For Want Of A Nail

Outtake: Pirates Sail and Lost Boys Fly

by

The Dala

Ned was in his lap, against the knees he'd pressed tight together. Norrington had never seen a cat sleep flat on its back, legs flopped carelessly out. Annabelle had generally favored a hunch-backed crouch, feet tucked neatly beneath herself, that he thought of as "the pudding." The only thing he could think to compare Ned's aimless sprawl with was the man beside him.

Jack slept like a small child, one moment taking up more space than a man twice his size and the next shrinking, his knees up to his chin and his arms wrapped around his legs. He had no qualms about climbing aboard Norrington as if he were a cushion with limbs, or twisting around so that his feet kicked at the pillows and Norrington's own head. Right now he was on his stomach, one leg hanging off the bed. Careful not to disturb the kitten in his lap, Norrington reached out to tug him more securely close.

After a brief grumble Jack relaxed again, stretching out alongside him and sliding an arm around his waist. Norrington stroked Ned's throat with one hand, feeling a faint purr thrum against his fingertips, and straightened Jack's hair with the other. He could blame the tangled mess for his being continually tormented by a pouncing orange menace. Ned had found his ideal hunting grounds and he was not limited to striking during daylight hours. It was usually only Norrington himself shocked awake by sneak attacks in the dead of night; Jack had an irritating tendency to sleep through them.

An eye popped open and Jack fluttered long lashes at the kitten.

"Finally tuckered out, is he?" He lifted his head to rub his nose in Ned's soft belly, jerking back before back legs could kick his face in reflex.

"He's had a long day of scampering about," said Norrington, opening his arms to let Jack scoot in against him.

Jack tucked his head under Norrington's chin. "As have we. Or a long night, rather."

Norrington pressed a smile into Jack's dark hair. "Indeed."

"So why aren't you sleepin' then?" Jack inquired, his hands running over Norrington's body with a proprietary air. "I mean, I could try for one more go, but a body can only last so long..."

Norrington squeezed that undeniably welcome body to him. "No, I'm exhausted enough that you just might finish me off."

"Would be quite the way to go, though, eh?"

"Aye," Norrington replied with a quiet mocking laugh.

Jack swatted him on the arm and pushed himself up to look Norrington in the eye, his face grave. "Sleep," he commanded, waving a hand around. "Obey your elders." Norrington obligingly closed his eyes under the fingertips smoothing out his brow. After a moment, Jack pinched his ear. "You're not asleep."

"Your hand smells like oranges," Norrington told him reproachfully.

Jack snatched it back, flashing Norrington a guilty grin as he opened his eyes. "I might've sampled a few."

"They're not ripe yet," he scolded.

"Well, I didn't say they were any good," Jack replied, hooking his arm around Norrington's neck and drawing him down again. Somewhere in the midst of drowsy kissing, a jostled Ned abandoned them, leaping off the bed with an reproachful mew.

Norrington released Jack's mouth long enough to murmur, "You've upset the master of the house."

"Bah," said Jack, flicking a tongue out to bathe his bottom lip. "Not a sight for kitty eyes, anyway." A hand skimmed down to his waist and hovered before Jack shook his head slightly. "I really am that tired," he admitted, giving Norrington a regretful stroke. It was telling enough that Norrington felt only the barest twinge of reaction.

"I like this too," he said, dropping another gentle kiss on Jack's full lips, suddenly embarrassed at coming across as having such a raging sex drive that not even the notoriously randy Jack Sparrow could satisfy it.

Jack snuggled closer to him and ran a thumb across his cheek. "Aye, nothing wrong with being worn out for a worthy cause." He turned, settling back against Norrington, who slipped an arm around him and breathed a contented sigh against his nape.

A thump warned them of Ned's arrival on the bed. Instead of launching himself at the two half-asleep men, he wriggled between them, pawed at the pillow and Jack's beads a few times, and finally curled up to sleep, making a nest out of black braids and rubbing his head against Norrington's nose.

"Still not entirely certain we shouldn't stew him for dinner," Jack grumped, flinching as partially sheathed claws kneaded his neck.

"Hush, he's only a baby," Norrington replied, catching Jack's hand. "And you were the one who brought him home."

"Suppose I did," said Jack, yawning widely. "And he's taken to you as badly as I have. Sweet dreams, commodore o' mine."

Mine, Norrington thought in sleepy triumph, even as he said, "I've no need for them just now."

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