"I'm beginning to think it's never gonna happen," said Jack Sparrow in a despairing voice. He was pacing naked from end to end of the little rented room, while the woman he'd employed for the hour sat on the bed and did up her dress.

She raised one dark eyebrow. "I must say, I never would have guessed you as the type to set his heart on true love."

Jack shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. "Doesn't seem farfetched when I've already found the ship on which to place my fortunes." His eyes grew misty at the mention of his beloved vessel. The whore coughed politely to cover a snigger and Jack pretended he hadn't heard her. She had caught his eye because of her glossy black hair and perfect caramel-colored skin, but he'd soon found himself entranced by the way she spoke, enunciating each word clearly but with an accent he'd never heard before. When asked where she was from, she would only smile mysteriously. She had told him to call her Marielle, but he suspected it was not her real name. He hadn't pressed the issue. Many of the women working the streets of Tortuga had legitimate reasons to want to hide themselves.

"You compare a ship to a human lover," said Marielle, "but though a ship can indeed rock you to sleep and shelter you in a storm, it cannot kiss your lips or laugh or press against you in the night."

Jack flung out his hands. "Exactly, love! I'm Captain Jack Sparrow; why shouldn't I want someone t' put me above all else, binding heart and soul to me for all time? And vice versa, o' course," he added hastily off the woman's skeptical look.

She ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing out the tangles. "And have you been looking for this person?"

"Well, tain't easy," said Jack, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "'Cause of my chosen profession, y'see." Marielle nodded gravely. "'Fraid I tend to put most ordinary folk off, what with beads and the kohl and the death sentence, and as for fellow pirates... that's a pot I'd only dip into were I desperate."

"You sound desperate enough to me." She stood, fixing the black ribbon with its silver death's head pendant around her slim neck.

Jack slumped down onto the bed with a sigh. "No, 'm just blowin' off steam. Must be Lizzie an' Will marrying what's done it. Makes me feel lonely and pathetic to see the younglings so happy." He groped around on the floor for his breeches, frowning. "'Sides, with my luck I'd probably go for every other person on land or sea 'cept for that one I'm meant to seek."

Marielle paused in the process of propping up her bosom in the tight-fitting gown. "You don't believe you'd recognize love if you came across it?"

With a nonchalant peek at her half-exposed breasts, Jack shook his head. "How to know when so many of the folks I meet are the type just innerested in a short fling? I'd have to be walloped upside the head, most likely."

Marielle's lush mouth twisted in something approximating a smile, though for a second it was cold enough to chill Jack's blood. "Perhaps you'll be fortunate enough to encounter someone who'll oblige."

A low warning rumble interrupted Jack's reply. He pulled a face at the ceiling. "An' to top it all off, here comes the rain." He looked at the woman again, his eyes strangely anxious. "Listen, I'd much appreciate if you wouldn't tell th' other girls about this. I'm down this way too often, hate to find meself the butt of more jokes'n usual."

This smile showed her teeth, which were white and a bit sharper than average. "Everything said tonight was said in confidence."

"Good, good," said Jack heartily. He slipped her more coin than she'd asked for and though she counted it, she didn't comment. She let herself out and he stared at the door for a moment, contemplating legging it back to the Pearl. But he'd already paid for the room and the rain had started to pound. So Jack tucked himself under the thin blanket, and slept, and dreamed of nothing at all.

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"Ouch! Lemme go!"

"I thought you might like it rough, Jack, but I must admit this wasn't entirely what I had in—"

"Quiet, both o' you," Jack barked. Having led the Turners to the governor's house, each by an ear, he rapped on the door with his own forehead. Elizabeth and Will squirmed and he pinched harder.

A startled maid answered. "I'm here to deliver the governor's children," said Jack. She dimpled at him and let him pull the two young people inside. Will had resorted to whimpering and hugging himself. Elizabeth was still trying to grope her handler.

Swann came barreling down the staircase, fixing his wig. "Sparrow!" he cried. "What on earth might you be doing here?"

Jack released his two charges, who shook themselves like ducks shaking off water and rubbed at their reddened ears. "Your daughter and your son-in-law need to be taken in hand, sir. They're both behavin' abominably."

The older man puffed out his chest. "And by what authority do you judge their behavior, Mr. Sparrow?"

"The authority of the bothered and the beleaguered," said Jack. "And now I'll be on my way."

