Will was correct in his assumption that he wouldn't be able to walk the next time he woke. His legs did not want to support his weight, and he had finger shaped bruises on his hips. And all the muscles in the back of his thighs were sore.
Rubbing his back, he gathered clothes and washed, scrubbing with a thin rag and wetting his hair in an attempt to get some of the dirt out. He left Jack sleeping, knowing the other captain could be incredibly surly if woken early. And the last thing one wanted was Jack Sparrow surly. People tended to, at the least, get bottles of rum thrown at them.
He poured himself a mug of cold coffee, adding sugar to balance the bitterness. He saw his father taking over the helm from the crewman known as Maccus, and wandered over. "Morning Cap'n," Bootstrap said tiredly. "Morning Bill. Coffee?" Will offered his father a sip of his drink. Bootstrap shook his head and Will finished his drink, tossing the dregs overboard.
"Saw you limpin' Will. You alright?" Bootstrap asked after a while. Will gave his father an eloquent look. It was early so he couldn't be blamed for not thinking before he spoke.
"Jack's damn insatiable. I never felt so sore in my life." The elder Turner stared at his son, feeling a trace awkward. "Was he always so possessive?" Will asked. "Long as I've known him. Once Sparrow gets it in his head somethin' belongs to him, he'll do damn near anything to make sure it stays in his possession and that everybody knows it's his. He's not one to give up easily. And son, looks like you fall into the large category of Jack Sparrow's possessions."
"I told him that in no way, shape or form was I getting 'Jack Sparrow's property' tattooed on me," Will sighed. His father roared with laughter, "Bet he didn't like that." "Naturally. Gave me a look like I'd just taken rum away from him. I was worried yesterday, about him leaving once we made port. But I don't see that coming to be," Will shrugged. "Nor I lad. Didn't seem like Sparrow would ever change his ways, going from port to port, and therefore, whore to whore, and then along comes my son, blacksmith made pirate. Suddenly he's turnin' a blind eye to anyone else, and claiming him as his own and no one else's. How did yeh do it?" Bill asked wonderingly.
"I don't know either. I didn't think I was all that special," Will said, just as surprised. "Not from what I've heard," Bill ticked the events off his fingers. "Commandeered a ship of the fleet. Got the Pearl back and killed Barbossa for a time. Stole the key right off Jones's neck after rescuin' Jack from cannibals and fighting a storm. Once more rescued Jack, from the Locker this time, and led an army of the Brethren to defeat the British Navy and Davy Jones. No you're not special at all," Bill grinned, full of pride, at his son.
"Now that you mention it," Will said thoughtfully, "I do save Jack a lot. Jail, the island of the Peligostas, the Locker, and drinking himself to death. He most likely would have hanged if I had left him in jail all that time ago."
"Ah now that there is what starts a bond William. Savin' each other, trustin' one another. Either way, I'm going to check the riggin', an' our heading. Will we need to cross over at all?" "Not for a while yet, I don't think," Will answered. Bootstrap nodded and left to do as he said.
Jack stretched on the bed, relishing in the small aches and pains in his muscles. Even though he was alone in the bed, it felt good to wake up sore from pounding the whelp into the bed and know that said whelp was somewhere on the ship waiting for him. He sat up, sheets pooling around his waist and shook his hair back, beads clinking. He retied his bandanna and set about looking for his shirt.
How his shirt ended up tangled about that bloody organ in the back Jack would never figure out. He recalled him and Will being in quite the rush, but he didn't think his shirt could have gotten so far. He held it up to pull it over his head and stopped. Even to him, his shirt smelled disgusting. And he wasn't much for personal hygiene. Not really.
He brought his shirt to the small washroom and scrubbed it 'til it didn't smell so much like Kraken breath. The very last thing he wanted was to smell like that beastie and be reminded of all the hell with Lizzie and the Locker. He wrinkled his nose at the thought.
