Disclaimer: I do not own the movie(s) that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Title: The Troubles of Jack
Author: c. dirt (mui)
Summary: After Jack has conquered the Caribbean with the Black Pearl, his men start getting sick. Then, the Navy starts to gain on his tail. Then, a new pirate ships arrives on the waters. To make matters worse, Jack takes on the company of a fluttery young male and he gets much more than he bargained for.
Rating: NC-17 for slashy sex.
Pairings: Jack Sparrow/OC, OC/OC.
Disclaimer: POTC and Jack Sparrow belongs to Disney. I created the characters of Jasper MacGregor and Marc.
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"Cap'n! Man o'er board!" A crewmember's tremorous cry rang out, their voice carried weakly on the heavy wind, and Capitan Jack barely heard it over his own meandering thoughts.
Jack Sparrow was perched at the starboard edge of his ship, overlooking the black waves, and up until previously, deeply involved in his musings. At the cry of his men, he turned around, and glared out upon the north horizon to see, strangely enough, this: clouds of dust and smoke blooming in the distance; it was a naval ship that had fallen, or Jack assumed so by the bright crosses on the sails, and charred planks sailed on the water towards the Black Pearl.
"Man o'er board!" The call was repeated, and finally Jack hopped down to deck, his dreadlocks whipping his face.
Something in his gut told him it was going to be a bad day.
"Drop the boat, steady the ropes! Let's pick 'im up!" Jack parted through the miniscule crowd of his men; after the recent blight there had been a loss of nearly a dozen men, several more dropped off in Tortuga, cancelling any previous obligations with the sneering pirate and looking for more profitable gigs. Now the crew was down to thirteen and shrinking, men were sick and dying in the bowels of the ship from a mysterious disease.
And on top of that—it seemed that navy ships had settled in the carribean waters, not only that, but have been blown to smithereens. How unusual.
As much of a pirate as Jack Sparrow was, he did not have a habit of blowing up the queen's good ships without due reason. After all, he was a patriotic man... at times. This was something new, something to take note of. This was the work of somebody else.
He planted a heel on the bow and leaned over. Two lackies had dropped the boat into the water, and were fishing the lost seaman out with an oar. They dragged him on and yank the boat clumsily up the side of the ship. The burlier of the two shipmates drop the man's body onto the deck with a cold, wet sound, leaning down and pressing his ear to his chest, listening for a heartbeat. "E's not breathing, sir!"
"Is he dead?" Jack inquires, adjusting his hat low over one brow, feigning disinterest. He narrows his eyes at the sight of the lad: there was something terrifying about the whiteness of his skin. He must've been one of the queen's boys with skin as white as that, but his clothes were shredded, so his rank was indistinguishable; there was no hat upon his head, just a long, tangled nest of curls, black as the sea was now, with strange brown patches where the dying sun glowed on him.
Jack watched placidly for a moment; the white body jerking as the knuckles pound against his sternum. After a minute or so, Jack rolls his eyes and gives an unpleasant sigh. "Bloody hell, ye're doin' it all wrong!"
With that, Capitan Jack drops next to the cold body and slaps the crewman's hands away with a calloused finger. He clears his throat. "Haven't done this in a while..." He says as a second thought, then smiles wryly and brushes a few stray locks of hair from his face before dipping his body forward. He places his sunburned palms flat on the lad's chest, pressing in tenderly, and feels the erratic pulsing of a heartbeat. His eyes drag up the spot where his hands have pressed, to the long, white neck, and pale lips that are plush and woman-like… he lingers there, longer than he knows he should, before he drops his head down and proceeds to clasp his lips around the supple mouth…
COUGH!! SPLUTTER!!
The lad bursts to life, spraying brakish sea-water all over Capitan Jack Sparrow.
The crew hurriedly rush to the man's side, providing him with a jug of rum, and throw a weathered cloth over him. There are pats on his weak shoulders, shouts of approval from the crowd. Somebody says, "Welcome to the Black Pearl, mate!".
Jack sits back on his knees and wipes at his face, grimacing distastefully, his own curses are drowned out by the cheers of his crew. He recovers after a moment, standing and saying, "Aye! That's right, boys, we've got a lucky 'un here! Take him down and check him for wounds!" He gestures at the air as he lists out his commands, sniffing loudly at the presence of seawater in his nostrils. The crewmates lift the lad up into their arms and the crowd disappears behind them, down into the cabins of the ship.
The cries and shouts fade as the crowd goes under deck, and Jack is left there, standing alone on the deck of the Black Pearl. The wind whistles bitterly through his braids and he looks again out onto the horizon, at the plumes of purlpish-black smoke coiling into the sky. He looks at the torn sails and the charred bodies floating on the water. He frowns.
"D'ye think he's a navy boy?"
Jack jerks at the sudden interuption of his thoughts. He turns to see Anamaria, looking brazen, her teeth glittering.
"Dunno. Could be, but he ain't got anything on him from the looks of it that would give him away." He says.
"Wot do ye think 'appened?" She says, after a while, following Jack's gaze to the wreckage on the water.
Jack Sparrow smiles, staring unblinkingly. "Oh, could be anything..."
Ana drops her eyes to the deck, then looks over to Jack. "D'ye think...?" She purses her lips quizically.
Jack nods. "Pirates, indeed."