the Dalaverse

12.

Norrington was staring at the two pairs of legs under the sheet. They were tangled together and he could make out the curve of thighs, the bend of knees, and the faint hint of ankles, but he could not for the life of him determine which were his own. Wiggle, he thought to his toes. He could feel them obey, but it didn’t make enough of a commotion for him to be able to detect which covered foot had performed the action, and he had no strength to summon a more advanced movement.

“You asleep?” Jack nudged him with a foot and all right, that one was definitely not his own, so it must be this one – he lifted the leg experimentally and rubbed it between both of Jack’s – and the other, which he hooked more securely around Jack’s calf.

“I was getting there, thank you,” he replied, satisfied that all limbs were now present and accounted for.

Jack chuckled, running one hand up and down Norrington’s forearm, mussing the fine dark hairs. “You should be thankin’ me, lad. I turned out quite the performance tonight, not that I don’t always.”

Norrington shifted his first leg again, causing Jack to trap it and keep it still. “And I suppose I was simply a beached whale beneath you?” He marveled that he still had the fortitude to speak at all, much less make bad jokes, when his heart was only just settling back down into his body and his lungs still held a trace of burn.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, I’d say you did very well,” Jack told him sanctimoniously, “especially for your first time out on the water.” The hands wandering over his body met at the small of his back and spread flat as Jack chuckled. “Very well indeed.” Norrington grabbed one of the hands and brought it to his face, nibbling each fingertip before Jack wrangled out of his grasp to stroke his hair back.

“Is it always like that?” he wanted to know.

“Like what?” He could hear the rustle of beads and trinkets as Jack tilted his head to look down.

“So...so strong,” said Norrington, trying to imply everything he had felt in Jack’s arms with a few words, and failing miserably. “So much.” There, that was a bit more accurate.

The hands petting him squeezed again, one around his arm and the other slightly more careful on his backside. “No, it’s not always like that.”

“Oh.” Norrington couldn’t quite keep the disappointment out of his voice, though really, if that happened on a nightly basis, he wasn’t too sure he’d be able to survive his waking hours.

“We could try, though, making it ‘so much,’ as you put it, every time,” said Jack thoughtfully, hands stroking up and down his back in alternating rhythm.

He raised his head to prop his chin on Jack’s chest, looking shyly at him. “Can we try right now?”

Jack shook beneath him with a burst of laughter. “Already?”

“Well, you keep touching me,” said Norrington sheepishly.

Hands patted his pelvis sideways to let Jack palm his stiffening cock. Norrington moved into the touch without thinking. “Dear me, Commodore, whatever have I made of you? Newly deflowered and already you’re up for more.”

Norrington’s face screwed up in a scowl, which then relaxed as Jack’s hand twisted around him. “I was not a virgin, I’ll have you know, Sparrow.” He caught his breath in a hiss as Jack pulled harder, just barely using his blunt nails.

His voice was low and rich, lazy. “You were in some respects, lad, might as well own up to that.”

“True enough,” he conceded grudgingly. He rose on an elbow to lean over Jack, who wrapped both arms around him with a pleased little grunt.

This part was going to be more difficult, but as long as they were both feeling so warm and content...“I want to – to have you,” he said haltingly, turning his face into Jack’s neck to hide his blush. “Want to make you feel what I was feeling,” he whispered against a steady pulse, which sped up under his lips.

When he raised his head again, the look on Jack’s face alarmed him a bit. It was guarded for the first time that night. “It’s been a long, long time,” Jack said, closing his eyes.

Norrington shifted uncomfortably atop him, regretting having brought it up. “If you don’t want to –”

Jack’s eyes popped open and he caught Norrington as he started to pull away. “I didn’t say that, Gabriel.” He laced his fingers together at the back of Norrington’s neck and moved him down to kiss. "No, I did not say that at all,” he reiterated after a few breathless moments which were far more convincing than any words he might have offered.

“Oil?” Norrington said, voice lowering as Jack ground wantonly against him.

“Think...it went under th’pillow...” Norrington reached under his head to scramble for it, wincing as inner muscles protested his lack of care.

“Bit sore?” said Jack apologetically. “And after I went easy on you too.”

Norrington choked out a laugh. “That was easy?” His fingers found purchase on the little jar and he pulled it out.

“Just wait,” Jack told him smugly, lifting his legs to hook his knees over Norrington’s shoulders. “Get your first taste o’ me and you’ll understand. What?” he added, as Norrington paused to frown down at him.

“I don’t think I could bend like that,” said Norrington, suddenly worried that this position would be expected of him at some point.

Jack stared at him for a second before he burst out laughing. If there was one thing Norrington hadn’t expected from this night, it was how light it was in certain ways, how many slow, lingering kisses and how much laughter he’d found in Jack’s bed. He’d thought the interminable wait might leave only bright scorches of heat, and though there was heat aplenty, there was also this gentle glow of affection.

“It’s not that hard,” Jack assured him, his eyes glinting merrily at his own choice of words. “Though speaking of hardness...” He reached down to tweak Norrington’s cock. “I wouldn’t mind a bit right now.”

“A bit?” Norrington replied, pretending to be offended.

“More than a bit,” Jack amended graciously. “A good deal more than a bit, in fact. Not that I can tell for certain until –” He broke off abruptly as Norrington pushed a damp finger inside him. “Yes, something like that, please.”

