Disclaimer: I do not own anything remotely pertaining to Pirates of the Caribbean. If I did I would probably be the happiest damned woman on earth. That movie rocked my world.

Author: Black Death

Rating: R to NC-17 for language, violence, adult situations, and the over use of that wonderful phrase 'savvy.'

Archivable: You bet your ass it is! The more distribution, the happier I'll be.

Category: Romance/Angst/adventure and a little bit of humor to spice it up.

Pairing: Jack/Will. Doesn't it make your mouth water?

Notes: I want to send out a huge THANK YOU to my beta. Your support and faith in this fic lifted my hopes tremendously. Also a gargantuan amount of gratitude to the publishers of Webster's New World Dictionary and Thesaurus. I do believe it has become my soul mate.

Oh, and one other thing. FEEDBACK IS LIFE!

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The drunkards cheered as the whores began to dance in the center of the tavern, seamen young and old entranced with the ripe swell of breasts and the vigorous sway of hips.

That is, everyone but William Turner.

Actually, that was untrue. If honesty was called for, Will could say with all validity that they were comely enough, their assets not being completely lost upon his inexperience. But it was an empty appreciation, more closely related to the visual pleasure one could glean from seeing a glorious summer outside, rather than that of a sexual stimulation.

But he was longing for something that wasn't there, waging the first battle in his life that he was now dead certain he would inevitably lose. Even the teaming bodies cloaked in sweat and the erotic charge of the atmosphere surrounding him couldn't produce a stir from his loins.

Now's the time to face it Will, he thought. You're a failed man.

Hell, maybe Captain Jack Sparrow had been right. Perhaps he was a eunuch.

With that depressing possibility staring him in the face, Will took a desperate swig of the Rum he'd been sporting in his hand since the night's festivities had begun.

Granted, it had only been a month, but the blacksmith could almost truthfully declare the alcoholic beverage his spouse. Rum was quickly starting to appear to be a permanent fixture in his life, one that was depleting his funds to the very dregs.

God look at yourself, the young man mentally berated. You're well on your way to developing into something like that scoundrel Sparrow, if not worse.

Turner slammed his fist down into the wooden table, cutlery clattering to the floor noiselessly.

He couldn't understand it. For the life of him, everything he did eventually came back to that infuriating fugitive.

The young man sighed, rubbing his temples. It'd been only seven months since he'd last seen the pirate and already the fairytale he'd wrapped himself in was shattering.

Oh he'd had such high hopes, such ridiculous confidence that life could be a thing so black and white as he'd idealized in his dreams. How Will had seen the world then...it made him either want to weep uncontrollably or laugh hysterically.

No.

He realized now why the smarmy Captain had always looked at him with such amusement, dark eyes glittering and imperfect teeth pulled back in what appeared to be an indulgent smirk. Will had carried with him the sneaking suspicion that Jack had been laughing at him in some way, as though he were humoring some naive child in a game.

Elizabeth had been all that he had wanted. She'd epitomized his idea of the Perfect Relationship, the Perfect Joy, the Perfect...

He'd worked so hard to get her, so hard to earn and keep her. Had it not been for that difficult journey, Will sincerely doubted that he would have even recognized her as a mortal. As human as himself, not some deity to be worshiped from afar.

In all likelihood, he probably would still be pining away for her this very moment.

He shook his head, pulling back his chestnut locks. In some ways, he still wished for that ignorance. It would have been nice to live in the dark with his distant sweetheart still implemented so strongly in the roots of his mind.

Ever since he'd met the dynamic lady, the blacksmith had held a startling fascination with her. She was so different from what he remembered of the woman figures of his childhood. All fine boned and delicate, porcelain skin that looked to be as soft as silk and just as supple. The moment he'd awaken on the English ship, he had believed her to be an angel. His angel. Sent to him to save his soul that fateful day he'd been half drowned.

And at the end of all his laborings to get his much sought-after prize back from the clutches of Barbossa, Will had finally been fully received into her heart. And oh, how he'd adored the position, walking amongst her just like any loyal priest in religious fervor. She'd been his temple.

