Taxes, Part 2
Past Life Hangovers

The morning after…

Jack Byrd hadn't stayed wrapped in Will Smith's arms all night, although
he'd wanted to. Still, he wasn't going to show up at work the next day in
what he'd had on the day before. Not that he'd done anything wrong, or that
he wasn't proud of Will, but the office gossips really didn't need the
grist for their mill.

On the way home, at around 2 am, he'd stopped and bought a bottle of rum.
Captain Morgan, of course. Staring at the bottle in the store, something in
the back of his mind - some*one* to be perfectly honest - remembered
meeting Morgan, and grumbled about just what the bloody hell the old
bastard had done that he hadn't to gain this greatest of honors, and where
was the Captain Sparrow rum, thank you very much?  Whether he'd bought it
because of or in spite of that, he still wasn't sure.

He had the soul of an eighteenth century pirate.

Absolutely no one back at the IRS would be terribly surprised.

In fact, he was fairly sure he had more than a few former pirates working
there with him.  Two at least were a foregone conclusion, the two that had
come over with him for the audit at Royal, Inc.  Annie Mae Robbins …

//Anamaria,// came the whisper.

…and Josh Gibson. Joshamee Gibbs.  God. Good old Gibbs.

Jack had poured himself a single shot at two-thirty, and he sat still,
turning it, watching it refract the light. It was five forty-five.

He was so engrossed that when the knock came at the door, he jumped, one
hand instinctively going to his hip. They weren't his instincts.  He stared
at his hand, relaxing it, as he walked to the door.

"Jack! Hey…" Will's voice on the other side, so he unlatched the door and
swung it open.

Will stepped inside, eyeing Jack critically.  "Have you slept at all?"

"Nope."

"Me, either." His eyes were alight, though his face was concerned. Damn,
Jack had forgotten how excitable the whelp…kid…could be.  //Then again,
it's been a few hundred years…or a few months, give or take…oh, boy…//

Jack saw Will's eyes take in the table, with its nearly full bottle and
single virgin shot.  "Have you *moved* at all?"

"Sure, I moved. Right now, to get the door. I was moving. That was
definitely movement."

"It's a start," the kid said decisively.  "You think maybe we can get you
into the shower?"

A grin, slightly spoiled by a yawn, stole across Jack's face. "We meaning
me or we meaning us?"

"We meaning you…for now. After work…well."  Will's eyes flicked to the
table again. "I know how it is, though. I was flat on my back…"

"I know. I was there."

"Pirate," Will said with affection, then looked a bit startled. Jack took a
breath. //At least it's not just me. But then, I knew it wasn't.//

"What I was going to say," the man continued, "was that I just lay there,
flat on my back, eyes open, remembering in detail how to make a really damn
fine sword." Jack noticed he was being drawn slowly toward the bathroom. 
"I mean, I weld, right? It's a hobby…"

"Yeah, I know. Saw some of your pieces at your place."

"Right. But I couldn't have forged, really forged, a damn thing if my life
depended on it. Not before last night, anyway.  Still couldn't, really,
haven't got the muscles for it. But I know *how.* So I don't blame you for
not sleeping. People don't remember their past lives every day. I get the
feeling this is pretty big."

As he said that last, of course, he was undoing Jack's pants. Jack looked
at him and leered almost reflexively.

"You keep saying things like that and I might make us late for work."

"Oh, don't worry. I've a remedy for that." Jack swallowed hard. He wondered
if Will had noticed his voice slipping into an old British colonial accent
for just a second there.  Then he was naked.

And then he was shoved lightning-quick into his shower, and it was ice
cold.

Jack cursed using words he'd never learned in this lifetime.

* * *

Liz Swan did wake up wrapped around Greg Norton, but then she had plenty of
clothes at his place.  She snuggled against the tall man's chest and ran a
hand through his close-cropped brown hair. He was letting it grow a little
longer these days, but it still looked military.

His eyes opened slowly and he yawned. "Mornin,' hon."

"Morning, baby." Liz smiled. He'd been losing his Texas drawl, just a
little, but it was always thicker right when he woke up. "I had that dream
again last night."

"The weird one? With the umbrella? Huh." He looked thoughtful. "Not that
I'm superstitious or anything, but maybe this is a good thing. I mean, last
time you had it, I got promoted."