Norrington’s interest was piqued by the word. “Please?” he repeated, twisting and trying to find that spot within Jack he’d only just been made aware of inside himself. Jack’s hands tightened around his braced arms as he shot Norrington a warning look. “That wouldn’t be the infamous Jack Sparrow begging, now would it?” His finger curled deep inside and Jack clenched suddenly around it, sucking in air and moving against Norrington almost as if he were trying to get away.

“Oh Jesus,” Jack gasped as Norrington, growing bolder, added a second finger and brushed the spot again. “Fine, fine, I’m begging, just – gimme...”

“Tell me,” said Norrington roughly, enjoying the way Jack’s eyelashes fluttered and his hips bucked into the contact, “tell me that you want me.”

Surprise and a whole new degree of arousal was shuttered behind Jack’s falling lids. “Please, Gabriel,” he panted, “want you, I want you – want you inside me.” His desperate growl slid down along Norrington’s skin to make his cock throb, and he could be cruel to himself no more than he could be cruel to Jack. He withdrew his fingers to quickly coat himself and then he was sliding forward, his fingers clenching in the bedsheets as he was taken by silky heat all around him.

He moaned Jack’s name, hearing an answering cry at the edge of his sanity.

Jack had told him he’d understand. And he did – suddenly he seemed to understand everything, his life, the world, the sea, the heavens, and most of all the man beneath him. And he knew that Jack was never going to let him do this again

~~~

Jack trembled as Norrington finally stopped teasing and entered him. God, the feel of it, the fire and the fullness and the faint sting since it had indeed been awhile – the old sense of being breached and at the same time being held together, made vulnerable but overcome with the willingness to let it happen, to lose himself in another as much as that man was buried within him. It was beautiful and it was terrifying, too, like climbing just that one branch higher than everybody else would dare or sinking that fathom deeper.

Then Norrington, after a few rapid, shallow thrusts, stopped moving.

Jack was so shocked that he went still as well. What the hell was wrong with the man? Didn’t he understand what this meant, what Jack was giving him at the expense of pride and fear and God only knew what else?

He did tight and rippling things to the organ spearing him, but though every muscle in Norrington’s body started to quiver, he didn’t budge.

Feeling like a child stamping his feet to get his way, Jack hissed, “What – what could you possibly be thinking?”

Norrington opened his eyes briefly and Jack was flummoxed to see such fear within them, the kind of fear that could stop a man cold in the middle of what Jack considered to be extremely good sex.

“I’m going to hurt you,” he finally said in a broken whisper.

Oh fuck. Of all the times to revert to the old can’t-touch-me-I’m-the-proper-bloody-Commodore...

He bit down on his urge to scream in frustration and gentled his voice as best he could. “You’re not, love, believe it.”

Norrington’s face twisted hurtfully at his use of the endearment, normally casual but different in this light.

“You – you don’t understand,” he said, what sounded like sobs rising in his voice.

“No,” said Jack, trying to sound rational rather than pleading, “I do, I understand – it feels like darkness inside you but it’s not, it’s nothing of the sort. I know what you want to do to me and I’m telling you, Gabriel, that I want it too.”

There was restraint and then there was Norrington, his eyes anguished as he shook his head. “I don’t do this, Jack, I can’t...”

“Yes, you can,” Jack replied forcefully, pulling him down so that he rested on his elbows, most of his weight heavy on Jack. It was uncomfortable, but having him this close was the only way to solve the problem of Norrington’s asinine hesitation. He kissed him with all the conviction he could muster, tasting a need as fierce and sharp as his own. Listen to it, he bade Norrington silently, continuing out loud, “Feel it and trust it and...and trust me.”

He could sense Norrington’s resolve crumbling, his jaw clenching.

“The only one here who could possibly get hurt,” said Jack in a gravelly voice, his final entreaty, “is you, because if you don’t start moving I will chuck you right out the window. Is 'at clear?”

A breath so deep he had a momentary fear that Norrington was never going to let it out again.

“Inescapably clear,” he murmured, kissing Jack hungrily as he raised back up on his arms and surrendered.

To me, Jack thought wonderingly as Norrington thrust deep into him, pulled half-out, thrust in again, giving it to him and taking it away and then giving it again. He does this to me and he does it for me, and I’m not even sure I had the right to ask it of him.

“God, Jack,” Norrington cried piercingly, his brow wrinkled with concentration and the force with which his eyes were squeezed shut.

“Yes,” Jack groaned, twisting his hips to meet that driving force, urging him onward with hands at his waist. “Just like that, lad, just there...come on...”

Norrington looked down at him suddenly, his eyes almost confused as they ran across Jack’s face.

“See?” Jack said, trying to smile but finding it broken by his sharply drawn breathing. “I told you.”

A touch of humor, some acknowledgment of it even though he didn’t slacken in his movements. “I believe you now. Jack...” He glanced down between them, taking in Jack’s cock jutting out above where their bodies were joined. “Do you want me to – my hand – ”

Jack nodded wildly, the motion probably lost in the rocking of his body. “Please - touch me – ”

Norrington bent down to kiss him, adjusting slightly to compensate for the loss of support from one hand, which he used to find Jack’s leaking cock and pump it in time with his thrusts. And there was no way Jack could last under a double attack like that, not when he’d waited this long for this one man. Just a few quick strokes along his shaft and he was digging his nails into Norrington’s back, lifiting up off the bed, swearing a blue streak in more than one language as he pulsed into Norrington’s long fingers.

His timing wasn’t bad. Norrington grabbed Jack's hips, balancing on his knees and thrusting too quickly and almost too hard – once – twice – “Jack, I’m –” The aftershocks were still shaking him as he felt the hot rush inside, both heard and felt Norrington’s indistinct scream muffled against his shoulder.

