The Turning of the Tides

TITLE: The Turning of the Tides 6/?
AUTHOR: Seraphina (lealea55@hotmail.com)
PAIRING: eventual Jack/Will slash
RATING: eventual nc-17
SUMMARY: Will, Jack, a sleazy Tortugan bar and shady man out for pirate blood.
DISCLAIMER: not mine, never were and unforunately, never will be.
A/N: thankyou to "anon" for reveiwing. Glad you´re liking it and that my homour isn´t overdone!

CHAPTER 6

“Jack?”

“Aye Will?”

“Why are there five pistols pointed at us?”

“Pointed at *me*, Will. They’re pointed at me.”

“You try telling that to my brain when it’s splattered against the wall.”

“The shady one owes me money.”

“Oh.” The altogether childish thought that he could be *far* shadier than the man with the pistol fleetingly crossed Will’s mind until he processed what Jack had just said. “Wait…he owes *you* money? How does that work? Why are we on *this* end of the pistols?”

“Well it’s really quite simple, Will. Kill the man ye be owin’ and ye don’t owe ‘im no more, savvy? That an’ I may have deflowered ‘is daughter. Can’t be sure though. It was dark an' there were a few of us-”

Will held a hand up. He didn’t want to know anymore of the carnal goings on of the scallywag sitting next to him. He was actually inclined to slip away quietly and let it be open season on Captain Jack Sparrow. Realistically it was an option, but morally it wasn’t, and if there was one thing that Will was proud of, it was the fact that he had scruples and would stick by them through thick and thin. However, he wasn’t quite sure if Jack was worth dieing for. He didn’t even think the pirate was worth getting his good shirt torn for either, but that was already done. He may as well stick it out now.

“Jack Sparrow,” the tall man growled, voice like boots on gravel as he and his lackeys stalked forward slowly closing in on the pirate and incidentally on his young and innocent companion.

“*Captain* Jack Sparrow…Aye?”

The man sneered, his face reminding Will of a wrung out old dishcloth. “Ye defile me daugh’er an’ ‘av the pluck to show yer face in this, me preferred house o’ drink, ye murderous bastard?”

Will swallowed nervously, waiting for Jack’s reply. He doubted very much that the Faithful Bride was in fact the man’s preferred house of drink. No man in Tortuga had a preferred house of drink. As long as it served ale and women, they’d doubtlessly sit quite happily in a latrine and drink their worthless lives into oblivion.

“Well yes, Sir. All evidence seems t' point to tha' general conclusion. But defile is such a negative term, an' the lass did seem to enjoy it. Begged fer a second round she did but I declined…didn’t seem proper.”

Will baulked. “What are you doing?” he hissed.

“I’m setting the record straight, ‘tis all.”

Meanwhile the shady man looked set to explode in front of their very eyes. This didn’t seem to worry Jack, though. It did worry Will, however, who was beginning to think that his scruples were a bunch of bollocks. “Is that entirely necessary?”

As Will spoke, the man seemed to notice him for the first time. “Who would ye be lad? Ye look too much of a gent’man to be runnin’ with the likes of this pile of pig swill. State yer name an’ yer business an’ if I be sa’isfied by yer words, I shall let ye leave withou’ incident.”

Will went to open his mouth to explain that he had never in his life met the ‘pile of pig swill’ presently sitting next to him but Jack got in before him, his obnoxious voice carrying merrily across the entire inn. “He’s with me.” Jack grinned ignoring, or quite simply not noticing, the look of bewilderment that crossed Will’s features. “In fact, I think ye’ll find that he’s quite familiar with yer daughter- and a luverly lit’le thing she is too. You see, my mate Will ‘ere was more than obliging to aid your lass when she wanted another go of it.”

Will’s jaw nearly hit the table. Why couldn’t Jack have left him to the whores? “What did you say that for you bleeding scoundrel! I did nothing of the sort! I never defiled any body!”

“Jus' wanted t' see the look on 'is face.”

The look *was* priceless, and if there wasn’t a weapon pointed directly at his person perhaps Will may have found the fact that he swore he could see steam pouring out the man’s ears a little amusing, but there *was* a weapon, and it *was* pointed at his person, and he *was* ready to pull Jack’s own pistol out from under the battered hat and shoot the pirate himself.

The man growled.

Jack smiled.

Will whimpered and slid down in his seat.

“I’m goin’ t’cut off both yor cocks an’ watch you eat ‘em.” There was a certain glee that resided in the ominous threat that made Will think that the man was picturing this as he said it. Will, on the other hand, was trying very hard not to.