"It's the damndest thing, though. Just an umbrella floating in the water,
and this song, running through my brain. And I never remember the song when
I wake up. Ever since I was twelve…"

"Well, you'll figure it out when you're meant to, I suppose.  You heading
in early?"

"Yeah. Presenting the new marketing initiatives to the department today.
Dad's going to be there, too."

"Thanks for the heads-up. He didn't tell me about that. I think he's trying
to see if I'm on my game."

"Greg…" By his wince he knew what was coming. "…we have to tell him."

He shook his head, slightly. "Can y' honestly say he won't fire me for
sleeping with his daughter? I mean, once we finally can set a date, you
want to be marrying someone…vocationally challenged?"

The hell of it was that Liz couldn't honestly tell him that everything was
going to be fine. She loved her father, but no daddy was ever that rational
about his little girl.

"I mean, I'm just an ex-army, ex-cop kid from Ft. Worth," he went on, "and
y'all are old money…"

"That isn't why and you know it. If Dad flies off the handle, it's going to
be because we didn't tell him in the first place."

"Well, look, I know I seem gutless here, but can we at least agree today
isn't the day?"

She sighed. "Yeah. It's not."

"All right then."  He rolled left and kissed her, then rolled right off of
the bed.  "Goin' for a run. You have a good day, hon. I'll see you there."

"Yeah, baby," she said softly as he left.  "See you at work." Then she ran
a hand through her hair and fell back against the pillows. "I know what the
damn dream means. It means something's going to happen. I was just really
hoping it was going to be that."

* * *

As Jack began dressing, something tickled his nose, and by the time he
slipped on his shoes the smell of cooking food had nearly driven him nuts.

"One night," he said as he walked out of his bedroom, "and you're already
mothering me…" //One night and a lifetime…//

"Hey, if your past life hangover this morning is anything like mine, you
need it."

"You don't?"

"Mothering you makes me feel grounded." Will shrugged. "I always knew I was
hugely co-dependent. Now I know I've been that way a lot longer than I
thought.  'Course, if you don't *want* the omelet…" The pan hovered
dangerously near the garbage disposal.

"Belay that!" Jack snapped, and Will froze, obeying the command with the
instincts of a sailor.  "Well, now," Jack said, stepping up behind the
other man and running a hand around, over his chest.  "That could be
useful…" A slow grin spread across his face.  Most of Will relaxed back
into the embrace and he sighed. "You're as much a pirate as ever…" And was
it Jack's imagination, or was Will's accent wavering again?  He let go with
a pang of regret, only because the greater pangs were coming from his
stomach at the moment.

"You know," Jack said as he shoveled Denver omelet like a starving man,
"the Pirate Thing explains a lot, looking back. It has to have something to
do with all my surfing.  And maybe with how I laughed at "Titanic" - all
the way through."

"Anything else come to mind?" Will sounded genuinely curious, but then, he
was going through the same thing, wasn't he, only with a bit more metal
involved.

"Well, it explains a hell of a lot about college, especially the eyeliner. 
And somehow, my Jimmy Buffet collection."

"That does make a weird kind of sense." Jack watched Will's eyes follow him
as he cleared the plates.  Heat rushed to interesting places, and he felt
that old desire to just *take,* and damn the consequences. But the
consequences included pissing off Annie Mae when she came to carpool, which
was something he'd *always* been leery of.

"You want some coffee?" he asked. "Annie Mae will be here to pick me up
soon."

"Annie Mae…" The younger man had that slightly poleaxed look.  "She's
Anamaria, isn't she? And Gibson…"

"Gibbs. Yep. And Liz is…"

"Elizabeth! Dear Miss Swann…I had already figured that out, though. And
Norton's - "

"Norrington."

"Shit!"

"Well, that was always my opinion, but I thought you liked the man."

Will just rolled his eyes at that, then said, "God. How far does this go?"

"Farther than we can tell yet, I'm sure. I mean, I feel Jack with me,
here," he touched his forehead, "and here," he touched his heart, "but he
ebbs and flows, like the tide, or a distant song. And there *is* a song,
too…I just can't quite hear the words…"

"I know what you mean," Will said. "I feel Will Turner, but he's…it's more
like temperature. He was white hot last night - so were you, by the way…"

"Flattery will get you absolutely everywhere…"

"-but now he's more of a solid, warm presence.  Every so often, something
filters through.  I think that this is only the beginning, though…and so
does he. I can tell."