For a moment he thought they were going to fall backwards due to the arch of Norrington’s spine, but after a bit of swaying he landed back against the bed, the air knocked out of his lungs.

Norrington floundered before he got enough leverage to lift himself off of Jack, who was relieved at being able to inhale again and yet absurdly saddened to feel the withdrawal of the softened member from him.

He curled against Norrington, both of them still gasping like fish out of water. As heart rates slowed and breathing returned to semi-normal, Jack ran a finger across Norrington’s lips, determined to hear him speak first.

When nothing came forth, he prompted impatiently, “Well?”

“I am...glad we did that,” Norrington said finally, decisively. “And my throat hurts, as well as...well. Other parts. I think you drew blood when you clawed me. We ought to clean this mess up or Ned won’t want to sleep with us. Jack? Jack, I’m going back to my own room if you don’t stop laughing at me.”


13.

Norrington was not too clear on how he managed to drag himself to Fort Charles the next morning. Convincing Jack to turn him loose had taken some time, as had dressing and eating and just about everything else, so he ended up being uncharacteristically late. Fortunately the first day back from a voyage was never terribly chaotic, and his morning passed uneventfully until Groves came by to drop off some correspondences. He found Norrington standing behind his desk, thoughts of Jack keeping him restless and lingering reminders of the night keeping him from sitting down.

“Thank you,” he said, taking the stack of papers and grateful for the distraction. “...Tom,” he added hesitantly. Groves flashed him a brilliantly white smile, which he now suspected was responsible for the time Gillette had fallen out of his chair during an especially dull conference in London.

The smile faded slightly as his eyes narrowed, making Norrington fidget. Surely there was nothing on his uniform. He’d gotten a spot of jam on his cheek that morning, but Jack had taken care of it –

Norrington bit down hard on his bottom lip, feeling heat creep up his neck. “Was there anything else you needed, Lieutenant?” he managed in a tight voice.

The other man’s face had gone blank. He looked past Norrington as he spoke. “I thought I would relay certain rumors to you, sir.”

“I’ve little interest in idle gossip,” said Norrington, vaguely suspicious of the sudden blandness of Groves’ tone.

Sharp gray eyes darted to his own. “I assumed you would be interested in the talk about Jack Sparrow’s return to Port Royal.”

The breath faltered in Norrington’s lungs.

“Just whispers, really, nothing substantial. If he’s here, he isn’t causing much of a stir. He may even have adopted a disguise.” Groves paused delicately. “I’ve also spoken with a few civilians who wish to send their regards to your uncle.”

“I – I have no –” Norrington cleared his throat, mind racing. Jack was going to pay for this – and not the sort of welcome punishment he’d been describing to a scandalized Norrington earlier that day.

“You didn’t mention that your Uncle Charles was coming for a visit,” said Groves with a raised eyebrow that could have meant any one of a hundred things, punctuated as it was by that strange flat voice.

“Ah, yes, well, I’d forgotten. Busy, you know,” he said feebly, waving the correspondences for emphasis.

The carefully even surface of Groves’ face cracked, letting the beginnings of a smirk lift the corners of his lips. “You’re looking pale, Commodore. You ought to have a seat.”

Without thinking, Norrington took the suggestion and dropped heavily into the leather chair behind his desk. He shot up again with a yelp as pain flared in his backside.

He threw a baleful glance across the desk. Groves had one hand covering his mouth, but the laughter he was holding back was evident in his eyes.

Norrington sighed and sank back down, resting his weight forward on his thighs. “How did you know?”

He’d not been expecting this from Groves; indeed, he was finding that his two lieutenants were quite different out of uniform. Gillette was quick-tempered and bold in action, but shy in conversation. Groves fought his battles with a great degree of caution, while clearly possessing a tendency to loosen his tongue in less formal settings.

“The way you were standing,” he admitted, taking a seat himself. “And – you might want to adjust –” He raised a hand to his own neck.

Norrington touched himself where Groves had indicated, his fingertips brushing across a small sensitive spot. It would, he knew, be a bruise-like purple color if he were to glance in a mirror; it was not the only one of its kind.

Tugging his cravat higher, he met Groves’ amused eyes with an embarrassed grimace.

“Far be it from me to judge you, Gabriel – if I may speak freely,” he added with a polite nod.

“Funny how unencumbered speech is something to which I’ve been subjected so often lately,” Norrington muttered.

Groves was still smiling, but he spoke more seriously. “If it is any comfort, I highly doubt your personal life is common knowledge – and I swear I’ll do my part to keep it that way.”

“Thank you,” said Norrington, relief and sincerity low in his voice.

Hefting a stone paperweight in his hands, Groves said, “I’d suggest you speak with Sparrow about his outings, though. Someone who matters is bound to notice eventually.”

Norrington cracked his shoulders. “Oh, he will be spoken with, believe me,” he said darkly.

Groves coughed against what was probably meant to be a chuckle. “I can only imagine what an...interesting time you must be having.”

“To say the least,” Norrington replied in a dry tone.

This time Groves didn’t bother to halt a sympathetic laugh. “I’ll leave you to your work, then,” he said, standing. Norrington did the same, withholding a wince.

Groves paused at the door and turned back to him. “I do have some experience with these situations, as you well know. I understand how difficult they can be.” He pulled gently at the queue on his wig, showing a bit more of the reservation to which Norrington had been accustomed. “If you should need someone to talk to – ”

The very notion of discussing the relationship, or arrangement, or whatever bond he and Jack had formed made his knuckles whiten. The sentiment was appreciated, however.

“Thank you,” he said for a third time, tipping forward almost in a bow as Groves left.

He eyed his desk. Already it was difficult to concentrate, and he wasn’t even close enough to read the writing.

This was going to be a long day.