Pulling on his breeches and boots, which were just as scattered as his shirt had been, and strapped his belt and holster with pistols around his waist. Setting his hat on his head, he grabbed his shirt to hang to dry in the warm Caribbean sun. He strode out on deck, finding what was soon becoming one of his favorite sights. Another thing he would never admit out loud.
Will leaning over the railing, his hair stirred about his face by the wind, staring off distantly. His loose white linen shirt caught the sun's rays, showing glimpses of the tan skin underneath. And how was it he had never noticed the way the lad's breeches clung to him before? Well he hadn't exactly been staring at Will's ass before, which would explain it. Because he never thought in a million years that he would be in the situation he now found himself in.
'Snap outta it Jack,' he scolded himself. 'You push yourself on the lad too much and he'll send yeh away. Most likely.' With that thought firmly in mind, he hung up his shirt and strolled over to his pet. He leaned on the railing next to him."Mornin'."
"G'morning Jack," Will turned a warm smile on Jack, his eyes bright. Jack, for perhaps the first time in his life, faltered. His mouth went dry, just from that smile. God he could use rum, and it was barely past sunrise.
"Jack are you alright?" Will asked, concerned. Jack shook his head, "I'm fine whelp, no worries. So are you still sore'n'limpin'?" He grinned slyly. "More than you can imagine. All my muscles hurt, and I've got finer shaped bruises on my hips," Will said scoldingly. "Oh my apologies dear William. I'll be ever so much more careful the next time I slam you into the bed," Jack said in a fit of mock gallantry.
Will rolled his eyes and shoved Jack before leaning against him. "Where's your shirt?" "It smelled like a certain terrible beastie what ate me, so I washed it. And now it's hangin' out to dry. Where're we going an' when are we going to get there?" "Not one for patience are you," Will said dryly. "I reckon we'll find an island in a day or so, where we can restock, make repairs if necessary, and the crew can stretch their legs." There was a stiff breeze blowing, filling the sails.
"P'raps Calypso finally eased off on me an' will leave me alone," Jack said, indicating the fair weather they had. "That's good news for us. I was beginning to think you were bad luck Sparrow." "I am not bad luck! I'm the opposite, I'm…"Jack trailed off, thinking.
"Good luck?" Will suggested, chuckling. "Stop laughin' at me whelp," Jack put a hand between Will's shoulder blades and shoved him forward, making him pitch over the rail the tiniest bit, like to remind Will he could easily toss him overboard.
"Watch it Jack," Will warned. "I won't die from that, and when I got back aboard, I'd see you put in the brig for throwing me overboard. For an indefinite amount of time." "And where would that leave you pet?" Jack leaned in toward Will, smirking suggestively.
"Laughing at you, begging me to let you out." Jack's eyebrows rose up, "Sure it wouldn't be you on the outside o'me bars beggin' for me?" "Very sure." "What say you to a wager then William? There'll be no pounding of you into the bed 'til we get to this island you seem to think we're going to find," Jack offered. He highly doubted Will would take the wager.
"What are the stakes?" Will asked. Once more, Jack hadn't thought so far ahead. He had to ponder upon the stakes. "If I win, by you simply submitting and beggin', then you become William, my own personal cabin boy, put here for naught but my pleasure. And vice versa if you, by some miracle, win. Which you won't. Do we have an accord?" he held out his hand to Will.
"Agreed," Will shook his hand. "May the best man win."
"I plan to," Jack smirked. "I said best, not worst Sparrow," Will retorted and walked off to the helm, purposely adding a swagger to his walk. He glanced over his shoulder at Jack, and smirking, winked at him.
"So the lad wants to play it that way does he?" Jack muttered, torn between glaring at Will's overly confident attitude, and staring at the retreating, swaggering form. "Well seducin's damn near second nature to me. I'll be winning this wager no problem."
"Jack!" He whirled around. Surely the whelp didn't wasn't giving in already? He'd thought maybe a few hours at least. Though he could be underestimating his own charm for once. "Can I borrow your compass?" Jack slumped. He'd rather been hoping for an early victory, truth be told.
