veronica_rich | "Contradictions 7

This is a continuation of a fic. See Part 1 for disclaimers, description, etc.

The next couple of hours were a whirl in Jack’s mind, as he partook liberally of the flow of rum and tried not to watch the couples in the crowd – both cream-clad and otherwise – mingling and laughing and having a good time.

If this was someone’s idea of a joke and Jack ever found out who it was, he really would keelhaul them. He’d worked so hard for so long, at so many otherwise opportune moments, to keep his lust for the Turner lad confined to his own mind. Only Elizabeth had really spoken up, and she’d kept it between the two of them, as far as he knew.

Worse, though, was the brief, foolish spark of hope he’d felt when he’d initially spotted Will as the person behind him. Everyone and everything around them dropped into an indistinct background; had Will shown even the slightest interest, he would’ve embarrassed himself and gone to the man, throwing his arms around the smith. As it was, not only did he still have to keep things confined to his own mind, he now had to work extra at it for Will’s sake, since the odd experience had undoubtedly thrown suspicion his way. Chances were the smith had no faith in this sort of voodoo, but there was always the off-chance he’d give Jack closer scrutiny now.

Finally, Jack managed to sneak away from Liana and his crew and everyone else, and make his way along shadows down the beach to one of the several rowboats dug partway into the sand. He pried one loose and shoved it out into the glassy black water beneath the full moon, hopping in to begin rowing toward Pearl. He had rum, he had solitude, and he was going to take both to his ship for the night. Being captain had its prerogatives, after all, occasional privacy being one of them. Securing the boat after the partially-exhausting row – this is why he didn’t usually drink at sea, despite everyone’s collective belief to the contrary – Jack climbed Pearl’s hull and snaked up over the railing.

Ah, solitude. He had her lightly bobbing planks beneath the damp soles of his feet, a bottle of rum in his hand, and began to feel a weight lifting off his heart. He wandered to a crate near the rail and climbed up, crossing his legs and arranging himself with the rum in his lap. Leaning back, he directed his gaze to the brilliant stars, away from the revelry on land, letting his mind wander as it would … unconcerned with affairs of ship or state, or anyone’s welfare but his own immediate thoughts.

Predictably, they came back to Will. Fine, let them, he thought, too drunk – or something – to fight it. I’m in love, and I’m an old fool for being in love, and it serves me right to get it knocked upside my head with the idiocy and futility of it. It’s about fucking time I quit mooning over the lad and found someone for the moment, for Chrissake. Hell, anyone’d do – any warm, willing woman in the next available port town, or perhaps even a man. Jack wouldn’t be picky – all he wanted was dark eyes and dark hair, and warm, pliable lips, and something firm between the legs, and strong, slender arms to pull him near as he groaned into that sinfully sweet mouth and heard a deep baritone saying his name …

“Oh!” Jack sat upright at the voice, scrambling awake through a fog of sleep, feeling his bottle fall forward and hearing it hit the deck and slosh. “I didn’t know you’d come back here.”

“I … yeah, I did. Sleep easier on th’ water, ‘s all.” Jack blinked; he didn’t know how long he’d been asleep, though there was a crick in the back of his neck from slumping it against the coil of rope behind him. “You’re all right. I can go below.”

“It’s your ship.” Will stood in the middle of the deck, not too far away, looking oddly lost now that he thought he’d lost his sleeping quarters. “I was just going to do some work down in the forge.”

“No, that’s all-“ Jack stopped, his brain clearing, and sighed as he unfolded his legs over the side of the crate. “It’s a big ship, Will. I s’pose we can both walk on it and not have to see one ‘nother if you don’t want to.”

“It’s … not that.” He wasn’t moving, and Jack wondered what was wrong. “I just wanted away from that crowd. It’s too noisy, too drunken. Worse than Song Night on the Pearl.”

Jack couldn’t help laughing at the image. “Something worse than that?”