It was then when he had all that he'd wanted, that he truly comprehended the great error he had made.

William Turner had nothing left to strive for.

And what was a life without something to yearn about?

Kissing his goddess had been the biggest revelation of them all. It had been sweet, pleasant even. But he'd been left wanting, needing more.

Where was the passion? He had asked himself this night after cold night, spent alone in his bed as he courted Ms. Swann.

She however, had looked nothing short of radiant in the times he would go and call upon her. All seemed to be in the workings. Will had won the approval of her father, and was genuinely liked and respected by the rest of the socially elite.

But the few, chaste kisses he'd managed to bring himself to give her had been without any need on his part. Ever since that particularly extended liplock when Sparrow had left the scene, he wasn't looking forward to a repeated performance.

And she deserved better than that. He knew it. He also knew that she was beginning to suspect that his feelings were not as inextinguishable as they both had originally perceived them to be.

So that was why he was here now, in the Faithful Bride. Even William could see the irony in the tavern's title.

In the midst of the wild crowd he stood, feeling the immediate effects of the drink upon his equilibrium. Somehow the stupor always succeeded in being a comfort zone of sorts. His environment no longer would appear so harsh and bleak, but would fade into a quiet, tilting surreality.

Turner blinked, seeing a familiar face take shape from no where in front of his. He squinted, trying to clear his vision of the hallucination before him.

"You're here? Why'er you here again?" He slurred, lips quirked in a snort of unabashed befuddlement that was unique to the thoroughly pissed.

Two strong hands clasped his shoulders, and for a moment Will thought that he'd either faint or toss his supper as he got a whiff of sea-salt and unwashed body.

The figure grimaced, nostrils flaring. "Ye gods Laddie, if I had known I'd left you here with this as your future, I woulda put you aboard the Black Pearl. Leastwise then drunken revelry would have been put to good use."

The blacksmith giggled hazily, reaching out to grasp the other's shoulders and maintain balance. "'Ill 'ave you knoooow I'm per-fect-ly fine. 'Jus taking a break from training and courting, 'tis all."

Will's brow furrowed. Why was he having so much trouble pronouncing his vowels? And where did this slang suddenly arise from?

"Turner, are you listening to me?"

Will watched the kohl-painted eyes narrow in annoyance. Why Sparrow would almost pass for a woman without the beard and that hair, and...

The young man used his infamous concentration, holding up five fingers and watching them multiply before his eyes, as did the Captain's glowering form.

He stoppered another snicker, lids drooping in exhaustion. "Jack? Jack why'er their three of you?"

The rogue pirate rolled his eyes heavenward, taking the swerving man offguard and hoisting him up on one shoulder.

"W-wha-"

"Just be silent whelp, I'm taking you to your bed. That looks to be the only sound place for you at the moment."

Will pounded half-heartedly at his rescuer's back, stifling a yawn.

When they reached the workshop, Turner barely recalled fumbling with his set of keys for the door. In the end, Sparrow had taken them from him, cursing something about 'incompetence' under his breath, and slid them into the iron lock himself.

He didn't remember being carried to his cot either, after nye missing a collision with his tool rack. Jack had filled him in later about that.

What he did recollect, however, had been when his face had been smothered in the recesses of his pillow, and he'd flopped over and saw the Captain lighting a fire in the hearth.

"I'm not a woman you know. I've got balls."

He still could easily bring up the look of- was it incredulity upon Jack's demeanor?

Then the weather-beaten face had softened, an _expression of dry mirth curling the volatile lips and lighting his dark eyes.

"I know that Lad. Now get some rest."

"You sure?"

The charismatic Captain crossed the area below his breast bone, murmuring an "I'm sure" and after those last words of assurance on behalf of his masculinity had been uttered, William Turner, Bootstrap Bill Turner's son, fell into a dreamless sleep.

~~()~~()~~()~~

"William Turner, open this door at once!"

The pounding in his head was growing louder by the second. Damnable hell, why did he have to have that last bottle?

