Cpt. Sparrow's List of Reasons

Title: Best Laid Plans (Cpt. Sparrow's List of Reasons 2)
Characters: Jack/Will, Norrington/Elizabeth, Norrington/Estrella. Mr. Brown referenced.
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: Disney's characters used here for fun only.
A/N: 5000 words of a follow up on 'Captain Jack Sparrow's List of Reasons Why One Will Turner Should Not Leave a Perfectly Decent Life Behind and Turn Pirate.' Lots and lots of love to mamazano for reading this through and performing the gruesome task of betaing :)


Best Laid Plans


The embers glowed warmly beneath the blackening ashes in the forge. Will Turner, the blacksmith of Port Royal, glittered with sweat as he closed the furnace for the night, red hues playing on his skin when the sleepy coals popped and sizzled for one more effort.

The evening had crept dark outside when Captain Jack Sparrow had arrived and gone right upstairs with his satchel, sword bouncing on his hip as he leapt two steps at a time as if chased, barely hollering a greeting to the blacksmith at work. The waltzing around the house, between the room upstairs, the kitchen, the backyard to the water pump and upstairs again had been constant for nearly two hours, before it’d become obvious the knackered pirate had fallen asleep.

His mood had considerably improved now that he’d bathed and slept… and gotten the blood off his hands - whose, Will knew he would never ask.

Sitting on the lower steps, Jack held out a tankard of water to his parched lover, head tilted to observe the Adam’s apple moving up and down with greedy gulps.

“I should never grow tired of seeing you like this,” Jack’s voice reached a lower key, his hands shaking, only a little, but enough to betray his yearn to touch the man in front of him.

Will swept his face on his sleeve, tired, yet happy to be nowhere but here, for the moment.

He set the mug on the stairs, seating himself next to Jack.

There was always the awkward feeling of not knowing what to do, what was expected, what was appropriate a way to greet a man who’d been gone for months before coming home. Especially with the news Will had to share with said man, coming from such a long voyage.

How to welcome a man who called the sea his home?

In silence, Jack reached his hand to Will’s knee, impatient, not able to wait a second longer to feel the man under his fingers.

With a confirming, nigh coy look, Jack breathed out and took a firmer hold, running his hand along Will’s thigh, smiling, when Will suddenly covered Jack’s hand with his own.

“That’s a relief,” Jack smirked, the sound of him too uncertain to be laconic. The smile dropped as soon as it had appeared, Will’s eyes wiping even the slightest hint of mischief from between the two men. “I mean, I… Well, one can never know what to expect, coming home.“ Will’s heart leapt at the word. “You could’ve changed your mind, got betrothed to that Swann servant woman for all I know, the one with the charming smile on her face at the merest sight of your countenance.”

Picking the cloth of Will’s breeches with his fingers, Jack fell silent, waiting, only not knowing himself what he was waiting for. A bloody permission?

“Estrella. Her name’s Estrella.” Will held Jack’s hand tighter for a brief moment. “She came by here earlier.”

Slowly withdrawing his hand, Will stood up and walked over to the sawbuck, then busied himself with rearranging the tools on the rack.

“I’m not sure I want to hear this.” Jack’s posture changed remarkably. His previous, almost shy appearance switched to that of a man known to the world, leaning back on the stairs, stretching his legs and studying his nails nonchalantly. “But I’ve a feeling that is inescapable.”

Will’s back stayed silent for another few seconds, before he turned around with a ball-peen hammer in hand. “She came to make an order for the Norringtons. That’s where she works these days.” At the sight of Jack’s leisurely wave of a hand signifying him to continue, Will tossed the tool on the sawbuck nervously. “She’s been with Elizabeth since they were both just girls. It’s a natural move, and her pay is higher now.”

His movements jerky, Will stepped back over to the stairs, practically looming over a very quiet Jack.

“Speaking of Elizabeth, how is the dolly young bell? Pregnant?” The words came out Jack’s mouth too loud in the silent smithy, startling both the talker and the listener.

“Yes.” Will sat down, evidently even more nervous than before. “So is Estrella.”

“That’s it, William, you’re coming with me--” - “Elizabeth wants me to take her to England.”

“Whut?” - “What?”

