Pirates, Commodore Norrington was quite certain, didn't belong in libraries.

Breaking into his house was such a Sparrow thing to do that it failed utterly to surprise him. He had half expected something of the sort. He was surprised to find the pirate in his library.

Sparrow was every bit as unrepentantly piratey as ever, even shinier than James had last seen him, and if he had reacted to his presence in any way at all, the Commodore would likely have arrested him on the spot. Or shot him, depending on how he felt at the time.

As it was, the pirate turned the page and kept reading.

As it was, James allowed the rustle of paper and soothing half-light to draw him into stillness—being not doing.

He leaned against the door-frame and studied the unusual subtlety of Jack's expressions, slight smiles and faint frowns and the contemplative tug of teeth over his lower lip as he read...

Watching too closely, damn it. James shook the contented fuzz out of his head and moved closer. "Good book?" he inquired smoothly. He knew it was.

Sparrow jumped, spun around too quickly and tumbled out of the chair.

There was an expression most people wore when they were caught doing something they shouldn't—Sparrow, apparently, wore it when he was caught doing something he hadn't planned on being caught at.

Uh oh... eep said Sparrow's face from the floor, gazing up at him with an adorable mixture of panic and guilt.

James' lips twitched into a smile. He hadn't dropped the book.



Pirates, Commodore Norrington was quite certain, didn't belong in libraries.

Except this one did.