"By God child, if you don't open this door in the next five seconds, I'm calling in the Commodore and he'll see to it that you get what you deserve!"

There was a shuffling of feet for a moment, and then a calloused hand gripped his chin, turning his neck from side to side in observation.

Will opened his eyes.

...Only to gaze into the unholy smile of Captain Jack Sparrow.

"You better do as 'Ol Daddy says Luv, or you just may become a eunuch after all."

The blacksmith bemoaned the fates that would curse him to such an early face-off with Elizabeth's father.

Rum was the devil's drink, he chanted silently, firming his resolve to never partake of it's charms again.

"Oh, and by the way. You look like shit. Not that I suspect you'll be looking much worse for wear when yer bonny lass's sire is through with you."

Will glanced over to assess the casual figure of his guest.

Indeed, Rum was the devil's drink.

He straightened his clothes in an ill-attempt to look presentable, motioning for Jack to hide somewhere before he let the hell-bent father inside.

Surprisingly, the pirate simply leaned against the wall, giving Will a once-over to make sure that the boy still had his wits about him.

Turner raised a brow, shrugging in resolution.

"Suit yourself. If you get caught, don't expect me to go on another crusade to save you from the gallows again."

Sparrow's gold teeth shown in the shadows.

The pounding interrupted his thoughts once more.

"I'm coming Sir, I'm coming. Please, allow me to explai-"

As soon as the latch was undone, the elder didn't hesitate to plow through the threshold and almost lifted the boy off his feet by the lapels of his coat. Bulbous nose threatening and inches away from his own.

"What have you done to my Daughter Mr. Turner? The entire night she was crying her heart out over you, throwing china and crockery at anyone that tried to console her. What is this I hear of you being aloof and avoiding her mere presence as of late? What is this that I hear of your attentions being a farce?

Sweat was beginning to creep down his spine as he stared in amazement at the Governor gripping his jacket in near desperation. For a man well into his early sixties he was strong as an ox, and just as angry.

The sound of someone meekly clearing their throat broke the confrontational mood, the elder letting go of the youth's garments in uncertainty.

Remembering that they were not alone, Will watched Jack peer inquiringly at Elizabeth's father.

The _expression was returned in full. "Sparrow? What in the Lord's Kingdom are you doing here so early? I wasn't anticipating your arrival for at least another month."

The Captain of the Black Pearl began pacing in distraction, jauntily stepping and moving his arms in the manner that soley belonged to him.

"Oh, you know how't is Mate. Once the Spaniards get an idea into their heads to sail off course an go make a stop, nothing'll detour 'em. Ruined my crew's entire plan to head the galleon off at Cape Horn, it did. So we 'ad to come back. No choice in the matter once we saw 'em meet up with two escort ships. Even the Black Pearl has it's limits, friend."

In confusion, Turner tried to catch Jack's eye, willing the man to give him any insight as to what it was the two were discussing.

How could such an admirable man be working alongside a pirate? And a very wanted one at that, or from what he'd last heard. Even if Jack had proven himself to be trustworthy when it came right down to it, the notion still didn't sit right. There had been since a hefty sum upon his companion's head, and he was sure the Commodore would be beyond happy to get him into an English prison cell once more.

Weatherby Swann sat down in Will's workchair, idly steepling his fingers in bemusement.

William was relieved for the time. At least their current scuffle was temporarily on hiatus.

"Have you spoken to Norrington yet?"

He snapped his neck around, that single question pulling him out of his reverie. Now this was shocking. Something was remarkably strange here, and he wasn't being let in on it. Norrington knew about the dingy pirate's whereabouts? Gregory Norrington knew that at this exact instant, his feet were planted on England's soil?

And he hadn't issued a warrant for his arrest yet?

In fact...from what the elder had just said, it appeared they were in accordance with one another. Conversing like business associates.

Mayhaps the seven hells were freezing over.

The very idea was enough to peek all of his curiosity, one that demanded satisfaction, and soon.

But something that Will had learned in his short life was that listening could often be a better way of extracting information rather than verbal interrogation.

