the Dalaverse

Quick addition before I have to run to the campus center for gift bags. Manollo speaks the same kind of Spanglish we used to mangle in Señora Casarez's class in high school, but it shouldn't be too difficult to follow.



Nothing New Under the Sun (IV)



When they sighted the island at last, it was all Jack could do not to perform a spontaneous dance of joy right out on deck. Finally, finally he would be able to rid himself of the screeching, biting, demanding hellion that had taken up residence in his cabin and get his sweet, sensible Will back. And, once they were assured this was not going to happen again, his currently uninspiring sex life would take a turn for the better.

He felt petty to be complaining about Will, even in his own head, but he couldn’t quite help himself. The ill treatment might have been easier to bear if Will was cross with everyone else. But though nothing Jack said or did was ever right, Will was perfectly civil to the crew. He didn’t even take his worries out on Gibbs or Anamaria, who were the only others to know about the whole mess. The rest of the crew had merely picked up the idea that something had come between captain and first mate. They were loyal to Jack in matters of business, but having made something of a pet of the friendly, eager boy in his earliest days on board, they took his side automatically and gave their captain the evil eye when his back was turned.

It wasn’t as though he didn’t sympathize with what Will was going through. The sickness and sleeping troubles and violent shifts in mood were making the poor lad miserable, even if he still refused to really acknowledge what was causing it all. Jack hated watching it, yet Will would take no comfort from him, not a single touch no matter how innocent.

Doubting that Will was up yet, Jack barged into the cabin without a word of warning. The boy was standing by the bed without a stitch on. Jack had just enough time for a concentrated ogle and a lascivious grin before Will squeaked and covered himself with the blanket.

“Can you not knock, Sparrow?”

Jack rolled his eyes away from the flushed skin before him. “‘S not like I’ve never seen you naked, love.”

“This is different,” Will insisted prissily.

“Anyway, I came t’ fetch you because we’re here.”

“I need to dress.” When Jack didn’t move, Will huffed and twirled a finger in the air.

Sighing, Jack turned around. Silly time to have an attack of modesty, if you asked him – not that Will would, of course. He hadn’t caught a terribly accurate glance, but there didn’t appear to be a great change in form at this point. A little softening around the middle, maybe, and Jack thought his nipples looked a bit swollen. He tried to picture Will with actual working breasts. Giselle’s were the nicest pair he’d seen in recent years, but that seemed a bit like overkill for Will’s lanky frame. Perhaps Elizabeth’s modest curves, which he’d had the privilege of seeing through soaked linen shift if not exactly unclothed. Small but perfectly formed – yes, they’d do quite –

“Done,” Will announced. Jack filed the image away for further perusal – Christ but he hated sleeping alone – and turned back around.

He stepped closer, puzzled by the quality of Will’s face as the boy tied his hair back. “You look diff’rent this morning.”

Will shrugged, avoiding his gaze and going a little pink.

“Wait,” said Jack, reaching out to frame his face with both hands. “Let’s have a look at you.”

Will squirmed under his hold. “What?”

“Nothing, really,” Jack replied slowly, releasing him. A glow, that was what they called it. Will might’ve been frowning, but he still seemed to be lit from the inside. Mentioning it, though, was likely to get Jack yelled at again, so he held his tongue.

For a moment Will’s eyes became softer and he looked as though he wanted to speak. Then the shouts of greeting between the crew and the tribe broke the cabin’s silence before either man got the opportunity.



“Friends!”

The beaming little man called Manollo came down the beach with his arms raised in welcome. Will hung back as Jack clasped hands with him. The upcoming conversation was bound to be the most humiliating thing he’d yet experienced and he felt quite comfortable letting Jack handle it. At least, he thought with some small gratitude, he hadn’t been sick this morning.

Yet.

He realized that Jack was motioning to him and he followed as Manollo led them to a large tent. Seeing the chief dozing on a braided mat at the far end, Jack and Will bowed politely. The elderly ruler swatted a fly in front of his nose and resumed his snoring.

“Porque are you come otra vez?” Manollo asked as they settled down.

Will had forgotten about the perplexing way he wove English and Spanish. Jack understood him perfectly, but even trying to pay attention gave Will a headache. He crossed his arms over his stomach and thought calming thoughts at it. As long as it didn’t rebel or do that other thing it had done earlier, which made him far more nervous than the vomiting, they would get along fine.

“Well,” Jack was saying with his usual careless hand-waving, “after our last little trip, the boy here suddenly found himself pregnant.”

