Title: Four
Pairing: Jack/Will, mentions of Jack/Barbossa, Jack/Ocean, Jack/Rum (Oh yes.)
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Drabble-ish. Ish. Sex!
Disclaimer: I do not (unfortunately) own POTC. I'd love to make the pretty boys do slashy things.
Notes: Set before Jack gets hauled off to Davy Jones's locker, before the kiss with Elizabeth and all the drama at the end of DMC.
Jack Sparrow, above most other things, likes to muse. It is, in fact, a well-known thing about him. He doesn't think, oh no, because thinking leads to action and action leads to a deficit of rum, but he does muse, because no harm ever came from musing, not at all.
At present, the sky is big and blue as it normally is, the sun is bright, and the wind is fair, so he sees no need to do anything but lean against the railing on the side of the poop deck and muse as he looks at the agitated little ball of energy that is Will Turner the Younger, having emerged quite un-victorious from his latest fight with his lady-love.
Ah, well, Jack decides. All's fair and such. And so he (for once) acts and beckons the poor depressed William over to where he is. Words are exchanged; Jack's never been much of a wordsmith, but he reads people, knows William is most distraught. Which (as he is always minding his own welfare and bollocks to everyone else) is good.
Once he deigns that enough words have been exchanged, though, enough is enough, and he's dog-tired of hearing William natter on about dear ol' whatshername. He cuts to the chase as he is prone to do, and in what presents itself as seconds flat he is glad that the crew thinks nothing of Jack and William disappearing into the Captain's Quarters for Extended Periods of Time.
William is always in such a hurry, Jack is still musing. He's like those broads at those nameless pubs, always clinging and clutching and pulling at buckles like he's got somewhere to be. It's endlessly frustrating, and Jack particularly wants to take this slow. So what does he do? He ties William to one of the wooden beams crisscrossing above their heads. It takes some doing, and some sneakiness, but he does.
He riles William up, he's good at that. Takes his clothes off like he has to think about it, which he doesn't, but by the time William's yelling at him to get on with it he wants it over with too. Which is the only reason he unties dear old William, and by God that man puts it to him like a sailor.
Afterwards, Will passes out of this consciousness for a bit, and Jack lies on his bed, completely sated and sleepy, and muses some more.
Jack considers himself a bit of a connoisseur of pleasure, in fact. Doesn't stop the other, slightly more troublesome fact that he doesn't really love who he should. Like that Spanish nun… He discovers he's forgotten her name. He never loved her.
Jack has had only four loves in his life-the sea,
(Of course he loves the sea, first, foremost, and above all else. He loves the sea and her moods and tempests, the way she tosses a man about then calms down like an old lover.)
rum,
(Obviously he loves the rum as well, but not like he loves the sea. No, rum's like an old flame, always ready for a roll with ol' Jackie when he's feeling down.)
Hector,
(Yes, he had loved Hector Barbossa, long ago in simpler times, when the Pearl was his and times were good. That was why, more than anything, he'd drowned his sorrows on that godforsaken island. He couldn't come to grips with the fact that Hector had been more ambitious than passionate.)
and Will.
(And he'd never even speak of that.)
A/N: Review and please tell me what you think of the style here; I tried to capture Jack's character, but I won't know how I did unless you guys tell me. :D