It had only just occurred to him that walking right into the governor's home might not have been the best of ideas. He blamed his lack of foresight on the boy and girl currently casting lustful stares at his rear.

"Wait," said Swann in ringing, English tones of command. Jack halted mid-stride, wincing. He turned slowly, holding his hands up in meek supplication.

Swann tugged anxiously at his buttons and cleared his throat. "There is no need to disappear so soon, Mr.—Captain Sparrow."

"I beg to differ, seeing's how it's sorta your duty to hang me, and my duty to keep meself from bein' hanged," said Jack as politely as he knew how.

"Yes, well, we can sort out that nasty business over a nice cup of tea. How do you feel about blueberries? I can have the cook whip up some currant scones if these are not to your liking."

It took Jack a full thirty seconds to realize the governor was smiling at him. And smiling in far too friendly of a matter. In fact, he was practically leering—a subtle, well-bred leer, but a leer nonetheless. Will and Elizabeth were united again, this time in looking murderous. The maid who'd come to the door and a tall, gaunt manservant were huddling by the staircase, whispering and looking him over.

Jack did what had proven to be his salvation in less trying times than these. He turned tail and fled.

He got about ten yards down the path to the gates before running full tilt into the selfsame person he was least anxious to see.

"Jack Sparrow," said Commodore Norrington evenly, holding him at arm's length.

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(Author's Note: It might be noticed that I took this opportunity to poke fun at various pairing conventions. Strictly light-hearted fun, understand, since I've written/read/enjoyed every one. Again I say, so silly! ::beams::)

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After an treacherous flight, the two of them finally managed to reach James' office. He flung the door shut behind Sparrow and slid the bolt home, gasping for breath. Sparrow staggered over to his desk and dropped into the leather chair, putting his head between his knees.

"'M too old for this sort of thing," he groaned.

James raised shaking hands to his head. His hat had gone missing, but what he was really concerned about was the orange mess clinging to his wig.

"It's all sticky," he complained, licking the stuff off his fingers.

Sparrow's head popped up. "Here, let me." He pulled James over, nimble fingers tugging at the wig.

"I can't believe they threw marmalade at you," said the pirate, sounding like he was fighting off laughter.

"It isn't as if I have any interest in you," said Norrington crossly, snatching his wig back.

Sparrow's eyes danced as he reached out to brush a bit of marmalade from James' ear, tsking. "You should throw 'em all in jail. Assaulting a naval officer with fruit spread." He licked a fingertip. "And poor quality fruit spread, at that." James swallowed hard, suffering an internal quake at the sight of that tongue slipping out. It wasn't forked, as he had half-expected.

Common sense told him to remove himself from temptation as quickly as possible, so he strode over to the window, looking down upon the horde gathered at the fort's doors. He could just make out Will Turner engaging his father-in-law in a duel, silk parasol tapping against horsehead-tipped walking stick.

"What could possibly have gotten into them?" he said, turning away.

Sparrow shrugged, drawing a feather quill between his fingers. "Can't say. Haven't even been here in months." His nostrils flared and he slapped the quill down on the desk. "That's it! Not here—Tortuga! That doxy cast a spell on me!"

"A spell?" said James, doubt coloring his voice.

Sparrow nodded vigorously. "An' not just any ruddy spell, oh no," he said, pushing himself up from the chair and wagging his finger at James. "A love spell." He spat out the words as if they were bitter to the taste.

"I don't believe in magic," said James faintly. He was out of his element and he really hated that.

Sparrow shrugged. "Don't have t' believe in it, mate. Doesn't change the fact of it."

"Of course," James added, "before now I'd never have believed I would see a priest invite a pirate back to his room."

"You learn new things every day," said Sparrow absently. He had his bottom lip stuck out in thought and he was tapping his nails against his thighs. "What all did we say? Can't remember th' whole..."

"Are you certain this is some type of enchantment? Because a curse is a type of enchantment, too, and I didn't deal very effectively with the last one I encountered."

"Lover like a ship," Jack muttered, lost in thought. "Sea of suitors... one wriggly little fish all for meself..."

James moved nearer and passed a hand in front of his eyes. "Sparrow? Jack? Excuse me?"

Sparrow's gaze suddenly rocketed to his own. "I remember," he breathed. "She wanted to make me see."