Trying to collapse his neck so that his burning face was protected between his shoulder blades, Will shot Jack a glare. He’d just come right out with it, no thought to tact or Will’s own feelings. He looked to Manollo, but the tribesman was smiling blankly at the captain.

“Preg-nant?” he said with a shake of his head. “Qué es this word, Capitan Sparrow?”

“Pregnant, pregnant,” said Jack, glancing over to Will, who scooted further away in the fear that he’d be used as a tool of language instruction. On his own, Jack said, “Ah, con bebé, yes?” He curled his arms in front of his chest, vigorously rocking an invisible bundle. “Infante, niño, tiny hairless version of people.”

“Oh!” said Manollo, his mouth going rounder than Will thought was strictly necessary. He missed whatever facial expression followed because he had found a suitable spot on the dirt floor to stare at. “He is embarazado.”

“That’s the word!” said Jack with enthusiasm, snapping his fingers.

Will sneaked a furtive glance up from the floor to see Manollo staring curiously at him and quickly hid his face in Jack’s shoulder.

“Anyway, we were wonderin’ if something here, maybe whatever fantastical things we had to drink that night, might be responsible.”

Manollo stroked his chin as he thought. “If you will ‘scuse, necesito talk con el mago.”

“What’s a mago?” Will whispered as the little man got up and left the tent.

“Shaman,” said Jack. “Remember the white-haired chap with the blind left eye?”

Despite the overpowering warmth in the tent, Will shifted closer to Jack, who brought an arm around him with a pleased smile. “Why are they talking to the shaman?” he asked, trying not to lean into the touch he missed more than he’d realized.

“Dunno,” Jack replied.

Through the open flap, they could see Manollo across the square gesticulating emphatically at the wizened shaman of the tribe. Together they turned to point in Will’s direction and he made a face.

“There are no words for how much I despise you right now,” he mumbled against Jack’s neck, resisting the urge to lick away the salt gathered on his skin. Jack said nothing, but his posture stiffened and Will thought in alarm that he’d gone too far that time.

Before he had the chance to apologize, the two men were ducking into the tent and Will was shrugging Jack’s arm off. Introductions were made, though Will forgot the shaman’s name as soon as it was said. Not being able to pronounce it anyway, he wasn’t overly concerned.

The shaman began to speak in his native language, his voice quavery with age though there was a certain twinkle in his dark eyes. He gestured back and forth between Will and Jack, who looked to Manollo for a translation when he was finished.

“He says not drink is la razón. He says the noche was for ritual entre chief and his wife nueva, para hacer el bebé. Very powerful magia antigua, very difícil for contol.”

Will blinked at Jack, having found the explanation hard to follow. “So let me get this straight,” said Jack to Manollo, with a respectful nod for the shaman. “You lot were doin’ some complicate magics to get the chief’s girl with child, and it somehow got transferred to us? ¿Fue transferido a nosotros?”

Grinning widely at being understood, Manollo nodded. The chief nodded too, a deal more gravely.

“Por supuesto, el tiempo was very important,” Manollo continued. “You y Señor Turner must be, how you say, hacer la bestia con dos...dos...”

“Backs,” Jack supplied.

“I am thinking los dos penes, but is correcto también.”

“Oh God,” Will muttered, reddening, able to pick up at least that much.

“Is sometime sucede, entre dos hombres in our village,” said Manollo.

“On purpose?” Will asked, horrified. He’d noticed last time that the islanders had a far more practical approach to sexual practices than any Europeans he’d met, but it boggled his mind that someone of his own gender would actually ask for this to happen.

“Sí. Is a thing difícil, pero great honor.”

“Well,” said Jack, propping his elbows on his knees and glancing sideways at Will, “that explains it, then.”

A young girl came to the entrance of the tent and Manollo stood up to take Will’s arm. “You go now, a la tienda of the women.”

“What?” Will attempted to dig in his heels, but the man who came only to his chest had a surprising strength in his wiry arms.

“You go,” Manollo repeated. “Learn, eat, con las mujeres. Sanna my wife, grande con niño, she will speak con usted.”

Will threw a panicked look at Jack, but the captain merely grinned at him. “G’wan, scoot,” he said, flicking his fingers out. “Go bitch and moan to people who’ve been in your shoes.”

“Remember that I hate you,” he called over his shoulder as the little girl led him away.

The chief barked something after him and Manollo translated: "He says for congratulations!"




I wanted to hook Will-in-the-tent-de-las-mujeres to this part, but it'll have to wait. And why am I using Spanish? Because it's FUN!

I really need me a new J/W icon.