY: Take Jack Sparrow, add Will Turner. Cover for volatile reaction. Chop up bridled attraction, add liberally, and stir vigorously. What do you get? Sexual tension and slash fanfiction. Duh.
DISCLAIMER: If it were mine, it wouldn't have been a blockbuster movie. It wouldn't have involved Orlando Bloom, Johnny Depp, Geoffrey Rush and Keira Knightley. Gore Verbinski would not havecome anywhere near. Jerry Bruckheimer would have run for miles. As it is? It wasn't mine, and it's actually quite a good movie... ;-)
Here it is! My first ever, all singing, all dancing, all non-explicit, published SLASH FANFICTION! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is SLASH, aka shounen-ai, otherwise known as boixboi, but best known as HOMOSEXUAL RELATIONSHIPS. Between a MAN anda MAN. If you don't like it, tickets are non refundable, but you may apply for free ice cream on your way out.
This is also, I admit, my first ever Pirates of the Caribbean fanfiction, too - took me WEEKS to learn how to spell 'caribbean'. I blush for my former self.
Equally, it's my first ever FINISHED FANFICTION! I'm so proud!
A note in passing. I categorically refuse to be flamed for this. I am not the first, nor will I be I the last, to publish slash, and quite frankly, if you're juvenile enough to flame me for it, you probably shouldn't be on this website. Because, let's face it, it's only silly little children who bother to say horrible things for no reason, isn't it? And we're all supposed to be over 13 here. So either you're just juvenile, or a liar. If you decide to flame me, well... you know which one you are.
But constructive criticism is always welcomed. In fact, more than welcomed, I would be flattered to think that someone took the time to tell me about it.
All mistakes are my own, as I couldn't get anyone silly enough to beta my work, and therefore take the blame for the mistakes I put in after they'd read it through. ;-)
Please, read, learn, inwardly digest, and review. Go on. It makes me smile.
"You, mate," Jack said to his near-by first mate "Need a girl."
"I had a girl." His first mate reminded him, sourly. "It didn't work out too well, did it?"
"Eh, I meant a proper girl." Jack qualified, waving a hand emphatically. "Not a washed out, society wench like old, up-her-own-arse Elizabeth Swann. A real, up for anything, high-living, high-spirited girl of the world."
"Jack." The first mate said, firmly. "I am not taking a whore."
Jack turned back to the rail, and said, resentfully "You've entirely too many morals for a man in your career."
"It's got nothing to do with morals, Jack." Will said, quietly. "I'm saving myself."
"You're a virgin!" Jack's eyes brightened. "Well, we'll have to relieve you of that…"
"I said, I'm saving myself. For someone who wants me."
"Who says I don't want you?" Jack countered, leaning forwards on the rail. "I might dream of you every night."
"Oh, so that's the reason for all those moans?" Will asked, sarcastically. "And here was me thinking that you were with whores! Well, strike me for a fool…"
"If you're offering…" Jack leered. "We've got a wonderful way with fools here…" Will gave an eloquent sigh, and pushed himself off the rail.
"Jack, if you had me, you'd have to be prepared to keep me. You'd have to want me, in port and out of port, more than all those whores of yours, when I'm sweaty and bloody after a battle, or too tired for you to fuck after a day of repairs. You'd have to be prepared to deal with any moods I might get in. You'd have to want me all the time. I don't do one night things. You – you just want a good lay while you're out at sea."
"How d'you know you're a good lay, if you're a virgin?" Jack asked.
"I never said that I'd never had girls." Will grinned, suddenly the good tempered man they all knew, rather than the serious, almost philosophical man Jack had just been talking to. "I know what to do during sex, and I'm good at it. But no man's ever had me. And anyway, what do you care? You think I'm a eunuch."
He was the other side of the ship by the time Jack said, stunned. "You're saving yourself for a man!"
