Wee drabble. Just felt the urge for some J/W sap :)
Jack stopped counting the hours after the sun went down. He'd been at the helm since they'd approached the reef that morning, and the crew knew better than to even suggest he turn over the wheel to anyone else till they were clear. In treacherous water, no hands touched his Lady but his own, no matter how well the others thought they knew their way. Even William had learned not to argue with him any more, which was a bloody miracle.
Stroking the worn wood under his hands, he hummed softly to himself, watching the moon cast its long silvery path before him on the water. He was floating somewhere in that lovely numb and unconcerned place to the left of exhaustion, where everything (rope, dolphins, boots, floor boards, cotton's parrot, Ana's hat, everything), was faintly amusing, and nothing seemed real. Certainly not the pair of strong and sinewy arms that suddenly came out of nowhere to wrap themselves around his middle. Jack started, but only a little. There was only one person on board who could sneak up on Jack Sparrow, and he was quite welcome.
Jack sighed into the warm weight leaning into his back, the pointed chin digging into his neck. He craned his head just enough to look down and see Will's face, lax with sleep, muzzy eyes at half-mast, propped atop his shoulder. He said, "Hullo."
To which William replied, "Hhhmmmff," and tightened his hold.
Jack felt as though he should whisper, that anything louder would scare away this half-awake apparition that had snuck upon him in the dark. "You come all the way up here just to do that?"
"Mmm-humm." A nod, sharp poking chin, and then the warm arms slipped away, and he heard the soft bare-footfalls that he'd missed moments before retreating in the direction of his cabin. Their cabin.
Alone in the dark, Jack stroked the Pearl's wheel. "Oh, the things I do for you." And waited for the hour bell to ring, so he could begin counting again.
Jack stopped counting the hours after the sun went down. He'd been at the helm since they'd approached the reef that morning, and the crew knew better than to even suggest he turn over the wheel to anyone else till they were clear. In treacherous water, no hands touched his Lady but his own, no matter how well the others thought they knew their way. Even William had learned not to argue with him any more, which was a bloody miracle.
Stroking the worn wood under his hands, he hummed softly to himself, watching the moon cast its long silvery path before him on the water. He was floating somewhere in that lovely numb and unconcerned place to the left of exhaustion, where everything (rope, dolphins, boots, floor boards, cotton's parrot, Ana's hat, everything), was faintly amusing, and nothing seemed real. Certainly not the pair of strong and sinewy arms that suddenly came out of nowhere to wrap themselves around his middle. Jack started, but only a little. There was only one person on board who could sneak up on Jack Sparrow, and he was quite welcome.
Jack sighed into the warm weight leaning into his back, the pointed chin digging into his neck. He craned his head just enough to look down and see Will's face, lax with sleep, muzzy eyes at half-mast, propped atop his shoulder. He said, "Hullo."
To which William replied, "Hhhmmmff," and tightened his hold.
Jack felt as though he should whisper, that anything louder would scare away this half-awake apparition that had snuck upon him in the dark. "You come all the way up here just to do that?"
"Mmm-humm." A nod, sharp poking chin, and then the warm arms slipped away, and he heard the soft bare-footfalls that he'd missed moments before retreating in the direction of his cabin. Their cabin.
Alone in the dark, Jack stroked the Pearl's wheel. "Oh, the things I do for you." And waited for the hour bell to ring, so he could begin counting again.