~~~

It felt ridiculous be sneaking into his own house, but better a careful slink through the door than being stopped and distracted by Jack. Judging by the chattering and clanging coming from the kitchen, he’d recovered from the night’s activities enough to get in the way while Mrs. Perry cooked supper. Norrington crept up the stairs slowly, cursing under his breath when he landed on one that squeaked, but no one intercepted him on his way to Jack’s room.

As he’d suspected, he found it all squirreled away beneath the bed: fine clothes, some of them his own, a pair of spectacles, and a perfectly coiffed gray wig and false beard.

He sat back on his heels and gazed at the collection, anger throbbing through his veins. Did the infernal pirate have any idea of the danger he’d put himself in? Did he care in the least – not only about what might happen to him, but to Norrington as well, if he’d been discovered?

Or perhaps this had been the plan to begin with. String the poor stupid commodore along, get into every nook and cranny of Port Royal’s streets, size up its treasures and its defenses. The Black Pearl had already once made the beginnings of a very effective raid and he had no doubt that she’d be capable of greater destruction – especially if he himself could be gotten out of the picture. Tied up in the captain’s cabin, perhaps, kept as a plaything, or sold to the highest bidder. A pirate who brought down a high-ranking officer, especially one with his reputation, would find himself the toast of every brigand from here to Madagascar.

Norrington had lost track of time when a pair of yeast-scented hands flowed down his lapels. He spun and stood, the wig tight in his grip.

“What is all this, Jack?”

Jack stepped back, immediately seeing the discovery of his things and looking rightfully wary of the commodore's dangerously low voice. “Did you miss your Uncle Charles, then?” He tried a grin, but Norrington was having none of his charm.

“Did you really think you could lie to me?” he hissed, blinking eyes that were suddenly stinging. “Do you have so little respect for me that you would actually –”

“Hey,” Jack protested, his mouth tightening, “that isn’t it at all, mate. I was goin’ mad in this house, and p’rhaps I went on an innocent jaunt or two –”

“Innocent?” Norrington flung the wig onto the bed and kicked the buckled shoes. “Of course, Sparrow, because that is exactly your nature. So what’s the town worth, then? Whose silver collection did you price? Will you be sparing the smithy, or have you already made plans to cart off Turner’s most expensive weapons?” He couldn’t feel the hysteria build up within him, couldn’t hear how his voice had risen to a shout, but he could see how Jack’s eyes began to widen.

Jack came closer to him, gritting his teeth and looking like he was thinking better of it. “Nothing of the sort. I swear it, Gabriel, swear on the Pearl herself –”

Norrington strode past, ignoring the hand held out to him. “Your word is meaningless to me.” He slammed the door to his own room and locked it just before the handle started to turn.

He glared at the furiously jiggling handle from across the room.

“Don’t know why –” A kick at the door. “–‘m even bothering, but if you’d only just...” A thump that was repeated several times – Jack’s forehead clunking against the wood. “Open the door, Gabriel.”

“No!”

“I am not a child, for you to speak to me as though I am,” Jack bit out, now sounding more angry than exasperated. “Nor are you, though no one’d ever know it from the way you’re behaving.”

Norrington sat cautiously down on the bed, continuing to fume, and refused to answer. After a few minutes, the sounds of breathing petered out, but Jack returned less than an hour later.

“Eat, you stubborn fool,” he called, rattling a tray for Norrington’s benefit.

“I’m not hungry,” Norrington snapped, though the scent of roast beef was wafting in and he had been too busy panicking to remember lunch.

He could hear Jack’s sigh. “Fine, then. I’ll just leave this lovely dish right here, and you sit in there and think about the cat eating it.”

Norrington wavered, but once he was certain that Jack was gone, he opened the door just wide enough to drag the tray through. Ned, racing down the hallway to investigate the delicious smells, meowed piteously when the food was snatched out from under his nose. Softening, Norrington picked up him and plopped him on the bed.

As he and the kitten shared, regret began to sink into Norrington’s stomach along with the meal.

“How can I trust him?” he asked Ned, who sniffed at an offered bit of broccoli and sneezed. “At the same time, after all that’s happened – how can I not trust him?”

Ned didn’t answer, but he did go cross-eyed staring at the beef cooling on Norrington’s fork. Norrington shredded it and fed him the smaller pieces, his own appetite suddenly less compelling.