"Hey, William!" Gibbs called over to the first mate. "What's to be done? Captain's on shore, and we're fast running out of wood for this…"
Will looked up from his hammering, and consequentially slammed the hammer down on his thumb.
"Shit!" he swore, violently, looking at the bruise already forming under the nail, and rapidly spreading down the thumb, and onto the rest of the hand. In under a few minutes, that hand was going to be unusable, without movement in the thumb. His brief moment of real pain gone, he looked up, and addressed himself to Gibbs problem. "Can you manage the ship?" he asked, thoughtfully.
"Aye." Anamaria said, from the other side of the deck, where she was patching one of the sails. "We can, him 'n' me. Him I can work with." She looked directly at Will. "You, I can work with. Jack had better stay out of my way for the moment, tearing the sail after all the trouble we went to for him to have himself black sails, and him repaying us by ripping 'em during a roll in the sheets."
Will considered what she was saying. "I think it was a roll in the sails, really." He amended fairly, and ducked as she chucked a shoe at him. It hit the gangway, and Will fetched it, and returned it.
It had taken months to make the ship seaworthy with a normal crew, when it was no longer powered by the curse. Jack had insisted on keeping the sails black, but in the end, the old material was just too fragile, and they'd been forced to invest in new sail-cloth, which they'd made up into proper sails, and dyed themselves. The result was an interesting effect – they'd had no container big enough to hold an entire sail plus enough dye to turn all of it black, so they'd had to do it bit by bit, and that left a strange, tie-dye effect on the sails. Anamaria called it artistic. Jack called it incompetence.
Then, after that, Jack had insisted on the ships being cleaned, from the deck to the bilges, cleansed of over ten years worth of filth. All the hammocks had been thrown away, much of the rotten wood had been disposed of and replaced, the captains cabin had been almost completely refitted, the hands' dining room had had much of it replaced, and Jack had commissioned all the maps and written documents to be copied out again by scribes. Everything that could be new was new, except for the ships wheel, which Jack had refused to replace, but which had been scrubbed and scrubbed until Jack declared himself satisfied that Barbossa couldn't possibly still have any fingerprints on there. Every piece of bounty that the Pearl had been carrying was sold, and the money used to refurbish the ship. By the time the reworking was done, Will hardly recognised it as the ship that he'd been held captive on nearly three years ago now.
But that didn't stop repairs being necessary, and that was what they were doing now. In the last battle they'd had, with a Spanish frigate, they'd suffered two hits from the cannons – one below decks, but mercifully above the water line, and one along the railing. The one lower down had already been fixed, and the railing was taking rather more skill. Will had been taught all the basic trades, before picking smithing, aged twelve, and managed to turn some off the planks well enough that they matched the others, but they were missing large chunks of the rail, and there just wasn't going to be enough would for have of it.
"I'll go in then." He promised. "I'll get the wood."
He was gone for an hour when the crew started to worry. But it all got really bad when Jack returned.
"Where's William?" he said, slightly more jovially than normal, ever so slightly drunk.
"He went to get more wood, cap'n." Gibbs said, anxiously. "An' he's been gone a mighty long time…"
"He left an hour and a half ago!" Anamaria stamped her foot impatiently. "He's not slow like this normally…"
"What kind of a fool is he!" Jack added to her rant. "Leaving the Pearl without a captain and a first mate…"
"He's no more of a fool than you, Jack!" Anamaria retorted. "At least he's got his priorities in order. You… he knows well enough that Gibbs and I can manage a ship fine. You left us."
"I…" he stared at her. "Where'd he go?"
"To get wood." Gibbs supplied.
"And he hasn't come back."
"Gibbs, you take some of the men, and go look for him…" he considered it, and pointed, firmly. "that way, Anamaria, you take some more, and look the other way."
"What abou' you, cap'n?"
"I'm going to look for him that way." He told him, and strode purposefully down the gangway.
"He'll get himself killed." Anamaria predicted, darkly.
