It was probably unfair, Will admitted, to put all the blame on Jack. Still, the man had such an inherently culpable nature that Will and James were quite content to lay it all on his head. Until long after the particulars of what had really happened had been forgotten, and the true story had faded into a quiet legend, Will always began the tale with the same six words:

"It was all Jack's fault, really."

"Oh, really now! That's hardly fair, William!" Jack interjected, oozing wounded indignation. "If it hadn't been for that blasted goat, the plan would've gone perfectly smoothly!"

"Yes," conceded Will, leaning forward with a positively devilish glint in his eye, "but you of all people ought to know, you can't trust a man of the cloth in such a situation!" The sailors surrounding them burst into laughter, and Will grinned at Jack.

"Cheers," Jack toasted him, and drank deeply.

Their latest run of successful raids had left the Pearl's crew with heavy pockets and a bevy of new stories to crow over. Their celebratory mood was infections, and it was well past one in the morning when Will, deep into his cups, staggered out of the tavern.

Jack clapped an amiable hand on his shoulder, and Will canted dangerously to the left. "Another fine sail," Jack proclaimed, clutching at Will's shirt to haul him upright. "Will you come with us again, in September?"

Will hesitated, then took a deep breath and leaned conspiratorially in Jack's (general) direction. "I'm late," he confessed.

Jack cast about him as if to verify this by the position of the stars, or the buildings, or... something. "So you are!" he allowed, deciding to take Will's word for it. "But next time I promise—the Pearl promises not to be be—be bebe—not to get stuck. And we'll have you back on schedule, and Commodore Nosypants will not even miss you."

Will frowned at this, and opened his mouth—to say what, Jack didn't even want to know. He laid one filthy finger across Will's open lips. "Hold that thought," he cautioned, looked left and right down the street, cocked an eyebrow at Will, and announced, "This is where we part ways. 'Til September?"

