Pairing: Jack/Will

Summary: Will thinks rather bitterly that he is still, at best, just Jack's leverage.

Warnings: Suggested slash

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Two long, tapered fingers of an ice-cold hand curl around Will's wrist. The night is warm – his shirt and breeches lie tangled on the cabin's polished floor – but the hand that clutches him is always cold.

Jack murmurs in his sleep, tossing his mane of ebony hair so the beads jangle, shifting his unclothed body further from the thick sheets. Further, too, from the man who shares his bed rather often of late.

With a soft sigh, Will trails his free hand along his own chest, tracing careless patterns on pale skin as he watches the stars through the tiny window, stretching off into the vast distance.

He wonders how many others see this side of Captain Sparrow, the side of the man that clutches him tight and treats him gently. Thinking of Scarlett, of the many other harlots and women and men Jack has probably conquered, he supposes the number must stretch into the hundreds.

The blacksmith tells himself that the feeling of desolate, distant panic that rises in his chest at the thought is because he needs some air. Untangling his hand from Jack's iron grip, the man dresses swiftly and leaves before he has too much time to dwell on the fact that the pirate still lies peacefully, sleeps sweetly, smiles blissfully even without him.

Climbing to the empty deck, staring out over the marble-glass surface of the sea, Will thinks rather bitterly that despite everything, he is still, at best, just Jack's leverage.

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Had he been watching the Captain at that moment, he would have seen him reach out for the blacksmith in his sleep, move to pull him close and hold him tight, wake sharply when he found the bed empty. Will would have known that he meant rather more to Jack than 'leverage'.

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