|The Dangers of Complacency
Author: Guede Mazaka
While computer work had a lot to recommend it, prolonged effort at it invariably resulted in brutal shoulder and wrist cramps. Therefore, Will was occasionally forced to take a break and hack at some of the more physical aspects of technology. Not that he usually minded, but-"Goddamn it, Theo. Hasn't anyone ever looked back here? I thought you guys were obsessed with cleanliness."
"Mr. Norrington does run a clean office." Theodore made a wooden little cough, face fixed in tactfulness. He attempted to pull the heavy desk a little further away from the wall, but his efforts only released yet another wave of rabid dust bunnies.
"Wouldn't be surprised if you've got mini-civilizations in there," Will coughed, stumbling away with hands full of tangled wires. He swiped at his sweaty forehead without thinking, then had to spend the next two minutes untying himself, which did nothing for his fraying temper. "Hell. We're going to looking for that loose connection all day. Once we get past that dust. Jesus, I can almost see it baring teeth at me."
Busy shoving his sleeves up his arms, Theodore nevertheless had time to snort his incredulity and smack Will on the shoulder. "Now you're exaggerating. Turner, you've charged into mobs of Colombian gangsters-don't tell me a spot of dusting frightens you."
"That's not dust. That's fodder for Liz's experiments. Lucky girl, she gets to go the rounds with Anamaria today. Though I pity whoever's stupid enough to cross them." Which reminded Will of another noticeable absence. He did a quick check of James' office, then twisted on his heel and glanced at Theodore, who seemed content enough. Nothing was troubling the smoothness of his brow, and while Will would readily admit that he wasn't the expert at discerning subterfuge, Groves also wasn't the best liar in MI6's Miami outpost.
Okay, so the missing body wasn't due to injuries. A little relieved, Will returned to his task of tracing various wires back to their plugs. It was almost pitch-black behind the desk, and as the stubborn piece of furniture refused to move any more, he would just have to squint. Hopefully not ruining his eyesight, because he already got enough cracks about his geek-side without having glasses as well. "Hey, where's Tom?"
"Hmmm?" Click, and then Theo was leaning over Will, maneuvering the flashlight until its beam was focused on the right spot. "Oh, he should be back any minute now. We're getting the first three today."
"Yeah? Which?" One wire was almost free of the agglomerated tangle, and so Will was a little distracted. Normally, he would've noticed the creak of the opening door, and certainly the tromping foot-steps.
His fingers were almost on the end of the devious little coil when a sharp force collided with his ankle, sending him deep into the space between the wall and the desk. Dust instantly stuffed up his nose and he coughed whenever he wasn't cursing. "Fuck! Fucking God, who the hell is-"
"Jaysus. Who th'hell'd put a boy there of all God's places?" demanded a rough Irish lilt.
Outraged, Will put one hand on desk, one on wall, and shoved himself loose and around in a single violent movement. "I'm way over goddamn legal, thank you, and probably a better shot than you are."
"You think so?" said another male voice, deep raspy whiskey. It took a moment for Will's dick to remember certain things besides the fact that he was a healthy young man.
It took another moment for him to fully take in the trio of newcomers. A huge man whose oddly boyish curls nearly scraped the ceiling, a slightly shorter and definitely much leaner one with a scarred face, and a fiery Spanish beauty, who was oddly familiar. Will racked his memory while they stared at each other.
A nervous Tom Pullings slid out from behind the lean blond man, smiling a warning at Will. "Turner, Groves, this is Pat Harper and Richard Sharpe, formerly of the Army, and Teresa Sharpe, formerly of…"
"…the Partisans," Will finished, associations finally clicking into place. The organization to which he referred was named after the Spaniards who'd rebelled against Napoleon's occupation two centuries ago, though the present-day Partisans were rather less patriotic. They were mainly Europe-based, but enough former members had retired to Miami's Latin districts for Will to have a fairly good acquaintance with them.
