Disclaimer: No pirates here. I owe it all to Disney, Ted and Terry, and mostly the amazing Mr. Depp.
A/N: Should I keep going with the story?
Ch. 3- Fiasco
Will lay awake, staring at the emptiness of the white ceiling. His eyes stared blankly, his ears absorbing the silence of early morning. He turned and looked at his alarm clock. It glowed 4: 30 am. He turned his head back around, laying it flat on the pillow.
Slowly, he shut his eyes. He tried to empty his mind, to trick it into sleep. It was no use, he was fully awake and his mind would hear nothing of more rest. Grudgingly, Will pulled his covers and sheets up, allowing his legs ample room to wiggle out. The air felt cool on his bare chest and legs, and he absentmindedly rubbed his hand along the waist of his boxers. Setting his feet on the light carpet, he trotted to the bathroom, flipping on the light.
The glare caused him to squint while his pupils adjusted. As his reflection became clearer, his defined features molded into a large grin. He laughed, scratching the back of his head. His face looked tired and puffy, his eyes were half closed, and his hair stuck up from every angle. Groggily, he shuffled over and turned on the shower.
At record speed, hot water sprayed out from the showerhead, and Will had only to slip off the thin shorts and walk in. Surrendering his face to the steamy spray, he allowed his thoughts to drift to his conversation with Jack the previous day.
Deep inside of him, something glowed with an all-too-often-unfelt warmth. He had laughed. For once in who knows how long, a twang of happiness had struck his life. This is a guy that I can see getting close to; he could be that best friend I never had.
Growing up the son of a prominent political figure had it's quirks, of course, but it most often ended up a nightmare. Will was either home-schooled or sent to private school his entire life, and neither place offered much of a friendship opportunity. Even if it did, Will never got to stay there long enough to make any friends. True, he could be fairly introverted, but he yearned for the closeness of a companion.
The hot water was rippling down his toned muscles and swirling down the drain into oblivion. He worked out a few times a week, not so much to get muscular as to vent stress and anger. That was probably why his biceps weren't deadly weapons, but he didn't like lots of muscles anyway.
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Jack rolled over sleepily, shoving his face into the soft pillow. The sheets were wrapped around his legs, pinning him to the bed. He rolled over again, further entangling himself. His arms stretched above his head, one hand moving down to rub his face. Both eyes slowly flickered open, revealing bright bronze orbs. He rolled again, promptly falling off the bed with his legs twisted around the sheets. Disentangling his legs, he pulled himself up and stretched. Then, he threw the sheets back on the bed haphazardly, not particularly caring at the moment.
He scratched the back of his head, contemplating the current issue. The bathroom connected to his room wasn't working; evidently due to it's previous guest. This, obviously, created a slight problem, considering the fact that it was-
He looked over at the clock by his bed
-10 am, and he needed a shower. He was told to share Will's bathroom, but he really didn't want to bother the guy, he'd been nice enough to Jack as it was, Jack didn't want to make him feel obligated.
After a moment of pondering his options, Jack's bladder forced him to give in. He found a pair of boxers and some pajama pants and quickly pulled them on, foregoing the shirt for comfort.
Slipping out into the hall, he raised his arms high above his head in a large cat-like stretch. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head back and forth to wake up, having to turn around a few times to get his bearings. After 5 agonizing minutes, he found what he supposed was Will's room, which was, of course, three doors down from his, and sans confusion would have warranted 30 seconds to get to.
He raised his fist to the wood and knocked lightly, hoping desperately that he was at the right room. After a moment, the door opened. Much to Jack's relief, Will stood on the other side.
Will looked slightly confused. "...Jack?"
"That was my name the last time I checked..."
"Right...but, uh, what are you...do you need something...?" Will kept staring at Jack and scrunching up his face in puzzlement.
"My bathroom is, er, having some problems with i'self. The esteemed employees of the house suggested that I make use of your bathroom lest my bladder explode, in which case I will no longer require use of it."
Will was once again pleasantly amused at the man's ability to make any situation funny; his wit and affinity for words were a gift. Smiling, he stepped back to allow Jack to come in.
"Gimme a break, Jack, it's only 10. Get your ass in here, I'm tired...the bathroom's back there to the right." He pointed behind him and to Jack's right to a door on one wall of the immense room.
Jack nodded gently with the hint of a smile beginning to caress his face. He quickly made his way to the door and shut himself inside the room.
As Will trudged back to his bed and plopped onto it, he heard the distinct sound of the toilet flushing followed by the shower.
He lifted his book from it's splayed position on the bed and continued reading. There had been a reason that he hadn't slept well, why he'd been awake so early, but he chose to ignore it. He would just deal with being tired for a day. Becoming upset over one little dream was not acceptable...not if you were the president's son, not if you were Will Turner. It's not like it's really important or anything...right? Somehow, he couldn't convince himself that it was unimportant. His mind reverted to the dream as Will fought to keep reading.
The boat swayed gently on the caressing waters, its mast bobbing up and down against the sky. A black flag, its distinct skull and swords displayed in white, rippled in the wind. Suddenly he was below deck, lying on a warm wooden bed in a well-furnished room. A tingling sensation flowed through his unconscious mind…it would be the first thing he would remember when he woke up. The room was by no means large, but compared to the rest of the ship, it was a good size. Large maps hid parts of three of the hazel walls. A desk comprised mainly of drawers sat beneath a bright blue and green map of the Caribbean Islands. The thick door (wooden, just like nearly everything else in the room), stared ominously at him from across the room.
