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“Will!” Jack exclaims happily, drawing Will’s attention away from sharpening one of his blades. Jack waves him over, gesturing fluidly to the empty space on the bench next to him. “Will, my good man, come join me.”
“I’ve been around pirates long enough by now to know being called a good man isn’t a compliment, Jack,” Will murmurs dryly, but he ambles over to his Captain nonetheless. Jack snags his arm as soon as Will is within touching distance, pulling him down so fast that Will lands mostly on Jack’s lap. Ignoring Will’s scandalized protests, Jack wraps the arm not busy holding his bottle of rum around Will’s waist. Will knows from experience just how strong his Captain is, months of sparring with Jack have taught him well enough not to underestimate Jack’s strength. Jack grins, pleased, when Will slumps against the Captain, resigned to his fate.
“Not when it comes to you, laddie,” Jack drawls, singing his words like their spun silk. One of Jack’s hands finds its way into Will’s hair, winding through the strands with all the skill of a particularly talented musician. The soothing movements cox a whine from Will’s throat, and Jack hums delightedly in response. “You are a rare type of treasure, my boy. A good man and a crafty pirate all at the same time.”
“Like my father,” Will says quietly, remembering Jack’s words from all those months ago. When Jack was a stranger Will had thought to be a scoundrel. Much has changed since then. Now, Will is certain Jack is a scoundrel, but he is the furthest thing from a stranger. He is the person Will is closest to outside of Elizabeth. He is the wild spray of the sea. He is the height of a good fight. He is Will’s captain. He is Jack.
“Similar to your father,” Jack agrees, his words getting lost in Will’s hair. Jack scratches behind Will’s ear and he relaxes into Jack’s arms with a happy sigh. Will can feel Jack’s answering grin against his neck. “But not quite a matching set. Your father was more pirate than good man, but you walk the line in between with perfect balance.”
“You are annoyingly wise sometimes, Jack, it’s disconcerting,” Will grumbles, valiantly fighting down the blush rushing to his cheeks. Jack chuckles, his chest rumbling behind Will’s back, and Will can feel the kiss Jack presses onto the crown of his head. Will huffs, embarrassed, trying to wriggle out of Jack’s arms.
“I have to keep you on your toes, Turner. It wouldn’t do for you to get all complacent,” Jack says, laughter clear in his voice. He offers Will the bottle of rum, an obvious bribe, but Will accepts it anyway. Rum is a luxury this far along their journey, with barely three days till they reach land. The Black Pearl has been sailing the mighty oceans for seven weeks now, the rum disappearing slowly each day. Will settles back down, eagerly sipping the alcohol. It used to burn his throat, and it still does today, but he has learned to savor the sharp sting. Elizabeth even partakes on occasion. Wine will always be her preferred drink, but she has grown fond of their Captian’s favorite vice.
The bottle is almost empty, so Will only takes a few mouthfuls. Best to avoid the tantrum depriving Captain Jack Sparrow of his rum would cause. Jack, of course, would swear up and down that he has never partaken in anything even remotely close to a tantrum. He would be lying.
“Last couple of drops,” Will warns, handing the bottle back. Will can’t see his face, but he would bet his best sword that a petulant scowl is gracing Jack’s lips right now. Jack snatches the bottle back instantly, hugging it to his chest.
“Noooo,” Jack whines miserably, sounding nothing like the feared Pirate Captain sailors whisper stories of. “Why is the rum gone? Why is the rum always gone?”
“It is a travesty,” Will observes amusedly, patting Jack’s thigh in commiseration. “The most unwelcome of events, one could say. A miserable happenstance, so to speak. I’m not sure we’ll survive this one, Captain. It’s terrible-”
“Alright, that’s enough out of you,” Jack grumbles, whacking the back of Will’s head. Jack soothes the ache a second later, and Will can detect hints of laughter in his tone, so he knows Jack isn’t actually aggravated. “Just for that, Turner, you can be the one to secure the rum when we make it to port.”
“Aye, Aye, Captain,” Will drawls, grinning at the snort of laughter that shakes the chest behind him.