She seemed surprised at his recognition. So did her…husband, according to his CV; Sharpe's gaze on Will turned from amused to wary. "You've heard of me?" Teresa asked, feigning indifference.
"I hacked one of your group's databases once." Will offered her a smile and a little bow, which was somewhat constrained by the fact that he was still kneeling. "William Turner, version 2.0. Yes, I'm his son, and yes, I'm CIA."
"In an MI6 office." Sharpe looked blandly about his surroundings, a faint hint of sarcasm to his smile. "I seem to remember the two agencies bein'…friendly rivals?"
"Miami is somewhat different in that respect, as I'm sure you recall from our interview." Calm and relaxed, James framed himself in the doorway like a lord's portrait hanging in a castle. His suit was perfectly creased in all the right places, and Will made a note to muss it the first chance he got. "Good to see you made it over all right. If you don't mind, I'd like to start on the in-processing right away so we can get you to work."
Sharpe and Harper both laughed, glancing at each other and at Teresa in some kind of private joke. "Nothing like an Army man for that," Sharpe replied, turning away from Will. "Well, let's get done with the paperwork."
After they'd left, Tom and Theodore immediately grabbed Will's shoulders, faces serious. "Turner, are you completely insane? Have you seen their records?" hissed Theodore.
"Yeah, I've seen them. And they're impressive, but hey, so's a government supercomputer, and I mess with those all the time." Will shrugged them off and handed Theodore the flashlight, then crawled back to his own work. To be honest, he was actually a bit taken aback at his own insolence, but what was done was done. And besides, he'd just spent the last week attending to Liz and Anamaria at their mutual worst. At the moment, he was too jaded by that to be really frightened by anything. "Christ, someone had better show up with chocolate syrup and a bedroom offer, because I really fucking deserve one for all the shit I've had to put up…Theo?"
No answer. The silence wasn't quite disapproving, so Will cocked his head and listened for a moment. Then he rolled his eyes and tried not to growl. "For God's sake, no groping when I'm under you."
"Thought you would've enjoyed that," muttered Tom. The flashlight shifted, and so did some clothes as the other two separated an inch or so.
"Hey, I'm loyal and faithful to my girlfriend. And her girlfriend, in a manner of speaking. And my boyfriends." Will thoughtfully tapped his finger against his lip, then flicked a bright smile at them. "It's like an exclusive orgy, you see."
With a mock-sigh, Tom pushed away from the desk. "Will, I gave up a while ago trying to understand what you five get up to. Why, just the…the kind of coordination you'd need to…"
"Not that difficult, once y've got th'way of it," drawled yet another intruder. However, this time Will was quite happy to have his work stopped.
And that was all the warning Jack got before an overenthusiastic puppy mauled him into falling against a desk. Ow. Someday, he really had to break Will and Liz of their nasty habits of pouncing. Or at least teach them to do it right. "Turner, m'back's not a springboard. Off an' down, thank you."
"And you haven't been in for nearly a week." Insolent mutter in the hollow of his neck, while disobedient hands insistently patted him from shoulders to waist. "Bastard. The girls are both having it, too."
"Well, someone's got to stay with them, and you do it best." Giggling from the chorus, not that Pullings and Groves really had the high ground from which to do it, so Jack forcibly disengaged from Will. Though he made sure to get in a good squeeze of such nice plumpness; wouldn't do for Turner to think he'd completely given up inappropriate public displays of affection. "Anyway, thought I told Jaime to take care of you."
Will made an exasperated expression, while in the background, the other two made good their escape. No doubt to make for the nearest closet, if Scarlet hadn't dropped by to surprise Gillette with lunch and already claimed it. "James has been busy. Another three just showed up-Mr. and Mrs. Sharpe, and Pat Harper."
"Oh, really?" Definitely a good thing Jack decided to stop by, then. That three were the only really experienced ones that James and he had finally agreed upon, and he was looking forward to meeting the famous Major Sharpe. "Well, we'll be eatin' dinner here, so I suppose I'll be seein' for m'self."