“I was going to ask you to go--” - “I was going to ask you to--”

“Shut up William.” - “You shut up!”

“Fine.” - “Fine.”

The men sat, eyeing each other like two calculating bulls, measuring, each one with their minds feebly racing over what they’d just heard, questions building unbearable inside their skulls with each breath.

Jack raised a hand, effectively belaying whatever it was Will was about to say, making him clamp his mouth shut like a clam.

“You remember that list of mine?” First things first. The curious notion of the servant girl would be handled later. Jack knew just the person to take care of it, even if it meant a trip upriver. “The one with all the reasons you should most definitely pack up and face the seven seas and the ten wonders with me.”

An appraising look over the smithy, and Jack spilled out his brilliant idea; “You can stay here, selling pots and pans to the locals and scrape barely enough coin to live by, or, you could do what you do best - swords - and we’ll make the trip to unbelievably rich Europe, selling your handiwork.” Jack leaned forth with a cunning quirk of his brow, nudging Will to the side with his elbow. “I’ll even let you have fifty percent of the profit.”

“Seventy,” Will grinned, his eyes gleaming with the new prospect laid in front of him without even asking. He’d explain Estrella’s predicament later. What mattered was that he and Jack agreed in principle.

“Sixty-five, and I’ll even let you kiss me.”

In all his suddenly bursting enthusiasm of the fact that his carefully planned luring Will into leaving for the sea had in fact proved rather effortless, Jack had forgotten about the other little fact with an even smaller fact inside her. Jack went sullen in a blink, hesitating, looking anywhere but Will with his mouth working without a sound coming out.

Will’s eyes flung wide at a realization, and the utterance he managed was somewhere between a cry, a laugh, and a vehement curse. “Good God Jack, you thought I…?”

Jack’s response was but a smack of his lips and a glance from under his lids.

Without another thought, Will rushed to wrap his arms around Jack, latching his mouth over the older man’s in his haste to clear away any confusion about his loyalty. “God, Jack,” Will mumbled into the kiss, a wave of relief washing over him when, after a short, stunned spell of painful uncertainty, it was returned with equal passion. “You really thought I had-”

“And what was I supposed to think?” Pulling back sharply, Jack squinted at Will. “Do you have any idea what all that,” Jack whirled a circle with his finger, “that fussing around looks like? To me it looks like you got something to divulge, my dear,” he dropped his hand in his lap. “And I’m still not sure I want to find what it is.”

Hastening to give a reasonable explanation, Will clasped his hand over Jack’s again. “I’ll go with you.”

“Yes, that much I could gather. Go on.” Standing up, shaking Will’s hand off him and yet, trying hard not to show the huff he was rapidly getting into, Jack grabbed the tankard and made towards the kitchen.

Hot on Jack’s heels, Will followed, searching for the words to best explain the happenings in the House Norrington in the past three months. “It’s not my child. It’s his. Norrington’s. They both are.”

Will couldn’t stop quick enough to prevent bumping into Jack as he halted in mid-step. “What?! Norrington? Well, I never…” Jack grinned so that even in the meager light of one lantern burning in the kitchen, his smile glinted sunny gold.

“It’s a long story, Jack.” Saving face for the Commodore, and Elizabeth, instantly became Will’s top priority. “It was Elizabeth’s idea.”

Rolling his eyes, Jack went further into the kitchen, rummaging through a cupboard, and emerged, waving a water pot. “ Please, do continue.”

“Elizabeth is only a couple months with child. Estrella is further along, which means that if I’m to get her to England, I have to take her now.”

“Wait a minute. One thing at a time, William. Norrington’s?” Still insisting there was definitely a scandal to be had, Jack couldn’t keep his face straight. Instantly the world seemed a better place again.

“Yes. Elizabeth couldn’t get pregnant, and I know how they had tried.“ Will looked away bashfully, but continued, “But she decided to have a child in the house nonetheless. That’s why Estrella gets a higher pay than any servant in the Caribbean. Her child is to be Elizabeth’s.”

Slumping on a chair after putting the pot over the coaxed fire, Jack buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking, with no sound coming out.

“Jack?” A tiny crumb of worry begun to build in Will’s gut. Worry, that Jack might’ve lost his mind, or worse. It wasn’t like Will had quite grasped the conditions and arrangements at the Norrigton house at the first go either. “Jack, are you alright?”