“Brat,” Jack declares fondly, and Will snuggles contently into his chest.
It would be a few days yet before Jack learned the folly of giving orders a couple of bottles of rum in.
Unfortunately for the good captain, Will is the only one who remembers the drunken command.
And let me just tell you, Elizabeth is going to have a lot to say on the matter…
The door to the captain’s cabin slamming open shocks Jack from his peaceful slumber. A shame that is too, he was having such a lovely dream. Staring a fiery governor’s daughter and a sweet blacksmith’s apprentice. In his fantasies, Jack had managed to seduce them away from the safety of their harbor and into the perilous life of a pirate. An achievement to be proud of. Jack burrows into his covers, grumbling protests and mumbled insults. It is far too early to deal with impertinent sailors.
“Jack Sparrow! Get your torpid hide out of bed!” Elizabeth Swan-Turner’s enraged voice does wonders for Jack’s state of alertness. He hesitantly peers up at her from under his sheets and one glance at her wrathful presence has Jack scrambling off the bed. He promptly gets tangled in the sheets and trips head first onto the couch positioned at the head of his bed. Munitany in the making this is. First Jack is rudely ripped from his dreams and now his own furniture is trying to assassinate him.
“Elizabeth, darling,” Jack exclaims, rising gracefully from the couch and smoothing out his rumpled sleep clothes. “Not that I don’t love seeing your ravishing self before greeting the sun, but to what do I owe this pleasure?”
“It’s Will, Jack,” Elizabeth declares, pacing the length of the cabin anxiously. Jack tenses slightly, unnerved by Elizabeth displaying her emotions so freely. She normally hides her fear and agitation with a mask of anger. “He’s missing. I woke up this morning and he was absent from our bed.”
“He’s probably with the crew,” Jack reassures, waving her worries away. Will has never been a morning person, but occasionally the open ocean will call to him. When he gets the urge to chart the stars or watch the sunrise, he’ll usually spend the night down with the crew in the hopes of not disturbing Elizabeth’s rest. Strange lad, that one.
“No, I’ve already checked the bunks,” Elizabeth interjects, waving her arms indignantly. Jack pauses, turning to analyze her features. Elizabeth’s eyes are glossed over with the sheen of tears, her cheeks are flushed with anger, and her lips are bitten raw. A common habit for the woman when concentrating on a particularly difficult problem or overly distressed. Elizabeth is truly worried about their Willam’s well-being.
Jack quickly locates a pair of trousers and pulls them on. He wastes no time after that, striding swiftly over to Elizabeth. He slides his larger, tanned hands over her petite ones comfortingly. Calluses are starting to form on her palms and the pads of her fingers. When the newly wedded groom and bride infiltrated his ship claiming the pirate life their ideal occupation, Jack was fully prepared to set them up in his cabin and spend his days spoiling them rotten. Perhaps in direct defiance of that belief, no sooner had the Black Pearl embarked on its newest voyage, Jack’s most treasured plunder safely enclosed in his cabin, when Elizabeth demanded to know her work rotation and Will where he could be of use.
Not one day has passed since when the young couple hasn’t done their fair share, working harder than the rest of the crew in some cases. They help swab the deck. Will takes over in the kitchen most nights. He rebelled after a single bite of the meal the usual cooks prepared. Elizabeth has a disciplined work ethic and the dominant personality to force everyone around her to meet her high standards. If Jack’s being perfectly honest, the Pearl has never run smoother. The crew is happy, dedicated, and well-fed. That last one is arguably the most important.
If Jack’s being even more brutally honest, he might have to admit having the Turners sulking around his ship has soothed some previously buried, unknown ache deep in his chest. Jack likes standing behind the helm, the Pearl’s sturdy bulk beneath him, and Will’s steady presence at his back. Jack enjoys waking to Elizabeth’s cultured voice excited to tell him all about whatever interesting fact she learned from her newest book. He relishes the afternoons spent sparring with Will. The burn of his muscles and the giddy grin gracing Will’s face consume his dreams. He especially loves the nights he surrenders to Morpheus barricaded by a Turner on either side.