Will was, in fact, lying face-down in an alley with a beautiful black eye, and very little memory of how he got it. His entire body ached, and he had vague memories of trying to hit out at someone, but not being able to because of a broken thumb. Or was it a missing thumb? He groaned, and pulled himself upwards. The world swam in front his eyes, blurry and undefined, and his head throbbed with pain.
"Oh, Hell." He muttered.
Will managed to get back to the Pearl eventually, but when he did, he was greeted by the one member of the crew he really didn't want to see.
Sean Tey had been after Will since the day he got on board, and Will had been forceful with him, just to get him off, more than once. Now, weakened to a point he didn't want to think about, he wasn't going to be able to do anything at all, if Tey decided to be… amorous.
"Will!" he greeted him, and let his eyes run over his body, obviously. "It's good to see you – we were worried. I see you got into some trouble."
"A bit." Will agreed, tersely, and let his hand drift to the hilt of his sword. He might not actually physically be able to use it, but there was no reason to let Sean know that. "Where's Gibbs?"
"He's out looking for you, him, Anamaria and Captain Sparrow, with the rest of the crew. They left me behind, to keep the ship in case you made it back." Will groaned, inwardly. "Now, why don't we go and get your clothes off, and…"
"For the thousandth time, Sean, you are never seeing me without my clothes." Will ground out.
"You're going to need someone to deal with your injuries." The bigger man said, advancing on Will, his friendly air completely gone. "And I can think of a way to stop you feeling any pain…"
"I doubt it's going to be painless." Will said, softly.
"Not unless you decide to loosen up a bit towards me, Will. Just relax, give in to it. You can't say you don't want it…" there was a pause, as he stalked Will softly. "The captain doesn't want you, Turner." He told him quietly – cruelly. "You might was well stop waiting for him."
"I'll wait for as long as I choose." Will returned viciously, backing up until he hit the railing, and wincing as it dug into one of his many bruises. His eyes widened, despite the black eye, as Sean advanced until he was barely an inch away from Will, his body leant over him, but not touching. Sean licked up the man's neck, but when he tried to kiss him, Will somehow managed a fist in his gut, at the same time as kneeing him in the groin. Obviously, desperation brought out reserves of strength which hadn't been there before. "Tell Jack that I'm in his cabin." He told the prone, swearing man. "And the door will be locked, Sean. If I have to explain a broken pane of glass in his cabin, I'll not be lying for you."
Twenty minutes later, cleaned up, and with ointment on his bruises, wearing some of Jack's clothes (which were rather too large (A/N I know that Jack is actually smaller than Will, but hey. I lie. That's why it's called fanfiction. OK?)), Will sat on a chair in Jack's opulent cabin, and tried to order his thoughts.
If Sean wanted him so badly that he was willing to rape him for it, convinced that Will wanted him back, Will was going to have a problem. He was much smaller and slighter than the other man, and a lot less able in hand-to-hand combat. If it came to it, there was really nothing Will would be able to do to prevent him; on deck, he'd had a lucky escape, and a lucky position. If Sean really was desperate, he wasn't going to get lucky again.
But then there was a knock on the door, and Will could make out Jack's shape through the mottled glass.
Jack was, unbelievably, in one of his serious moods, and he checked Will over in silence.
"What were ye thinking, whelp!" he said, eventually, looking Will in the eye. "Did ye never wonder why I never went out on me own in Tortuga without knowin' where I was going first!"
"It was broad daylight, and I thought I knew where I was going." Will retorted, wincing as Jack wrapped up a sprained ankle.
"Things have a habit of being "of no fixed abode" in Tortuga." Jack said, shortly, and pulled the bandage tight.
"Why are you so angry?" Will asked, quietly, after a few minutes of silence. Jack looked up at him, again, as he shoved Will's boot onto the bandaged ankle.