Cute as Will was when blinking in confusion, Jack wasn't quite reassured by the accompanying hint of mulishness. He tweaked his fingers against Will's ribs, then drifted them a little lower, watching Will's eyelashes fall. "Take it you've got an objection?" Jack mused.
"Possibly." Humming, Will leaned forward and pecked Jack on the lips. The brief brush of softness wasn't nearly enough for either of them, and so they tried again for a rather longer and much more satisfying kiss. Jack moved to get them in a more conducive position for continuing, but Will somehow eluded him and slipped away, dropping to the wires straggling from one of the walls. "Considering that I was really, really looking forward to getting fucked out of my brains."
Damn it. Jack momentarily regretted teaching the boy to fight dirty, then remembered that he hadn't, really; Will and Liz had already been trouble when he'd first picked them up. Though he prided himself that he'd added more than a few tricks to their repertoire-and ungrateful brats, they would put them to good use.
Still, there was more to being a master than simple sleight-of-hand. Jack casually stepped over to Will's busily waving arse, judged the angles, and then reached between those lovely legs to give Will a good ten-second massage. He muffled the yelp and then the long spine-tingling groan with his other hand. Leaned forward, just until his lips brushed Will's ear, and whispered, "Y'think Jaime'll want Szechuan or th'fake Chinese?"
"Jerk. I was serious. I thought I was finally going to have some time with you." Will jerked away and shoved at Jack. When he resumed his work, his fingers tugged at the wires with just a little more force than was strictly necessary. "Anyway, we always get Chinese. It's like one of those cheesy late-night flicks-you have a war council, you eat Chinese."
It hadn't been any better a week for Jack than it had been for Will, raging females notwithstanding, and so annoyance was beginning to make inroads on Jack's mood. He jabbed a stiff finger into Will's shoulder-blade, once for every word. "Turner. These're good people, they're stayin' around, an' y'll be cooperative."
"French food it is, and of course I was annoyed about them," Will replied, his irony just light enough to avoid a cuffing. "I'll let Theo know. Or Gillette. Or-or whichever one of them isn't getting laid right now…damn it, I might as well take a pair of cutters to this entire shitty mess."
His hair felt a little gritty to touch, and its oil was beginning to become a bit more than a simple sheen. Worked at least a day and a half without showering, Jack guessed, and probably all chores Will'd volunteered for. That tendency of Will's to bury his head in business and keep it there until he passed out from exhaustion had never really made much sense to Jack. Yes, carry out duties and finish to-do lists and spend extra time on hobbies, but Will took it to extremes. Especially when it came to anything that tickled his geeky side.
"Jack. You're not holding the flashlight. In fact, you're pushing my hair into my eyes and actually making things worse, so if you're not going to do anything I want you to, then just stop." And there was a cute little pout in Will's tone. Too bad Jaime opened the door just then, making them both shoot to attention.
"Jack?" James blinked once in surprise before his public mask clicked down. Smooth as creamed butter, he stepped aside to let the three new ones out and then slipped straight into a round of introductions that would've done the Queen's butler proud. Nervous. And probably thinking that Jack and Richard Sharpe would run rough over each other.
Then again, maybe it was the opposite he feared, to judge from the way he kept inserting himself between Jack and Richard. It wasn't generally a good or peaceful course of action to act against James' lead, but in this case, Jack was afraid he was going to have to make an exception. Just looking at the Sharpes and Pat Harper gave him the feeling that unless he established borders right away, he never was going to get the chance.
Jack deftly side-stepped James' next block and came right into Richard's space. "Congrats on Ducos, by th'way. Though I was hopin' I'd have th'honor."
"What did he do, take your girl?" Sharpe didn't quite step back, and his bark of amusement didn't relax his guard any. On either side of him, Harper and Teresa stiffened.
