"You filthy bollocky bilge rat!"

Gibbs ducked as a bottle of perfectly good rum went flying past his head and smashed into the wall opposite the open door of Jack and Will's cabin . It made a spectacular splintering smash as the bottle shattered into tiny pieces and the rum ran down the wall in brown rivers of lost delight.

"Keep your feckin' knickers on lad. Its not like I said ye should dress up like a doxy, only that ye would look right good if ye would so happen to take a sudden interest in doin' so."

"Jack Sparrow, if you say one more word about putting me in a corset I'll castrate you and feed you to your beloved doxies."

"But ye'd be a fierce beauty in one darlin'."

Outside the door eyes widened comically as a knife went flying out the door and stuck itself firmly in the wall that was so recently baptized with perfectly good rum.

Did anyone happen to mention how perfectly good the rum was?

"Will me luv, if I were castrated I fear the doxies would want nuthin' to do with your Jackie."

"Would that keep you from looking at them every time we make port you rotting bugger?"

"I'm only lookin' luv, I ain't plannin' on doing a thing."

"You're damn fucking right you're not plannin' on doing a thing because if you ever so much as set one of those jeweled fingers on one of those strumpets I'll... "

"Yes, yes, I know Willy luv, you'll cut off me jewels."

"With a dull knife Jack Sparrow."

"Now William, lets not speak hastily... "

"You do nothing but speak hastily Jack, you never stop to think, if you did you'd have far fewer remembrances on your person."

"Ah, but I'm right fond of those remembrances. Especially the ones that belong to you William, me beautiful boy."

Marty looked up at Gibbs and rolled his eyes. The pirates outside the door always knew the shows were just about over when Jack's voice started cajoling and stroking Will in that particular tone. Will would holler and punch Jack a few more times, perhaps throw a few more bits and pieces, before there'd be a decidedly different sort of hollerin' and carrying on coming from the captain's cabin.

It was always the same scenario, or variation thereof. Jack would say something stupid and half-witted and Will would go off in a fit.

Like the time Jack stood up on the table, the crew all around him, during a bought of drinking and celebration after a particularly good round of pillaging to recite an ode to Will's glorious cock. It took a few moments for Will to work his way through the pirates standing around the table, but needless to say old Jack was lucky he was wearing such thick and sturdy boots or the scar gracing the top of his foot might have been a tad bit deeper. He might also thank Marty for being the perfect height to trip Will up as his knife hand came crashing down onto the top of Jack's foot.

One or the other, or a combination of both, made sure Jack still had all five of his little piggies on his right foot.

Jack also had another article of clothing to thank for not having a Will-size hunk of his upper arm gone missing. Jack never failed to thank his coat prodigiously for being on his person the day he told Will that he'd damn well do as he damn well wanted and he was never going to in his whole goddamn life do a goddamn thing William goddamn Turner told him to do, for if the famous coat had not been on his person that day he might have more than the lovely set of teeth marks on his arm that he had now.

Jack thanked his coat, but he also showed off his scar quite proudly as well, declaring loudly that others take a gander at the fine set of choppers his lad had on him.

Why Jack was so proud to have been bitten by one William Turner was never quite figured out.

By anyone at all.

Except Jack, and perhaps William Turner himself.

Jack didn't have a stitch of clothing to thank for the 'W' gracing his hipbone for he didn't have a stitch of clothing on at the time it was resurrected.

Nor did the artist himself for that matter.

Jack made sure to point that fact out to all and sundry.

Jack merely had one young lad with dark lust laden eyes to thank for doing as Jack ordered him to do in the middle of the night on a tossing sea. Sober, unwilling and unfucked at the beginning of the night, the young lad was less so later on when the 'W' was carved carefully despite the anger and lust seething through the lad at the time he did the carving. Jack had wanted the young lad to mark him permanently with his signature to keep him steady and true. The lad had denied him with one of his typically beautiful scowls, his brow furrowing up in consternation.

Jack had taken it as a challenge.

A challenge to fuck the young lad into oblivion and to get him so angry, so worked up, so screaming with anger that he'd take his knife in hand and carve his maker's mark into Jack's hip. Even as Jack fucked the boy across their table filled with charts and maps and empty bottles of rum, he swore if the young lad didn't in fact carve him up he'd take it as a sign his attentions, his fidelity, was unwanted by the young lad. Jack swore he'd go and find another that would claim him. Thrusting in and out, the young lad kicking and pushing back, Jack described in excruciating detail what he'd do to the mysterious other. The other that he'd have mark him instead of the young lad.

It did not take long to work the young lad up into a furious lather.

And thus the 'W' stood proudly upon Jack's hip, as Jack himself was all too proud to point out.

In minimal detail if the young lad was about.

In great and gory detail if the young lad were not.

Although there were markings on Jack's person that belonged to Will that actually came about in a fit of fancy and infatuation, rather than rage and fury.

Quite taken with the way William's name looked scrawled across a sheet of parchment in his own surprisingly elegant hand, Jack decided it simply must look as gloriously beautiful on the inside of his right arm so, off he went in search of the lad they had picked up outside of Singapore that did wonderful work with a needle and a bit of color, to etch the beloved name upon his forearm. The lovely curl of the 'm' looping up and around his arm to meet the tip of the wing of his sparrow on the other side.

When Will first saw his name swirling across Jack's arm neither hide nor hair was seen of either one for nigh on three days. Once Jack reappeared the smug smile on his face lasted another three, and much to everyone's delight, the red flush upon Will's face and neck that appeared every time Jack accidentally flashed the inked 'William' lasted nigh on four more.

Will's face would also flame and heat when Jack would lean over and whisper into his ear the other place he should one day like to write 'William' across.

A fury would then of course commence since Will hated it most thoroughly when Jack set him to blushing in front of others. Although, Gibbs knew from Jack's very mouth itself as it made many a confession to him as they stood at the helm of the Pearl, that Will blushed fondly and sweetly when they were alone. Jack's mouth confessed that when the blush would overtake him his young beautiful William would smile and press his face against Jack's neck to hide the shy little flush of pink that rose up upon his cheeks like a singularly brilliant sunrise... Jack's mouth's words, not Gibbs' mind you... Gibbs learned a great many things about darling William that dark evening.

Once Jack realized how long and extensively he had gone on about young Mr. Turner he swore Gibbs to secrecy. He made him swear 'pon his life, and a perfectly good bottle of rum, that he would never utter nor breathe a word of their conversation to young Mr. Turner himself.

Gibbs promised he wouldn't.

Although he was quite certain young Mr. Turner would have liked to know about how the mere mention of his name made Jack's voice go soft. So full and fraught with meaning that Gibbs was hard pressed to keep it to himself.

But he did.

Because he had a feeling young Mr. William Turner just might be familiar with that soft voice already.

Of course you never knew with that one there, it weren't often he let anyone get a peek into what was going on behind those dark eyes. Just as he tried to keep himself as neat and clean, as tucked in and buttoned up as possible, there were a few times when a button went awry or a curl of hair slipped from a knot. A time or two when the smile that graced his lips as Jack told a tall tale was enough to read him like a book, or the way his eyes caught the sunlight as they remained fixated on Jack was enough to know where exactly his heart resided.

When breaks in the façade like those occurred everyone that were around to witness it knew the reason why the normally calm and steady William could be turned into a raging and furious creature by a scheming Jack Sparrow.

Only Jack could whip him into such a frenzy.

Yet it were only Will that could quiet and calm Jack.

Make him sane.

No mean feat considering.

Complete and total opposites.

One a tempest, the other calm seas.

Yet amazingly, and decidedly, predictable.