"Try walking on it now." Was his only reply, and Will almost thought he wasn't going to answer him, but as he walked over to the other side of the cabin, his previous limp almost imperceptible, Jack said, softly. "When I went out to look for you, I thought that you'd be easy to find. You had me worried, boy, when I couldn't find you."
"Oh." Will replied, and didn't know what else to say, so kept silent.
The next few days were uncomfortable. They set sail, heading down to warmer waters, and more exotic plunder, but Jack and Will appeared to have lost their easy mode of communication, and made the running of the ship harder.
"You're going to have to tell me what I've done wrong, Jack." Will said, firmly, after another day of near silence between the two of them. "I can't fix it if I don't know what it was."
"Ye haven't done anything." Jack told him, his eyes fixed almost disturbingly intensely on Will's face. "I just need to work a few things out."
"Tell me when you've worked them out, Jack." Will replied, lightly. "I'm tired of being punished for a sin I don't even know I committed."
"You haven't sinned, Will." Jack reassured him, and added,softly, as the younger man left, "ButI shouldn't want to help you to."
Damn, damn, damn!
Jack paced in his cabin, that night, and swore about his first mate, his own bloody stupidity, and a God who apparently hated him.
Will might be saving himself for a man, but that man almost certainly wasn't Jack, and Jack had no right to trick Will into thinking that it was, then taking advantage of him. And how could he hold a young man like Will Turner? The boy already turned heads wherever he went, who was he to hope that he could keep him?
It wasn't that Jack wasn't confident in himself – he was, as he was so fond of reminding everyone, Captain Jack Sparrow – but he was honest enough with himself to realise that he wasn't the most faithful men, and he wouldn't hurt Will like that…
Which proved his point exactly. Jack groaned. God, he'd never worried about hurting any other of his conquests. He couldn't do this… he'd do something stupid, and then Will would leave, and it would all be a horrible mess.
He thought back to Will's speech "If you had me, you'd have to be prepared to keep me…"
And he knew, then and there, that if he had Will, he would want to keep him, but he'd undoubtedly do something wrong. It just wasn't worth it, really.
But maybe just one kiss. Just to see if he was right. What harm could it do?
Will, in his cabin, was also pacing, though rather less flamboyantly than Jack, as his cabin was about half the size of Jack's.
He was a fool, there was no other word for it. There could be no other word to describe the man who would fall in love with the notorious Captain Jack Sparrow.
He had been a fool the day that he'd made that speech to Jack, he'd been a fool before when he'd got off the ship, he'd been a fool when he'd asked him what was wrong, and he'd been a fool to get his hopes up when Jack was worried. He'd thought that maybe Jack cared. But Jack couldn't love Will the way he wanted. Jack couldn't stay faithful, it wasn't in his nature; but if he had Will, he'd have to be prepared to stay faithful to him.
But all this was idle conjecture, Will reminded himself, because he wasn't going to ever have Jack. Jack didn't love him. Jack was the same free spirit he'd always been, untameable and unstoppable. But Will could dream.
He'd do anything, Will thought, slightly despairingly, anything at all, if he could keep Jack forever. For as long as they both should live.
A rap at the door made him jump about a foot in the air, but he got his wits about him enough to open the door. He nearly fainted when it was Jack.
The captain was shifting nervously from foot to foot, but grinning goldly, as he always did, brash and confident, and everything that made him what Will so desperately wanted, and could never have.
"Can I come in?"
Will stepped aside, silently, and Jack came in and sat down on the single bench nailed across one side of the little cabin, next to the small bunk.
Yes, this was going to be a good idea, Jack just knew it. Look at the boy, after all! Dark hair, huge dark eyes, slim, tanned body – what's not to like, after all? Granted, the face wasn't perfect, but Jack didn't want perfection, he wanted something real, something tangible. Jack Sparrow didn't deal in perfection, in human flesh. He dealt in warmth, and reality. If it was too beautiful, Jack wasn't worthy, and wouldn't touch. It was part of what had turned him into piracy, in the first place – always try and find something more perfect than the last, but don't touch. Never really touch. You can always displace perfection, but you can't really touch it. Not to spoil it, at any rate. To Jack's mind, pirate or not, that was sacrilege, and that was why he'd never screw anything too beautiful, because that would despoil it, and leave him feeling dirty, rather than fulfilled.