“He’s a pirate,” Norrington said. “And not only that, he’s Jack Sparrow – slippery as an eel and sweet-voiced to anyone who’ll serve his purpose. And yet,” he continued, frustrated by the circles he was making, “when I look at him, really look at him – when he’s still long enough for me to hold onto him – I feel...” He trailed off, barely noticing the small teeth Ned sank into the heel of his hand. “I feel,” he concluded, his throat working hard to swallow. “And I care, and it’s all so bloody confusing, and I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Ned licked the salt from his palms. Norrington held the kitten close for a moment before he wriggled to be let free.

After letting a pacing Ned out, he tucked himself dejectedly under the covers, remembering to remove his shoes but unable to summon the energy to undress further. Jack had not returned after bringing dinner and Norrington was far too ashamed of the way he’d lost his temper to go seek him out.

He’d fallen mostly asleep by the time Jack crawled in beside him, sitting against the headboard to look down at him as he rubbed his eyes groggily.

“I’m sorry,” said Jack when Norrington shifted to sit up beside him. “I’m sorry for not telling you. But I never went out with the intent to harm.” His eyes were intense in the darkness, though his voice was mild.

Norrington studied his face, finding the same depth of honesty and kindness which had given him pause when he’d had the time to think about it. “I believe you. And I apologize as well. I thought...” He shook his head. He’d been clear enough earlier.

Jack moved forward, easing himself down onto Norrington’s lap. “You thought I was using you,” he said quietly, matter-of-fact in both his words and the kisses he applied to Norrington’s neck, applying a soothing tongue to the bite marks. “What I fail to understand is why you can’t accept that someone would want you not for what you are or what you can do for them but just...for you.”

“I don’t know,” Norrington whispered, arching into the fingers kneading the muscles in his back. He had no idea at what point Jack had learned just where to touch him, and when, and how. It seemed like a power he’d brought along from the beginning, and comforting though it was, it made him tremble in something like fear.

“Well, I’m not letting you run away,” Jack growled around the shirt buttons he was undoing with his teeth. “Not this time.”

“And the next time?” Norrington wanted to know, sadness touching the edges of his voice. “When it’s time for you to run?”

Jack slowed to a stop and Norrington wondered why. It was nothing they weren’t both aware of.

“If you can,” he added, muffling his words against Jack’s headscarf. “If I haven’t caused your death.”

“Gabriel –” Jack began urgently, and Norrington stilled him with a hand over his mouth.

“Don’t go out again,” he said, blinking back surprise at his tears more than at the tears themselves. “It’s too dangerous.” Jack’s eyes flickered away and he allowed his voice to break the way it wanted. “Please, Jack.”

His palm finally received a puckered kiss, so he let it fall.

“All right,” said Jack grudgingly, taking a deep breath. “But I daresay I’m not in quite the danger you would –”

Norrington kissed him. It was as good as the night before, as sweet, but it was fueled by something that burned darker and ached more sharply. Though Jack held himself steady as if he waited to speak again, he ended up going boneless as moments passed in which Norrington would not release him. When he did let go it was a painful shock, all the air leaving his lungs as if he’d just hit water after a very long fall.

He was going to have to truly let go at some point, probably forever. Jack would need to stretch the wings that kept him alive. Perhaps Norrington had had some of his own once, because he understood, but even if it was so, they were long since withered and dry. And he would be able to let his mended pirate go - he would have no choice.

Not tonight, though, he told himself, arms locked around Jack, trapping the caged heart to beat against his chest. Tonight, and for as long as I can, I will hold on.

Jack was willing to let himself be clutched, but never caught, never kept – Norrington could taste it in the hidden depths of his mouth, see it in the way his eyes closed as he bent down to renew pleasures freely given. And he was so desperate to keep feeling, keep caring, that he almost didn’t mind.

He was touched and caressed and whispered to and finally filled, and that was almost enough.


14.

“It feels as though I’ve wrenched my back,” said Norrington, rolling one shoulder experimentally.

Jack ran fingers up his ribs, firm enough not to tickle. “Don’t go blamin’ me, now.”

“And why not?” Norrington demanded. “I’ve got you at me day and night, Sparrow, I shouldn’t be surprised if it turns out to be entirely your fault.”

Raising an amused eyebrow, Jack sent a fingertip down the soft treasure trail beneath his navel. “Haven’t heard you complain about my attentions before this.” Norrington merely scowled at him and tugged at the quilt Jack was monopolizing.

Jack bit down on a sigh. There was no getting around it: Norrington was a moody bedmate. Not that Jack was a perpetual ray of sunshine, of course, but the commodore was as mercurial as the sea herself and twice less likely to share why. Questioning only resulted in getting him snubbed, so Jack had resorted to the far more effective and enjoyable method of fucking him back into a good mood.

“Been making up for lost time,” he said silkily as he thumbed a nipple into a reluctant peak. “My dry months are bad enough, but count you in and we’ve got years to work for.”

Reminding the man of his unlamented celibacy was not a good move, immediately rendering all the valuable work he was doing with his hands moot as Norrington pulled away from his touch.

“I told you,” he muttered, patting the covers down to make a little valley of space between their bodies, “my back hurts. We were up most of the night and I would very much like to spend my Sunday morning in peace, thank you.”

“Then I might wonder why you’re here in my bed,”Jack said under his breath, muffling his voice against a pillow.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” he said more clearly, rolling his eyes. Truth be told, he would welcome some sleep, but he was not about to put up with this sulking for the rest of the day. He yanked firmly on both quilt and top sheet, taking them with him as he hopped off the bed.