Jack’s smile grew even wider. “So you won’t be using the pistols then?” he said gesturing towards the guns. “Oh well that’s a bloody relief. Had us worried for a sec there, eh Will?” He nudged Will with his elbow but it connected with the blacksmith’s ear as he made an attempt to slide further down in his seat.

The man took another menacing step forward. He was now standing a metre from the other side of the table. “I ought to piss down yer throat ye filthy pirate!” he threatened.

“Will that be before or after ye ‘av me chewin’ on me own privates?”

“What,” ground out Will. “Does it matter?”

Jack sighed with impatience as if trying to explain something to a small child. “Well, I like to ‘av something to wash a meal down with, don’t I?” he said as if stating the obvious.

Will had had just about enough of this and, apparently, so had their aggressor. He was bristling with anger, not having expected to be mocked by someone he had five pistols trained on. He should have liked to see Jack Sparrow die slowly, but he didn’t think he could handle putting up with the pirate’s incessant banter any longer.

“Shoot them both!!!”

Without a word of warning, Jack pushed himself and Will down under the table as the shots rang out, harmlessly embedding the iron balls into the walls in front of which their heads had been not seconds before. Not that they were likely to have been hit anyway as Flora, Fanny and Anneliese, on hearing the threat upon Jack’s manhood had decided to take matters into their own hands. Each had jumped on a man from behind, clawing at their eyes and screaming obscenities, the likes with which Will slightly familiar but made him blush hearing them voiced by females.

But there wasn’t much time to contemplate that now as he and Jack crawled around on hands and knees under the plethora of trestles making their way towards the exit. Will found himself in a veritable maze of table legs and boots, some of which came quite close to connecting with his head on several occasions.

He caught glimpses of the fight that had broken out, realising that it was rapidly becoming an all in brawl. The Madam, upon seeing one of her girl’s struck from the back of one of the pistol wielding men, had thrown her massive weight into the fray, sending two more offenders flying like bowling pins. She dragged them back up again as they tried to scrabble away and took to them with what Will thought looked remarkably like a rolling pin. His mind reeled as he pondered where she’d pulled it from. But he kept on crawling, hands sliding in muck and the knees of his breeches soaking up God knows what, following Jack who seemed to be fairly certain as to the direction they needed to be heading in.

All this happened in a matter of seconds and before he knew it, Will could see the entrance from between table legs, but failed to register that Jack had actually stopped trying to reach it. He promptly head-butted Jack’s behind and slipped a bit more on the slimy floor before copping a boot in his already quite tender ribs.

“What the---Jack, why have we stopped? The door’s right there!” Will was more than annoyed, not to mention the fact that it was somewhat off putting trying to hold a conversation with Jack’s arse.

With some difficulty and much cursing, Jack managed to turn around and face Will, ignoring the expression of marked exasperation on the younger man’s face. He thought about making a comment about how the wind might change and that Will would be stuck with the look forever, but decided against it. He had, after all, put the lad through more than enough for one night. But it was *so* much fun and *so* incredibly easy to get him worked up. However there were much more important things at hand.

“Me hat. I left it on th’ table along with me pistol.” The pirate was finding it terribly awkward to talk without throwing his hands about, but such a move would only result with him being rather recumbent with a face full of mucky floor, soaking up the dregs with his beard. This was not a viable option because Jack Sparrow was not one to look stupid on purpose; he did, however, manage to do it quite frequently when not of his own volition.

“Well you can’t go back for it!” Will couldn’t believe there was even going to be a discussion on this particular point. The door was right there. They were nearly home free.

“ ‘Course I can. Can’t leave without me hat.”

At this moment Will would have very much liked to throw his arms up in disbelief but didn’t; not for the same reasons as Jack, mind you, but more because he was under the distinct impression that his hands may have been permanently stuck to the sticky residue on the floor. Instead he opted for an expression of disbelief and tried to reason with Jack. ‘Try’ being the operative word, as he knew full well that there really was no point. “You can buy a new hat. Wait, what am I saying? You’re a pirate. You can *steal* a new hat but- but, you CAN’T go back. Please Jack, let’s just go.”

Jack seemed to look thoughtful and, for a moment, Will believed that perhaps he had been successful in his pleading, but he was to be disappointed. “Not without me hat.” And with that Jack pushed past Will who fell to the side landing hard on his hipbone. Well what did you know, his hands *weren’t* stuck to the floor after all.

Will righted himself, cursing under his breath---less than one hour spent with Jack and he was already swearing profusely---and reluctantly followed the rapidly retreating rear of the infuriating individual he had been so desperate to find all night, God only knew why!