And this boy was borderline too beautiful, but not too beautiful that Jack could resist. He was human enough, with a nose that was just slightly too big, and a laugh that was slightly too loud, and a heart just that tiny bit too big. He was everything that Jack could have wanted, and Jack, in his heart of hearts, knew that, and that was why he wasn't going to take it. Because Jack Sparrow had always been looking to get above his station, but he wasn't cruel, and he wasn't going to get himself there on the back of a boy who had a gratitude complex to him.
But he was going to kiss the boy, just to see if he really was what Jack was looking for.
"Whelp…" he began, after a long silence. Will's head shot up, and he raised an eyebrow, questioningly. "Can I…" no, that wasn't right. That sounded too much like mollycoddling the boy. "It's alright if I…" too forward. Dammit! "You wouldn't mind if…"
Oh, to hell with it.
Jack leant forward, cupped his hand around the back of Will's neck, and pulled him in, until his breath was ghosting across his first mate's full lips. "You don't mind, do you?"
And then he kissed him deep and hard and long, and it was everything he'd ever dreamed it would be, and Will was a damn good kisser… Jack forced his tongue inside the younger man's mouth, and as he tasted him – Jesus, so sweet! – he realised what he was doing.
He broke away immediately, wiped his mouth, and said, brokenly, "No… this is wrong… I… You're too… this is so wrong. It shouldn't have happened. Oh!" he almost broke down in disgust at himself. "It's disgusting!"
With that, he fled the cabin, leaving a destroyed Will Turner in his wake.
After a week, through which Will got progressively more silent and thinner, and his eyes became more and more haunted, he went to the captain, and said, in his new, dead voice
"I want to be put ashore, captain."
This was a farce, Jack decided, viciously. Here was Will, asking to leave the Black Pearl, dammit, and they couldn't even look at each other.
"I want to go ashore at next port."
"You… you do, do you?"
"Yes." There was none of the sarcasm that Will would previously have used.
"Alright." Jack turned away, and let the boy away from him. Oh, he was so stupid! How could he have kissed Will? Will was obviously shocked, had obviously been waiting for someone in particular, and Jack had spoilt that now. How could he have done that?
But when he got to his cabin, he found Anamaria waiting inside for him, eyes blazing.
"What the hell are ye thinkin'?" she shouted, accusatively. "What are ye doin' to that poor boy?"
"That 'poor boy'," Jack replied sarcastically "Is in love with someone, an' I ruined it. Now would ye leave me alone?"
She slapped him. "An' don't you say you didn't deserve that!" she hissed, warningly. "For a good pirate, you're a stupid man, Jack Sparrow. How is it you can't see tha' the boy's sick in love with you!"
Jack froze. "No, he's not." He denied, quickly. "Why's he avoidin' me, then?"
"Because you didn't react very well to kissin' him, did ye?" she snarled. "If someone kissed me, then said it was disgusting, I'd be avoiding 'em too."
"Did he tell ye about… it, then?" he asked, softly.
"Nah." She sighed. "Will Turner, talk about his love life? Not really in character, is it? No, I'm in the next door cabin. Remember?"
Anamaria watched him for a few seconds. "Well, get on with it!" she said, eventually, exasperated. "What are you waiting for?"
Leaving the cabin, Jack started to whistle. Life was good, he decided – but then he turned a corner, and found Sean Tey on top of William Turner, kissing the breath out of him.