Jack lift his head up with a jerk, laughing and shaking his head incredulously, unable to form his hilariousness into any comprehensible language.

Gradually, eventually, he pulled himself together in front of an astonished Will, managing to croak; “England, you say?”

--

Their evening repast went over in colloquial talk of how it had come to be that Estrella had agreed to bear a child to give away, though not to technically give it away, and how it had been Will who had talked with both Elizabeth and Estrella about the possibility of Estrella living in the household, just like she always had, so she could be close to her child at all times.

The conditions under which the agreement had been made included Estrella’s trip to England to visit her elderly uncle, providing the man still lived, as there was no certainty without a response to Estrella’s messages. Part of the reason why she insisted, and was willing to do almost anything, to be able to travel. Other prerequisites were a proper education for the child, regardless of their sex, and a lifelong position for one Estrella Brown, daughter of Mr. John Brown, Master Blacksmith, expired. And of course, that it was one Will Turner that should escort her to old England, Mrs. Norrington understood, since he was the only person available, now that her father had died, of the people Estrella had made the voyage with the last time.

Sipping their teas, Jack and Will finished their meals, popping last bits of bread into their mouths, wiping away smudges of apple marmalade off of their whiskers, and ultimately talking in remarkably peaceful tones of the situation, now that firm decisions had obviously been accomplished.


The tea.

Short of bringing in luxuries, for the past one and a half years Jack had made sure Will always had tea. And spices. Suspicious minds had the tendency of turning to everything that glittered, but in a port town such as Port Royal, tea was a safe merchandise. If Will needed to sell any, there would always be enough. The money coming from the tea and spices had saved the Brown smithy after the aged, gout-ridden smith had drawn his last breath in front of the furnace.

The navy had been interested in purchasing the lot, together with all the tools and furniture intact, providing that one William Turner took in an apprentice, working for the navy.

With a notorious pirate haunting the house on a somewhat regular basis, this, of course, would not do. Estrella being the sole heir of old Brown, they had made a deal, where Will paid the smithy’s worth in fair, small parts at a time, until he’d purchased it entirely.

Even with Jack’s generous help, and to be fair, less generous than he’d offered to be, Will had estimated the smithy’s value a bit over, and still had two more payments to go.

“You wouldn’t accept the rest from me, would you?”

“No, Jack. This is my doing, I’m responsible.”

“But I want to do something. I can’t take you from here, and perhaps never return, without knowing that you’ve lived up to your name.”

Rinsing their cups in a basin of lukewarm water, Will frowned at his hands, the realization that he was casually talking about leaving Port Royal, with not a hint of doubt in his heart hitting him. He turned to see his lover for reassurance. Still not the slightest sliver of apprehension. Since when had he trusted Jack so fully?

Their talk about Will leaving with Jack some time ago, one year, eleven months and seventeen days previously, if Will was not mistaken, had started straight from the beginning.

At first, Will couldn’t be sure if Jack thought it only a jest, but the perks of ticking away imaginary points in Jack’s imaginary list were well worth taking the risk. Even though Will had never taken the man very seriously on that regard.

He’d seen enough, heard a plenty, was too old to be dreaming of a romance on the high seas, with a pirate Captain by his side, himself his trusty safeguard, going from battle to adventure, swords swinging, from adventure to battle with blades clinking.

Jack Sparrow was a pirate, with honest sailors’ blood on his hands.

It still didn’t mean Will loved him any less for that.

Granted, it had taken some reconciliation to accept the criminal aspects of the man Will had found himself dreaming of, whose scent he’d smelled from his frock in need of something to remind himself with. And then, Jack had returned for the first time.

When he’d returned for the third time, the following argument had almost been the death of both of them. Until Jack had succeeded in pacifying the livid blacksmith enough to allow him to explain himself.

After that, Will’s outlook on the world had suffered a major tilt, and would never be the same again.

The East Indian Trading Company had begun to monopolize the entire trade on the seas, constantly looking for more profit, with the King’s Navy as their bloodhounds with their hearts set to wipe out every single living man who dared get their livelihood from the same haul as the Company.

It didn’t matter if they were pirates, buccaneers, or honest sailors arse deep in port tariffs. All that mattered was gold, black, red, or otherwise.