"'Til September," Will agreed with a clumsy handshake, and stumbled off toward the forge.

~~~~~

Although it was late, the moon was bright and provided enough light for Will to get home with minimal trouble. He stood in the doorway to his quarters behind the forge, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Suddenly, a lantern flared to reveal James Norrington, sans wig and in civilian clothes, seated at Will's rough desk.

"Forgive me for intruding," he murmured darkly. "You were missing, and I grew concerned."

"Commodore," Will began, then realized he had no idea what to say. "I... I had left word... I did not mean for you to worry," he finished lamely, stepping into the room.

"Yes, I got your message. But you said you'd meant to be back weeks ago. When you missed our fencing engagement, I thought to come looking for you." Norrington's face was unreadable behind the light.

"I have been keeping up my fencing with—another tutor, in my absence," Will said stupidly. As though it mattered at all.

"Another tutor?" suddenly, Norrington was out of the chair, his hands fisted in Will's shirt. "Do you imagine I don't know where you've been gone all this time? Jack Sparrow—a tutor—I can only imagine what else he's been teaching you." Norrington's rage washed over Will, unexpected and inexplicable. His mouth twisted in a sneer, and he continued, "did he say that all men do it, did he speak of the lonely months at sea with no other recourse?"

Will blinked stupidly at him, then stammered uselessly, "I, I don't—he—it wasn't..."

Norrington sighed. "I had expected better of you. You're a fool, Will, to listen to anything he says." The cold look in his eyes stung more than his words; anger was manageable, but this forced indifference—it pained Will to see it. And then it struck him. This was never anger; it was jealousy. Norrington had come to see him as a protégé, a friend of sorts, and now Jack threatened to take Will away from him.

"I am a fool, James, but then, so are you." Norrington was still frowning when Will kissed him. There was a moment of stunned acquiescence, maybe two, and then Norrington shoved him violently away.

"Do not—no. You cannot do this." He looked, by turns, infuriated and anguished, as though Will had asked of him something he could not give, but desperately wanted to. But then, perhaps he had.

"Why not? James? I'm not an orphan child, needing to be coddled. I don't need your protection, or your patronage. I will make my own way in the world, and accept the consequences of my actions. You cannot always save me from myself, from what I want and what I choose." He paused, and his expression and tone both softened. "Or is what I want so evil?"

Norrington gave him a long, searching look. At last, he sighed, and pushed his fingers back through his disheveled hair. "You are a fool, and I am weak. I should, with every part of me I know that I should, but I cannot tell you this is evil, Will. To condemn you for my own failings—it would be a lie."

"Your own—" Will paused. He wasn't certain of Norrington's meaning, and to misspeak would certainly give offense.

Norrington smirked. "Did you think I offered unqualified advice? I speak from experience. Jack Sparrow says many pretty things, Will, and greater men than I have believed them."

Will could only gape at him and found himself stuttering again. "You—and Jack? But—I—how?" Norrington chuckled and Will blushed. "I didn't mean..."

"I know. It has been going on for some time, Will. The man does have... some admirable qualities, and I find that I do respect him, in spite of myself. He is also the most conniving bastard I've ever met, and I've no doubt he planted the seeds of... this," and he waved his hand vaguely between them, "for some nefarious purpose of his own."

Will's jaw tightened and his brows drew together. "Maybe he did," he said tightly, "but I'm glad of it."

Norrington smiled. "As am I, Will. I didn't mean to imply otherwise. I have watched you closely, you know, and you're right—you are a grown man. And a fine one, at that. I just never thought—well. It seemed inappropriate."

Will cocked an eyebrow at him—a gesture borrowed (no doubt unconsciously) from Sparrow. "And now?"

Norrington stepped forward again, crowding Will back against the wall. Will did not retreat. "Now? It still seems inappropriate. But I find I've lost my concern for propriety."

Will laughed. "It's a hazard of keeping company with pirates, you know."

"I shall have to be more careful about the company I keep, then," Norrington murmured, and brushed his lips against Will's. "Perhaps... perhaps you would prove a better influence?"

"I doubt that very much," Will grinned, and pulled James flush against him. "I've been known to keep bad company myself," he explained. He stroked James's arms, tugged at one taut thigh. "James." Norrington arched an eyebrow. "What do I have to do, to convince you to give me what I want? What we both want?"

"Well, for starters, you might try shooting him."

Norrington froze, and Will spun about—too fast, and he nearly pitched over. "Jack!" he cried, shocked out of lustful torpor by sheer panic.

"What? It worked for me. Or was it the kidnapping, James?" Jack Sparrow lounged in the doorway as though it had been built around him, every muscle in his body radiating casual unconcern. His eyes, though, snapped black steel and darted back and forth between Norrington and Will. "James?" he prompted.

Norrington answered slowly, as if considering his words very carefully. "I believe," he drawled, "I believe it was when you called me—what was it? A stubborn, unyielding fool who wouldn't know an opportunity for happiness if it walked up and shot him in the ass?"

Jack grinned. "Ah, yes. One of my better moments."

"You shot him? You kidnapped him?" Will interrupted, looking at the two men as though they were suddenly dangerous. "You're both mad."

