"That tickles." James Norrington murmured sleepily, cracking open one green eye. He tilted his head down, so he could properly view Jack Sparrow. The pirate looked up from where he was trailing kisses down the Commodore's chest, nuzzling a little into the soft chest hair there. In response to James's question, Jack grinned, lowering his mustached mouth to one pink nipple, grazing it with teeth, lips, and bristles. James shivered slightly, then added with a smirk. "That tickles more."

"Well, I can do something that tickles you lower, mate..." Jack leered a promise, returning his lips to James's nipple once again.

"Aaah. No." James's strong hands slid down to rest on Jack's shoulders, pushing him off slightly. "If I allow that, you'll never be up in time for Christmas Dinner, and Elizabeth would have my guts for turkey stuffing in that circumstance."

Jack made a disgruntled noise, but then perked, "Has the Commodore the honor of dinin' with the Turners tonight?"

"He has been invited." James's fingers crept from Jack's shoulders and into his hair, burrowing deep to massage his scalp.

Jack let out a low, growling purr, scooting closer to James's warm and still bare body, into those graceful fingers. " 'N will he be attendin'?"

"If his welcome is warm enough from other guests, he could be persuaded." James said thoughtfully, stroking with a hint of a smile around those usually impassive lips. "Note, it would have to be very warm. I hear the company of the Turners runs to disreputable pirates. None of whom are that fond of the Commodore."

"Depends on the pirate." Jack started to crawl up James's chest. "Some of them might be quite warm in their receptions."

"Oh?" James's hands roved from his hair down Jack's back; slow, caressing fingers making themselves more at home over the scars and tattoos of the lithe body. "Just how warm are we implying, Captain Sparrow?"

His answer was hot pirate mouth moving down into his, hot pirate tongue slipping beneath his lips, and hot pirate body simultaneously covering his own and grinding into it at the same time. James let out a small grunt of pleasure, tightening his grip around Jack's waist as the grinding and the kissing continued, until they were both forced to take breath, and he whispered, "Jack ... we can't. We'll be late, even with us being a stone's throw away from the table itself."

"I'll be quick." Jack murmured, kissing his chest again roughly, "Very quick, and very good."

"The two never coincide." James said, letting out a little groan. "Besides, you're skipping right ahead to dessert, and that's considered rude." He gently, but firmly, pushed Jack away once more.

"Humph. All right, b'cause it's Christmas." Jack said with a little growl, "But come m'birthday, I get what I want, Jamie...and I wants pie."

"And you shall have pie." James's face quirked humor around the edges, before his eyes flickered a momentary hesitation, "Wait. You are inviting me to your birthday celebration?"

Jack rolled off, half on the bed and half off, his lower half wiggling in a distracting way as he answered, "Jamie-love, it's m'*birthday*. Why would I not want a debauched Commodore at the celebrations?" He plucked up his breeches and shirt, wiggling his eyebrows at James, "I'll have good rum, good food, n' good company which is wrapped fancy Naval packaging that I get t'rip right open."

"Every pirate should have a Naval officer for his birthday?" James answered dryly, swallowing down his own apprehensions as he leaned over to slap that pert back-end lightly, before rolling over to grab his own clothes.

Jack let out a squawk, rolling out of James's reach, glaring, "Eeeeh now. Watch yo'r hands, Commodore. Or I might have t'retaliate."

One dark eyebrow raised, "Oh really Captain? And just what sort of retaliation are we looking at?" At the sputtering glower, James smirked, pulling on his white shirt. "Go on, Jack. I dare you."

Jack's eyes narrowed, and then he grinned wolfishly. He leaned back with a little rumble, and pounced James so hard that the Commodore let out a shocked gasp, grabbing unto Jack as they both went tumbling off the bed, covers and all. Down on the floor, came the growling noises of, "Jack! You twit! What did you—what are you doing with your hands? Jack? Answer me, daaaaaaaaaa..aaa..aaa ...jack..."

"Darin' a pirate. Silly Commodore." Jack's voice was muffled, rumbling and pleased, "Let me show you retaliation, m'sweetness..."

