Title: Touch

Author: Ladyjanelly

E-mail:

Feedback: gives me a reason to type and post instead of just playing with pretty images in my head.

Type:FPS

Characters: Jack/Will

Rating: R

Archive: Feel free, just let me know where.

Warnings: More of a recovery fic than hurt/comfort, but there are still mentions of child abuse (nothing graphic) and it is Slash.

Will knew, the first time he touched Elizabeth under her skirt, in those hectic days before their wedding, that he could not be with her. It was not the feel of her soft womanly curves that pushed him away, though they were alien to him. It wasn't her skin, so much softer and smoother than skin had a right to be, that turned him from their future together. It wasn't her soft gasps and sighs that frightened him into waking from what had been his dream for so long. It was her eyes. As he had looked down into her eyes he had seen a mix of fear and trust, and he had known too well that feeling. He, who had only known pain and force had no way to assure himself that he would not deserve that fear, would not betray that trust.

And so he left her, and went to gather what meager possessions he thought of as his own; his clothing, a few tools, the least of the swords and a single sturdy knife. As an indentured man none of it was his by right, not even the next two years of his life. Governor Swann had offered to buy those last years, but was when Will was marrying his daughter. He had no doubt that offer would be withdrawn.

"Runnin' off, boy?" Mr. Brown's voice was slurred with whisky. His tone was flat, angry. He didn't bother to rise from his place on the floor.

"I am." Will replied, tying a bit of cord around his pack. Even now, as he chose to break the law and all ties to decent society, Will could not find it in himself to lie. He did not turn around, but he listened, his shoulders as stiff as cold steel, waiting for Mr. Brown to approach. He did not.

"Boy..." The old man's voice was thick with emotion, with shame, with regret. "What I took from you all those years ago. It weren't mine ta take. It weren't my due." Will turned at last to face him. These were not the words he had expected on their parting. He really looked at his mentor, one-time-tormentor, for the first time in years. He saw the deep lines of age in the sallow skin, the jaundice in the whites of his eyes. He wondered for how long he had missed this growing infirmity.

"Take it," the old man said, with a vague wave of his bottle at the contents of the room. "There's coin in th' strongbox an' all th' swords ya made. Ya earned it, take it all." Will hesitated, not trusting the offer. He found himself loathe to accept gifts from one who had so hurt him in his childhood, in the days before he had put on a blacksmith's muscle and began to study sword-work.

"Take it!" Brown barked. "Take it an' never let me see yer face again, Turner." And he seemed to deflate in upon himself, and sagged against the wall, his eyes closing. He drew the bottle up against his chest, cradling it like a babe.

Will told himself that it was about survival, as he wrapped up the six best of the weapons he had still in the shop. He told himself that there was no better way to begin his life of piracy than to steal from someone whom he had no doubts deserved to be robbed. He told himself that the fruits of his labors over the years more than made up for these few weapons and coins he was taking. He told himself this was right.

He still felt like a whore.

--------

If you had asked Captain Jack Sparrow, on the fourth of April, what the happiest days of his life had been, he would have said that the best day he ever knew was the day he was reunited with his Pearl, and a distant second would have been that time in St. Augustine. Triplets, mate. What can compare to triplets?

If you had asked Captain Jack Sparrow, on the fifth of April, what the happiest days of his life had been, he still would have named his reunion with the Pearl as the best day his eyes had seen. The fifth of April would have been a close second, though, because that was the day that Will Turner walked into that filthy little bar on Tortuga, spotted Jack at a back table and smiled.

"I heard a rumor that the Pearl is looking for sailors," the whelp said. The hope in his eyes made Jack's heart do a little pitter-patter that he hadn't felt in years.

"Could be, could be," Jack teased, twirling and tugging on his mustache to keep his smile from splitting his head. The boy was even more beautiful than he remembered; his skin more golden, his shoulders so wide and strong. "Ye be knowin' any sailors then?"

Will's expression was so earnest, bordering on desperate, that Jack's mouth watered and his groin ached. "You know I can fight, Jack." God, how he wanted to lick those expressive eyebrows, to feel their slick darkness under his tongue. "I can learn to sail, and I'll work hard, you know I will."