For a few seconds, he just stared stupidly, but then some things started to kick in. Will was struggling - not willing then, Jack surmised, dazedly. This was a deserted part of the ship, and Will was struggling underneath Tey - it seemed that this whole set up had been contrived by Tey, who, finally fed up with Will's obvious disenchantment with the situation, grabbed his wrists, and forced them above the younger, smaller man's head, banging them down onto the decking with a thud. That thud brought Jack to his senses, and he pushed Tey off Will with a shove, and a couple of vicious threats.
He dragged the ships-hand up against the wall, and said, glaring into his face
"If you ever come anywhere near him again, I'll gut you. Get me?"
Tey spat back at his captain, equally vicious "When he's a two-bit whore in Tortuga, I'll get my fill of him anyway. What do you care?"
"Do you really want to find out how much I care?" Jack asked, soft and dangerous. "Cos I'm more than willing to share violence."
Tey fled, and Jack knelt by Will.
"You OK, lad?"
"Oh, just fine, thanks, Jack." Will bit out, sarcastically. "I'm just peachy."
"Good. Come with me."
"I'm not going anywhere with you." He protested, harshly.
"Will." Jack said, his voice soft again, but not dangerous. "Please."
As always, Will gave in. "OK." He nodded, and followed Jack into his cabin.
"So… how long has the problem with Tey been going on?" Jack asked, casually, pouring Will some rum – "for his nerves", as he put it.
"And why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I could deal with it, dammit!" Will snapped. "I'm not some defenceless, pretty little boy. If I'd thought I couldn't deal with it, I would have told you, but I could, and there was no point in wasting other people's time."
"How would it have been wasting time to get Tey off this ship?" Jack asked, acidly. "He's not that vital, it would have taken all of five minutes to leave him behind."
"In vitriolic hatred of you and of everything to do with the Black Pearl. I'm not a fool Jack," not in anything except my loves, anyway "And if I've learnt anything with you these past two years," it's that I'm not strong enough to stop myself falling head over heels in love with a cheating pirate, "it's that an angry, deserted pirate is a dangerous pirate. Hell, look at what you did to Barbossa!"
"Barbossa and Sean Tey are two different things, William!" Jack bit back. "Barbossa was out for my ship, and my position. Sean Tey is out," for the man I love, "For sexual favours. If ye're not giving them, he shouldn't still be asking for them."
"I was dealing with it, Jack!"
"How exactly does lyin' under the bastard while he does anything he wants constitute dealing with it, William!" Jack shouted, angrily. "I'm not going to let him do that to ye!"
"Give over, Jack. You're nothing to do with my love-life." Will said, wearily. "It will be fine."
"An', what? Ye're going to do what, about this? Let it go? Not stand up for yerself?"
"Jack, come on. When have I ever not stood up for myself?"
"I remember the stories about yer friend, Mr. Brown, Blacksmith and Farrier, vividly enough, thank you." He returned, tartly.
"To give you your own words, Brown and Tey are two different things altogether. Apart from Brown – who was my master – and Elizabeth, who was a lady, when do I not stand up for myself?"
"Fair point." Jack acceded, unwillingly.
"Jack, I'm sorry…" Will began.
"No." Jack stopped him, immediately. "Before ye start yer apology, ye'd better listen to mine."
"Yours?" Will frowned.
Oh, shit. He'd really screwed up, if Will didn't think he thought that he needed to apologise. That meant that Will thought he'd meant it.
"When I said… when I said my kissin' ye was disgustin'." He swallowed, but continued, gamely. "I didn't mean it."
"Then you are a master of saying the wrong thing." Will said, a trace of the old, tart humour coming back into the impossibly saddened dark eyes. Jack hadn't realised Will had gone this far.
"Er, yeah…" he nodded, gruffly. "I am, a bit…"
"A bit? Jack, what part of 'this is disgusting' comes under 'romantic compliment'?" Will asked, obviously determined to make this as difficult for Jack as possible.
"It wasn't the kiss that was disgusting!" Jack defended, swiftly, and Will stilled immediately.