The Commodore and the Captain were late to supper that night. Mrs. Turner took one look at the both of them, and bit any harsh words and consequently, her laughter. After they had supped, entertained the Turners with glib snide remarks to one another, taken dessert and late tea, the Commodore and the Captain retired for the evening. Together.

~~~~~~~~~

The next night, Jack Sparrow was making his way down to the last, nicely darkened dock of Port Royal, where his rowboat was, feeling a little disgruntled. So he had spent a fine Christmas evening scuppering James, and the Commodore in turn scuppered him in ways Jack hadn't felt in years. Or even never before, possibly never again. There was the lavish use of pie. It had, in Jack's opinion, been one Hell of an amazing night.

So did it not stand to reason that the man could at least come and say goodbye? It wasn't that hard. Stand behind the Turners, look stern, nod his head impetuously and look ... look absolutely delicious enough that Jack probably wouldn't have heeded caution at all and snuck in some sort of kiss or grope or at least little touch. Hrm. More than likely the Commodore had already figured that bit out, really. He was a smart man—knew the score.

Jack sighed mournfully, as he crouched down to loosen the rope tying his rowboat to the dock. Of course the Commodore wasn't about to become public about the fact that he was having relations with a pirate. Especially Jack Sparrow, of all criminal fiends. And let's face it, Jack. Outside of yer own crew, and those smirkin' Turners, do YOU want it known that a Commodore of the British Fleet can make you giddy as a schoolboy? Nope. Thinkin' not, he thought to himself glumly, then added to that thought, But how ...are we ever... he doesn't even know when m'birthday IS. Perh'ps he doesn't want to...?

"Wouldn't it be more prudent to actually be in the boat, Mister Sparrow?" Came the rich velvet voice from behind him, and Jack nearly toppled into the bay, caught himself on the dock, and turned his head to stare dumbly at the Commodore himself, dressed in his uniform, sans his wig. He was sitting on a barrel, long hands folded within each other as he continued with wry warmth, "After all, with your track record for falling off things...I would hate to have to fish you out of that cold water."

"I am not always fallin' off things." Jack returned, standing slowly as his lips curved around the edges, "'N that's Captain Jack Sparrow, if you please, sir."

"I don't see your ship, Captain." James said, his voice dropping an octave, green eyes fixed on him intently, hint of a smile resting around those fine lips.

"Now let's not start this 'gain, shall we?" Jack snorted with humor, swaggering loosely over to stumble himself into James's waiting arms, leaning against him. "Didn't think you'd come, love."

James looped his arms around Jack's hips, pulling him closer so he could rest his cheek against Jack's stomach, "I couldn't not say... goodbye."

Jack's fingers danced through James's dark hair, clearing his throat from the sudden lump, "No, no. Not goodbye, for Godsakes. You'll be comin' for m'birthday, after all."

James's smile returned, if not fainter than before, and he leaned back to eye the pirate contemplatively, "Yes, but there is the small issue of I don't know when your birthday is. Or where you will be to celebrate it."

"First of the New Year... yes, that's right, Jamie. I am a New Year babe." Jack smirked at the surprised and yet bemused smile on James's face, "'N I will be celebratin' my upcoming date o'birth on the Pearl, as I've spent too many birthdays without her."

"Thank you for the date, and the location, but where exactly will the Pearl be?" James asked archly, giving Jack's hips a little shake.

Jack opened his mouth to reply, then shut it with a thoughtful gleam deep within his eyes, "Dare you."

James's eyebrows climbed, "Dare me? Dare me to do what?"

Quick as a flash, Jack leaned over, capturing his lips in a slow lingering dance of mouths, half-straddling the other man's lap. James groaned softly, tightening his grip on Jack's hips in response. Jack slowed the kiss even more, trailing his tongue lightly over James's kiss-bruised mouth. He tilted his head back, grinning devilishly, "Dare you t'find me, love."

Jack panted out softly, first surprise working over his aquiline face, then a challenging gleam, "You think it wise, Captain Sparrow, to dare a British Commodore?"