Jack felt a thrill at those words, the tingle that always signaled an
adventure's start.

But first, goddamn it, he had to go to work. He glanced to the window with
more than a little regret. Will, watching him, said,

"I'll take you to work, if you like."

And that, that plucked at something in Jack's dark taxman's heart, not
quite as dark as the heart of a pirate, perhaps…oh, who was he kidding?…but
still with few enough secret keys. One of them being that this man would
gladly be out with their relationship, though he be sleeping with the
enemy, as it were.  Still there were office gossips regardless, and Jack's
desire to deal with that had not improved. He explained this to Will,
briefly, and the other man shrugged and nodded.

"Okay. Suit yourself."  He smiled that easy smile that made Jack bite his
lip, and walked to the door, then his vehicle. Jack walked him out.

Once Will got to his car, he rolled down the driver's side window and
leaned his head out.

"Jack!"

"What?"

"I just thought of something."

"Aye - I mean, yeah?"

"Oh, nice catch, butterfingers."

"Whatever. What is it?"

"Totally apart from the Pirate Thing, it occurred to me…."

Hands rose together and came swiftly down in a very Jack Sparrow way of
saying 'Get on with it!'

"Have you realized how much crap a gay couple named Will and Jack are going
to get?  I might actually have to start watching that damn show."

ack actually spat his coffee laughing as Will cranked the ignition and
sped away.

***

When Annie Mae picked Jack up not too much later, she had to wonder if he
was…swishing…just a bit more than usual.  More of a swagger, really, she
decided. On a lot of men, it would have been effeminate as hell, but not on
Jack. It made him look like sex on a plate.

//You. Married. Him. Gay,// she reminded herself. //Or at least far to the
lee side of bi. Hands off…//  Usually, the groundswell of irritation she
felt around her brilliant, if slightly cracked, boss was enough to
compensate for the odd attraction, but today both were distractingly
strong.  It took her a while to realize why.

//I'm jealous.  And *that* must mean…Jackie-boo *got* some last night.//
She smirked.

"What?"

Laptops slung over their shoulders, they slipped out of her husband's car,
Jack with a very interesting flourish.  She smirked some more.

"What!?"

"Ohhhh, nothing. How's Will?"

"Exquisite…" His eyes widened and he swiveled head, neck, and shoulders to
stare at her. "Annie Mae, you are such a bitch!"

"Takes one to know one, honey."

"Is it *that* obvious?"

"Only to someone that knows you. You'll forgive me, though. I think I'm on
to something."

"Not in the manufacturing budget, is it?"

"No, dear. Your hot little conflict of interest is safe. But there's
something in facilities that looks hinky. Josh agrees with me. You will,
too."

They swiped their temporary badges and stepped into the elevator.  As
usual, Jack inclined his head at the security camera and smiled, today
adding a wrist-turning wave.

"You do love pissing that man off, don't you?"

"Old instincts, I'm afraid. I love pissing *everyone* off. Which doesn't
mean I'm not still really, really, really sorry about your car."

"Look, just…don't bring that up. It's going to be a *nice* day. Dammit."

"I've just got one … tiny favor to ask," he said, as they stepped out of
the elevator and out of the range of Norton's audio pickups. "Let's…not be
mentionin' anything about me little assignation just yet, savvy?"

Annie Mae blinked and shivered. Then she grinned. "Savvy. That's cute!
Where'd you get that from?"

"I…honestly don't recall." And he looked just a little confused. Too cute
for words. But that accent that had sprung up for just a second - ooh. Lock
up your sons and daughters.  She was starting to get why her husband liked
her to put on a Jamaican patois so much.

* * *

The meeting, Liz decided, had been absolute torture. There had been almost
no air circulation in the room - one fan or other was on the fritz - and
she hadn't been the only one on the verge of passing out. Dad had already
heard her ideas; she'd run them by him over dinner last week, so he was
mostly present for moral support. Liz had never traded off of being the
boss's daughter, but she'd never hidden it, either.

