"I once knew a man who fancied himself an astrologer," Jack said, sprawling across Will's bed as if he owned the place. Will expected that being aboard the Dutchman unnerved him—it had that effect on most people, living or dead—but Jack's response to being unnerved seemed to be to put his feet up on the salt-stained linens as if waiting for someone to bring him a drink. "Said he could predict your destiny from the time and place you were born."

"And what did he say was your destiny?"

"He never could figure that out," Jack said. "I knew the date, more or less, but the time and place were anyone's guess, being as it was on a ship being blown about in a typhoon. 'Somewhere east of Siam in the middle of the night' apparently wasn't good enough for his calculations. It frustrated him to no end."

"You're excellent at that," Will said, stretching out beside Jack. The crew had gone ashore for supplies and a few hours' diversions, and he was hoping for a few hours' diversion himself, as Jack had rather to his surprise actually met him when and where they'd arranged to meet. The question was whether Jack was in the mood to provide the sort of diversion Will rather fervently hoped for, which Will supposed depended on how much luck he'd been having elsewhere.

"All he'd say was that I was born under the sign of Gemini, which he said explained a great deal. Mercurial, you see," Jack said with a crooked smile. "And always of at least two minds." Jack plucked thoughtfully at the sheets, distracted again. "Have you noticed your bed's a bit ..."

"It's all the going underwater," Will said. "It can't really be helped."

"I suppose not," Jack said. "You might do better with a wooden pillow. They use them in the East, you know. Odd things, but in this damp ..."

"Jack," Will said in frustration.

"It's a bit of an acquired taste, like sleeping on those mats that ..."

Will caught Jack's shoulder, rolled him over, and kissed him soundly, resting his other hand very pointedly on Jack's hip. "I have to leave in a few hours," he said against the corner of Jack's mouth. "Do we really have to talk about pillows?"

"Not necessarily pillows as such," Jack said. He smiled and moved lazily against Will's hand, running his own fingers up Will's shirt front in a way Will found fairly maddening. "Tell me then, William, when were you born?"

"If I tell you, will you ..."

"If you tell me," Jack said against his cheek. "I will let you bugger me senseless, as you are apparently dying to do."

"The first of April," Will said promptly, and then tried not to moan as Jack's hand plunged beneath the waist of his breeches. He tugged at them himself, trying to get undressed before Jack managed to undo him in a way less satisfying than the one he had in mind. He had far too few stolen hours with either Jack or Elizabeth, and he intended to make full use of them, given that Jack seemed at least somewhat inclined to cooperate.

"Born under the sign of Aries, then," Jack said, stripping himself with admirable efficiency now and reaching for the oil Will had been careful to leave coincidentally close at hand. "The sign of the ram, which under the circumstances seems oddly appropriate—"

"You never will stop talking, will you," Will said, feeling more an odd fondness than frustration. There were nights when what he really craved was Jack's rambling conversation as a change from the endless, changeless sound of the sea. There were as many nights when he lay in bed imagining what Jack would have said about the day's sights—lovely sunken city except for the horrible tentacled things, I could do without those or seeing as these poor buggers can't take it with them, couldn't we just keep the treasure? or why is no one ever glad to see us?— as there were when he lay in bed trying to remember just how Jack's hands had felt different from his own.

"Hardly ever," Jack said, turning over onto hands and knees and looking the picture of obscenity in the process, his black hair hanging down against his golden skin. "But I'm good at doing two things at once." Will could hear the smile in Jack's voice as Will wrapped his hands around Jack's hips and pressed against him from behind, feeling his skin warm and slick with oil. It was harder to find his own voice.

"The sign of the ram, is it?"

"A forceful beast," Jack said. "Always trying to drive his point home—" He faltered as Will drove into him, and then went on as Will slid slowly back. "—and of course, having a prodigious great prick."

"That can't ... be written in my stars," Will managed.

"You'd be surprised," Jack said. "Astrologers can be a dirty-minded lot. I remember a certain thing the one I knew could do with his tongue—"

Will wanted to shake him, but felt it could wait until they'd finished fucking; unlike Jack, he felt he could really only give his full attention to one thing at a time.