Disclaimer – Ultimately, Disney owns them. Terry Rossio and Ted Elliot got the screen credit for creating them although Jay Wolpert and Stuart Beattie also had a hand in, Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom gave them life, and Jerry Bruckheimer had the brains to sit back and let talented people do what they do best. I appreciate that in a man, I truly do.
Rating: PG-13 but we're moving closer. In Tortuga. I promise.
Otherstuff – This is, essentially, a direct sequel to HELM'S A LEE. As I can't believe Will would jump immediately into bed with Jack – regardless of how willing I personally would be – I'm taking a bit of time to build his reaction. But only a bit – no need to get ridiculous about things…
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SAVE THE LAST DANCE by Teand-----------------------------------
"Good news, Mister Turner, we'll be sailing into Tortuga on the evening tide."
Will kept his eyes locked on the hinge he was straightening. The Devil found work for idle hands and after three days sailing with Captain Jack Sparrow he literally believed it. "Good."
"It's a tricky bit of sailing going past the headlands and into the harbor, mind." Jack's voice came from too close behind his left shoulder. On a ship empty of all but the two of them, Jack had interesting ideas of personal space. "Of course," the pirate purred, "I've done it a hundred times so you've naught to worry your pretty head about."
"Also good." Not for the first time since leaving Port Royale, Will ignored the description of his head.
"In the meantime, we got ourselves two maybe three hours of clear sailing."
"And?"
"And I'm bored."
Will sighed, set hinge and hammer to one side and straightened, half turning as he moved to stare directly into a pair of dark eyes. "What do you expect me to do about that Jack?"
The dark eyes gleamed. "Let's dance."
"What?"
"You're a dab hand with a blade when the floor lies firm beneath your feet, lad, but how well do you do when you're sliding up and down the bosom of the sea?"
"Again… What?"
Tanned hands cupped the air in front of Jack's chest. "Bosom of the sea."
"I got that part. It was the dabbing and dancing that confused me."
The older man sighed and drew his sword.
"Oh. You want to fight?"
"Fight. Dance." Jack stepped back and flourished his drawn cutlass in a way that suggested he'd spent the morning further depleting the Interceptor's rum stores. "A manly test of skill. No one gets hurt and you might have a chance to get your own back, eh?"
Well, if he put it that way…
"No cheating."
"Define cheating?"
He looked so honestly curious -- not that 'honestly' could be applied in any way, shape or form to Jack Sparrow – that Will found himself smiling. "There are rules," he began but Jack cut him off.
"No rules when you fight a pirate, lad." He leaned a little closer, close enough Will could smell the rum on his breath, and lowered his voice as though afraid he'd be overheard. "All things considered, such as where we're going and where we're likely to end up, that's something you'd best remember."
"So no rules?"
"No rules."
"As you wish…" In one smooth motion, Will reached down, scooped Jack's legs out from under him and leapt over the falling body to the grating where he'd left his sword. By the time he turned, weapon in hand, Jack was back on his feet and advancing, gold gleaming in the depths of a terrifyingly joyful smile.
Will barely got his blade up in time. Steel clashed against steel, this first meeting of metal very different than their last when Jack's blade had caressed its way up one side of Will's and down the other. That had been a seduction. This was a demand.
And the combination of seduction and Jack Sparrow in the same thought was disturbing enough the dance nearly ended before it began; only a last minute twist kept edged steel from his throat.
"That was almost very careless of you, Will my lad."
"I'm not…" Counter thrust. Swing. Duck. Parry. "…your lad."
"True enough."
He seemed so damned agreeable about it as he thrust and parried in turn that Will's blood rose heated into his face – although he couldn't have said exactly what he was heated about – and he began to press the attack with all the skill eight years of frustration had helped him acquire. And damn Jack for that observation too!
The dance took them up onto the forecastle, blades singing – the slight list to starboard Jack had found in the rum matched by Will's less than certainty on the rolling deck. But when Jack danced out the bowsprit, Will followed. And followed again when the pirate pushed off one-handed on a dangling line and swung back to the forecastle rail.
Burn of hemp against a calloused palm. Rail to the deck. Ladder to amidships. Past one of the four block sets that were all that allowed the two of them to handle the Interceptor's lines alone. Then Jack was up on the aft castle steps, blade flashing down.
Will caught it just above the guard and held it easily in spite of Jack's superior position.
The pirate looked intrigued. "You're stronger than you look."
Will raised an eyebrow and said, "Blacksmith."
No doubt that Jack heard the deliberate imitation of his own response back in the smithy. Gold gleamed. Something flashed in the depths of dark eyes and the dance changed. No more showy leaping about. Substance now, not style. Blade on blade. Strength to strength.
Sweat rolled down Will's back and his arm began to ache.
Jack kept smiling. Like he knew a secret.
And it seemed that he did. The ship dropped off the crest of a wave. The deck pitched underfoot. Will's brand new sea legs betrayed him and he stumbled. A twist of Jack's wrist, a movement too fast to follow, and Will's sword clattered on the deck just as Will's shoulder blades hit the closed door to the captain's cabin.
He felt the edge of Jack's cutlass kiss his throat and the lean, hard length of Jack's body holding him captive against the wood and discovered with a rush of heat that he was in more danger from the later. Jack's thigh shoved roughly between his. Jack's face inches from his own. Heart pounding, chest heaving, their breath mingled – heat and rum and something that was uniquely Jack.
In spite of breath that came as quickly as his own, the shark's smile never changed. "Do you yield then?"
Every word out of Jack Sparrow's mouth carried multiple meanings. Every sentence wore a dozen layers. None of his questions came with easy answers. Even on only three days acquaintance, Will knew all that. He opened and closed his hands, wanting, needing something to close them around. He could hardly hear himself think over the pounding of his heart.
It seemed that Jack was listening to the same rhythm. Or not. The pirate cocked his head and his brows rose and, just for an instant, Will thought he saw regret surface in the depths of kohl lined eyes. "Breakers."
"What?" The sword was gone. Jack was gone. Why was Jack gone?
"Breakers." When he saw the word meant no more the second time around, Jack grinned. "We've reached Tortuga a little ahead of schedule it seems. I'll be needing to take the wheel now and you'll be needing to stand by the lines. That is unless you'd rather we break up on the rocks…"
He left it sounding as though it was an option -- which of course it wasn't. Captain Jack Sparrow had every intention of sailing the Interceptor into Tortugas' hidden harbour like he owned it. The harbour, that was, not the Interceptor. Although he owned that too. Will fought to bring his thoughts back into some kind of order very much afraid he, personally, had no options at all.
"Will lad…"
Jack's voice drifted down from the aft castle and Will realized the other man was already at the wheel.
"…the lines if you'd be so kind. While I'm as fond of a grand entrance as the next man, we're going to need to lose a little sail."
With the sound of the breakers in his ears and feeling very much as though he were about to be dashed against the rock – or that he just had been, he wasn't sure which – Will pushed off from the door and stumbled toward the blocks. Nothing to do but man the lines as he was told and wonder what would have happened had he been given time enough to answer Jack's question.
Sails reefed in, he picked up his cutlass and climbed to join Jack at the wheel.
The pirate lifted a brow at the sight of the blade and grinned. "That's twice I've beaten you now. Tell you what, lad; we'll make time for a dance in Tortuga, shall we? Third time pays for all?"
Will waited a heartbeat, slid his sword through his belt, and nodded once, not wanting to make a fool of himself by saying the word. The same word he'd have said with Jack's sword at his throat.
At that moment, he'd have yielded all that he was.
And only a fool would believe that Jack didn't know it.
--end--