"Oh, we'll jest see about that, won't we?" Jack smirked, untangling himself from James's grip, and drifted back towards the rowboat, smiling fiercely to himself. He jumped down lightly into the little boat, and pulled in the line, taking his hands to the oars.

A moment later, James appeared, kneeling over slightly, and when their eyes met Jack shivered internaly at the intent light in those green eyes. He had seen that look before—but not in this context and not with last night to fall back on for comparison. The Commodore raised his voice just enough so Jack could hear him as he began to row away, "I will find you, Jack Sparrow!"

Something in Jack's chest leapt at that firm statement, for did James Norrington ever proclaim anything he did not mean from the bottom of his Naval heart? Oh and No. He cupped his mouth, calling back gaily, "Let us match the wits of the Great Commodore against the Savvy Pirate, then! The winner gets his choice o' dessert the next time we meet, savvy?"

"I savvy..." The Commodore smiled, at least Jack thought he did; in the gloom and the darkness it was hard to tell. Jack pushed the boat further into the darkness, ignoring the pang that watching the figure on the dock shrink into a shadow, and then nothing. Jack pushed those dark thoughts aside, with a little private grin. James would find him soon enough, and Jack had best have his pie ready.

Hope was a fine mistress to Jack Sparrow. She was more faithful than Luck and definitely less fickle than Fate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Commodore Norrington spent the week between Christmas and New Years doing military company reviews, and fulfilling his social obligations with varying teas and other dances.

He took hours to simply hold his son, whom he was relieved to see had his own dark hair and green eyes, proof enough that Clarisse was faithful for once.

He spent time with Gillette and Groves, planning pirate raids along the coast, dined with the Turners, and worked on his sword-skills.

When each day was done, when he closed his bedroom door, when he was done being the Commodore, James Norrington pulled off his wig and flopped in his bed and wished Jack was there to make him laugh. He paced his room nightly, pulling out maps, pouring over them and rejecting them in turn. There was no way Jack was going to make this easy, and yet at the same time Jack did want to see him again. Didn't he? Unease curled through James's stomach. It would be simple enough for Jack to throw the whole affair away—he had women, after all, and of them he had aplenty. True enough that dalliances with men were not uncommon—James had been a sailor long enough to know long nights and your hand were very poor company for some. Necessity was sometimes the absolver of sins, much more just than any priest. Perhaps that was all it was. Jack needed someone, and James was a 'necessity' of the flesh.

As he stared at the map of Jamaica for the tenth time in an hour, he chided himself for being such a 'woman' about the entire tryst. Chasing after Sparrow, like a lovesick puppy. One swallow, he reflected with bitter humor, did not necessarily make a summer. Nor did it make Jack Sparrow his lover. He supposed he should be more contrite over the thought—more humbled by the thought of the great sins he was committing. Truth be told, if anyone asked he would have answered, as blithely as possible, that sin was all well and good, but he would not feel guilty for enjoying a little levity, that touch of happiness that Jack provided that went beyond the physical.

Jack was the only human being that felt comfortable enough with James to tease him, to taunt him and yes, dare him. After a lifetime of being held at arms length by friends and possible lovers alike, it was refreshing to be with someone who had absolutely no fear of leaning over and smacking him in the face with a pillow. Who could cheerfully be mocking him the one moment and kissing him affectionately the next. Jack made him feel human, instead of a Naval puppet. Jack made him feel alive.

It would be a terrible thing, if I was the only one who felt this way. If what occurred between us meant so little to Jack. James sighed, moving to roll up the map again, and then he stopped. Unrolled the map again, staring at it. A slow smile worked over his face as he inspected the area around Port Royal itself. The smile widened even more.

For the next three days, Commodore Norrington was said to have been caught smiling more than once. Everyone wondered, to themselves or gossiping with friends, just what exactly the man had to smile about.

