Title: Scenes From A Courthouse Back
Room, With Brief Appearances By A Shyster
this story? Send feedback to the author!
Author: spoon (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Rating: PG-13 to R for innuendo and a little groping
Disclaimer: Who's the owner of the boys who shag for you and me? M-I-C-K-E-Y
Written For: Loza Teazer
Request: AU-Present Day. No realisation/acknowledgement of past lives. Happy
ending. Jack is wrongly incarcerated. Will works for Jack's attorney. Sparks
fly. But wait, how could that happen? Will's a good boy! He can't fall in
love with a a prisoner, especially a client! Will Will be able to make it
without compromising the case? Will Jack get out?
Author's Note: Hmmmm. My powers of estimation are shot all to
hell right now, but I'm afraid I may have followed the request rather closely
and not done much of anything creative with it, sorry. Any mistakes
are the fault of the crushing black depression I've been living under for
the past two months.
Author's Note 2: I had intended to request "No present-day" when I
signed up, but I forgot to. I wrote this fanfic without grumbling because
it was my fault I hadn't said it, and I made a commitment to write my assignation
when I joined. Because that's what I do. I live up to my promises.
**this author's note is dedicated to my department chair and to my co-star**
Author's Note 3: I would like to sincerely apologize for the self-indulgent
whining of the past two author's notes. I won't do it anymore, ever,
I promise. Mouthing off on the internet is the only tension release
I've had time for recently, which is still no excuse for unloading on you
nice people. I feel much better now, and I'll be good from now on.
The man had his boots on the table. His old, muddy, scuffed boots were
on the table.
Then he put his feet on the floor, and Will finally looked past to the man
himself as he sat up but notably did not rise at their entrance. Messy
hair, face chapped from sun and wind, tattoos coming out his sleeves.
As scruffy and dirty as his boots, possibly as old, and certainly disreputable.
But then, that was to be expected.
"It's about bloody time," the man said. "I was beginning to think you'd
spotted an ambulance."
"And leave you hanging?" Mr. Brown shook his head. "You misrepresent
The man rolled his eyes, then slumped forward, resting his elbow on the table
and rubbing his closed eyelids with thumb and forefinger. "No, *you*
misrepresent *me*. But that's what I get for not being able to afford
my own attorney, 'ey?" He frowned. "Shouldn't that be evidence
in my favour?"
"You're a funny man, Jack." Mr. Brown sat in the other chair at the
table. Will looked around; there was another chair in the corner.
He dragged it close and sat down himself.
"Uh-huh. Who's the kid?"
Mr. Brown looked over his shoulder at Will. "He's my assistant.
Student at Loyola. Haven't you met him before?"
"No," Will cut in. "This is the first time you've brought me along
to meet a client."
"Oh. Well then. Assistant. Will Turner, Jack Sparrow."
"Charmed," Sparrow said dismissively, vaguely flapping one grungy hand in
a manner that could almost have been a wave, even as he was already turning
back to Mr. Brown. "What have you got for me?"
Mr. Brown grinned in his greasy lizard way. "Evidence discrediting
their star witness. Apparently she's already been caught twice for
insurance fraud. "
"Beautiful." Now Sparrow was grinning too, showing a mouth full of
gold teeth. "Perchance might she be pointing a finger at me to cover
for having pre-fenced her own goods?"
When Mr. Brown popped the latches on his briefcase, the tiny room filled
with the sharp scent of bourbon. The slick smile fell from his face
as he lifted the lid a few inches and looked inside, then slammed it back
"You know, I think the evidence I found is still in the folder I left in
the car. I'll just run and get it." He jumped up and exited in
"Buy a damn flask with a lid!" Sparrow called after him, rubbing his
temples. After a few seconds, he sighed heavily and glanced up at Will.
"Suppose he's driven off yet?"