Besides. He had plenty of time to ask Jack later.

"Aye, I have. Last night I arrived in port and made that my first priority. Second one being to get me self some good Rum. And wouldn't you know I find that our little Mr. Turner here was thinking along the same lines as I was."

The aged official studied Will, taking in for the first time his haggard disposition with a hinted a frown of disapproval.

Bootstrap's son could practically read the malice that gradually became acute dissatisfaction on the man's face.

Must be thinking how he could have ever let someone as I come near his daughter.

"Turner...I do appologize for my actions. It wasn't necessary to come barging into your home like this. I ask you to forgive this blunder of mine, for I wasn't thinking. But please. You've hurt her so much. If only you had seen the heartbreak in her eyes. It's a father's duty to protect his family. No matter the cost."

An audible creak of wood gave as the Governor got up from the chair and dipped his head in thanks to the Captain, stiffly pattering over to the entrance of the shop.

Before he exited, he flexed a last rueful gaze once more upon William, face red and flustered with disappointment. He opened his mouth, fighting for the proper way to tell his would-be son in law of the wounds he had caused. But in the end, he couldn't bring himself to further degrade the boy he'd always held a liking for and decided against it. Instead, he let a plea linger in the air of the workshop while he closed the door.

"Just stay away from my Liza please. She's the light of my life, and you've done enough already Turner. More than you can know now. Hopefully she'll be wise this time and select a man for her fiance. Not some foolish child still playing the part of one."

His footsteps could still be heard, along with the wooden 'click' of the cane as he retreated down the cobblestone.

Will was frozen in place, those words reverberating in his ears.

Jack shifted, clapping his hands to ease the density of the moment.

"Ouch. That was a bit cutting, Mate. Pay no 'tention to the 'ol coot though. He's as balmy as I am. You'll kiss and make up with yer lass in no time."

The blacksmith leaned foreward, resting his head upon the rough-hewn stone of the hearth.

"Somehow I don't think you're right about that Jack."

Will saw the wayward Captain train his stare upon his face. But it wasn't one of the languid, bored variety he was used to. Odd, but there was an avid intensity there, so fixated that Turner wouldn't be at all dumbfounded if he began feeling holes burnt into his flesh.

"That's nonsense Luv. Any woman would give her eye teeth to have you. Ye've a strong jaw, just as yer father did. The only difference being that you acquired a smooth, pretty face, whereas your sire's was all roughened angles. Not much to look at, Bill was. But a good man, nonetheless."

His impenetrable attitude was wearing thin, but that didn't matter at the moment. Jack was there, someone he'd managed to share an easy rapport with, despite all of his brash bravado and manipulative ways.

"You and my father were truly friends, weren't you?"

A darkness shaded Sparrow's eyes at that, before it was pulled back. Just one of the many veils shielding the heart of the Captain of the Black Pearl.

Not that many even thought he had one. But William did.

There was an awkwardness that abruptly took over the man beside him, Will supressing his amusement at the man's embarrassment. Jack shied away from emotional subjects like the plague.

"Well-er...yes. We were. Now, let's go back to that Tavern, boy. Ne're did get my chance for a keg of Rum, what with you falling allover yourself like some miserable lass."

Turner shook his head. "Yes, and then you can tell me what that conversation was about. I'm very interested because you are apparently working alongside Norrington. Is that savvy enough for you Jack?

The sensual black eyes held his for a minute in the mute understanding that he had no choice but to explain the recent circumstances of his arrival in England. For Will, there would be no denying an explanation.

"Just like a woman. Gossip monger an all. Aye, that's 'savvy enough' for me little William."

Will laughed, heartily thumping the slightly taller individual on the back. For some reason, when the Captain made light of his effeminate looks, or passive nature, it didn't seem so cruel. More like an affectionate gesture between comrades.

He grabbed his coat and they walked back up the alley to the Faithful Bride. And never in his pondering that evening did Will even think to question his loose use of the term 'sensual' when regarding Jack Sparrow's eyes.

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