~~~~~~~~~~~

New Years Eve was a night celebrated on the Pearl with wild carousing of pirates, fireworks and music. Rum flowed, food was passed around by the platter, and everyone raised a glass—or several—to the happy tidings of another year passing, and the birth of their Captain. Jack Sparrow sat at the forecastle, grinning dementedly, with a golden crown atop his head, bottle of special 'sparkling wine' in hand. He had no idea what time it was, but he kept eyeing the water beyond for the telltale sign of a ship—perhaps the Commodore would bring out the Dauntless? No, no. Too obvious—and then the party would have to be broken up...

It had occurred to Jack over the past few days that the Commodore might not come. Not that he wouldn't figure it out, but simply would decide that a tryst with a pirate would not be considered good for his career and social life. Then he would think of that very first kiss, and all the ones that followed. The warm press of James's flesh, and that softly imploring, You want my pie, don't you, Jack?

Want it. Need it. Crave it, m'Love. His smile drifted away for a moment, dark eyes soft and contemplative. Jamie really was a perfect fit to him. They both complimented and differed enough that their interactions were never dull or repetitious. You could go at their relationship at any angle, and it was always interesting and sharp. Of course, it seemed a shame that James wasn't a woman. For one, Jack could never marry the man. He always fancied having a fine lady call herself Missus CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow, if only that he finally found himself a woman who would only slap him out of love. He'd have to ask James to do the same—then again, it was a safe bet that James would do it at any rate. Jack sighed happily at the thought of being fondly cuffed by his Commodore, and then the kissing to make it all better...

The other problem of course being that James didn't have breasts, and Jack was rather fond of those. Warm, soft, cuddly breasts. Hmm. If he found a good enough woman for his Commodore, perhaps he and James could share her, AND her breasts. There were two of them, two breasts, and he would bet all the gold teeth in his head that he could find a woman who thought two men together was probably sensual as any Greek pottery...

"If you look any more self-satisfied, I am going to start assuming that you think you've won our little dare." A velvety voice commented, and Jack was jerked away from his sorrid little fantasy to stare open-mouthed at James, who was lounging casually against his chair. Absolutely delicious looking in a fine suit of chocolate brown that brought out the green in his eyes, the well-formed lanky frame of his body, and the dark sheen of his hair.

Jack leaned over towards him, his teeth flashing golden amusement, "I've got t'ask, love. How do y'keep sneakin' up on me like this?"

"The opportune moment. I wait until I know you are in the midst of one of your internal-logic rants, one of those that if it were verbal, would probably have me clasping my head from the sheer randomness. While you are busy preoccupying yourself, I keep my peace and simply walk right up to you."

"Hiding in plain sight." Jack laughed, his dark eyes glowing with mirth, "Clever Navy. Makes me wonder why y'haven't caught me b'fore."

"Because it is quite one thing for one man to sneak up on Jack Sparrow. It's another for that man to have the entire British Royal fleet behind him, and attempt the same thing." James said dryly, crossing his arms over his chest as he raised an eyebrow at the revelry before him, "Although I suppose I could have given it a go if I knew your crew would be blind to anything but rum and song."

"Oh, don't be fooled, Commodore. They might seem distracted, but this a pirate crew. We go from cuddly t'cutthroat in but a moment." Jack raised a finger warningly.

"That I believe. Still, isn't it a bit arrogant to shoot off those fireworks so close to Port Royal? We might not see the lights but we'll surely hear the noise." James gave him a meaningful look, and a bit of a smirk.

"The winds are from the west, sending the noise away from Port Royal, or we wouldn't have bother'd." Jack smirked himself, as he hopped up to his feet. "B'sides, what makes you think I wasn't givin' you just one last clue to findin' me?"

"Oh, but I figured it out three days past. Why sail off anywhere when you knew I'd have to bring one of my ships with me? Besides, you could feel clever, for 'hiding in plain sight.'" James retorted, green eyes sparkling.

Jack waggled his eyebrows, acknowledging the logic, then gestured for James to follow him down below. He wasn't worried about the crew missing him—truth be told they were more than a few sheets to the wind with rum. However, he'd hold his own consul about that—didn't want the Commodore getting any ideas. He wanted James for the evening, not his uniform.