“Where did you see him last?” Jack questions, forcing his mind back to the problem at hand. The familiar rush of adrenaline charges down his spine. Elizabeth huffs, snatching her hands away to rub irritatedly at her brow.
“I don’t know, Jack!” Elizabeth cries, glaring at him. Jack raises his arms in surrender, trying to placate the irate woman. “I was mostly asleep by the time he came to bed. He was gone by the time I woke up.”
“He was on the final rotation last night,” Jack murmurs, mentally scrolling through his dossier of work schedules. “He would have helped secure the Pearl to the dock and with the port officials.”
By port officials, Jack obviously means the local thugs who control the docks. Will’s pretty face, crafty smile, and sharp blades always do wonders for the thugs’ attitudes and prices. It’s possible the meeting devolved and Will was overwhelmed, but the crew mates Jack sent with Will would’ve alerted him already if that was the case.
“You didn't go with him,” Elizabeth demands, no longer shouting. Her voice has gone deadly quiet and Jack has to physically suppress a shudder. Shouting is better. Let’s go back to shouting, please.
“I had a foot in the grave, darling,” Jack explained, trying to sound reasonable and not even a little terrified. “I was red-eyed, slurring my words, and tired as the dead.”
“And I’m sure rum had nothing to do with it,” Elizabeth accuses, her voice starting to rise again. Jack takes it back, shouting is not better. Mission critical. Retreat! Retreat! “I can’t believe you sent our lover to meet with dangerous felons All. On. His OWN!”
“Well I can’t believe you lost your own husband,” Jack snaps, trying to draw attention away from his own folly. Elizabeth’s nostrils flare and she narrows her eyes, nearly incandescent in her rage. Jack can not think of another moment when he desired to kiss her as badly as he does now. Not the time, Sparrow, Jack scolds himself, hastily dodging an airborne pillow. Definitely not the time.
“You're his captain!” Elizabeth yells back, hurling a balled-up shirt at Jack’s head.
“You’re his wife!” Jack bellows, preparing to launch a dirty sock at her. A timid knock interrupts Jack mid-throw, and they both spin to glare at Gibbs, who is fidgeting sheepishly at Jack’s door.
“Cap’in,” Gibbs begins hesitantly, scratching the back of his head. “If ya don't mind me say’in, wouldn't it be most beneficial to star’ search’in for the lad now instead of arguing with the lass?”
Jack grins at his first mate, eagerly jumping at the excuse to escape Elizabeth’s ire.
“A wonderful idea, Gibbs,” Jack enthuses, grabbing his hat and boots before hightailing out of the cabin. He hears Elizabeth huff in exasperation, but a second later her footsteps sound behind him, so Jack’s counting this one as a win. Gibbs starts hollering orders as soon as he reaches the deck, and Jack watches contently as his crew jumps to attention and hastens to obey.
“We have to find him, Jack,” Elizabeth says, coming to stand beside him. Jack winds an arm around her waist, and despite her clear agitation, Elizabeth sags against him.
“We will, darling,” Jack promises, steadfastly ignoring the growing worry churning in his gut. “We will.”
Meanwhile…
Will whistles a jaunty tune as he strolls through the vibrant marketplace. The Black Pearl docked last night and Will had the honor of securing their safe harbor in the latest lawless town. After he haggled the port officials down to a more reasonable price, and Will uses the term official loosely, he caught a few hours rest alongside his delightful wife in preparation for his early morning duties. Jack asked, well playfully ordered might be a more accurate description, Will to acquire fresh rum. Since he’ll be in the market anyways, Will figured he might as well make a day of it.
Elizabeth is in need of some new cloth to fashion dresses out of. To quote Will’s sly wife, apparently, “No matter how fond she is of the more convenient style of trousers, playing the damsel in distress is simply far much easier when wearing a dress.” Jack has expressed a desire, alongside his wish for more rum, for clothes that are better suited to help him blend in with the more law-abiding citizens. It has come to Will’s attention that both of his loves are rather devious. Will, now that he’s pondering it, recognizes that he prefers it that way.