And all the time, standing in the back, was Greg. His face was stoic, which
she knew meant he was hurting. //He's such a man's man. I know this whole
thing makes him feel like a coward. But he's got all that military honor,
and he's doing what he thinks he has to do.// Liz rinsed her coffee cup in
the bathroom sink and held back her desire to chuck said crockery at the
wall. //I just have to make him see that he's completely *wrong.* And I
need some stress relief.//

She dropped her laptop back at her desk, lifted a few brochures from the
case, and leafed through them as she headed for her floor's coffee nook.
Consequently she very nearly ran headlong into Will, heading her way with a
small cardboard box.

"Oh! Hey there. Weren't you going to the plant today?"

"Just got back," the marketing manager replied. "And I brought presents."

"Oh! Darling, you shouldn't have."

"Well, Lizzie, I know the way to your heart is via our latest product
samples."

"Will, you know I hate that nickname. How many times do I have to tell you
to call me Liz before I kick your scrawny…"

"Skydiving?"

"Pardon?"

"Those brochures. It's skydiving now?"

"You know I'm an adrenaline fiend. Probably tandem jumping; if I want to
solo I'll have to take lessons."

"Yes, because you wouldn’t want to actually know what you're doing when you
jump out of a perfectly good airplane.  Which, by the way, sounds to me to
be…"

"Incredibly stupid?" came a voice behind them. "No offense, Liz."

"Oh, hi, Jack." The dark-haired man emerged from the temporary office set
up for the government audit, his own cup in hand. For some reason, the song
from her dream brushed her mind again. It almost, almost had words.
//even…hi…jack…oh, dammit. There it went again.//

"What are you humming?" he asked. "Sounded familiar."

"Just this song I heard once. I have this recurring dream…can this wait
'till after coffee? I need coffee like a drowning man needs…"

"Rum?"

"No. Air. And have I mentioned you're a weirdo?"

"Since you met me." He stepped to one side and made a sweeping gesture with
both arms, indicating that she precede him. "I have an urgent need for the
stuff me- I mean, myself. Got no sleep whatsoever last night."

At that, Liz paused while filling her cup, and took a good long look at the
body language of the two men in the hall behind her. Finally! And about
damn time, too. "Yeah," she said slowly, "I'll bet you didn't." She had the
satisfaction of watching Will blush. Jack, being Jack, just smirked. Then
he shouldered past, gracefully, to get his own mug.

"Can you follow me back to my office?" he asked. "Just want to pick your
brain about some marketing money."

"Sure, no problem. My civic duty and all." Then she looked at Will. "You
come too! I want details."

Will followed them to Jack's converted conference room, but said, "Can it
wait 'till after work? We can go have drinks or something."

"You're so cute when you're uncomfortable. But fine." She did notice,
though, that Will lingered in the doorway when she leaned down to look at a
spreadsheet. Josh and Annie Mae were off somewhere, Liz realized absently,
probably at lunch.

"Right here," Jack said. "You see that?"

Liz stared at the numbers. Something did look off, but what, she wasn't
quite sure. Absently, she began to hum again.

Unexpectedly, Jack joined in.

She hummed louder, her confidence in the recalled melody growing.  Jack
hummed counterpoint.

Her eyes unfocused as she concentrated on the song. This time, she'd
remember it, dammit! This time….

She no longer saw the spreadsheet, and the office was fading.  Liz felt
heat on her face, sand beneath her feet. "Mm-mm…mm-mm…m-mm…life for me…"
Dizzying sensations, like falling from a great height into yielding warm
water. Like dancing madly, with a madman, 'round a great bonfire.

"Mmm-mm m-mm…inflame and ignite, drink up, me 'earties, yo ho…"

"We burn up the city, we're really a fright, drink up me hearties, yo ho…"

Elizabeth's eyes snapped open wide, focusing on the face before her. "Oh!
Jack! Oh, my…" She gasped, shuddering like the aforementioned drowning man,
getting air at last.

Then her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed in his arms.

Of course, it would have to be at that exact moment that Greg Norton,
Security, walked by the glass door.

* * *

Greg rammed through the door shoulder-first, pulling the unconscious Liz
from Jack's arms and checking her vitals as best he could. Jack took two
steps backward, bowing and spreading his arms in acquiescence.

"She fainted. What the hell happened? Why'd she…did she just collapse?
What…"

"Yes, I don't know, and yes. Look, I'm sure she's fine. She's coming around
right now, see?"

