jackxwill - pirates of the caribbean slash

Title: High Tide
Author: Haldir Fancier (ladyofgondor4@hotmail.com)
Pairing: Jack/Will
Rating: R (v. light)
Summary: All Jack wants is to show off Will. Least, that's what Will would tell you.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never mine, you know that.
Author Note: Written for Ash-Chan and the Second Jack/Will ficathon. She wanted "swordfighting with some sort of flower, and Will getting annoyed and mocking Jack behind his back." Done. Oddly, but done. Cheers, Ash-Chan.

Jack watched Will from his place on the beach, as the young man stood with the rest of the crew, knee deep in water, helping with the careening of the /Black Pearl/. He had shed his shirt and at some point, Anamaria had shoved him into the water, starting a long, exhausting, water fight before the work actually began. Because of that, his trousers were soaked up to his hips, and were sticking to him.

Jack was enormously pleased. From where he sat, knees drawn to his chest, bare toes curling in the sand, he could watch his lover easily.

His lover. He liked the sound of that. Will was his lover.

Of course, Will was still (mostly) innocent, and a bit of a stick. Even Gibbs had noticed. As far as Jack knew, no one on the ship was aware of Will's position as his lover. And as far as Jack knew, that was just fine with Will.

Still, he couldn't help wondering if anyone saw the look Will gave him at that moment. All he did was glance over, but the brilliant smile that followed made Jack smile in turn.

But, because Jack was not helping careen his ship, he had placed himself in charge of building and starting the bonfire.

He stood up, brushing sand off his hands, and turned. He looked up the beach, nodded, and went off to find fallen brush to use.


The fire roared. Jack was quite pleased with himself. Will, coming up the beach, was as well.

He touched Jack's shoulder, and Jack turned, grinning at him.

"How's that for a fire?"

"Delightful," Will said, his hand still on Jack's arm, subtle like. Jack covered Will's hand with his own, and Will stiffened.

"Something wrong?" Jack asked, challenging.

"It's just..." Will said. "There are so many people around."

"They won't mind," Jack assured him. "They don't mind!" He leaned closer, placing his other hand on Will's hip.

Will pushed him off. "It's not them, it's /me/."

"What," Jack said, spreading his hands, "ashamed to be seen with ol' Jack?"

"No!" Will said adamantly. "But I've- I haven't ever-"

"I know. Buggered a man." Jack saw Will blush in the fading sun and the firelight. "C'mon, it wasn't bad, was it?"

Will shook his head. "No. No, you're right. I'm just... not comfortable in public. I'm not used to it."

Jack shrugged, flicking his fingers carelessly. "Don' matter to me." Still, he found some satisfaction in turning sharply on his heel in the sand, and weaving his way up around the fire.

Will glared after him. Bloody pirate. Will liked him, he did, but they'd only had sex a few times, and Will was beginning to get a funny, oddly pleasant feeling in his stomach when Jack smiled at him, or touched him casually, or kissed him.

A feeling he had previously come to associate with Elizabeth.

He paused.

Oh. Oh, dear. Really? With Jack? Oh dear.

He took a deep breath and let out in a sigh. He might have more-than-sex feelings for Jack, but he still didn't want Jack grabbing his arse or groping him at any opportunity. Especially not in public!

Still, he looked at Jack through the fire-- and around the wild pig, roasting with a stick up its arse-- and he smiled to himself.

Jack meant well. Will knew that. Still, he was a lot of work. He was witty, obnoxious, flirted with everyone, acted occasionally like a cheap whore, walked like a drunk, and hogged the bed clothes.

And Will adored it.


When the drink was brought out, Will at first declined. Finally, however, Jack coaxed him into have one, then a second, and soon Will couldn't quite recall how many he'd had.

And Jack kept trying to touch him: his arms, his back, his hands, his face and hair, and primarily his arse. He kept pushing Jack's hands away, because he knew Jack shouldn't be trying to touch him like that, not when he'd asked him so nicely.

But he felt so nice, and Jack as so dark and alluring, and swayed so much more appealingly when he was drunk.

At least, it looked like he swayed more. Will just felt so light and giddy that he wasn't sure if that was Jack weaving about, or him.

At one point, much later into the night, Anamaria was trying to teach the crew a dance, and Will stumbled in the sand. Jack caught him before he fell.

Jack was warm and solid, and Will smiled, putting his arms around Jack's shoulders. "Jack?" he asked.