The high seas, the very same that draw men to their destinies, had become a blood-stained market place for rabid dogs; barking, tearing, shooting, stabbing, until there would be only one left.

The King’s lair made a nice profit out of it too, and finally, Will had understood why Jack insisted he wasn’t born in anyone’s homeland. Sans pays.

Somewhere along the line it had occurred to Will that stealing from murderers and madmen may not be as big of a sin as he’d once been foolish enough to believe.

Perhaps not a sin at all.

Maybe, it was just men and women finding their own ways to survive in this insane world where blacksmiths were engaged to be married with governors’ daughters, and the said ladies prompting the blacksmiths to fuck a pirate after discovering where said blacksmith‘s allegiances lied.

In the nonsensical turns of Will’s life in the past few years, there had been one constant; Jack, who always came back, just like he’d promised.

And now, there he was, sitting at the end of the table of Will’s own house, making ready to trot upstairs to Will’s former Master’s rooms, flop on their bed, and sleep peacefully until dawn, with Will by his side.

Will felt an ache somewhere in the vicinity of his heart when he met Jack’s eyes looking at him, so innocently, such gentle question in his gaze, and Will could no more than smile fondly.

“Penny for your thoughts, love,” the low voice asked quietly, as if afraid of breaking some uncast spell.

“You, Jack. I was thinking about you, and how all this came to be.”

“All this?”

“Everything. You, me, why we’re here.”

“And does it surprise you, that we’re here?” Jack got up and moved over to Will, placing his hands on Will’s hips, yet keeping a distance between them, looking directly into Will’s eyes.

For a beat, Will had to search for the answer, though it was readily on his tongue. “No.” Will eased his wet hands under Jack’s arms and around his waist. “I’m surprised I’m not surprised.”

“You’re not making any sense.” Calmed by the food and the company, Jack seemed incredibly mellow in his behavior. Gone were the customary inquiring looks, the constant awareness of his surroundings, even the angle Jack leaned this way or that into thin air felt to be more supple, now, that he had his hands on his man.

“I learned from the best.”

Their combined chuckle melted into a soft kiss.

Their way to the upstairs rooms was taken without saying much, if not counting the endearments both men whispered to each other, now that the time was right for such professions. Gone were the gnawing dubitation and falter from their minds that had held them back before, gone, having been replaced with nothing but the feeling of completion. At least, to what extent it could be felt, without one still outside the other.

By the time they got to the stairs, their delicate predicament’s posed a bit of a problem in need of adjusting, Jack solving the dilemma by promptly ridding himself of his breeches, while fumbling to remove Will’s shirt. The clothes would lay in a pile downstairs, not unlike the one made by their owners, and wait for morning.

The rooms seemed fantastically large and fancy in comparison to the crowded quarters Jack was used to, or the small room adjacent to the smithy Will had inhabited previously. The first thing they’d done after the papers of the ownership of the house had been drawn, was to carry Will’s cot upstairs, and push it next to the one already there.

The grand bed they now had allowed them to sleep with both occupants with all their limbs comfortably on the berth.

Now, in the early night still, like two reeds tangled to one another, the pirate and the blacksmith bent with their own inner winds, to find the rest of their ways to fulfillment.

Scattering the rest of their clothes was only a matter of quick hands and a few moments, not one of them let to lit a lamp nor a lantern. The clear night sky was kind enough to offer her light for the busy men, reacquainting themselves with the scents so familiar, that had been away for much too long.

Long enough to leave room for doubt.

‘Never again,’ Will thought when the sentiment passed his mind. ‘I’m going with him.’

Not that it really was an elaborate scheme to get Jack to finally make good of his promises, but Will had objections to how the tide had turned. Talking Estrella into making demands to her beloved mistress had been a task itself. Persuading the young maid into leaving his home and taking the trip she’d last made when only a chit of a girl had been a whole other, and it was Will’s conviction he’d made Jack himself proud.

Jack’s hair tickled Will’s chest as it landed there between them, reminding the younger man of the first morning he’d woken up with Jack.

Too early for anyone to be up yet, the door to Will’s room had opened, only slightly ajar, giving the impression that maybe the door had been left unlocked, and a cat had found its way in.