"Then what was it?" he asked, softly. "Was it me?"
"In a way…" Will stood up, and Jack followed, swiftly. "But not the way I know you're thinking. You're one of the most beautiful people on this ship, Will, how can I deserve that? God, it's barely right that I should get someone like ye. It's not fair on ye. That's disgusting. Ye'd be getting cheated, Will."
"Oh…!" Will stared at him for a moment, and Jack ploughed on, desperate to make him understand.
"Ye get people looking at you wherever you are, because yer so… you… Because ye're beautiful, Will. Ye've got to realise that."
"I get people interested in me." Will nodded, cautiously.
"But ye don't take them up on that interest, do ye?" Jack pressed, seeing a way of making Will understand him.
"No. Because I was waiting." He took a deep breath, and admitted the thing that they both already knew. "Waiting for you."
"And ye know that I get the same sort of… offers… too, right?"
"You're a vocal sort of man, Jack. It'd be difficult not to know, I can hear it – I'm right next door, remember?" A look somewhere between pained resignation and a sarcastic smile hovered on Wills face for a brief second, then died.
"Exactly. I take them up on it, Will. I just… I just do. I can't help it – I don't know…" he coughed, and continued in a lower tone. "I don't know how not to. It's me. I just do."
"I know that. Mother of God, how could I not?" Will smiled, gently, "I know I'd get myself hurt sometimes. But you've got determination, Jack. Christ, you carried a pistol for ten years just for the sake of irony. Irony. What would you do for love?"
"I don't know what love is." Jack shrugged, "Not properly, anyway."
"Have any of your whores ever died?"
"What did you feel?"
He considered it. "Welll...Anger. Mostly. They didn't deserve it - not many of 'em, anyway." Jack shrugged. "What are ye about?"
"What did you feel when Barbossa was about to cut my throat?" Will asked, gently. He moved over to Jack and laid a hand flat on his chest; just rested it there, and let the heat seep through Jack's salt-sprayed shirt.
"Fear. Anger. And frustration."
"Never screwed Will Turner." Jack shrugged, and pulled him closer. The first kiss was chaste, dropped on Will's forehead, but it burned like a brand, far hotter than Will's hand on Jack's chest. "I'll make mistakes."
"I know." Will rested his head on Jack's shoulder. "I know."
"It'll hurt." He warned, "Ye'll be angry with me. Ye'll say I don't love you."
"But you do?" Will raised his head, hopefully, and this time the kiss fell on tip of his nose.
"You had better not die, William." Jack said, in response, "I won't let you die." And Will understood.
"You too." He returned, and it meant the same thing. They were pirates after all.
Maybe one day, when they were both much older, and were no longer in a position where they were risking their lives every day, they'd be able to relax enough to say "I love you". For now, 'don't die' was enough. It meant the same thing, to a pirate. If you cared enough to hope that they didn't die, you were three-quarters of the way to proper marriage, and that was enough for Will.
He knew Jack well enough, anyway.
The third kiss landed one Will's lips, and a tongue probed gently against them.
Jesus, he was just as sweet this time as he had been the first. He was gorgeous, and kind, and Jack didn't kid himself that he deserved him for a second, but he'd been taking things that he hadn't earned for years, and he wasn't about to let it bother him now.
He pulled back, and cupped Will's face. Pulling it up so that he could look at him, he said, fiercely.
"See, that's a good start." Will said, encouragingly, "If you won't let me share…"
"Not now, William…" he groaned, grabbed a hand, and swung Will round so that he overbalanced and flopped onto the bed. "I'll try not to share, too."
"Good enough for the moment." Will promised, then pulled Jack down on top of him. "Now shut up and kiss me." He looked up at him, archly. "Wasn't it you who told me to always finish what I'd started?"
Now that bore further investigation.
"Very good advice." He nodded, and proceeded to practice what he'd preached.
Go on. You loved it.