Norrington yelped as his body was laid bare. Jack snickered as he attempted to cover himself with both hands, blushing furiously. Completely shameless in the dark, yes, but render him so beautifully naked in daylight and he tended to take it amiss.

“Up,” Jack commanded, smacking a pale hip lightly.

“Why?” Norrington said indignantly, making a grab for the stolen bedclothes and glaring daggers when Jack skipped out of the way.

He clucked as he spread the quilt on the floor. “Trust me. C’mon, up with you,” he coaxed as Norrington, still looking skeptical, swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Pulling him up, Jack said, “Lie down.”

“This is not comfortable,” Norrington complained. He did obey, however, stretching out flat on his stomach at Jack’s prodding.

Jack ignored his protests and knelt at his left side, hands hovering over his back. “Where does it hurt?”

Norrington twisted one arm behind him, gesturing at the small of his back. “Low. And straight down the center. And my shoulders –”

Jack interrupted him with a chuckle. “I truly have been rough on you, haven’t I?”

“Perhaps I just slept badly,” said Norrington primly.

“So one minute it’s all my fault and the next I’ve had no effect whatsoever on your body, eh?”

“You know perfectly well what effect – Jack? What are you doing?”

Jack had gotten up and was probing between his shoulder blades with one heel. “Relax,” he said to the face looking up at him in mild alarm, holding his arms out for balance.

“Are you going to walk on me?” Norrington wanted to know, sounding none too thrilled at the prospect.

“Yes, and if you don’t hold perfectly still and do what I say, I’ll accidentally break your back.” Which was an exaggeration, but he appreciated the way Norrington went quiet. “Take a deep breath,” he instructed, finding the right spot with his toes, “and let it out.”

Norrington did so and Jack pressed his weight down, satisfied by the resounding crack and Norrington’s stifled gasp.

He was still for a beat, letting his foot rest gently while Norrington breathed quietly underneath it.

“Did you...break me?” Norrington finally managed.

“Try to move,” said Jack evenly. Norrington did so, fidgeting before he twisted this way and that, pleased astonishment taking over his face.

“It feels better,” he marveled.

“Mmmm,” said Jack, kissing the back of his neck as he dropped to his knees again. “Want more?”

“God yes.” His moan was as heady as it had ever been in bed, and Jack grinned. He settled himself atop Norrington’s hips to begin the massage in earnest. Starting at the top and working his way down, he drew out more cracks and soft, guttural noises with the heels of his hands on either side of Norrington’s spine. He used each finger, his elbows, and once his chin to knead away the knots he encountered in the layer of muscle between flesh and bone. Norrington’s breathing was slightly labored, his head turned to the side with his eyes closed in rapture.

“You have no idea how lovely you are like this,” Jack murmured, blowing into his face. Norrington didn’t move except to curl his lips into a smile, the corner of which Jack kissed as he ground his knuckles against an especially stubborn spot just above the white scar on his right side. “D’you remember the tiny scrap of a massage you gave me in the study that day? Torturous, lad, with how you made me want you.”

“Were you faking?” Norrington asked, his mouth barely moving.

“The back pain? Aye, maybe a little.” He brushed his eyelashes against a flushed cheek, lowering himself back down to let Norrington feel his awakening hardness. “But turn over and I’ll show you some things which can’t be faked.”

The morning was just starting to get interesting when they were interrupted by a knock at the door. “Jack, there’s a young Mr. Turner here t’see ya.”

Jack groaned against Norrington’s thieving tongue before reluctantly pulling away. “Tell ‘im to come back later.”

“‘E’s been a bit insistent,” said Mrs. Perry just before Will’s voice joined her.

“Let me in, Jack, it’s an emergency!”

“Now look here, whelp –” Jack began before he was distracted by the struggle of trying to hold onto the legs wrapped around his waist, but Norrington managed to wriggle out from underneath him. Eyes large with panic, he clutched the quilt to himself and dove beneath the bed.

Jack got up and followed after, trying to reach him with a flailing arm, but Norrington evaded him.

“Very bright, Gabriel,” Jack hissed, a bit dizzy from straightening so quickly. “Just for that, I’m going to seduce him so's you can hear every word.”

A foot shot out to kick him in the ankle and he cursed, dragging his breeches on and grimacing as he fastened them over his neglected arousal. An untucked shirt thankfully concealed the bulge by the time Will had given up on what little tact he possessed and barged into the room.

It was immediately apparent that he was in no condition to notice the state of Jack’s breeches, or his reddened face, or the uncovered bed.

“It’s Elizabeth,” said Will urgently, pacing to the opposite end of the small room and turning back again.

Jack caught him by the upper arms, a thousand things racing through his head and none of them good. “What’s happened? Is she all right?”

Will shook his head, gazing out at Jack from a loose shank of curls. “She’s thrown me out,” he cried, his face crumpling as he fell heavily onto the bed.

Hoping he hadn’t landed on a wet spot, Jack sat down beside him. “Slow it down a little, William.” Despite Will’s great air of tragedy, he had a hard time believing such a crisis was at hand.