His coin bag clangs happily against his thigh, alerting anyone within hearing distance of Will’s apparent wealth. He has had to fend off four muggers already this morning. The high of a good fight still lingers in his bones and a smile might be permanently fixed on his features. The day is shaping up to be quite the splendid one.
While Will is meandering merrily across town, Jack and Elizabeth are frantically searching for him…
Elizabeth stalks across the dock furiously, her hair dancing wildly in the wind. The rotting boards of the old deck groan beneath the weight of the good majority of Jack’s crew. Elizabeth expertly navigates the rebellious swaying of the decaying deck, marching steadily towards the only structure that could house staff on the dock. Jack and Gibbs are a half step behind her, one at each shoulder. The sword that Will lovingly crafted for her is a reassuring weight along her hip and with the backing of the mighty Black Pearl’s crew, Elizabeth can almost feel sorry for the men whose day she is about to ruin.
Elizabeth barely slows her unforgiving pace as she kicks in the door blocking her path. Shouts of alarm greet her as she strides in, instantly cataloging the six men lounging across various pieces of furniture. The biggest one, because of course a group such as this would pick their leader based on size, doesn’t bother to fully look up before he grabs his sword and charges. Elizabeth easily steps out of his way, rolling her eyes all the while. A glance over her shoulder confirms her belief that Jack can handle the large thug, freeing Elizabeth to deal with the other five. It is nice to be right.
“Good morning,” Elizabeth chirps, sending the men a smile that could never be described as anything nice. The rest of the crew files in behind Jack and Gibbs and one of the dock’s staff gulps. Elizabeth lets a smirk slink across her face. She can picture what they look like. A woman with golden hair dressed in the leathers of a dangerous pirate. Two dozen men at her back, each of them armed and mean-looking. Elizabeth knows they’re an intimidating sight.
“We’re looking for a young man,” Elizabeth declares, curling her fingers over the handle of her sword. “He has long brown hair, hazel eyes, and wears a necklace.”
“You’re gonna hafta be more specific than tha’, lassie,” one of the men scoffs, flicking a disinterested hand at her.
Elizabeth arches an eyebrow prepared to try alternative measures to get her point across more successfully. Jack acts before Elizabeth has a chance to though. In one fluid movement, he unholsters his knife, turns to face the man who spoke, slams him against a wall, and drives his blade into the man’s tender shoulder. The man howls in pain, thrashing, but Jack’s arms are like bands of steel. The other men try to come to their partner's defense, but the sound of several guns cocking has them freezing in place.
“Wrong answer,” Jack remarks, letting the man slump to the ground in a miserable heap.
“Now then,” Elizabeth calls, sitting primly on the edge of a nearby table. “Let’s try that again. The man would have spoken with you last night. Negotiating the docking price for the Black Pearl.”
“Ya mean that skinny bastard!” One of the men exclaims, mustering up an outraged expression. “He tricked us with his pretty words. Forced us to lower the prices, he did.”
“It was witchcraft,” another insists, and all his friends nod their agreement.
“That does sound like Will,” Jack concurs, grinning like a fool. “Have you seen him?”
“We killed him,” one of the men proclaims, grinning nastily at her captain. Elizabeth’s heart skips a beat, her stomach rolling as it did during her first week at sea.
“Killed him before he made it back to his fancy boat, we did,” the man Elizabeth sidestepped earlier explains, and she whips around to stare at him in horror. He smirks at her, and she contemplates the advantages of running him through.
“Slit his throat and let the blood leak out all pretty like,” Another man leers, his partners sniggering behind him. Elizabeth feels bile racing up her throat and pushes her way out of the room, ignoring Jack’s concerned shouts. He finds her heaving into the ocean a few minutes later. Blood has stained his sleeves, but his hands are clean when he reaches for her. She falls into his arms, shuddering. He soothes her with gentle sounds, and Elizabeth can’t help but take a second to marvel at the considerate man holding her. When they first met, and for a long time after, Elizabeth witnessed only the harsh facets of Captain Jack Sparrow.