He crooked his finger, luring James all the way to his bedchambers, before closing the door firmly behind them both, and offering James the bottle in his grip, "Now, as per tradition, y'must offer the birthday boy a salute 'n a swig with this fine bottle of sparkling wine."

James shucked off his frock-coat, eyeing the bottle warily, before taking it from Jack. "Well, if it's traditional ...and after all it is practically the New Year. Many Happy Returns, Captain Sparrow. My fondest wish that you have many more." He picked up the bottle, and took a few long swallows. Jack's eyes widened as he did so, but no more than James's when he finally took his mouth away from the bottle and wheezed, "...This isn't wine, Jack!"

Jack blinked for a moment, then started to snigger, "No, love. It's rum, the finest brewed. Just a lil' bit of a joke, there." He laughed more openly, leaning against the wall. "O'course, I didn't expect you t'down it like a jack-tar in his first pub after a six month excursion."

James coughed again, putting the back of his hand against his mouth as he wavered for a moment, the rum hitting his stomach and system like a ramming boat. "Here, I suppose you'll be wanting this back, as it's mother's milk, and all."

"Actu'lly..." Jack murmured, moving forward, pressing the bottle back towards James, "Take another sip there, Jamie-love."

James blinked in slightly muzzy confusion, but he lifted the bottle to his lips and drank once more, a much more liberal sip than before. As he dropped the bottle, Jack stepped up quickly, hopping on James, wrapping both arms around his neck as the pirate plunged his tongue eagerly into James's mouth. James let out a noise of surprise, stumbling slightly, gripping Jack around the waist as they both stumbled backwards, and fell into something soft, which James realized dimly was Jack's oversized cot. Their mouths parted, and Jack whispered into his ear, "Commodore-flavored rum. M'favorite. Y'shouldn't have, love."

James arched both eyebrows with a smirk, as he drew Jack down for another kiss, trying not to laugh when Jack began to sing against his mouth, "Happy birthday to meeee, happy birthday to meeeeee, happy birthday t'dear Jacky, happy rum-flavored-Commodore- birthday to meeeeee."

"Impossible man." James shook his head against the soft mattress, smiling softly.

"Stoppit, you'll make me blush." Jack caught James's mouth again, tasting more slowly. The rum was sweet, but his Commodore was sweeter, like the air and the sky all at once. James tasted of all the best things in life, in Jack's opinion. Everything he loved, wrapped up in one pair of reddened lips. He sighed, contentedly, letting his hands drift down to the front of James's shirt, "Think I'll unwrap m'present now, if you don't mind."

James arched one eyebrow, "Well, do you want to unwrap the big present first—" he attempted not to flush pink, and added more calmly, "Or your other presents?"

Jack's kohl-lined eyes widened, "I get more than one present!?" He bounced slightly on James, a little boy again.

"You get more than one." James intoned solemnly, realizing that he was going to get very fond of the childlike-Jack moments, for they were in a word, adorable. "They're in my coat pocket."

"I love birthdays!" Jack crowed, supplanting a quick half-dozen kisses on James's face, before quickly rolling off to plunder the brown coat. He came up with two packages—one rectangular and soft, the other a small box, gaily wrapped.

James rolled to his side, watching with a carefully apathetic expression. Tension glimmered through, however, "I ... wasn't sure what to get you, so I went with the first things that came to mind."

Jack flopped cheerily on the bed besides him, tearing open the rectangular package first, then blinked as he pulled out a fine silk scarf, blood-red crimson and shiny in the candlelight. He fluttered it in front of his face, grinning, before pulling off his old bandanna and tying the newer one around his head. Then he turned, preening for James, rolling his fingers around his mustache, pulling a laugh from James's lips.

The smile faded a bit as he looked on worriedly as Jack opened the box, speaking in the nervous clipped tones of someone not quite sure if he has done the right thing, " ... I didn't think of it as a, well, a woman's gift, but if you don't like it ... I can always get you a musket. Or perhaps a new sword. Something, er, manly."

Jack was quiet as he pulled out the single dangling earring, staring at the gleaming silver, and the round, perfect black pearl on the end of it. Wordlessly, he put it back into the box, letting out a deep, shaky breath. "... No one's ever given me anything of value, b'fore. Not like this." A little smirk passed his face. "Not without me stickin' a sword near their gullet."

