In retrospection, being godfather of Elizabeth Turner's first child had turned out to be naught but trouble. Truly, he had been honored when the couple had named their son after him and he honestly liked the child—but there was only so much that Commodore James L. Norrington was willing to accept.

Unfortunately for him, Elizabeth was not only blissfully oblivious of this, she simply did not seem to care. "James, it's so wonderful that you can watch over little Jamie today, Will and I wouldn't know what to do without you!" James had indeed, in an inexplainable and utmost act of folly declared that he would take care of their son should the Turners need a day off. In fact, he would still do so gladly—just any other day than today! He was about to say so when a cloth-wrapped infant was pressed into his arms, smiling up brightly at him and Elizabeth pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. For some obscure reason—his mother used to call it chivalry, he himself liked to refer to it as idiocy—he found himself wishing the couple a nice evening before they left, smiling, as much in love as ever. Instead of insisting that tonight he just could not watch over the infant.

Said infant waited for just this moment to flash another bright smile before starting to wail loudly. James cradled the baby in his arms, pacing back and forth in his living room, but little Jamie just continued crying. In fact, none of the attempts to soothe him proved to be of any success and the more time passed, the more desperate James grew.

Finally, he sat down in the large armchair in front of the fireplace and resorted to his last means. Softly he started to sing, and lo! Jamie indeed grew quiet in his arms, from exhaustion or hope that he would stop, James did not know, but he continued to sing until he was very certain that the baby was indeed asleep.

"Ye've got a wonderful voice, luv. Makes me wonder why ye never sing to poor ol' Jack." Two arms clad in black snaked around his shoulders, the scent of rum and salt immediately betraying their owner, but James turned his head anyway.

"Because I never quite seem to want to put you to sleep. And if I want you to go to bed I have more... efficient... methods." Between the words he pressed soft kisses to Jack's jawline and then his mouth, deepening as the pirate slowly stepped around the chair to his front. James gasped softly when a tongue traced around his lips, opening up to the invading tongue and then—

Jamie started crying in his lap, tugging violently on one of Jack's braids, clearly to their owner's displeasure. Jack drew back and glared at James senior and junior. "How did ye end up with the lil' brat t'night anyway? Lemme guess, 'Lizabeth pulled her "wouldn't know what to do without you" trick, didn't she? 'n then she overran ye."

James merely nodded, his attention back to the infant in his arms, once more trying his best to soothe him. Suceeding after a little while, he slowly rose from the chair, gesturing with his head for Jack to follow him as he climbed the stairs and walked to his bedroom.

There he placed little Jamie into a cradle that had once been his own, put back into use when baby Turner first stayed at his godfather's. Tucking the blankets around the small body he waited a few minutes before again returning his attention to Jack. Just as slowly as before he walked up to him, seductively purring: "Now, where were we?"

"Putting me to bed, I believe." Jack answered contentedly as a hand snuck to the small of his back, pulling him for another kiss, just as slow and gentle as before, the passion and urgency still held back but unveiled a little more with every sweep of their tongues.

Jack's hand started to trail lower, slowly unlacing the front of James's breeches when they realized that the louder cry following James's own, soft one, was not theirs, but again little Jamie's. James only let out a defeated sigh unlike Jack who voiced his displeasure in a quite vivid series of curses on the whole Turner clan—starting with Bootstrap, just to make sure.

James however resigned to his fate and went to soothe the baby yet again. After they went through the same ordeal another three times, they gave up any attempts to engage in more interesting activities and simply sat down on the bed instead, little Jamie lying in James's arms and mistaking Jack's braids with its trinkets once more for playthings.

"I am beginning to think that this little one here is doing this on purpose, just not to lack any attention."

"Well, luv, he wants ye all for himself. Little pirate he is, holding to all the swag he can get and not letting go. Can't say I dun understand him, 'cause I do."

James quirked an eyebrow. "Are you refering to me as swag, Captain Sparrow?"

"That I am, luv. Beautiful, n' all mine. That lil' one may have snagged you for a while, but yer mine." He was about to kiss James to support his statement, but this time not only a ready-to-scream baby interrupted them, but also a loud knock on the door. "Finally!" James groaned and rushed to answer the door.

A few minutes later he returned, without the infant. Closing the door he said with a leer: "Now, I do believe we have something here that needs attention since quite a while."

"Aye, no objections there. Glad you made it so fast. What d'ye say to 'Lizbeth to get rid of her so soon?"

With another grin, James pinned Jack to the bed, whispering inbetween kisses: "I told her I knew why Will and her needed some time off so badly." Then he proceeded to show Jack why.