"Hmm?" Jack said, stroking his hair back, affectionately.

"What're ye doin' t' me, Jack?"

"Me?" Jack asked, sounding convincingly confused. "What am I doing to you?"

Will shrugged, resting his head on Jack's shoulder, closing his eyes. Jack rubbed his back gently, and murmured, "That's it, lad."

Will 'hmm'ed, snuggling closer, and let Jack pull him up off the beach, up among the palms.

He could still see the fire clearly, it was close enough, but it was cooler here. Until Jack took him in his arms and pressed his mouth to Will's. Will moaned and clutched at him.

When Jack broke off and began kissing and sucking on his shoulders and throat, he moaned again, head falling back.


When he woke up in the morning, he found he could only remember select things.

For instance, he remembered Jack sucking hard on his shoulder, creating a large bruise. He'd done it more than once, evidently, because even with his head aching, Will could count at least five already. And those were the ones he could see.

And he could remember screaming as he came, fingers threaded in Jack's hair, with his cock halfway down Jack's throat.

And he could remember sifting sand through his fingers and writing on the ground as Jack took him, Jack's gentle hands under his shoulders, and his tongue in his mouth.

Damn. Trying (desperately) to remember anything else made his head pound painfully.

He groaned when he tried to open his eyes. He felt someone, presumably Jack, shift behind him.

"Will, love?"

Will groaned again in reply, turning over and burying his face in Jack's chest to block out the sunlight.

Jack's arm, already resting over Will's waist, tightened, and he pulled the younger man to him, hooking one leg over his hip as well.

Jack pressed a kiss to Will's temple, just as Anamaria walked up from the beach, glanced absently at the two men, half-covered by Jack's coat, and kept going.

Will waited, eyes squeezed shut, until she was gone, then he jumped up. And clutched his hair.

"Come back, lad," Jack said gently, "wait for that hangover to-"

"wretch!" Will hissed, yanking on his trousers. "Right here! Where anyone and everyone can-- and will-- see us!"

"What's wrong with that?" Jack asked carefully.

"What's wrong? What's WRONG?!" It made Will's head hurt to yell like that, but kept it up. "You bloody pirate!"

"Now that's-"

"You think you can have anyone you want..."

"No, I don't-"

"... and you can shot it off to everyone else! Like a trophy!"

"You're not a-"

"Listen to me, Sparrow," Will hissed, prodding Jack in the chest with his forefinger. "I'm not your whore, nor your pretty thing to show off, 'savvy'?"

Jack reached out to touch him, and Will jerked away.

"Will, please, I just-"

"Don't give me that," Will said, and left the space angrily, ignoring that he hadn't put his shirt on, ignoring that anyone who cared to look could thus see the marks decorating his shoulders and arms, and ignoring Jack, who still sat, bewildered and arse-naked, on the sand.

A few moments later, Jack scrambled up and pulled on his own clothes, carelessly. He went after Will, until Mr Sullivan caught his shoulder, halfway down the beach.

'Sir," he said politely, "I wouldn't. Lad's awful cross."

Jack sighed. "Give 'im time?"

"Aye," Sullivan said, "time'll do him good."

Jack nodded and sat down on the beach. He remained there for a few minutes, watching the ocean, and then got up again to find something to eat.


"Bloody fucking stupid..." Will muttered, storming farther down the beach. The camp site was almost gone around the curve of the small island, but he didn't care. "Sodding bastard!"

He dropped his hip and shoulder together, shifting his centre of gravity, and threw out his arms, stumbling, exaggerating and mocking the way Jack walked.

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow!" he slurred, scowling to himself, "I'm the most fearsome drunken bloody pirate in the Spanish Main! What do I care who I fuck? As long as they're willing and stupid!"

He straightened, closed his eyes tightly against the pain in his head. Then he opened his eyes again, turned, walking backwards, and yelled, "Well bugger yourself!"

Right about then he was doused by a wave, as the tide began to come in.


It was almost noon, and Will wasn't back.

"Don't you think that's enough time?" Jack asked nervously.

Sullivan and Anamaria, and Marty, standing nearby, all shook their heads.

"No," Sullivan said.

"He's never done this before," Anamaria muttered to him, and Jack scowled.

"That's not true! I'm only worried! Can't a man be worried?"


Will held a flower in his hand loosely. It was just a wild flower, one that had been growing on the edge of the brush, just off the beach.