Jack eeled up to them, insinuating himself between them without any effort. "Well, yes," he said, tapping Will lightly on the chest, "but that's half the appeal, now ain't it?" He slid one thumb across Will's lower lip, and Will's breath hitched in his chest.

"Jack..." Will protested half-heartedly, but had gotten no further than Jack's name when his teeth closed on Jack's thumb and he sucked at it, eyes looking up at Norrington.

James stood, his hands on Jack's hips, and stared hungrily at Will's mouth. "Jack," he breathed, and pulled gently on his hips. "I want..."

Jack pulled his thumb away, and James leaned in over his shoulder. He kissed Will deeply, tongue sweeping roughly across his mouth. One hand moved from Jack's hip to Will's neck, and James pulled until Jack was crushed between them and Will could feel every line and angle of his body, every inch of Jack against him as James kissed him.

James did not pull back when he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Will's. "This is madness," he protested weakly.

"We've been over that, James," Jack reminded him. He squirmed, not entirely uncomfortably, between them. "Ah, James, if you would be so kind..." There was no response, and then a little of the pressure on Will's cock was eased as Jack pressed his ass back against James.

Norrington responded with a bite on Jack's shoulder as he slipped his hand between Jack and Will. As he struggled with Jack's trousers, the back of his hand brushed against Will's cock, and Will could not help but surge forward, seeking more of the tantalizing contact.

Jack laughed, but there was no mockery in it. "You're teasing him, James. Let me..."

James took a deep, unsteady breath, then nodded and stepped back before slowly letting it out. Before Will could object, Jack's hands were at his belt, and he found himself divested of his pants entirely. "Jack... I want to see. Please."

The sound of James Norrington pleading was intoxicating, and Will looked at Jack in breathless anticipation. "What..." he began, and Jack cut him off with a kiss.

"You'll like this," he assured Will as he dropped to his knees.

Jack slid his hands down over Will's legs, then lightly bit the tender flesh on the inside of one thigh. He licked the reddened skin and his hands came up again to gently squeeze Will's cock. He stroked for a moment, and then slid his mouth down where his hands had been.

The intense pleasure of Jack's mouth on his cock transported Will, made it difficult for him to focus on anything but the slide of Jack's tongue up his shaft, the slick squeeze of his lips on the head. He leaned his head back, eyes closed, against the wall and pressed his palms flat to it. "Oh, god, Jack," he swore, "god yes."

James groaned, and Will opened his eyes to see the other man watching him, eyes wide and his hand stroking his own erect cock. The idea of James watching this, seeing Will flushed and panting, Jack on his knees before him, was nearly overwhelming, and Will closed his eyes again. He felt his balls draw up tight against his body and he clenched his fists against the staggering sensations.

"Will," James gasped. "Will, look at me."

With herculean effort, Will wrenched his eyes open and forced them to focus on the sight of James's hand, squeezing and pulling his cock, his hips stuttering forward toward Jack and Will. Jack reached back to stroke the sensitive area behind Will's aching balls, and Will was swept under. He spilled into Jack's mouth, cock pulsing hotly each time Jack swallowed around him.

Will felt his legs go unsteady underneath him, and Jack jumped up to brace him. He guided Will to the bed and kneeled over him, grinning like the proverbial satisfied cat. "Told you so, didn't I?"

James snorted. "As if your ego needs any more stroking."

"It's not my ego as needs stroking, James," Jack shot back, winking at Will. "Don't suppose you'd be willing to help a man out?"

James moved to the bed, stripping off his clothes as he did. Will helped him divest Jack of his clothing, and then James pushed Jack forward, so that he straddled Will on all fours. "I'm not reaching into that ratty coat, Jack," James declared. "Heaven only knows what sort of vermin I'd encounter." The statement was met with much eye-rolling and a burdened sigh, but Jack reached down and fished a small bottle from one of his myriad pockets, then handed it to James.

Will explored Jack's body with his hands, stroking his chest, pinching a nipple, squeezing the muscles in his arms, while James slicked his cock and prepared Jack to be entered. Jack responded with a host of encouraging sounds, and Will grew bolder in his teasing. When James gripped Jack's hips and sunk into him, Will reached down and grasped Jack's cock between them. He worked Jack with his hands while James fucked him, and Jack writhed between them like a wild animal. This time, when Will looked up and found James's eyes on him, he did not look away.

"Will," gasped James, and thrust into Jack.

"Will!" cried Jack, and his seed spilled out, hot over Will's hand and belly.

"James," Will whispered, and James groaned as he spent himself deep inside Jack, now draped warm and pliant over Will.

"Jack," mumbled same, and James, withdrawing gingerly, laughed. "Couldn't be left out, now could I?" Jack argued.

"No worry of that," Will pointed out.

There was really no way for three grown men to arrange themselves comfortably in the small bed, but none wanted to leave, so they remained draped over each other, crushed against the wall and draped over the edges.

Later, after sleep but before the morning, Will whispered a question to Jack, who laughed softly in response. "Does it matter? Here we are. It's bad luck to question good fortune, Will. And bad manners besides."

It was no answer, but it hardly mattered. Will conferred with James in the morning, and the two agreed—the whole affair was entirely Jack's fault.