Even though Will knew the man was just trying to get to him, his gut still
clenched a little at the thought of being left alone with him. "I'm
sure he's just using the hand-dryer in the men's room," he said, trying not
to stare at the other man. Was he wearing eye makeup?
The guy shrugged. "So, Brown said you're in school. Loyola, was
it? What's a fine upstanding young gentleman like you doing gaining
work experience with a law-talking guy like him? Surely you don't aspire
to one day clog the courts and bleed the unfortunate?"
He *was* wearing eye makeup. It had smudged when he rubbed his eyes.
"He posted a want ad," Will said blandly. Was he wearing other makeup,
too? Probably not, then he wouldn't look so weather-beaten. Unless
the weather-beaten was a look he was intentionally trying to cultivate.
"What's the matter, son? Never seen a lowlife before?"
Will scowled, furious with himself now for staring even after he had told
himself not to, and for being caught at it. "I make a point of avoiding
familiarity with criminals."
"Now, now," Sparrow wagged his finger. "*Alleged* criminal, if you
please. You might want to watch that if you intend to stay in the legal
Will couldn't think of a clever retort to that one, so he turned his scowl
onto the tabletop while he waited for Mr. Brown to return.
"Here it is! It was in the car the whole time," Mr. Brown announced
when he re-entered, waving a stained document that smelled of alcohol.
* * *
Will was staring again. He knew he was. He didn't want to, but
whether they were in court listening to the lawyers arguing or in the back
room thinking through their case, he just couldn't stop. Why?
Why couldn't he stop? What was it about this reprobate that made him
unable to stop?
And even when he was looking away, taking notes or finding a brief, he could
feel Sparrow's eyes on him. And why was *that*? Could the guy
be plotting something? It wasn't right. The gaze made him extremely
uncomfortable, and he didn't like it. Not one bit.
The worst was in here, whenever Mr. Brown left to cover up for his incompetence,
or to sneak a drink. When they were alone, like they were now, he always
felt the socially ingrained need to make conversation and the utter lack
of anything to converse about.
Of course he was the only one who was palpably uncomfortable. Sparrow
just sat there examining his nails like he had nowhere better to be.
And his lips were moving. His lips were moving and he was looking at
"What?" Will asked, hoping he had correctly interpreted the situation
as a question being asked.
"I said, you planning on staring at me the entire day?" He raised one
eyebrow in amusement.
"I'm not staring at you," Will lied.
Sparrow stood up from his seat and planted his hands on the table between
them. "Yes, you are. And furthermore --" He leaned forward
and his voice promptly trailed off. "Huh."
That sounded very bad. "What?" Will asked fearfully. "What is
"Is that what the staring was about?" The question was asked very mildly,
curious rather than accusing. Will didn't understand it.
"Is what what the staring was about?" He looked down at himself, to
try and determine what the other man had seen. He looked past the answer
twice before registering it, and even then the first thing that occurred
to him was 'funny, my pants don't *feel* tight'. Finally his brain
caught up to the fact that he was sporting a very visible erection in front
of some sort of hooligan, and he could feel every drop of blood drain out
of his face in the half a second it took him to grab Mr. Brown's valise and
hold it over his lap.
Indeed, there must have been no blood near his brain because he looked back
up and said earnestly, "I have no idea why it's doing that."
"Oh." Sparrow pondered. "Well, you see, there's this spongy tissue
that will fill--"
The blood rushed back to Will's face at double-speed. "Shut up!" he
hissed. "I already know how it's happening, I just don't know why.
It certainly isn't you!" That last bit was a mistake, he knew as soon
as it came out.
"Isn't it? Then why do you feel the need to comment on it, hmmm?"
Now Sparrow walked around the table and sat down on the edge of it right
in front of Will. Will's fingers tightened convulsively on the valise.
"You must admit you have been staring at me since we first met."
"That doesn't mean anything." Will couldn't take looking at him anymore.