In fact, Liz Swan's eyes were fluttering open. But it was Elizabeth Swann's
voice that said, "Jack…is it really you?"

"Aye," he murmured, leaning close. "It's really me, and it's really Will,
and that's all so far, y'savvy?"

"Aye," she whispered, and took several deep breaths.  By the time her eyes
opened again, her voice was flat Californian.  But behind both eyes and
voice lay steel.

"Greg," she began, "I'm sorry. I just…"

"I knew it!" He pulled her to him once more "You're pregnant, aren't you?"

"So it's true," Jack said, smiling slightly. "Interesting."

"Don't even think of using this as some kind of leverage, you jackass…"

"Boys. Stop. Now." Liz stood, shaky for a second, then solid on her feet. 
"Greg, listen. I'm sorry. I love you, but this sneaking around stops now."
She met his eyes and held them.  "I'm not letting a good man who loves me
get away because he's hung up on honor and propriety. I do *not* intend to
wait until it's very nearly too late. Not again, do you understand me?
Never again."

"Yes'm," Norton said, meekly. He didn't, entirely, but he did, enough.

"Now, we are going to go up to my father's office, and we are going to tell
him that we have a relationship, and that we're very much in love.  And
that if he fires you, that I'm leaving too, and we'll both be unemployed.
And still very much in love. Do you understand me? Will, you're coming with
me for moral support. Jack, you're coming too because this is somehow all
your fault. I don't know how, but it is."

She paused for a breath, to take in three slightly stunned faces.  Well,
two stunned and one scared out of his mind. "I'm not pregnant, by the way.
Now, come on."

The procession to the elevator, up to the executive suites, and to the
President's office, with reps from three departments including Security and
an IRS auditor, was cause for no little trepidation. Odds were soon running
that someone high-level was getting canned. The long shot guess was that
the unlucky soul was Will himself. The front desk guard, watching the
entire thing on his monitor, told the parking lot guard that it was a shame
if true, since Will had started there as an intern, just out of college.

When the group reached the office of Warren Swan, president and CEO, the
secretary announced them and waved them in. Liz put one hand on either side
of his wide, mahogany desk, and leaned forward, looking into the eyes of
the spare, grey-haired man.  "Father," she said, "Greg and I…"

"Well, finally," Swan interrupted with a smile, "And it's about damn time,
too."

Jack's eyes widened and he stiffened. He eyed the man with new respect.

"You…you knew?" Greg Norton was staring straight ahead, using the wall for
support.

"Of course I knew, kid. I mean, come on. She's my little girl."

"Daddy," Liz said sweetly, through gritted teeth, "Why, oh why, didn't you
say anything?"

"Look, Liz, honey, I love you dearly, but you've always had this thing for
unattainable men. I mean, the last man you saw before Greg was Will, and
he's queer as a three dollar bill, for God's sake."  Swan glanced over at
Will, adding, "No offense."

"None taken."

"And before that, it was someone on active duty in the navy, and before
that, it was that traveling acrobat…so when you and Greg started up your
clandestine affair, as it were, I was thrilled. And, I decided to play
dumb. I can be pretty good at that," he confided.

"Was he always this devious?" murmured Jack to Will.

"I don't recall. Give me a few days." Will whispered back.

"And well," Swan continued, "I was right. When Norton here became the man
you couldn’t have, it was all the spice you two needed."  By now, Liz was
sitting in a well-stuffed leather chair, shaking her head. Greg stood
behind her, rubbing her shoulders. "Look, I hated even implying that I
cared where you came from, Greg. You're a good man, or I'd never have hired
you, much less promoted you. And I'm sorry to be so underhanded about this
whole thing, but I'm getting older, and frankly, I'd like to see some
grandchildren."

"Dad!"

"So he was the lad from the wrong side of the tracks this time," Jack
murmured, voice momentarily softening into a slur. "That's beyond
interesting."

The corner of Will's mouth quirked up, and he murmured back, "It's what
you'd call ironic."

* * *

Much later, after the day's work was done, Jack opened his door to a knock.
Neither he nor Will, who'd followed Jack home, were surprised to find Liz -
Elizabeth - standing on the stoop.

"How much do you remember?" Jack asked, immediately.

"Jack! At least offer her something to drink first."

"Oh, of course." He grinned. "Rum?"

She stared at the bottle on the table, then snickered. "Captain Morgan."