All illusions of cats had been blown away by the gasp Mr. Brown had taken, swiftly pulling the door closed, and judging by the steps, running to the nearest tavern as fast as his legs would carry him.

For a stunned, disbelieving minute, Will had held his breath, eyes wide open in the dim den, Jack’s hair running along his own back and down Will’s chest, tickling, just like now.

Back then, Jack hadn’t woken to the sounds, but today he was wide awake. Very, very awake.

The joy of having Will in his bed was easily doubled by the joy of having a straight-from-work-Will in his bed. Loving Will’s taste to begin with, there was the salt of Will’s sweat on his neck that made Jack ravenous for the man.

His unblemished musk floated to daut Jack’s nostrils with each move Will made, adding to the sense of presence he’d yearned for four long months, the most pleasant smell in that world coming from whatever Mr. Carpenter had whisked out from the barrels in the galley.

The odourless wind of the sea had washed Jack’s dry eyes many a times, bringing forth the longing for his mate, his love, yes, his everything.

It was easy to silently admit that the mouthful of succulent lips he was granted the honour of devouring was the only thing in the entire world he would ever ask for, if ever presented the question.

To have those lips, those hands, those eyes and those hips follow him to the great unknown, was something so far out of his previous experience, Jack felt like choking around the thought.

Choking, pleasantly, surrounded by what he wanted most. What a way to go.

Wordlessly, with Jack’s tongue in his mouth, Will pushed Jack away gently, guiding him to lie on his back on the mattress they had had made, that covered both the cots.

Before, when it was only the solitary room, they had resulted in bringing in another mattress, fitting them on the floor, ending with waking in the mornings, always with one of them numb and aching, and in the crack between the stratums.

There was no worries of that happening again. At this instant, Will could lay on top of Jack, never once leaving the touch of his lips on his, letting his hands roam over the curve of his arse, down between his thighs, fishing Jack’s leaking cock in his hand, and begin to lower himself, kiss by kiss, lick after lick, lower, pausing only to greet the hard nubs of Jack’s nipples with playful nips.

Enchanted by the gasps and groans and small moans Jack offered openmouthed, Will finally closed his lips around the crown of the shaft.

Almost sideways, Will’s position, while bereaving Jack of the most immediate scents and tastes, allowed his hands to work incessantly. The curve of Will’s hip was inviting in the silvery gloom of the night, turning his complexion a milky shade of white, instead of the rich gold it was during the day.

Watching his hand move over to the buttock, Jack then closed his eyes with a long sigh, losing himself to the feel of a hot mouth on his overheated flesh.

Touching with great care, sensitive to each mole and hair on the way, Jack brushed his fingers over the cleft of Will’s arse, coaxing out an involuntary mewl around his cock, sending shivers down both their spines.

Further, down, and at his fingertips, were the most delicate skin he’d ever had the honour of touching.

Slow movements, light on the precious skin, Jack fondled Will so that in response to his actions, there was the sound, and oh, God, the feel of Will humming complacently, taking Jack deeper into his throat as if conveying his own needs.

A wet lick of a finger, and back to pushing, in ever so slightly, despite Will’s hips pushing back, demanding more touch, more Jack.

The tip of his finger safely inside the heat of the young blacksmith, Jack turned a little, reaching to kiss the lovely complexion, his other hand raising from caressing Will’s head to guide him closer, and over.

Pliantly, Will lift his leg to the side of Jack’s head, groaning hard when Jack engulfed his cock without a warning.

Jack’s miniature moans around his flesh, his finger inside him, Will was on fire so burning there was only one thing to extinguish the flames, lest Will died.

Letting go of his own mouthful, Will leaned back carefully, raising himself to the heels of his palms, bending down to lather kisses on Jack’s hardness, staying low to feel the cock twitch against his lips, before succumbing to Jack’s lure, and sitting up to fuck his mouth.

The groan rumbling in Jack’s chest at the change nearly made Will pull away. So close he was to coming at the merest incendiary, so tight wound in his lust to have Jack right where he was.

And yet, one finger alone wasn’t what he wanted.

Rolling off unannounced by nothing more than a groan at the loss of the fabulous sensations, Will whirled around to face Jack, clinging his mouth to Jack’s drinking deep their combined tastes more heady than the sweetest nectar.

