Because I haven't done any fanfics in a while and I've noticed there doesn't seem to be enough slash, although this is really only fluff, and bad fluff at that… and I only saw PotC the other day (I have issues with Disney, okay?) but that movie OWNS. All characters are *winces* © Disney.
---
Captain Jack Sparrow sat on the edge of the sailpost that hung down over its slowly swaying body, the Dauntless, the sun setting over the Caribbean horizon. The sea looked like a plane of velvet ink, the dormant ship flaming with sunset colours, sinking into a melodic sleep. Jack fished out the tri-pointed compass, legs swinging back and forth and toyed with a loose knot of hair lazily. "Will. Will!" He looked over his shoulder, gaining an infernal halo as he did so. Will couldn't have been less interested in the whereabouts of himself or anyone else, half-nesting in a spare sail and a snake's assembly of rope and chain. Will opened an eye half-arsedly and looked across at the flame-wreathed captain, who had become bored of not receiving an answer from his companion. "'Tis only another day's sailing until we reach Tortuga. I see no reason why we should carry on tonight." He took off his captain's hat with a polite, if not shaky, bow, and offered his hand out. The sky suddenly bled into the colours of the sea and the pale shadow of the waxing moon began to glow into life.
"Oh aye, up she rises…" Jack's voice floated into the calm nothingness of the Caribbean sky. He had twisted himself neatly into a seat of rope knot and proceeded to twirl somewhat ungainly, singing to himself. Will stumbled out and looked up the slight difference between them. "What are you doing?" Jack laughed softly to himself before unwinding himself and landing with an almost-fall, stopped only by Will's reaching out and snatching hold of him by both forearms, pulling him up onto his feet unsteadily. "You should sleep, or you'll never get us to Tortuga by tomorrow," the young man said with a slightly patronizing smile; Will mean to sound as patronizing as he ended up sounding. Jack patted him on the arms and wandered along the deck that creaked softly, almost in perfect sync with the breathing of the sea.
"On my ship," he started, turning to face Will, pointing vaguely at atmospheric nothingness, a slight shiver running through him as he spoke, "on my ship, it was like… riding the sea itself." He looked sullen as he said this last part, his eyes that were already dark with make-up even moreso with silent mourning. "Enough of that! We can't be, ah ha, drowning our sorrows. Dance, why not dance? Dance with me, mate!" Will stepped back, but Jack took hold of him by his hands with a dynamic grin. "Oh, come now. What are you shying away from? What's to be afraid of? I can teach you if you can't, savvy?"
The captain intertwined his fingers with my own and gently shepherded one foot behind the other with his left leg. "This is how they dance in Tortuga… oh, I can't wait to show you it… by far one of the most fantastic, if not anarchic, towns on the Spanish Main… and all the swill and good company a man could wish for! Follow my lead…" Jack led him around the bare deck, basking in the sweet etheriality of the night. He kept his eyes shut as he counted in whispers, to the same tune of his favourite song. Will got the impression he had never really been this close, this physically present, this generally intimate with anyone he'd known longer than a few hours in months. Jack smiled as he sung his little mantra, gently bringing Will closer towards him, until he could almost rest his chin on Jack's shoulder, until he could feel the heat of his somewhat choked breath as at first he didn't know how to act, which slowed as he fell slowly into a trance-like state, eyes closed peacefully. Almost asleep, almost awake, neither and both, but should Will have fallen into the sea, he couldn't think of a care in the world, not even Elizabeth. He didn't particularly want to think. Jack made him feel safe, especially this close. He smelled of seawater and coral, sandalwood and beach flowers, wood shavings and wax, dog's hair, fire and shells, and distant sex on linen sheets.
Will squinted his eyes open to find himself lying on an exquisitely plush four-poster bed, covered in velvetine sheets of royal hues interwoven with tapestry-flowers of precious metals, soft linens and duck-down bolsters hidden beneath their imperial skins. At the end of the bed, haphazardly draped was Sparrow's weathered, grisly yet grand captain's overcoat. The metal finishes were long since new, the leather worn and fabric patchy and rough in places, but it still had the aura of a once king-like captain. Although his head still ached with the worry of Elizabeth's capture, he felt almost sorry for Jack. He knew next to nothing about him yet somehow pitied him and he didn't know why, exactly. He never talked about a girl, or a crew, for that matter. Will became more awake, and lying back, chased dancing shadows from candlelight; candles that were going to run out soon, he noticed, and he didn't feel like he could sleep. Will glanced out of one of the glass windows and saw the moon's glow shine down onto the deck. It was clear overhead, but thick with smoke-sea not too far ahead. Jack was sitting in the doorframe, legs vaguely sprawled, singing quietly to himself, and appeared to be poking himself, and every time he did so, he flinched slightly. Will rolled over curiously to see if he could get a better view of whatever Jack was doing; in this state of not-quite-sleeping and sweet confusion he seemed to act rather naïve. However, his curiosity outweighed his sense of balance and he fell to the floor, dragging most of the heavy cover with him in a fell slump. "Mary Mother of God, I'd like to see you drunk," Jack called over musingly. Will opened his eyes properly and stumbled over to where the captain was sitting.
"What were you doing?"
"Singing."
"No… no, what were you doing? You kept…" Will waved an index finger around, squinting slightly as if trying to act out poking something, and failing quite miserably. The boy was starting to feel the effects of concussion all of a sudden, now there was nothing to work on or think about.
"That, mate, is not any business I'll account you for." Hastily, Jack folded his arms up at his chest.
"My head hurts. I think maybe, I should probably go back to sleep." Will sat against the inside wall of the room, his head resting on what he could reach of Jack's shoulder.
"Bloody eunuchs…" Jack sighed to himself, but nonetheless, pulled Will under his arm with a slight yawn.
"Oh aye, up she rises, er'lay in the morning…"
--
Fear mon almost-slash-type-stuff. Yeah! *parties* and stuff.