"What about it?"

"Oh, nothing. I'm driving home, though, so I'll pass." She came in and sank
onto Jack's couch, looking across at Will, who watched her from his perch
on the other arm.  "You know, I laid into Bob from Finance with some pretty
elegant eighteenth century curses after lunch."

"Yeah, that sort of thing's been happening to us, too. Ever since last
night."

"Is that when all this started? When you two…" Will blushed again and Jack
smirked again, which gave her her answer."

"Anyway, in answer to your question, I remember Elizabeth Swann, Governor's
daughter. And, pirate wench." She grinned. "Well, every so often, anyway."
She sighed, and it turned into a yawn. "I remember curses, skeletons in the
moonlight, and Greg, as he was. It took me far too long to realize…" She
shook herself, then, and looked at the men with her. "I remember my oldest,
dearest friend, and a mad pirate who became much the same. My God, Jack,
you've changed so much, and you haven't changed at all."  Then she blinked.
"I went British there for a second, didn't I?"

"Yeah," Will said.

"Anyway, beyond that, the details are pretty fuzzy. But Elizabeth's *here,*
and not just in memories. I feel as if she's waiting for me to find, right
beyond the next corner, except she's closer than that…it's strange,
but…kind of wonderful. She's completely fascinated by skydiving, you know.
She wants to pack up the car and go *now.*"

"That figures," Jack snorted.

"What about Norton being Norrington?" Will said. "What if he never
remembers?"

"I'll live with it," Liz said. "He's still the same good man he was, even
if he doesn't completely know why. And I doubt it'd make him like Jack any
better, though who knows."

"I'd advise you try relating to him right and proper, if you take my
meaning," Jack said, swaying close, and Liz smiled, Elizabeth's smile at
hearing Jack Sparrow's voice once more. "As it seems your relations are
aware of how well you've related, at any rate. In other words…" a subtle
shift in voice and manner, "…bang the bejeezus out of him, it worked for
us. But you've done that."

"Well, it's not like I'm going to stop. But somehow, I don't think I'll be
waiting for him all that long. You two - you've catalyzed something. Don't
you feel it, like currents swirling out from you both? Or would you, at its
eye?"  Elizabeth's accent again, flickering through.

"There's a definite feel of expectation," Will said, sidling over to Jack
to slide an arm about his shoulder. Jack replied with a grope, which caused
Will to jump and Liz to giggle.

"Well, if that wasn't a definite feel of expectation, I don't know what
is."

"Elizabeth!" And *that* was pure scandalized Will Turner.

"You're so easy," she said, grinning. Which was pure Liz Swan.

"I've always said so," Jack put in.  "And as proof, there's the make-out
couch at his apartment."

"The what?"

"Jack, she sits on that couch all the time."

"Then she should know what she's getting into, shouldn't she?"

"I'm coming over with a black light."

"Please don't." Will put his head in his hands. "You two…I thought you were
bad *before…*"

Liz stood and gave Will a quick embrace. "Dearest Will. I have got to get
moving, but look, I'll be back tomorrow. I'm going to do a little research
on past lives - I've got a friend that has a few books. Maybe we can get a
bit of a handle on all this weirdness."  As she neared the door, she heard
a scraping thunk from above.

"Squirrels. Had 'em running across my roof for years. And I'm too civilized
to shoot and eat them these days."

"Well, I was thinking for months that you had squirrels in your attic -
nice to be proven right…"

"Out, wench!" Jack roared.  And laughing, she left.

Once the door closed behind Liz, Jack was up, eyes bright. "You know,
there's something I've got to show you."

Will looked him up and down. "I've seen it…"

"You haven't seen the garage."

"What's…I'm going to have to go and see, aren't I?"

"Bright lad." And Will was pulled up, across, and through a doorway. When
he entered the garage, Jack clicked the light on.  Will whistled.

"Nice bike."

It was jet-black and sleek, touched with chrome, a black helmet hanging off
the back of the seat. Will ran an appreciative hand over the leather.

"Not what I was going to show you, though. C'mere."  And Jack beckoned him
over to a hanging surfboard.  "Take a good look."

Will eyed the design worked into the resin. Then he began to laugh.

"Oh…my…Jack, your surfboard's got two sea turtles on it."