He trudged up the stairs, grumbling. "What for?" "I want a more direct route to an island Jack. Clearly," Will looked at him like he was an idiot. "No need to be snide William," Jack handed over the compass. Will flipped it open, only to find the arrow pointing squarely at Jack, who snorted, amused. Will got his thoughts away from the pirate and towards a route to an island hospitable to pirates. He opened the compass once more and found the needle pointing in a south eastern direction. He ordered the ship in that direction.
"Troubles Will? Wandering mind perhaps?" Jack mocked Will as he handed over the compass. "Stow it Jack."
"Trouble focusing when you're still sore?"
"Jack Sparrow I'm warning you…"
"I've got to get entertainment somehow," Jack shrugged. "Well go get it in some way which does not distract me!" Will snapped. He did as bid him, since he had nothing better to do. Cursing himself and his big mouth, he shifted through crates for rum.
Oh god no! "Why is the rum gone?!" Jack asked frantically. There had been plenty earlier. A loud belch caught his attention. One of Will's deck hands was passed out on his back, surrounded by bottles and clutching one tightly. Jack scrambled over and took the bottle, tipping it down his mouth. A tiny drop slid down his throat. Dropping the bottle and resisting the urge to shoot the man, he stood. Maybe if he slept, this bloody journey wouldn't seem so long.
Night was falling and Will hadn't seen Jack all day. He didn't know he'd been on his bed, alternately sleeping and sulking all day. After he set a watch, and dropped anchor, he went down to his quarters. Jack was sleeping once more on his bed. He had a habit of doing that. Not that he minded, but that bloody wager meant he couldn't sleep on his bed.
Will sighed, as it seemed he was stuck on the floor. Moving quietly so as not to wake Jack, he stripped to his breeches and tried to pull a pillow out from under Jack. But he wasn't as delicate about it as he would have liked to have been, and woke Jack, who bolted upright, startled, sending Will tumbling to the floor, pillow in hand.
"Whelp? What're you doing on the floor?" Jack asked groggily.
"I was getting a pillow,"Will answered sheepishly. "I'm sleeping here, since you already took the bed. And there's the wager and all." Jack blinked at him sleepily, before nodding and lying back down. "So were you in here all day? Why?" Will fluffed up the pillow and tried to find the softest part of the floor.
"The rum's gone," Jack muttered, sounding terribly depressed. Will understood then. Jack was regretting the wager himself, and had gone to console himself with rum, as was his custom, and found no rum. So he was sulking.
"Have you eaten at all today, or stayed in here sulking?" Will asked. "I was not sulking," Jack grumbled. Which was enough of an answer. "Wait here." Will scrambled up and out, leaving Jack looking after him, puzzled. He returned a few minutes later with a plate of food. Shoving it at Jack, he crawled under the bed. Completely ignoring Will, Jack tore into the food, not realizing how hungry he had been.
"Got it!" Jack looked down to see Will crawling backwards from under the bed, clutching a dusty brown bottle. "Rum!" he dropped the plate, reaching out for the bottle. He uncorked it and chugged half of it. "Where'd you get this lad?" he asked, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve. "When it was just me, and I was in here with nothing but rum, I kept a stash down there, under the floor boards, so I wouldn't have to leave if I didn't want," Will shrugged it off.
Jack finished off the rum, and the plate of chicken, the bones piled on the plate. He lay back, no longer hungry and thirsty, but undeniably bored. He was not one to sit for a long time doing nothing.
"Are we at this island yet?" "Clearly not," Will answered, knowing full well where this was headed and dreading it. Jack sighed angrily. "I'm bored William. And I'm tired, but I don't want to sleep."
Will groaned, his teeth grinding in frustration. "It's your own fault Sparrow."
"I know! Don't think I don't know that," Jack snapped.
Will felt a trace guilty, for baiting Jack. "Maybe I should just sleep somewhere else then," he suggested. "No, you don't have to. It's your room," Jack rolled over, going back to sleep. "How noble. I can stay in my own room, but you keep the bed," Will curled up on the pillow.
He was rewarded for his sarcasm with a biscuit thrown to the head.