He smiled at it, twirling it by the stem lightly, and then threw it into the air and drew his sword.

By the time the flower hit the ground, its stem was in four pieces, and the petals were everywhere.

Will just grinned at it, and picked another.

It went on like this for some time. Will's sword whizzed through the air, and he wandered deeper into the woods for other flowers to pick or cut down.

Finally, he felt his stomach growl, and he winced. He turned around, and frowned. He was quite lost.

Well, except for the path of strew flower petals, and mown down stems. He resheathed his sword on his belt, which he'd fastened around his hips, still without a shirt, and followed it, picking his way more carefully out to the beach again.

He walked around an outcropping of rocks that morning, and the sand there had been worn low. Now the path was filled with rushing sea water, and the island was big enough to make it a long walk around the other side. And on that line of thought, it wasn't as though he'd explored the island at all, and wasn't sure what he'd find... so really, there was suddenly no way back.

He considered climbing over the rocks, and then rethought it, eyeing the sharp, rough texture of it, and then his own bare feet. He could run through while the waves were out, but it was risky: a little too far, the waves too fast, the wrong timing, and he'd clearly be underwater in moments. It was a sharp slope on the other side of the pathway, in any case, and that idea didn't appeal to him either.

Then there was the option to go around the rocks the other way, through the woods. But the brush and trees got thick right at that point, and Will wasn't sure if he'd be able to find his way clearly.

Now he was truly worried. He should be able to do this, to get back to the bloody stupid ship, but he was tired, his head hurt, and now he was hungry. He sat down on the sand, above the tide, and watched the water rush against the rocks, mournfully.


Will lifted his head, and frowned at Jack, who stood on the other side of the water's path, past the rocks. "What do you want?" He almost had to yell.

"I wanted to make sure you were all right!"

"I'm fine!" Will said curtly, and saw Jack roll his eyes.

"If I'm correct," Jack said, coming down a little farther on the bank, "it's been more than twelve hours since you've eaten anything substantial."

"What's your point?"

"My point is," Jack replied, seating himself carefully on the sand, "that I wanted to come find you, to see if you wanted breakfast."

"I'm perfectly capable on my own, thank you, Captain Sparrow."

Jack winced. The only time Will used his proper title like that was when he was really quite angry. Or in the middle of sex. But, he thought, since there was clearly none of that going on at the moment, Will was angry.

Jack watched the waves for a few moments, and then stood. He started to walk back down the beach towards the camp, and Will smiled to himself. Then Jack turned back, waited another moment, and then started running.

Will raised an eyebrow. Was he trying to make it across?

Jack lept off the bank as the wave receded and landed in the middle of the path. He caught himself and stood again, and kept running, scrambling up the other slope, just getting his feet wet.

Will gaped at him. "You just- you just-"

"Aye," Jack said casually, and sat down beside him. Will flinched away, but it was less than wholehearted. Jack put an arm around him. "Why are you so angry at me?"

Will glared at him. "Because you want to show me off."

"And who wouldn't?"

"Beg pardon?"

"You! Who wouldn't want to show you off? You're lovely!"

"And that's it?"

Jack shrugged. "Do you want a list?"

"Have you made one?"

"Not on paper."

"Um," Will said, blushing lightly.

"Would you like to hear it?"

He gave a little, barely embarrassed nod, and Jack grinned at him.

"You, William Turner, are lovely. Courageous, kind, sweet, amusing, well-behaved (in opposition to myself, of course), handsome, dashing, cheerful, and lovely."

"You said that."

"Well I mean it doubly so. Also, you're loyal. Almost to the point of stupidity, really."

"Hey." Will narrowed his eyes at Jack, but it was more playful than resentful.

Jack smiled at him, genuinely, and Will tapped the tip of his nose with a forefinger.

"Well you, Jack Sparrow, are a pretty liar, a thief, a scallywag, and spectacular in the bunk, but you hog the covers."

Jack shrugged. "It happens. Pirate?"

Will laughed and leaned against Jack's shoulder. "Thank you Jack." He paused. "How do we get back, though? I'm not jumping that."

"Wait till the tide goes out again. You hungry?"

"Well, yes."

Jack reached into the pocket of his coat, fumbled around a little, frowned, and then produced a small loaf of bread, and some cheese. "I didn't bring anything to cut it with."

Will snatched the bread from him, and kissed him gently, almost as an afterthought. "I don't really mind." And it seemed somehow to be about more than the bread.

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