Soon they were back under the table at which this whole kafuffle had originated and Jack was slowly inching his way up to peer over the trestle top and locate his effects. Will took the time to glimpse out at the tavern noting that the barman cum pimp had now joined in on the altercation. After all, a bruised whore was not going to make him any money. Come to think of it, by the looks of things, he and Jack were the only two *not* joining in, but all that changed quite suddenly as Will heard the thump of someone jumping up on the table and the whole bar went silent.

Looking at Jack, or what was visible of Jack from the shoulders down, Will saw that the pirate was stock still, holding his breath.

“Ye canna give me the slip tha’ easily, Mr Sparrow.”

It was the shady man. Will could almost imagine the face that would currently be staring down at Jack, eyes like chips of ebony, grinning maniacally as Will heard him cock his pistol. What to do? What to do? He couldn’t just let Jack get shot. Well he could, especially after tonight’s incidents, but then there were his pesky, bollocks-y scruples to consider.

“That’s *Captain* Sparrow if ye please, and I assure you I can.”

Will couldn’t believe what he was hearing! Jack was aggravating the man once again, and, once again, there was a pistol aimed at him. But what was this? Jack was motioning to him with his hand. Well, what was that supposed to mean? The pirate’s hand was jerking up in a way that Will thought was not altogether appropriate. Then realising what Jack wanted him to do, he braced his shoulders against the tabletop and heaved with all his strength, which was somewhat dilapidated due to the throbbing pain in the general area of his ribs. But it did the job nonetheless and the table toppled, taking the shady man with it and the brawl was on once more. Not that Will noticed, as he was grabbed yet again by the back of his collar and dragged to his feet. Jack stood in front of him, hat on head, pistol in holster, looking pleased as punch and not in the slightest bit perturbed by the fact that he’d nearly been killed for the second time in one night. And there was about to be a third if they didn’t get a move on, Will thought as he saw the shady man recovering from his fall.

“Time for us t’ make a quick but stylish exit I think, whelp.” Taking hold of Will’s forearm, Jack leapt up onto the nearest table, dragging Will with him and sending all manner of jugs, mugs and tankards every which way. Together they ran and jumped from table to table, dodging flying fists and sometimes bodies, eventually jumping down off the one nearest the door and fleeing out into the Tortuga night. Will was sure he could hear Jack’s name being screamed out over the noise of the brawl, but they didn’t stop long enough to find out.

They hadn’t been running all that long when Will shouted for Jack to stop.

“What is it Will? We can’t stop for long. He ain’t gonna give up tha’ easily. I did, after all, defile ‘is only daughter.” A scallywag grin spread across Jack’s face. Will had the impression that that expression never actually left the pirate captain’s features, that it lurked there all the time so that it could appear readily…and with great frequency.

“Where are we going?” Will panted. It wasn’t that he was tired as such but out of breath from all the excitement. Smithing rarely, if at all, ever got this interesting, and he wasn’t used to the thrill of having his life threatened this often. Would it always be like this if he joined Jack? Well, he hadn’t even asked if he was welcome yet, but that was a minor detail.

Jack blinked. “To the Pearl o’ course. Where else?”

“The Pearl?”

Jack swaggered closer to him, hands out to the side, flopping in their usual fashion. “Aye, the Pearl. That’s why you were lookin' fer me weren’t it? Ye wanted t' join me crew.”

Will looked surprised. He hadn’t expected the pirate to be so intuitive, but then he guessed it was the obvious reason. He wouldn’t have come to Tortuga for anyone else; that was a certainty. “Well yes, that’s right.”

Jack threw his arms up and smiled. “Well come on then! I’m in th' market fer a new bosun! This works out perfectly!”

Will smiled for one of the first times that night. Perhaps he could forget that Jack had put him in danger several times already, and on purpose. He had a positive feeling about it all as he and Jack set off down the street again. But then he stopped short again. “My things!”

Jack turned and looked at him quizzically. “What things?”

“My clothes, my trunks, everything. They’re back at the boarding house.” Will motioned in the direction whence they’d just come. “I have rooms at the Tasse D’or.”

Jack frowned. “We’ll buy you new clothes, wait, we’re pirates! We’ll *steal* you more clothes!” There was that grin again as he threw Will’s earlier comments back at him.

Will mirrored the grin but continued. “No, you don’t understand. There’s something I must get. Something for you.”

Jack looked taken aback, but by any means unhappy. “Something for me? Well, why didn’t ye say so? We’ll ‘av t’ hurry. They’ll be looking for us.”

“You mean they’ll be looking for *you*,” Will said a little emphatically. Why was he starting to have doubts again?

“Oh no, dear William,” Jack replied jovially, throwing an arm around Will’s shoulder. “They’ll be looking for *us*…we’re in this together now!”