Jack was at the rear of the seafront bar, perched at one of the upturned barrels that served as tables wearing his elfin, triangular smile and flirting with one of the serving-wenches.

Will felt a pang, hanging back for a moment in the doorway, but after all, there was nowhere else to go in this strange port, and even if there was, nowhere he wanted to be that wasn't with Jack.

He sauntered in, trying to appear nonchalant and perched on the opposite stool, avoiding Jack's eye. Jack saw far too much.

Jack regarded him for a moment then leaned forward, waving to his buxom wench. "Bring me another ale, sweetheart, for me cabin boy."

Will flushed to the roots of his hair. "Jack, how dare you—"

But Jack was chuckling, his eyes dancing like the devil he was, and he leaned forward across the barrel, grabbing for the front of Will's shirt. "Sit down, sit down. A grand passion's all well, my Will, but if a man can't jest, he'd as soon be down with Davey Jones. Hear me?"

Will fell silent, sullen, and supped his ale when it came without complaint. Jack watched him for a moment, then took the tankard from him and drained it himself. "Come."

Taken by surprise, Will let himself be marched from the bar, Jack's hand hard and commanding on his shoulder. Jack took him down a lane then dragged him through a dark opening into what Will realized was the stable yard of the inn, just before Jack pressed him hard against the wall.

"My Will," Jack crooned to him softly, sweet and dangerous. "Are you truly fool enough to imagine that one sweet wench could take my heart from you?"

Will gasped, barely able to think from the heat of Jack's body holding him fast, the closeness of the pirate. The breath hot against his cheek. Shuddering, he found Jack's eyes, glittering dangerously—hungrily.

Jack nodded once. "Remember this," he said thickly. "Laughter will not overturn us, Will, for passion without laughter is the road to hell. Trust me, boy. I know."

He let go suddenly and Will stumbled, catching himself on the wall. He followed Jack as best he might back to the bar and, fortified by the memory of the stableyard, laughed with Jack and flirted just as hard as he.

And when the ale was gone, they rowed from shore, and in Jack Sparrow's cabin there was passion and laughter both, such that Will knew, once and for all, that the place beside Jack was his.