"See—see what?" James found it difficult to speak, captivated as he was by the depths and the contours and the currents in Jack's dark eyes —and when had he become Jack?

Just now, James realized, while looking at him like that...

"You," said Jack simply, as though it was something James should have known. Then he was moving closer, too close, and then his lips were closer still until they were finally touching down.

They were nice lips, thought the part of James' mind which was still capable of the action. Not smooth, for they belonged to a sailor and so the skin was rough and chapped, but soft all the same. Lush, though not squishy, and firm—not delicate or feminine, certainly not weak. He liked the way they fit against his own, and he liked the neat way they parted. The tip of a tongue came slinking into his mouth cautiously as if it feared being turned away. James flexed his jaw, deepening the kiss and welcoming Jack's tongue with long, sweeping strokes of his own. He tasted rum, and gold, and heat and sun and salt. He felt the tiny thrum deep in Jack's throat, felt the vibrations pass back and forth between them.

Magic, Jack had said. James wouldn't know magic from a hole in the ground, but he did know this, suddenly and unequivocally. He knew that it was the thing casting shadows on the pale imitations Jack had been running from all day. He knew that it was not what woke him at night, sweating and gasping, but instead what caused him to lie awake for hours afterward, curled around the empty ache somewhere deep inside. And he knew that he needed air or he was going to suffocate—still, it wouldn't be the absolute worst way to go...

It was Jack who pulled free, though he didn't go far. His nose touched Norrington's own as he bent his head, staring down at their hands—palms flat to palms, fingers interlaced. James couldn't remember how it had happened.

For long moments they stood still and James breathed, trying to balance himself. Then Jack said, "Gone quiet."

"Yes," James replied, his eyes fixed on the tips of Jack's fingers stroking the back of his hand.

Jack pulled his head back, looked at James with wicked humor in his black eyes. "James. You have a whole mess o' people who may well not remember why they're queued up outside the fort. Yours and mine might be the only fully functional minds in all Port Royal at the present moment."

"I don't feel particularly functional," said James, closing his eyes. Jack was poking fun at him. That was unkind. He should be dealt with. Doing so would require James to move, however, and as the air had settled so nicely around the two of them, he wasn't of a mind to disturb its flow.

Twisting his arms until he could break free, Jack gave him a gentle shove. "Get your shapely arse down there t' make sure we're not disturbed for a good long while.

"Oh," said James, blinking. "That does make sense." He rubbed his hands together. "Could you possibly point me towards the door?"

Jack tilted his head and ogled freely as James left, still looking a bit touched in the head. Well, that hadn't been so very difficult after all. He'd be sure to thank the lass next time they docked in Tortuga. Perhaps he'd even take the good commodore along.

Running around all morning had left him with a strong desire to collapse where he stood. Most likely that was no longer in the cards, at least not until he'd gotten James to unwind even further, but he was still disinclined to set one foot outside that door. The office would have to do.

Jack glanced around it. Not the ideal location, but he'd had worse to work with. He drew the heavy linen curtains closed, after grinning down at James amidst the confused citizens far below. The necessity of clearing off the desk really depended on how limber James might be. Jack was very much looking forward to finding that out.

First things first, though—he stripped off his coat and vest, unwound the sash around his waist, unbuckled his belt, tugged his boots and socks off. He left the breeches temporarily while he deliberated over where to place his discarded clothing. James was absolutely the type to fold everything into immaculate little squares, but Jack was averse to the very idea. He finally decided that a suitable compromise was kicking the pile into a corner of the room.

"That was certainly a task I wouldn't wish on..." James gave up on words entirely, standing in the doorway and staring mostly impolitely.

Jack leaned back against the desk, enjoying what was happening to James' pupils. "Shut the door, would you? I don't fancy givin' your boys a free show."

James' lips twitched. "Not even Lieutenant Groves?"

"Certainly not! Why should he get to look upon you a second time when I've not gotten to a first yet?" He cocked his head to the side, frowning as a thought occurred to him. "It would be a second time, eh? Not a third or fourth or seventeenth?"

"Captain Sparrow," said James in that low, smooth, seduction-flavored voice of his, "jealousy is ill-suited to your complexion."

Jack clapped a hand over his heart. "I'm wounded, truly I am."

The speed with which James crossed the room surprised him, but he quickly got over it and chose to be delighted instead. James caught his wrists, stroking the pads of his thumbs along bone and blue vein. When he pressed a kiss to Jack's pulse, the way it leaped made Jack pull in a shallow breath.

