Drinks all round! -by Cunien

Disclaimer: Jack Sparrow belongs to no man but himself. Will Turner is firmly under the pretty little heel of Elizabeth Swan. All other characters apart from crappy ones that are obviously mine are obviously not mine. It's obvious.

Before we begin, I don't know what I'm going to write for this little teeny fic - so far with all my PotC fics it's just come to me as I write, like Jack Sparrow is sitting beside me and won't be shut up, even with the help of copious amounts of rum.

So here goes.

Drinks all round!

Now I've often said that everything can be traced back to rum, right? Well, this is the exception to the rule.
Because this one began with wine.

A great deal of wine.

Now, me, I don't do wine so well. Rum, well of course, that's my poison, and I can drink you and anybody you care to mention under the table where that one's concerned, thankyou very much. Well it's a job requirement as a pirate aint it? I often end up playing the drunken sailor, but that's in the job description too.

But give me half a glass of wine and I'm *gone*.
Too sophisticated. Too, God help us, respectable.

If you've ever had the pleasure of sitting down and listening to one of my tales, then you'll know of my aversion to anything respectable. But I couldn't get away from it on that day. It was everywhere. Makes me shudder to just to think on it.

I like weddings me. I'd like them even more if it was allowed to drink rum at them. But no, it's wine all the way at one of those do's. If I ever get married you can stake your hat the rum'll be flowing freely, and if you even dared open a bottle of wine you'd be striped naked and tied to the church door. Come to think of it though, I don't think they'd ever let me get married in a church. Specially considering some of the sins I've committed. And the fact that I was never christened.

But I'm sailing off course now aint I?

So, there I am, in Port Royal, at the swankiest wedding I've ever attended. Not that I've been to that many to be honest.

Of course I shouldn't have been there. Found myself rubbing shoulders with good old Norrington at one point, and him none the wiser. It was worth going if only for that.

Sometimes I just have to take a few minutes to sit back and imagine his face should he ever know that I was standing right beside him that day.
Always cheers me up, does that.

Will had no idea that I was coming, probably would have had a heart attack if did. Honestly, that lad couldn't get any more straight laced and honest if he tried.

So there I am, it's the middle of a warm Caribbean night, and I'm skulking up the drive to this massive house, overlooking Port Royal. Well, it's a bit of the risk. I know this house is the Governor's right, but I never stuck around long enough to hear if Daddy disowned poor Elizabeth for her star-crossed love, so I can't be sure she still lives here.

Maybe she was going to go and live with Turner above the Blacksmiths after the wedding.

I have to stop and sit down in a bush at this, because I'm laughing too much. Can you imagine her, living in a place like that?!? Well I can, and I'll tell you it's one of the funniest sights I've ever seen!

But anyway, a risk has always been more like a personal war against Fate where I'm concerned, so I tried my luck and climbed the big wall surrounding the house, presumably to keep all the plebs like me out.

The house was bleeding massive. It looked like the kind of house that had so many rooms it didn't know what to do with them. You know the type I mean - like, Let's take tea in the blue room today daahling, we haven't been in that wing for a year or two.'

Well, the front door didn't seem so good an option, so I tried the tradesman's entrance. I could always pretend to be a tradesman then, if I was rumbled. Being the generous fellow I am, I'd taken along a present of a bottle or rum. Admittedly, half of it was gone by the time I reached the Turner's, but it's the thought that counts, eh? So, I thought I could present myself as a rum salesman or something.

But by chance, as I nipped round the back, I came across an open window, inviting me in clear as you please.

I went to the window, and had a little peep in, and again, I'd won another battle against fate in my personal war, because there were Elizabeth and Will!

They were sitting on a ridiculously expensive looking sofa with their backs turned to me. Turner was reading a book, which surprised me because I was sure he couldn't read. He probably can't. I bet if I'd looked a little closer I would had seen the book was upside down or something. Will would just want to impress his lovely Miss Swan. She wouldn't notice it was upside down. I mean, she's not the most attentive of lasses is she? It took her, what, 10 years to notice that William was besotted with her, and let's face it, that boy is as transparent as, well, as something very transparent.