This dream was more vivid than any other. It felt scorched into his mind for eternity.
From behind him, a firm arm wrapped itself around his waist, drawing him closer. The warm, tingling rush made itself present again. All he knew was that he loved the owner of that arm; he hadn't even seen a face yet, but the comfortable bliss that was electrifying his senses told him all he needed to know.
He began to turn towards his spouse, but as soon as he caught sight of a flood of long, black hair, firm and angry hands grabbed hold of him, wrenching them apart. The two lovers reached towards each other, their arms clawing at thin air. The British Navy took the two aboard their ship in a whirlwind of activity. Dragged down into the moldy ship prison and barely fed, they were unceremoniously thrown into separate cells. Frail and emaciated, they locked their fingers together through the unsympathetic bars in one last defiant stance. They died, clinging as close to each other as they could get. They died, still loving each other as much as ever. They died, knowing that one day, they would live.
He slammed his book down in frustration. As he massaged his eyes with the palms of his hands, he heard strange noises coming from the bathroom.
Will slowly lifted his head, staring in amazement at the bathroom door. Hoisting himself off the bed, he quickly crossed over to the door and put his ear against it.
Jack was…singing. Will chuckled inwardly.
He was pulled out of his daze by a loud knock on his bedroom door. Before he could get over to answer it, a somewhat stout man entered.
"Contributor of my DNA." Will stated formally, infusing as much iciness into his voice as he could without it being obvious.
The president didn't even notice Will's jibe. "Ah, William," He looked around the room expectantly, "is, er, Mr. Sparrow in here anywhere?" He looked around again, as though he might have missed him on the first scan.
Will noticed his father's eyes focusing on his bed, a sickened look coming across the elder Turner's face.
"Well you certainly won't find him in there," Will answered the unasked question angrily. "He's in the bathroom, if you must know, and the only reason that he's in here in the first place is because he came here this morning since the bathroom in his guest room is still out of order from the visit of your hunting buddy!" Will wanted to slap him.
"Well-"
Will cut him off. "Why in the hell would you think that?"
"I saw the two of you talking during dinner and-"
"A world exists outside of your own?...What a concept!"
The president hardly noticed Will's comments…or anger. "-you were talking with another man, what am I supposed to think?"
"That we're FRIENDS!"
"That's lucky for you…I'm not sure I could still stand to look at you if you were…like that." The president crossed his arms tightly across his chest.
"…And Jack? What makes you think that he's," Will became sarcastic, "'like that'?"
"He doesn't have a wedding ring."
"Oh big whoop. And even if he was gay, what the hell does that have anything to do with you?"
"He's staying in my house." The portly, elderly man stated, an angry glare creeping up his monkey-like features.
"Well, he's not, and even if he was, there's nothing wrong with that. Besides, it wouldn't change anything else about him." Will glared down at his father, using the man's small height to his advantage.
Jack chose a very opportune moment to walk out of the bathroom.
The president had begun to look more and more uncomfortable by the minute, and as soon as Jack trotted out sans shirt, he jumped on his chance to get out of there.
"…Mr. Sparrow, our press event for today at noon has been cancelled, so that means we won't have one for the next few days. Enjoy your free time!" He looked definitively at Will and stomped out of the room.
Jack stared at the door and raised an eyebrow. "Would you like to tell me what that was all about?"
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"It was nothing…" Will answered quickly. Too quickly.
"Is he mad at me or something?" Jack's face looked pained. He was hurt. "I mean, did I do something wrong? I feigned interest whenever possible…"
"…It's a long, pathetic tale of a president whose brain has some loose marbles rolling pointlessly around."
Jack still looked bothered. "Not that I really like the guy…his views are asphyxiatingly conservative- just my personal opinion. But, uh, the thing is, I would kinda like for him to think highly of me, just because it never hurts to be on his highness' good side."
"I've tried to get on that side for years. Eighteen of them, to be exact. Good luck with that."
"Nice try. Changing the subject won't work. What is he angry about?" Jack was speaking in chopped sentences. Will decided he'd better just give in and prevent a heart attack.
"He was going on about some stupid premise of his that since we're friends, we surely must be gay." Will went for the blunt approach, hoping that the poor guy would realize that his father was simply a thinking-impaired bastard.
Jack stared at him for a moment, unable to speak. Then, suddenly, he began laughing. He laughed so hard that he collapsed onto the floor. From there, he began rolling, tears falling from his eyes, his laughing continuous. Will stared, dumbstruck.
Finally, Jack came to a halt on his back, his fingers wiping his eyes. His breathing was
shallow and frequent and his face was a light red.
"How do you find this amusing?" Will interrogated.
"…I have no idea..." Jack mused, "but I really don't care if your father thinks that about me…it's not like it matters or would change anything."
"You're kidding, right?" Will retorted, "It would change everything with him…he's bent in the head, remember?"
Jack's occasional rebut of laughter stopped there. "I still don't care," He spoke firmly. He jumped up and moved his pants back to a comfortable position from their twisted state and casually crossed the room to the door.
"And you shouldn't either." With that, he gave a quick two-fingered mock-salute and went into the hall.
Will stared after him, thoroughly convinced that everyone had lost their bloody mind.
Ok my faithful readers, I'm kind of wondering whether or not to keep going with the story...all input much appreciated!