"Yes, Will, I know. That was, in fact, what I wanted to point out."  He
waited, and waited a bit more. "Okay, it's not *that* funny."  Waited. 
"What?"

"Just…heh…wondering if you waxed your back…y'know, for the leash?"

"Whelp!" A very Sparrow lean and sway left Will off-balance, and he fell
back against the door to the house, a pirate, or an accountant, covering
him entirely.

"Not here…" Will gasped, between kisses.  "…Still want to take that
shower…"

"Well, it *has* been a long, hard day…"

"God, that's corny…mmmph! Ahh…"

A trail of clothes marked the route from the garage to the bathroom, but
somehow when they reached it,

Will still had his socks on. "You might want to take those off this time,"
Jack advised, opening the door and leaning over the edge of the wide,
rounded corner tub. The water went on, nice and warm, and then a
blacksmith, or a manager, tackled him in turn. Minus his socks, finally.

A twist of vertigo, and the world was hot, bright-edged. The desire and
longing rose in Jack, so hard it hurt. "Take all ye can," Will whispered in
his ear, and it was Will Turner, back again.  //How much of me is me,//
Jack wondered, briefly, for the tenth time that day, then gave himself over
to the dizzying sway that was Jack Sparrow. //Because pirates don't *have*
existential angst…//

"Oh," he replied, "But you can't be thinking that I'll give nothing back.
In this situation," and one hand closed around Will's length, "One has to
give to get, and though that goes against me terribly selfish nature, I'm
willin' to make the sacrifice." He was rewarded by the boy melting against
cool tiles, in a world properly wet, though a bit too unyielding, and not
at all moving as it should.

"I'm…ahh…gratified by that…Captain mine…but let me take your advice…" And
Jack was flipped suddenly against one of the shower walls, and Bootstrap's
boy was drinking the water from his skin, licking down his chest, and
lingering at his navel. His legs chose then to go out //…this man has *not*
got proper balance…// and they were curled against each other on the shower
floor. Will was drinking him in now, and he could not think of anything
wittier than a moan.  Hands tangled in warm, wet hair, as he was pelted,
assaulted, touched everywhere at once and there especially, oh, yes,
*right* there, how did you know, you remembered, he was speaking some of
this out loud and he had no idea how much or even which him it was, but he
was drawing tight and his hips had to move and move yet more and writhe
like the mad thing he had always truly been…. Oh. Oh Will, oh always
my…Will….

Centuries froze. Time and he exploded.

He opened his eyes, world still too sharp and too slow, but a thing he
could get used to in time. He had before, or he hadn't, but it didn't
matter, because the lovely man below him was in a state of acute need, and
to leave him thus would not be at *all* charitable…not that he was at all
charitable, but no monster was Jack, and he took Will in hand, or in mouth,
as it were. Meantime, water sluiced across hair that seemed a bit too short
as he worked along the heated length, completely focused, save for the
moans that were…hmm…Yes Jack Yes? Well, that would do…and this might do
better…he pulled with his tongue and dug both hands into sensitive spots
he'd found long, long ago, down the lad's lower back, next to his spine. 
Bucked beautifully, Will did, and Jack drank him all in turn.

The two were a boneless heap on the shower floor for quite some time, if
their wrinkled fingers were any indication.  Eventually, Jack opened his
eyes, and the world seemed to have realigned itself in the meantime. 
Sparrow had receded, and he felt a paradoxical sense of both gain and loss.

"Will? We should probably get up…*Can* you get up?"

"Mm. I'm not sure. You?"  The younger man sounded fairly twenty-first
century himself, again. Jack wondered if he and his Smith would ever have
sex without Sparrow and his smith, and then decided that he'd wonder later
if he cared.

"Okay," Will said, decisively, "I'm moving." One hand strained up and up,
turned off the shower…and fell back down.

"Well, now we'll be cold, so we'll have to get up. Excellent strategy,"
Jack sighed.  "I suppose we should get to bed." Getting up, it turned out,
was not quite as difficult as they'd feared, and as they toweled off, Will
was humming a tune.

It was not at all the tune Jack expected, but he knew it all the same. He
hummed along, and then Will started singing:

"I knew you before the west was won, and I heard you say the past was much
more fun…

You go your way, I go mine, but I'll see you next time…It's all been done,
it's all been done, it's all been done before…"

***

                            
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