It was too much fun seeing the boy riled up, and the rum was singing along his veins. He couldn't resist teasing him more. "Seems t' me, with a ship like th' Pearl, ye should be payin' me for th' experience instead of me payin' you t' learn yer way around a sail." He grinned and leaned back in his chair, watching the boy from the bottoms of his kohl-rimmed eyes.

Something changed in Will then, something in his smile. His lips didn't change, but the warmth leeched out of the deep brown of his eyes, and Jack knew he had taken the teasing too far this time, he just wasn't sure where. "I have nowhere else to go, Jack." His hand reached across the table, covering the sparrow tattoo on Jack's wrist. "Let me join your crew." Work-strengthened fingers tightened around his arm. "I'll earn my keep until I'm good enough to be a full member."

Jack frowned. There was something happening that he could not quite grasp; something in that cold fire in the boy's eyes, or the set of his lips. Oh, but what lips they were. He swallowed hard, feeling his own grin sliding crooked on his face. "We have an accord then?"

Will nodded. "We do."

It was a quick walk back to the dock and onto the Pearl, despite his drunken stumbling. He had expected the whelp to be a bit more helpful-like. Wouldn't have killed him to lend an arm, but he just followed along, carrying a small pack and what looked suspiciously like a cloth-wrapped sword.

Over the rail and onto the deck, they went through the light shuttered doors and into the captain's cabin. Jack grinned and turned, expecting to see Will looking around, appreciating the conspicuous display of wealth. His smile faltered to a look of blank confusion as his eyes didn't meet Will's, but instead the top of his rapidly descending head.

Strong hands were unbuttoning his fly, baring him to the warm Caribbean air. Will's knees came to rest on the floorboards. The boy's eyes, deep and brown, never left him. He was struck with the impression of a baptismal pool filled with rum. It was delicious and wicked all at the same time. Many things filled those unblinking eyes, but desire was not one of them.

Jack had always believed the dishonest man would be easiest to read. The honest man now, you never know when he's going to do something amazingly stupid, or just plain crazy. If he had another few years he might be able to figure out these strange un-pirate-y thoughts going on in that beautiful head, but that wasn't a bet he'd be putting any money on soon, thank you very much. Calloused thumbs brushed over his short and curlies, and he felt himself throb. Will's tongue flicked over his lips and he began to lean in and still no shine of desire warmed those dark eyes.

"No." His admonition came out as an undignified squeak, his fingers catching in those dark soft waves. He held the boy's head back as he pulled his hips away from those tantalizing lips. He coughed, squeaked the boy's name, and coughed again. "Will, ah, what are you on about?"

Something approaching annoyance flashed in those eyes. "We had an accord."

Jack laughed, because really, what else could he do? "Will, Will, Will. I was just havin' you on, mate." He let go of that silk-like hair, his fingers aching with regret. Grinning, he buttoned himself back up. "I wouldn't have the pearl back if it hadn't been for you. Norrington, a noose around my neck, all that. Remember? There's a place here for you, always will be." He drew an X over his heart. "Promise."

He pulled the boy up by his elbow, pleased when a more genuine smile graced those inviting lips. "If you ever joke about such a thing again, Jack, I'll kill you." The threat held no heat, and Jack grinned to hear it. The boy might make a pirate yet. He resolved to ignore the protests of his crotch at this revolting development.

"Right." Jack waggled his eyebrows. "Now that that's all settled, come to bed."

Will hesitated, "Shouldn't I bunk down below with the rest of the crew?" That wary shadow had returned to his eyes.

Jack sat down and pulled off his boots, wiggling his toes against the lush rug under his bed. "Nah, safer here, eh? There's men I would trust with copper that I wouldn't trust with diamonds, savvy?" Let the boy spend his fire figuring that one out. He stretched out on one side of the bed, eyes closed, waiting to see what Will would do. He hoped it wasn't more temptation. A man can only be so generous in any given day.

He repressed a sigh of relief as the boy put away his pack then stretched out on his own side of the bed, still dressed. Jack blew out the lantern, and then lay in the dark, feeling the boy tossing and turning until deep into the night.