Every time he did, the valise would bump against his erection. When
a hand brushed his cheek he gasped and jumped out of his chair, knocking
it over backwards and throwing himself towards the wall.
His breath caught in his throat as Sparrow moved closer. When they
were near enough to touch, Will squeaked out "don't hurt me," clinging desperately
to the valise as though it would be a sufficient shield to keep a deranged
criminal off him.
The man froze at the soft yelp and backed away, his hands raised non-threateningly.
"Wasn't planning on it, kid," and returned to his chair. Will groped
blindly for the doorknob and ran.
* * *
The surprise was conspicuous on Sparrow's face when Will walked in again
with Mr. Brown, but he didn't comment. At this point in the court's
proceedings there was little for them to discuss; they were just waiting
for the forensic team to confirm or discredit the GPS tracker reports.
They met anyway, so Mr. Brown could bill the state for his time, even if
he did spend much of it drinking elsewhere.
The two sat across the table from each other, not speaking. Will stared
at his hands, Sparrow flipped idly through the papers they were supposedly
discussing. The clock on the wall ticked loudly.
It took three or four false starts before Will finally got out an "I'm sorry."
"Eh?" Sparrow dropped the pretense of reading to look Will in the face,
not that it did much good because Will was still staring at his hands.
"I shouldn't have suggested that you would do anything... untoward.
Just because you've been accused of a crime doesn't mean you'll go around
committing others." Will smiled humourlessly. "Especially in
a courthouse. I panicked and I'd like to apologize."
"No worries, mate. You were confused and it scared you. I have
to ask, though, now that you've had a few days to calm down enough to speak
rationally about it..."
Now Will looked up from his hands. "Yes?"
"You sure it certainly wasn't me causing it?"
Will flushed bright red and looked back down. "I don't know.
I think... maybe it was?" He peeked up for a second; Sparrow was nodding
"Which scared you more? That I'm a 'bad guy' or just that I'm a guy?"
Sparrow leaned forward. "You're a good kid, Will. I've been watching
you as much as you've been watching me. You're friendly and courteous
and intelligent." He held out his hand, palm up. Will tentatively
reached out and placed his own hand in it.
"You're really nice, too, Mr. Sparrow. I don't think I'd have been
nearly as scared of being attracted to you if it weren't for your arrest
record." A brief pause. "And your mode of dress."
He grinned and folded his fingers around Will's hand. "Always a chance
that's part of why you're interested. And call me Jack."
* * *
"I don't see how much deliberation they need! We've proved you didn't
have it!" Will lay with his legs on his own chair and his upper body
in Jack's lap, with Jack's fingers running through his hair.
"We haven't proved I *never* had it, love. Juries don't always remember
the prosecutor's got the burden of proof."
"This stupid country... Does this state allow conjugal visits, or should
we make the most of this time we have now?" Will's hand crept up to
start unbuttoning Jack's shirt.
"Don't talk like that now. Though do feel free to keep doing what you're
doing." He grinned rakishly, pulling Will up to sit fully in his lap.
"Just think about if that inebriate managed to do his job for once.
I get acquitted, they have to give me back my boat and then we'll spend Mardi
Gras bloody *away* from the vomiting masses. And not have to worry
about even if they did allow conjugal visits, same-sex partnerships probably
wouldn't be included."
Will's hand slipped inside Jack's shirt as they kissed, sliding around to
the back. Jack, for his part, took hold of Will's hips, digging in
with his fingers.
When Will broke away to kiss down Jack's neck, the older man murmured, "Careful,
I need to look as respectable as I can manage when they read the verdict."
Will grinned up at him. "Then I'll just have to mark you where they
won't be able to see," he said, and continued down Jack's chest. Jack's
fingers lost their delicate purchase as he threw his head back and moaned,
but they soon found a better one beneath Will's trousers.
They had already separated and started discussing their plan for appealing
a worst-case scenario by the time Mr. Brown came back from the coffee machine.
* * *
They never did return to that little room.