HANDS

    Jack Sparrow lounged indolently on the deck of the Interceptor, his shirt
lay to the side, the sun glistened on his bare chest. A bottle of rum, mostly
empty, lay to the side. His hat lay over his face. He was a feast for the
eyes.

    What? No he wasn't! He was a filthy, drunken, amoral, pirate. NOT sexy.
Nope. Not one bit. And Will did NOT want to run his hands over Jack's bare
chest. He didn't want to know what that tanned skin tasted like. And if he kept
telling himself that maybe it would become true.

    "Oh a pirate's life for me." Jack sang softly. That husky voice crooning
gently made Will's blood rush straight to his groin. Perversely this annoyed
him. What right did Jack Sparrow have to be so goddamned gorgeous? This wasn't
fair Will knew, Jack had no control over his looks. He wasn't truly
responsible for Will's wavering heart. He didn't understand this. For his entire life he'd loved Elizabeth, and Elizabeth alone. He'd never even been attracted to anyone else. And to feel it now, with Elizabeth in dire danger, and to be
attracted to another man, and for that man to be a pirate, it was impossible, sheerly impossible. Will stole another look at the prone form of Captain Jack Sparrow and felt his heart do flip flops. Apparently it didn't care about
impossibilities.

****

    Jack Sparrow was aware of Will's gaze on him. The lad had been acting
weird since they boarded the Interceptor. Of course,  never having met the boy
before he didn't know if he always acted like this, or only when stuck on a ship
with a pirate he loathed. Frankly he didn't care. He just couldn't wait to
get his ship back and leave Will to his bonnie lass.

***

                    
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