"No. Just blew up Jack's fifth car last year." Will ambled up, a worrying glint of challenge in his eyes, and leaned on Jack. His hand trembled against Jack's back, then calmed and began a firm, knowing and secretive stroking. "Kind of annoying-I really liked that one. McLaren F1, if you can believe it."
As soon as Sharpe's eyes moved to Will, they unshuttered to display a disturbing mix of humor, slight irritation, and warmth. "Yeah. Good model, that. Nice curves and a damn good engine. The heads and injectors…"
Exuding a palpable air of long-suffering forbearance, Harper rolled his eyes and turned his face away. Teresa, on the other hand, didn't take her eyes off Will.
"James, if y'don' mind, I'll be needin' a word wi' you," Jack interrupted, surreptitiously reaching behind him to take Will in hand. Turner's wrist, at least. "Actually, y'r one restaurant's right below, so why don' we order in an' get t'know one another while we're at it?"
"Rather excellent idea, I think." James, who was throwing Will his own dubious look, absently acquiesced.
Thinking behind it or not, a positive answer was a hand up and a foot on the top of the cliff. Jack smiled sweetly as he whirled Will out of the door. "Right, then. Go find a lieutenant an' let 'em know."
The door closed on Will's outraged exclamation. Soft laugh tinkling from her lips, Teresa gave Jack an interested glance. "He doesn't seem to be used to being treated like that."
"Oh, he's just angry 'cause I interrupted his fiddlin' wi' the comps. Speaking of, James, I'm hopin' that y'r new comp expert's comin' in soon. Considerin' how much you borrow Will, I might as well start chargin' services." Of course, Jack could see that James wasn't amused in the slightest, but he couldn't do much about that. James was a smart man, and he'd figure out Jack's intentions in due time.
Well, that or Jack would be handling two pairs of cold shoulders by the end of the night. But he preferred to be optimistic. For one, it kept his stress levels nicely out of sight. For two, it made for reports that kept the higher-level watchdogs safely in Langley, where the real playing was. "Teresa…née Moreno, was it? Any relation to Pablo?"
Her face hardened. "It depends on whether or not you would have liked to see that traitorous bastard survive."
"Just asking, as I owe a few scars to him." Jack let loose his sharpest smile, then watched with satisfaction at the silent recalculations he saw in the faces before him. "Pleased t'meet you."
"Sir, I don't like the looks that're going around." Pat was cupping his hand around his mouth, about as secretive as an elephant in town square. On the other hand, it was doubtful as to whether his intention wasn't meant to be obvious. "It's not…"
"You don't have to call me 'sir' now-we're out of the army," Richard reminded his friend. Not harshly so, because he was still feeling the absence of rigid rank himself, like an itch strapped to his skin. "And yeah, I know."
On his other side, Teresa finished the last of her veal and started in on her side dishes. The food was wonderful, Richard had to admit, and if they ate like this every day, then that alone would be worth the change in careers.
"Just so you know, I'm not actually trying to get into your pants." Turner's voice startled both Richard and Pat into clattering their silverware, which in turn made Norrington and Sparrow temporarily cease their intense conversation at the other end of the table. Will Turner, however, remained perfectly calm. "Go back to talking, Jack. Just a fumble with the plates. Nothing important."
Sparrow narrowed his eyes, but Will didn't do anything except casually slouch in his seat and play with his pants-chains, having long since finished his dinner. With clear reluctance, Sparrow turned back to his discussion.
As soon as the suspicion was diverted, Teresa straightened up and glowered at Will. "So?"
"So I was halfway through my dessert when I realized that including you in my payback scheme without your consent is probably a stupid idea, as one, I've got to work with you later, and two, you're not idiots." Will eased back until his head was resting on the top of his chair, a serenely devious smile on his face. The expression was mysteriously infectious and familiar, and Richard had a bit of trouble resisting the urge to smile himself. "Sorry about that. I'm in kind of a pissy mood, due to a really crappy week."
"Guess havin' a big Irish lunk trippin' over you didn't help much." Richard smirked at Pat, and in return, he got tolerant eyes promising a good reckoning later. "Pat's not usually that bad on his feet."