“It started this morning,” said Will, waving his hands artlessly around as he tried to explain. “She said she didn’t want to go to church because she was tired of waddling around among all the skinny wenches in town – her words, not mine – and I said that was fine, and I didn’t want to go either if she did not. Then she started shouting at me to go, because otherwise everyone would think we were disgraced or ashamed or something of the like – it was difficult to understand her at that point. When I asked exactly why anyone would think that, she chucked a plate at my head and told me to get out.” Finished with his tale, he flopped back onto the bed and threw his arms across his face.

Jack reclined beside him, frowning. “Doesn’t sound like our sensible Lizzie. Can't imagine her missing a clean shot like that.”

“I can’t do anything right,” Will moaned.

“Of course you can’t,” said Jack frankly. “You’re a man.”

Will raised his arms to blink at Jack in confusion. “Yes, and?”

Sighing, Jack shook his head. The boy was as clueless about the fairer sex as his father had been. “You’re trying so hard to understand what she’s going through, and in the end you just can’t. Push her in the direction of some fellow women – kindly ones, mind, not those catty society bitches who’ll whisper behind her back – and she’ll feel better.”

“That’s it?” said Will, looking doubtful. “That’s the reason she’s been so short with me?”

“It’s the best one I can guess at,” Jack replied.

Will sat back up and regarded him with something like awe. “How do you know these things?”

“I’ve never been accused of bein’ responsible for a babe, but I have spent some time around them. Didn’t I ever tell you about Charlotte?”

“No.” The boy spun around to face him, sitting cross-legged, always eager for a story.

Jack crossed his hands behind his head, letting a slow smile steal over his face. “I fell madly in love with Lottie when I was thirteen. She lived down the street and she couldn’t've been more than sixteen, seventeen, but she had a little boy and no husband to be seen. I used to go by and keep an eye on him sometimes when she’d have a few working girls over for tea. I spent a good deal of time with those ladies for a year or so, an’ I learned a lot about the female mind.” He smirked, studying a thumbnail. “And body.”

Will’s jaw dropped. “You did not, Jack.”

“Did too,” Jack retorted. “The precious jewel of an Irishwoman herself made sure I knew just how grateful she was for all the help. Oh, she had the prettiest blue eyes, Lottie did, and holy Christ, her figure...” He sketched the shape of breasts and hips in the air, smirking at the pink-faced blacksmith.

Someone coughed and it was not either of them.

Will glanced down at the bed. “What was that?”

“The cat,” said Jack smoothly.

A noise from the hallway made them both sit up straight. Elizabeth came into the room, holding her belly with both hands, her hair unbound.

Will leapt to his feet and darted to his wife’s side. “Elizabeth, you didn’t walk here, did –”

“Don’t start!” Elizabeth shrieked. “You left me alone, Will Turner, and just before Sunday service too!”

“You said you didn’t want to go – and you told me to leave!”

Jack winced at their tones and quickly stepped between them. “Perhaps the both of you need a bit of time to cool off. Will, go downstairs and ask Mrs. Perry to grace you with a sample of the commodore’s fine wines –” He thought he could detect the faintest snort coming from under the bed. “– and Lizzie, you stay here an' have a chat with me.”

Elizabeth crossed her arms over her bosom and sniffed at her husband, “Perhaps that would be best.”

Will looked to the ceiling in hapless frustration before he stalked out of the bedroom.

Jack fixed Elizabeth with a stern look. “I know it’s your first child, love, but you’ve got to stop harrying the poor boy.”

Without warning, Elizabeth’s brown eyes filled with tears.

Damn, Jack thought despondently as she burst into sobs that set her body to heaving. He guided her to the bed and sat her down, biting his lip and putting an arm around her. At least this was Norrington’s shirt she was sniffling into. “There now, lass...”

“I’m horrible,” Elizabeth wailed, clenching her hands in the borrowed garment. “I’m horrible to Will when he has been nothing but sweet and wonderful, and I just shout at him like a harpy. And I’m enormous! Look at me, Jack! I’m the size of a house! I’ve never been fat in my life, but now I can’t see my feet. Where are my feet, Jack?” She lifted her legs, with some effort, to wiggle said feet. “I don’t know how he’s ever going to want me again after this. And I’m tired all the time, and I eat the strangest foods, and I have to use the privy every quarter of an hour, and the baby’s almost here and I’m not going to be any good at being a mother!”

Jack waited for her tirade to end, holding back the desire to laugh. Her tears faded out almost as quickly as they started.

“Feel better?” he asked gently, stroking damp hair back from her brow.

Elizabeth snuffled into his shoulder. “A little,” she said hoarsely. “I’m afraid, Jack.”

“Which isn’t something you’re used to, I know, but trust me when I say so’s Will.”

She shook her head vehemently. “That’s not true. Will is – he’s Will. He’s as solid as a rock and he will be perfectly fine.”

“So will you, darling,” Jack assured her confidently. “The both of you together – you’ll figure things out and you’ll be the simply the most stunning set of parents in all Port Royal. Why, I’ll have to sneak into the house to take the babe away and teach it the proper way to pick pockets and swear in Dutch.”

Elizabeth giggled, starting as Ned raced into the room and under the bed. “That kitten of Gabriel’s has more energy than any creature needs.”

“You think back on that when you’re living on two hours of sleep a night,” said Jack. Elizabeth, looking more like herself, was about to make a cutting remark when they were both jolted by some kind of surge.