"Everything restored to order?" he asked, more determined than ever to assure their complete and total privacy.

James' mouth curved sardonically. "I told them there'd been an outbreak of influenza, side effects being severe hallucinations and temporary memory loss." He turned his head to let Jack pull on the tie holding his hair back. Freed, it fell thick and straight nearly to his shoulders, colored a rich, earthy brown. Jack's hand found its way into it before he could form a thought, curling and sliding and stroking. The smile softened and James let out a sigh, looking at Jack through half-lidded green eyes.

"Clever of you. And that's enough small talk, don't you think?" he murmured.

"God yes," said James. Jack chucled, pulling him down for a kiss more sure than the one before it, but still new and shiny.

The heavy blue coat went the way of the hair ribbon, James rolling his shoulders to let Jack peel it off and drop it on the chair. To his consternation, Jack found himself divested of his breeches before he could make another move. Although being able to move his hips against James' with one less hindrance was a welcome development, the current state of affairs was far too uneven for Jack's liking. Tearing inelegantly at the buttons in James' starched shirt, he set about trying to rectify the mistake.

James was mouthing desperate things against his neck and writhing deliciously when a small sneeze interrupted them.

"Ignore it, 's the hallucinations," Jack mumbled into his hair.

James' shoulders shook with silent laughter. "You do understand I made that up?" He kissed Jack again, but it was a distracted, half-interested thing. "I think it came from my closet," he said, pulling away and straightening what remained of his shirt. Jack pouted, but wrapped himself in James' coat nonetheless, turning his face to the collar and breathing in the scent of talc and sea air, which was a surprisingly agreeable combination.

He tiptoed behind James, peeking over his shoulder as he pulled open the door to the tiny closet in the far wall.

The two of them stared at their discovery for a moment, speechless.

Lieutenant Gillette peered fearfully up at them. "I—I don't know how I came to be here, sir, but..." He glanced down at his own huddled body. "I seem to be having a slight case of nudity."

"No you aren't, mate" said Jack, trying to be helpful. James raised his eyebrows and Jack shrugged. "There's the big red velvet bow an' all." When James' expression didn't alter, Jack backed away slowly. "I'll just, er, get meself dressed and leave you to deal with the whole naked problem."

"Wait," said James anxiously. He bit his lip and looked down at his lieutenant. "Andrew, if you'll excuse me for a moment?"

"Of course," said Gillette, adjusting his bow.

James shut the door again, watching silently as Jack gathered up his clothes. He was alarmed to find his hands shaking. No matter; he'd soon be out of this town, on the dawn tide if he could help it. The whole debacle had been a mistake—to think that he'd put faith in the sorcerous workings of a whore who was probably stark raving mad during her off hours. Ludicrous, that was what it was, and he'd do himself a favor by getting clear before the commodore's good senses reasserted themselves.

He was struggling to knot his sash satisfactorily when James' hands glided into his field of vision, holding a key.

"Here." His voice was soft, probably to prevent being overheard by the poor fellow in the closet. "My house is down Bluestone Lane, the third one on the left with the lilacs out front." He pressed the key into Jack's palm, closing his fingers over them. Jack looked up at him, and his damnable tremors stopped.

"Don't be long, now," he said huskily, leaning in to kiss James once more, well and long, so that his eyes were glazed over when Jack pulled away.

He was still looking tottery as Jack skipped to the door and said over his shoulder, "Else I might be tempted to seek out dearest Teddy and bring on another bout of flu."

"Bloody pirate," he could hear James mutter, but there was reluctant pride in his voice. Jack smiled to himself and clutched the key. He was fond of lilacs. He was even more fond of the treatment he was sure to get when James came home to find him covered in the fragrant things. If James hadn't been lying when he professed his disbelief in magic, a night with Jack Sparrow was sure to convince him otherwise—especially a night following a day in which he'd built up a great deal of frustrated energy.

One year after the unusual epidemic of flu, Port Royal's skilled doctors, healers, and midwives were still unable to explain its cause. They did find, however, an increased demand for their services regarding expectant mothers in the ensuing months. Back in town only three weeks after his last visit, Jack merely smiled when Elizabeth exclaimed over the anomoly, and kissed infant Billy on the cheek, and went to call on the commodore.

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