Teresa snorted and reached for her wine glass. She appreciatively sniffed before sipping. "No, he isn't. What payback plan?"
A whisper of assessing caution came into Turner's eyes, and he silently regarded them for a moment. "You mind if I'm rude for a moment? I can't think of a good euphemism."
Richard wasn't quite sure how to take that, so he speared at his meat for a moment to stall. Pat, however, had no such compunctions. "Well, beggin' your pardon, but it's hard to say without knowing more. You might as well just take your chances like the rest of us."
One side of Will's mouth twisted, not so much in sourness as in amused recognition, and Richard suddenly recognized why the other man interested him so much. Turner acted like a street brat.
All right, not exactly like one, because he could turn a nice genteel face just as easy as he could a snarled swear. But he had the markings, sure enough. In fact, he reminded Richard just a little of himself, when younger and cockier and lacking Pat or Teresa.
"Sounds reasonable, I guess." Will pushed himself up and propped his elbows on the table. He took a quick glance at Norrington and Sparrow, who were still in the middle of the furious argument that had distracted them all dinner long, then turned back to Richard. "Are you sleeping together?"
Teresa blinked, clearly not expecting that one. "We're married," she dryly replied.
"No, no. Are you…" A waving hand swept around the end of the table-despite his earlier brashness, Will's cheeks were a bit pink. "Damn it, this is really hard to do without risking an ass-kicking."
"Well, you did give warning about rudeness. Right decent of you." Grinning, Pat nodded to Richard and then to Teresa-and then it made sense.
In all honesty, it wasn't the rudest way they'd ever been asked. And now that they were out of the Army and away from its stupid, foolish, ruinous regulations, Richard fully intended to stop acting as if he had something to hide when he damn well didn't. Propriety hadn't ever helped him much, and he wasn't going to pay it tribute unless he absolutely had to. In fact, that had been the main reason he'd decided to take Hogan's suggestion and apply for the MI6 position.
"Yeah. What of it?" he finally said, forcing himself to continue eating at a normal pace. Kept his tone firm as well, because whatever Turner's reaction, it didn't matter.
"Because I happen to be with those two-" Will hooked a thumb at the other end of the table "-and two women you haven't met yet." He made a face. "Well, usually I'm with them. Only the girls both had theirs last week and I had to step on eggshells the whole time…"
Pat sympathetically winced. "Know just how you fe-beggin' your pardon, Teresa. Not that you're anything like that. Truly. I wouldn't lie-not with this honest face. Swear on the Virgin herself, I do."
Still suspicious, she slowly lowered glare and knife. "Hmmph."
"…and those prats there always run off to let me deal with the girls. Not that I actually blame James this time because he had a good excuse, but Jack?" Will cast a mutinous look at his superior and Richard's superior. "Goddamn it, is some company too much to ask?"
A grin was beginning to creep onto Richard's face as all the earlier strangeness started to make sense. That was a little relieving, as Norrington didn't look like a man to cross. Sparrow didn't either, and if relationships were that familiar, it didn't matter that he was CIA and technically had no say regarding Richard. "No. So that's what the flirtin' was all about?"
"Hey, you were playing along pretty well. Gotta say, if we didn't have our separate things, I wouldn't mind a bit." Will's joking air was too lighthearted for even Teresa to resist, and they all shared a low laugh.
She reached over and ruffled Will's hair, as if he were one of the boys. "True. You should have seen Richard in dress uniform. But anyway, about your men."
"Oh, yeah." Another quick check on Sparrow before Will leaned forward, conspiracy in the gleam of eye and smile. "So you know I'm a hacker-"
"-good one. I heard of you before hearing of your father," Teresa interrupted.