"Not all things can be taken, Jack." James gently stroked his arm, "Some things have to be offered. Like gifts of value. Like trust." A pause, and a softer, "And pie." There was another moment, before James added, "Dare you."

Jack leaned back against James, lowering his voice, "Dare me t'what?"

James's smile was soft, an almost hopeful, wistful twist of lips that Jack thought was perhaps the finest present, ever. "Dare you to make love to me."

Jack shifted around to look at James, his dark eyes burning so brightly that James was reminded of a stone he had seen once in the ring of a nobleman. A stone of mixed gold and brown, that was smooth yet fiery. Tiger-eye. Twin tiger-eyes, that quickly came towards him, and he was enveloped in a fiery kiss that quite stole his breath, as surely as Jack had stolen his heart.

Jack's hands were quick, but James could feel the slight tremble to them. His own hands weren't that steady either, as they kissed, and stroked, and made entreating little noises, until they were both lay bare. Jack roved his gaze approvingly over James's pale skin. "Now this is truly a birthday feast ..." His gaze suddenly brightened, "...'n I know one thing that will make it better."

He rolled to his feet, naked as the day he was truly born, leaving a rather confused James as Jack stepped through one door of the cabin to what could only be the dining quarters. However, it all made a great deal more sense when Jack returned, a round pie pan in hand, along with a pitcher of cream. Jack grinned at James's own sudden, heated smile. "What can I say, love? Birthday cake didn't seem nearly as appealin' as birthday pie."

James breathed in the smell of lemon custard, lying back when bidden by an eager sounding pirate, letting out a content sigh as the cool, tart yet sweet smelling lemon concoction was spread over his chest with Jack's fingers. Like James was a canvas, and Jack was plunging his hands right in, turning James into his own lemony masterpiece. He shivered, as Jack's mouth followed his trailing fingers, letting out a tiny gasps at each bite. He dipped into the pitcher of cream, trailing his fingers along the scars on Jack's arm, before leaning over to mouth them gently clean, feeling the shudder of pleasure that moved through Jack.

Jack lathered him in sweet lemon, and he bathed Jack in rich cream. They kissed, and licked, and devoured each other slowly, until they throbbed with heat. Jack gently covered James's cock with lemon custard, cleaning it with careful strokes of his tongue, as his fingers, cleaned and gentle, probed at a more delicate part of James's body, parting James from within, finger by finger.

James writhed, holding back verbal curses and promises under sheer willpower, only begging with his eyes, and Jack teased but for a moment longer, before moving James's legs up to his chest, rubbing his bearded face against one thigh lovingly, as he gently stroked himself ready with his own weeping member.

Sinking in, going deep, feeling the tightness surround him, Jack muttered curses intelligibly, before striking deeper. Taking the dare, and running with it, moving with slow, even strokes. James made soft noises of pleasure beneath him, and Jack reveled in the fact that this was wanted. This was freely offered, and Jack never had to take it. I'll have you when I want you, and I want you, James. Gods, Gods, I Want You.

James was muttering his name, throwing back that graceful neck, arching the fine lanky body into Jack's, making Jack moan appreciatively. So perfect. So bloody perfect. The giving, and Gods, the taking. Take. Give. TakeGivetakegivetakegive...

Things tightened, below, and moans became intelligible entries. Sweat mixed in the air with the tangy taste of lemons and raw sex. The room became brighter, sharper, and suddenly burst into a multitude of lights before Jack's eyes as he gave, finally, and could give no more. James shuddered, giving what he offered, before sinking back against the bed.

Jack dropped James's legs, before collapsing atop James, muttering hoarsely, "Happy New Year, Jamie.."

James closed his eyes at the nickname, smiling softly as he brushed his fingers across the red bandanna, then down Jack's smooth golden cheek, savoring the words coming out of his mouth like the rum, the lemon pie, life itself, "Happy Birthday, lover."

Dare you to move

Dare you to move

Like today

Never happened before