Panting, he parted, finding Jack’s black eyes glinting, gleaming like white hot embers.

Another glint in the moonlight, and Jack made a roll of his own, darting towards the chest of drawers placed aside the bed.

Inside the top drawer he found the oval-shaped box of ointment he could indeed find in even in the pitch-blackest of nights. Quickly he wiggled the jar open, looking at Will who stood on his knees, hand roaming along Jack’s legs, up to have his knuckles brush Jack’s sack, delving his fingers between the groin, and resting there, until Jack had slicked his fingers.

Smoldering gazes met when Jack proffered the container to Will, who, fast, picked a dollop on his hand, making Jack draw in a sharp hiss at the sudden coolness about his unapologizing, haughty manhood.

“Jesus, that’s cold.”

“You’ll just have to remedy that…”

With those words, Will was on Jack’s lap, holding himself up enough to have room for Jack’s hand diving between their ardent bodies, seeking once again the most excitable parts of Will.

Sighing, smiling, blissfull, Will sank onto Jack’s fingers, two of them sliding in and out the pace Will commanded. “I want you so much.”

Will’s command was Jack’s law.

Holding up his own cock, Jack cradled Will’s bollocks with his thumb before pulling his fingers out, again electrified by the small mewl Will told his yearning with, the brief disappointment, the sense of emptiness, soon patched with something bigger.

Sitting down on Jack’s cock, Will reclined forth, bringing his mouth next to Jack’s ear.

Eyes closed, pulse thumping in his throat, Will took Jack in slowly, painstakingly pilfering what belonged to him, heart and soul. “Do you remember the first time?”

“Oh, God…Will…Like yesterday.”

“Do you remember what it felt like?”

“I remember.”

“I’ve never felt so complete,” Will’s voice trembled with delight. “Except now.”

Root deep, Jack pushed upwards still, his face the epitome of relish with his lids lowered, mouth open, his tongue peeking out to moisten dry lips parched with voluptuousness. “I know.”

It was time for the floodgates to open. “I know, love, I feel the same.”

“I want you so much.”

“You have me.”

The night stole each word spoken, treasuring them in her bosom for the nights she was the only one to offer comfort, when the inevitable separation once again emerged. She’d listen to both the men as patiently as she had, whispering back the sentiments meant for a lover’s ears only.

Will picked up a more satisfying tempo, enjoying Jack’s cock brushing against hidden spots of blinding passion, faster, as hard as he could ride the man beneath him, Jack’s hands curved around his hips to offer balance, his own delight mixing with the sounds raising unabashed from Will, urging them both relentlessly to their little deaths.

“Will, Will, I’m gonna come.”

“Jack…ooh, please, let me--”

“Will!”

Falling off the edge of consciousness, Jack still pushed up vigorously, wanting nothing more than to give Will the same satisfaction he was granted, coming in long spurs which trembled Will’s frame, pushing him towards the same cliff where Jack was already waiting.

Their meeting under the drop began with a kiss.


Their breaths evening, Jack and Will laid on their backs, hand in hand, wordless, lost in their own thoughts of mischief, shared lust and love, and, mayhem.

“The surgeon,” Jack uttered into the still of the night. “It was the surgeon’s, Mr. Lannigan’s blood. You never met him. And you never will. Not anymore.” Turning to his side, Jack tucked his hand under the pillow, and Will could almost hear him scrunch his eyes shut. “Had a bit of a brush with the Navy following the Company’s vessel we’d set a trap for almost a fortnight prior. We knew the route, were under the impression they were unguarded, small thing that she was, much smaller than the Pearl.” Jack paused, breathing deeply the night air pouring through the cracks of the bedroom shutters.

“I was wrong. And then there was nothing we could do for him, he was the only man even close to qualifying to treat his wounds. Sad, that he had to be unconscious after the impact, he‘d‘ve reached.”

Before Will could say another word to cut the uncomfortable silence, Jack turned again, this time tucking his hand under Will’s back, mumbling into his shoulder; “Saved me life. Good man.”

It meant no more words were needed. There was simply enough communication in the way Will wrapped his forearm around Jack’s shoulder, resting it there, not moving.

Not coming or going.

Just being there.

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