At her words, Will's good humor cracked a bit. He bit his lip, startled and oddly shy, but very quickly he was back to normal. "Thanks. Anyway, I could do something about those…less respectable parts of your records, if you'll do the following…"
"…and that's how I lost the McLaren." Even now, Jack felt his hackles ruffling a bit at the memory. It wasn't so much the assassination attempt, seeing as that wasn't too unusual and anyway, they'd meant for the bastards to try and get him, but the fact that it'd been the car over which he'd finally managed to bend a slightly drunk Will. Turner almost never drank, and it'd taken three months for Jack to arrange that one lapse.
True, it wasn't the Pearl, but still, the sight of that hood had always cheered up Jack in the morning. He'd promptly appropriated another McLaren, but he still hadn't gotten Will over that one, and it just wasn't the same.
"God, and I've never seen a single one in my life. Truly amazing." Harper might've been dissembling a little, but that looked to be a shade of genuine disbelief in his face. Time enough, he'd get used to the flexible budgets of the espionage world.
"Two of them in as many years, and God knows how many Benzes. Corporate America should send its accountants to study Jack's expense reports." James had reconciled himself to Jack's methods of probing Sharpe, but he still didn't seem very happy about it. Ah, well-one problem before another. There were another five due in town within the next week, and he was going to be too busy to really take offense until all that pert-assed Brits were safely settled.
More important was Will's constant baiting of Sharpe. And apparently, Sharpe's amused, lazy, encouraging responses. Of course, what with the way Will was all sharp tongue and glittering eyes, hands either toying with his hip chains or making gratuitous adjustments to his shirt, Jack couldn't really lay the fault at Richard's door-step. Or Teresa, who had the look of a hawk readying to stoop.
Not that that was stopping the rise of Jack's frustration. The next time Will leaned a little too close to Sharpe, Jack reached over and snagged Will's sleeve. "Well, I'm thinking we've imposed enough on-"
"Oh, fucker. I still haven't sorted out those wires." Will abruptly stood up and turned to Richard and Pat, wide innocent face to which Jack wouldn't trust a broken penny. "So, you two still up to moving that desk for me, or is the jet-lag catching up?"
"Have a care, Turner. We're not lackin' in brains," Sharpe replied, so nicely that the intrigued twist to his mouth stood out that much more. Jack reminded himself to stay relaxed and not give himself away.
It was a little harder when Sharpe and Harper decided to flank Will on the way out, but he managed to the count of ten. Then he stood up himself and excused himself from the tactical discussion Teresa had struck up with James. Strategy analysis was grist to James' mill, and so he almost didn't notice when Jack left.
The offices were quite a bit more empty than when Jack had come in, due to the night shifts having started a half-hour ago, but there were still enough people around to reassure him into thinking that nothing could be risked. Even if Will could be incurably, stupidly impulsive at times, and Liz's influence only acted as tinder to that blaze. Anyhow, he'd been a little less so since coming back from Britain with James. Whatever had happened over there, it'd clearly made him stop and think. Now, however, no sign of that was present.
Actually, Jack was thinking that this whole evening was out of character for Will. Away from the blatant visuals, Jack's head was sliding back into its usual grooves, and he could remember that playfulness aside, Will was almost insanely devout. At least to Elizabeth; he never made a serious move without discussing it with her. He respected Anamaria by way of Liz, and he seemed to have gotten well under James' skin. As for him and Jack…
"Whoa! Christ, a little less rough, thank you." Will's voice, muffled through the door. Jack unaccountably lost his train of thought, something which almost never happened to him.
"Sorry. Pat, damn it, don't wreck-"
Door. Knob. Open, flourish for balance because Jack was walking in just a little fast, and then-"M'apologies, gent'men, but Will an' I-"
Then he stopped, because the tableau before him was noticeably lacking in listeners. Will leaned against a desk, coolly unbuttoning his shirt. "You took your time."
A bang behind and quickly retreating footsteps were enough to jigger the bits together into a drink of sensibility. Jack crossed his arms over his chest and produced one of his most lowering stares to date. "Believe you're trickier than Jack Sparrow, do you?"