So Elizabeth is all sitting beside Will, not noticing his upside down book, and I accept the open window's invitation and hop through, quiet as a mouse.
This, I'm sure you realise, is not the first time I've done this kind of thing.

I snuck up behind them, and popped my head up from behind the sofa with an .

Elizabeth screamed and jumped into Will's arms like a perfect little lady, and I thought Will should have been paying me for allowing him this close contact with his beloved. I wouldn't be surprised if he was too chivalrous and her too prissy to allow even a kiss before they were wed.

Will cried. What are you doing here?

Come for the wedding aint I? I asked, grinning at my lovely little surprise. Elizabeth looked pointedly at Will. I'm sure she's been sharpening her pointedly' looks all her life for just such an occasion.
I don't envy poor William at all.

I shoved the bottle of rum at Will with a really, no need to thank me, it was nothing' smile. He sloshes the half empty bottle around and raises an eyebrow at me. That's no doubt something he's been practising all his too.

But the thing is, I'm like a barnacle me - there's no getting rid of me when I've latched on. I'd come all this way and was intent on being the guest of honour at the wedding, whether the bride and bridegroom liked it or not.
Not to mention the fact that the last time I'd been here they'd been hell bent on seeing me swing. Not very polite if you ask me.
But I'd given Fate the middle finger and ran off giggling, and there was no stopping me, as Jack and Elizabeth can vouch for.

I could tell Elizabeth didn't want me to sit on one of the ridiculously expensive chairs so I took great pleasure in squirming around in one under her scornful glare. I sat there and let their protestations, pleadings and reasoning wash over me with a stubborn smile. I've never been a man of reason me.

They bundled me off into one of the guest rooms. After an hour Will left with his tail between his legs, and a couple of minutes later Governor Swan arrived home, presumably having been off doing the sort of things fathers of the brides do on the night before a wedding.

That night, I tried to sleep in the big ridiculously expensive bed but couldn't. I began to regret giving that half bottle of rum to Will after all. I've never been a big sleeper when I'm sober. Or sober-ish. Put me in a hammock and I'll sleep like a baby all night, sober or not, but in a bed I'm not so good.

I'm the kind of person that doesn't need much sleep anyway.
I got bored.
At about 1 in the morning, lying there looking up at the four-poster bed's muslin hangings, I was reminded of sails.
By dawn I'd wrapped 2 of them up neatly like I would with the Pearl's sails before a storm. The 3rd one I'd made into a real working sail, which billowed gently and caught the slight breeze from the open window opposite. I sat there for a while musing about how strong a wind it would take to actually move the bed across the room, and how I could modify the sail to make it more effective. I was considering cutting one of the hangings up and making a jib to connect to the front, when there was a knock on the door.

I said, in my most regal voice, and sat there on the bed like a king on his throne as Will walked in a dropped the bundle of clothes he was carrying in shock.

I asked, looking around me at the bed. Will's mouth opened and closed like a fish.
I asked again.

After a while he saw the funny side. I doubt Elizabeth ever will though. Luckily I was long gone by the time she saw it thought.

Will had brought me a spare pair of his clothes to wear, seeing that I was intent on coming to the wedding. But best of all, he'd brought me a wig.

It was brilliant, a massive flowing curly white thing, you know the ones? It was brilliant! Not something I'd wear normally, but I never say no to a little bit of playing dress-up, and making myself up like a gent would be a laugh, especially if I could pull it off. Because of course everyone was out for my head in Port Royal, so a disguise was necessary.

Will had to go and get ready himself, and as they couldn't risk getting one of the servants to help me I had to muddle through myself. The clothes were a little bit too big, as young Will's a tad taller than me, but all in all I didn't look too shabby.

Then the wig.
I tied my hair back and placed the wig on my head like a crown.
It really was brilliant!

I think I went a bit over the top with the wig powder though. It sort of went everywhere. So along with the bed, I'd also ruined the carpet, a stuffed chair and a dressing table.

It all turned out for the best though, because being as brown as a nut, I did look rather strange with a pure white wig on. The powder remedied that though.

I proudly came downstairs half an hour later in a frock coat, leggings, big buckled shoes - the whole works. Just very white with powder.