“Don’t tell me everything will be alright,” Elizabeth pleads, hiding her face in his neck. Jack pets her hair, murmuring gentle agreements.
“I won’t tell you that, darling,” Jack agrees, taking her face in his warm, callused hands. He strokes her cheeks softly, wiping away the drying tear tracks. “I will tell you that he lied, though.”
“What?” Elizabeth demands, her shaking hands moving to grip his signature coat tightly.
“Will made it back to your bed last night,” Jack explains, his lips quivering in a barely-there smile. “Hence our disreputable friend was lying and our dear Will is off gallivanting somewhere without a slit throat.”
“Oh,” Elizabeth says, blinking rapidly. She springs to her feet, taking account of herself. All of her vomit made it into the sea, her shoes are slightly scruffed, and her hair has had better days, but considering the circumstances, she’s doing rather well.
“Why didn’t you lead with that?” Elizabeth questions loftily, straightening her leathers so they lay correctly across her body. She doesn’t give Jack time to respond. She turns with a huff and starts sauntering to where the dock meets land. She has a rebel husband to track down.
Meanwhile…
Will has had an extremely successful morning. Elizabeth’s dress material is packed carefully alongside Jack’s clothes in a newly required bag slung over Will’s shoulder. Fourteen barrels of rum are to be delivered to the Black Pearl later this afternoon, with Will supervising of course. He even managed to find a grocer on the island with fresh produce. Next to the grocer’s stand was a sweet family selling flour and eggs. At first, Will was rather perplexed as to how such a demure family could end up in this unlawful place. It wasn’t until Will was several streets over that he realized his coin purse was missing. It seems the children were trained pickpockets.
Jack would have found them charming. So would Elizabeth for that matter. It’s no problem though. Will has fresh flour and eggs for the ship and the children got to practice their skills. Will stole the coin bag and the coin from someone else anyhow. He has just enough coin left to purchase himself some lunch before returning to the Black Pearl. Hopefully, his loves will be pleased with their gifts. He thought he spotted a pub on the way into town this morning. Sea Ducks or something like that.
Meanwhile…
After their spectacular and bloody failure with the port officials, Elizabeth organized a search party for dear will. Well, actually, it might be more apt to say Gibbs organized a search party while Elizabeth stood next to him glaring everyone into submission. Jack has always known she would be an intimidating captain, and today has given him all the evidence he needs to prove his theory.
They’ve been scouring the bustling town for three hours now. So far Jack has noted five people who recognize Will's description but refuse to admit to seeing him. Jack’s sweetheart has always been good at charming everyone around him and this anarchic populace is proving no different. His many years plundering the seven seas have granted Jack the ability to read hidden emotions and repressed expressions. There’s no doubt Will has been to the various stalls they’ve questioned, but the owners protecting Jack’s lover is a good sign.
Elizabeth, who has only gotten tenser the longer she goes without laying eyes on Will, doesn’t appear to agree with him. She’s picked up on the locals' reluctance to share as well, and Jack is starting to get worried the next person who refuses to divulge will meet the business end of Elizabeth’s sword.
“Jack,” Elizabeth hisses, grabbing his arm. She points at a man strutting down the street, a man Jack recognizes. The Black Pearl happened upon a fellow pirate ship a few weeks back. Jack was prepared to share a friendly wave and sail right along past, but the other ship’s captain had different plans. They tried to raid the Pearl, going as far as firing their cannons and boarding with weapons raised. Jack was thoroughly annoyed by that point and gave the order for his crew to attack.
Jack rarely turns away a sailor wishing to join his crew, but after their his, he shapes them into dangerous opponents. Having Will onboard has only made this task easier. The sweet thing is a demon with any type of blade and is a rather excellent teacher. The Black Pearl has never had a fiercer crew and the overconfident captain was soundly defeated. Jack claimed all the treasure, rum, and ammo from the stupid captain as penance and went on his merry way. Will going missing in the same town their newfound enemies are staying in could pose a problem.