Carefully, one hand at her back, Elizabeth got up to peer down at the edge of the bed. Where Jack could now see a corner of quilt poking out.

She looked back at Jack, pointing imperiously at the bit of green. Jack made a face, knowing when he’d been caught, and knelt down to drag it out. Norrington came with it, blinking dust out of his eyes and holding Ned by the scruff of his neck. Jack could see a smear of blood on the web of skin between Norrington’s thumb and forefinger – one of the kitten’s favorite snacks.

Elizabeth gaped at him as he wrapped the blanket hastily around himself, though not before a blush spread more or less over his entire body.

“Game’s up,” said Jack cheerfully, tossing himself down onto the bed. Norrington glared up at him from the floor. “What, you want me to deny it? Not even I could come up with a plausible story ‘bout how you ended up naked under my bed, sweet.”

He’d used the endearment on purpose, enjoying the way Norrington’s face turned an even brighter shade of scarlet – and very much enjoying how Norrington would probably make him pay for it once the younglings were gone.

Elizabeth was now stabbing her finger in the air at them both, a gleam of triumph in her eyes. “I knew it! I knew something had to be going on!”

Jack picked a bit of fluff off the bedsheet, ignoring the wounded look Norrington shot him. No sense letting the man think he'd gone about blabbing the story all over town. “You didn’t, lass, not really.”

“Well, I suspected,” said Elizabeth stridently. She pursed her lips at Norrington. “Gabriel, do get up off the floor, please.”

Not even Norrington at his most formal could deny the request of a pregnant woman whose breakdown he had just witnessed. He hopped awkwardly to his feet, trying to keep every bare inch of himself covered with the quilt. Jack was torn between a possessive desire to keep that fair skin shielded from all eyes but his own, and an equally powerful desire to show him off. He settled for slinging an arm across Norrington’s shoulders. The other immediately stiffened, though he was too busy looking mortified to move away.

Jack could see the corner of Elizabeth’s mouth twitching as she tried to keep a straight face. “No need to look so terrified. This is too lovely a secret for me to share it.”

Norrington cleared his throat as if he wanted to speak, but he couldn’t get anything out.

“Am I the only one who knows?” Elizabeth asked.

“No,” said Jack. “The illustrious Mrs. Perry keeps us in foodstuffs when we’re too occupied to leave the bedroom.”

Norrington choked beside him and flung his arm off.

“That’s it?” she said, looking vaguely disappointed.

“Ah,” said Norrington finally, looking as though he’d reached a new depth of shame. “Lieutenant Groves.” He sent a shifty glance at Jack to gauge his reaction, but Jack only shrugged. Groves had reason enough to hold his tongue.

Elizabeth tapped her chin with one hand, looking at them with narrow, calculating eyes. “I’ll not tell a soul, on one condition.”

“Name it,” said Norrington, relief evident in his voice.

“I want to see the two of you kiss.”

Norrington gaped at her. “You must be joking.”

Jack snickered. He knew Elizabeth well, and he knew when she was completely lacking in any sense of humor.

Elizabeth waved a hand at them, looking almost disinterested. “Go on. Prove to me that you’re serious about this.”

The word ‘serious’ caused Jack to instinctively balk, but he had never grown tired of being the center of attention, especially when he had such a fine partner in crime. He took advantage of Norrington’s mouth still being open in shock, holding his face so that he couldn’t move away as Jack kissed him. He made sure there was no slow lead-in, only the type of searing, all-encompassing kiss that would melt protest in Norrington’s brain before it had a chance to form. Sure enough, he found weight sagging against him and a mouth fierce under his own, allowing his intrusion while fighting for a sense of control.

When they broke apart, Norrington’s eyes were a cloudy seafoam color and Elizabeth had both hands clasped over her mouth in delight.

Jack winked at her. Let her stew on that while she was worrying about renewing Will’s interest in her body.

“Elizabeth?”

Just before he came in the door, Norrington made a desperate flight to the window, abandoning the quilt. Elizabeth tilted her head in contemplation at his nude body before he managed to wrap himself in the curtains.

Will had a newly-weeping wife in his arms before he had a chance to notice the rather large feet poking out from beneath the brocade. He looked at Jack in confusion. Jack waved him onwards as Elizabeth whispered into his ear, catching things like “dearest” and “love you” and “forgive me.”

The two of them turned and left, their heads bent close together.

After a moment Mrs. Perry poked her head in just as Norrington was peeping out from the curtains. With a strangled noise, he shrouded himself again.

Mrs. Perry gave her employer a strange look before turning to Jack. “Was that Miss Elizabeth I heard cryin’ up here?”

“Certainly wasn’t me,” he said.

The woman tsked softly. “I’ll be o’er their way sometime to give the poor child some comfort. You get him out from there, now – washin’ the sheets so bloody of’en is work enough, but I’ll be cross if I’ve got to do th’ curtains as well.”

Norrington waited until he could hear the door click shut before he emerged. “I don’t think,” he told Jack faintly, “I have ever been so embarrassed in my life.”

“Glad I could be of service,” said Jack, bowing. He squawked as he was knocked back onto the bed.

“My back’s better now,” Norrington growled, bending down to sink teeth into his neck. “And I’ve some things to say about your idea of ‘service.’”

Jack laughed and pulled him closer. “If I’d known service to the Crown might entail something like this, I would’ve have turned meself in ages ago.”