“I didn’t think so until now.” The crate was plenty wide, but Jack was still surprised when he came over and sat on the edge of it, about a foot away. “I never thought I’d see the day the crew’s entertainment was preferable to the population of a respectable town.”

“Whatever gave ye th’ idea they were respectable?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Will shrugged, looking over at Jack with an expression of droll amusement. “The presence of children, maybe.”

“Lad, that’s evidence right there of th’ highest revelry. Or at least havin’ quite a lot of unsupervised fun.” Will shifted his eyes sideways, and Jack, never embarrassed, felt his face burn. “Apologies-“ he began.

“It’s not-“

“Look, that thing tonight was-“

“I know, it was stupid, and-“

Jack turned toward him. “Was a dumb custom, is all. Damn-“

“It’s all right-“

“No, it’s not. Someone tried to embarrass us, and-“

“Jack-“

“I’ll find out who it is, and then I’m gon’ make them wish-“

“It’s not necessary-“

“They shouldn’ have done that t’ you.” Will looked up, impossibly young and impossible to want, and Jack ached to leave him alone, to take him back to Port Royale. “They knew it’d embarrass you, and goin’ to a pirate, on top of ‘Lizbeth turning you ‘way …” He trailed off at the hurt expression in Will’s eyes. He felt like a heel for bringing her up. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” Will dropped his eyes and shook his head. “It’s just what is.”

He had no other means of making the smith feel better, and had been drinking too much to think things through first. “Will.” He scooted closer, sliding a hand up against his jaw. “There’ll be others for you. Chasin’ you down, as many as you can handle, savvy?”

Will lifted his head, and Jack was inches from wide, deep hazel eyes. “There’ll be others,” Jack repeated, leaning forward.

He expected to be pushed back, thrown across the deck. He didn’t expect lips to shyly part beneath his, Will’s head to tilt, his own mouth to be able to fasten onto the man’s full lower lip. He slid his hand back into soft, tight curls, righting his head enough so their noses bumped, and warm breath skittered along his moustache. Jack drew away, surprised by his own actions, floored by the odd nutmeg taste of Will. Desire flared in his belly, ache burned within his chest, and when he went back in, he was met by an eager mouth and tongue and hands closing around his upper arms.

Jack had no clue where he ended and Will began. The smith was making the loveliest small noises at the back of his throat, and Jack wanted to dive in and nibble from the inside out. He lost all sense of who and where he was – all he knew was the smoke and sweaty scent of Will, the pleasant salt of his lips, the feel of thick waves bunched beneath his fingertips. “You taste wonderful,” he managed between kisses.

“You taste like rum.” The unexpected heat in Will’s ragged voice pricked Jack’s spine.

“Imagine that.” Will laughed, kissing the corner of his mouth, and Jack’s eyelids fluttered, his stomach tightening with the tender gesture. “We should-“

Two voices floated up from the side of the ship, and Will pulled away, yanking his head from Jack’s hand. He was disheveled, hair tangled, eyes wide in surprise, lips parted and softly swollen from kissing; Jack had never wanted to bed anyone more in his entire life. “Will-“

“I need to get some work done.” He was on his feet, nearly stumbling backwards in his hurry to get away.

Jack started to ask him to stop, to apologize, anything, but Will kept moving, surprise or panic in his eyes. Forcing himself to turn away, Jack looked back out over the water, letting the blacksmith escape with some dignity. The man’s footsteps were well out of range before the first laughing sailor appeared over the railing, and it was all Jack could do not to throw something heavy and blunt – or launch himself – at the offending crewmen returning for night watch.

Don’t say it he warned his dead, long-silent friend, as he fell back against the coil of rope again, groaning. Just … don’t, Bill, dammit. He should’ve known better, after all. A few pints of ale notwithstanding, it was a stupid thing to force.

At least, he thought bleakly as he sprawled beneath the stars, at least I’m finally free of this.