The first test was when I came face to face with the Father of the bride down stairs. Literally, because I tripped on the last step, what with the shoes being at least one size too big, and barreled into him.

he cried, and I steadied myself before knocking him over.

So sorry! I said, straightening up and trying out my most respectable, well bred voice. I thought I'd over done it a little bit, but Governor Swan smiled understandingly at me.

No trouble! he said, I was only surprised - Elizabeth did not tell me we had a guest staying.

The big swanky wedding was held at a big swanky church with Elizabeth in a big swanky dress, and Will looking like he was going to throw up at any moment.

I took great pleasure in watching him suffer with nerves, I'm not ashamed to say. The ceremony was long and boring, the wig was itchy and the power made me need to sneeze. The hymns were fun though. Never thought you'd hear old Jack Sparrow say he enjoyed singing hymns eh? I stood up proudly and sang to my hearts content, just because it made everyone frown and stare at me in disapproval.

Apart from that I amused myself by pulling off the ornamental buttons on my frock coat and throwing them at people when no one was looking. Old Norrington sat a few rows ahead of me, so he was the target of a few of my well aimed throws.

At the end of the ceremony I leapt up and clapped with the rest of them, just so happy that it was finally over and now we could get to the good part.

The party.
The drinking.

The do was back at the Governor's house, in his extensive gardens which had been festooned in all sorts of decorations and frilly things. Obviously no expense had been spared for Daddy's little princess.

So there I am, hob-nobbing with these boring posh types. They had nothing interesting to say but the booze was free and flowing, and I was enjoying it all the more imagining the disgusted and horrified looks that would appear on these placid, politely interested faces if they knew who I really was.

All the same, my quite considerable patience was flagging, and I was about to leave when they brought out the food.

So not only was there free booze, but free food too - how could I resist?

We sat down, shown to our seats by a butler and all dontchaknow, and they fill up these glasses with wine. Big glasses they were. Now until then we'd been on the punch, which was alright by me because I'm sure I could detect some rum or something similar in it. But then came the wine. In the bloody big glasses. Never gave me a bleeding chance did they?

As soon as the bottom of the glass was nearing and the end was in sight, they'd pour me some more!
It was as though they were punishing me!
For a while I thought there was something wrong with my glass - I mean, I'd put it down for a second and when I next looked it would be brimming with wine again! Then I thought I was finally losing it, I mean *really* losing it and imagining the whole thing.

Now one of the reasons I'd come here in the first place, apart from the promise of free booze and free food, was the company of the female variety.

Alright, I admit, I was originally hoping that Elizabeth might want one last fling before she became shackled to William Turner for ever and ever Amen.
But I could see them now, at the head of one of the tables, making lovey-dovey eyes at each other and sneaking a kiss when they thought no one was looking.

Pah. She doesn't know what she's missing.

Anyway I'd already made a circuit of the guests and there was no one here worth a second look. Obviously Mr and Mrs Turner didn't have any young, beautiful lady friends.

But about half an hour after sitting down, I feel something brushing against my leg.

My head shot up, drunk as I was, but I couldn't see anyone who might have been the owner. I passed it off as an accident and went back to staring down my wine glass which was playing up and refilling itself again.

But less than a minute later it happened again.

A brush against my leg, but this time it didn't stop there. It was rubbing, all up my ankle and all around, and this time I couldn't pass it off as an accident. There was a well-to-do middle age woman opposite me, who smiled politely when I stared questioningly at her.

The rubbing against my ankle keeps going, and then goes higher, and higher up my leg. Now I'm beginning to get a bit worried, you know, and I'm desperately trying to find out who's face the
wandering foot belongs too.

I almost choked on my wine as the foot got a little too high up my leg for comfort.

And then, I felt a hand on my thigh, and that was a bit too familiar too.
I looked down at the hand, and followed the arm up to a face.

A decidedly male face.

So the man sitting beside me smiles in a sultry sort of way, licking his lips.
And all I can think is - I'm flattered, but, Oh bugger, how am I going to get out of this one?


The End.

Hehe. I tacked the end bit on from something I'd written earlier. Jack and I share our reaction to wine.
I haven't really gone over this properly so there are probably loads of mistakes.

As usual, nothing in this fic is my personal opinion or views. Please don't get offended by anything Jack does or says.