Jack nods at Elizabeth, giving her the good ahead to follow the opposing pirate. Elizabeth snags a parasol from a nearby stall and sashays down the pebble street. Jack follows close behind her, posture confident and hat tipped low over his face. Jack whistles three sharp notes and members of his hearty crew fall trail after him. Gibbs appears from seemingly nowhere and ambles over to walk by Jack’s shoulder.
The pirate Elizabeth is following enters a pub, the door slamming closed loudly behind him. ‘Sea Bucks’ is painted on the sign hanging over the pub’s entrance and Elizabeth pauses only long enough to check their close before slipping through the door. Jack swears colorfully under his breath and hastens his pace. An Elizabeth left unattended is an Elizabeth bound for trouble. Sure enough, by the time Jack enters the pub Elizabeth has her sword drawn and is surrounded by the rude captain and his crew on all sides.
“Where is he?” Elizabeth is snarling, menace blazing within her eyes.
“Who?” The captain whose name Jack should probably learn asks snobbishly.
“My husband,” Elizabeth grounds out, her temper visibly rising. Jack fingers his sword and pistol in preparation for the inevitable fight that is quickly approaching.
“Who?” The captain asks again, this time plainly rolling his eyes. Elizabeth, either itching for a fight after the stressful day or genuinely worried the man hurt their Will, brandishes her sword and throws herself bodily at the man. Things escalate quickly after that. The Black Pearl’s crew comes to their lass’ defense instantly and Jack doesn’t even have time to feel pride before he’s jumping in as well.
The abundant distractions and quickly escalating danger are the only excuses Jack has for taking so long to notice the new skilled fighter joining the skirmish. Even if his luscious brown locks and beautifully tan skin didn’t give him away, Jack should have recognized his fighting techniques sooner. Will cuts through the opposition with a ruthless grace. His blade is an arch of gleaming silver. Jack only catches glimpses of bright metal as Will dances across the pub. Minutes after it started, the pub fight came to a close.
A couple of Jack’s men are leaning on their brother for support, but none of his are severely injured. The other captain's crew can’t boast of the same. Most of that guy's men are whimpering on the ground or just flat-out unconscious. Jack can once again add a tally to the win column.
There is no mistaking when Elizabeth catches sight of Will. She makes a surprised, happy sound and leaps into his arms. Will has the good sense to drop his sword before catching her and then they’re kissing, and what a sight it is. Elizabeth has her hands buried in Will's hair and her legs wrapped around his torso. Will’s hands are braced on her neck and ass. Their lips move in a slow, sensual dance. They press close together, two halves of mold finally reunited. Will does something Jack can’t see, but it must have been amazing if the moan Elizabeth groans out is any indication.
Jack swiftly decides that’s enough of the watching and no-touching nonsense. He next to them in three long strides. When they break away for breath, Will opens his mouth to ask a question, but Jack doesn’t give him the chance. Instead, Jack sweeps the sweet thing into his arms and plunders his mouth. Jack lets Will nip at his lips as he explores the lad’s mouth. Mapping out all the new tastes and cavernous crevices.
“Hello to you too,” Will murmurs happily as they pull apart. Elizabeth chooses this moment to whack Will on the back of the head. He springs away from Jack to escape his avenging wife, rubbing his abused head with a confused expression. It’s unfairly adorable.
“Where have you been!?” Elizabeth demands, shaking her fist at Will. Will backs away, his hands raised in surrender, and sends Jack pleading glances.
“What do you mean?” Will asks, retreating to the further side of a table. “Jack asked me to get more rum.”
Elizabeth freezes, turning wide eyes on Will. The lad gulps and tries to get even farther away from the irate woman.
“What?” Elizabeth asks, but this time it’s rhetorical. Jack takes one look at her reddeningly face and bolts, all his survival senses going haywire. Elizabeth takes off right behind him, and Jack suddenly feels like the hounds of hell are biting at his heels.
"JACK SPARROW!!”