"Nah. Just…currently a little more frustrated." The shirt went over Will's shoulder, and then he was strolling over, thumbs hooked into his pocket-chains. "And you know what they say about frustrated men…"
"Y'know, I defended you when Lizzie called you a bit of a slut. Though she tacked on a 'faithful' to th'above." Will was now so close his chest was grazing Jack's forearms, but Jack resolutely refused to move. Relief at the reaffirmation of Will's loyalty had been immediately chased away by irritation at Turner of all people deciding to pull the rug from under Jack.
Strangely unoffended, Will shrugged. "Hey, about two beers later she called you a nancing gypsy elf. So I don't know if she's that good a judge of-mmph! Mmmm…"
Jack shoved them back as he concentrated on kissing Will so hard the damned clever boy wouldn't ever try to pull one over him again. A thud and Will's erection rising into Jack's thigh marked the desk. So Jack hauled Will up, still snatching breath from the aggravating, wriggling, really lovely-tasting pretty, and plastered them across the top. Wood creaked out of rhythm with the raking of Will's nails down Jack's back.
"Damned impatient…" Fingers curled around Jack's neck, yanking him back down. In half a trice, he was stripped to his waist, and his hands had somehow knotted themselves in those chains. "Don' see as why y'like these so…hard to get off…slows down…"
"Is not." Will bit the words into the edge of Jack's shoulder as he snaked a hand down. Click, snap, and those pants were sliding away, leaving beautiful warm expanses of skin. Jack drew a slow finger along Will's thigh, then trailed it back up, ignoring Will's urges to hurry. "God, what the hell took you?"
A nuzzle into Will's outstretched throat temporarily stopped coherency from that corner. Still, he had a point. Half the dinner spent watching Will shine at someone else, teasing like…like…Jack ripped down his own pants and climbed onto the table, mouth and hands moving over Will like a flurry of butterflies, keeping the other man to moaning and twisting and grabbing but never quite fast enough, never quite at the right place at the right place. He slipped his legs around Will's, feeling strong thighs stiffen to silken hardness, then relax into soft, yielding flesh that cradled his insistently-demanding cock quite nicely.
"Y'shouldn't make me doubt you," Jack muttered, tongue reveling in the taste of Will, unmasked by soap or anything. He licked down the center of Will's chest, hands skating along the sides to hips where they methodically squeezed and molded.
Will's head came up, eyes flashing in the half-dark. "And you shouldn't take me for granted, thinking you can come and go whenever you want. I am not your-"
"No, you're-" Jack slid up an inch, fitting his cock to the inside crease of Will's leg where it flowed into smooth torso, trapping Will's own hard flesh against his belly. He rose and fell, nerves dancing him to the right rhythm, arms holding him up so he could watch Will's eyelashes come down, Will's lips seal together just before the gasp burst out, Will's face clench and clear with the effort of each moan.
"You're-" The words stuck to Jack's mouth, then tumbled out cock-eyed and sloppy. "Love you, you damned-missed you-won't share, 'cept wi' Liz an' Jaime. An' Anamaria…if she ever 'cided t'try…oh…"
"Christ, Jack, come here," Will hissed. Arms locked around Jack, dragging them so close it felt like they were in each other's skins, and God, there was nowhere else that Jack wanted to be at the moment. Forget the business, forget the problems, forget everything except Will and Will and Will.
It was rough and dirty and not long enough, and later Jack fully meant to do things proper like Will deserved. Later. When he had his breath and heart and mind back.
Knuckles drifted over Jack's cheek, gently pulling him back to the present. "I love you, you bloody jackass. But once in a while, I'd like to have someone keep me company when the girls are…and don't make excuses, Jack. I know you didn't have to go out and personally-"
"No. No, I suppose I didn't." Profound relief was a truly contrary feeling, Jack mused. More of a warm blanket wrapping tight than a weight lifting away. "Sorry, Will. Truly. But when it's that time, those two are so…anyway, take it you do approve of Sharpe, Sharpe and Harper?"
Drowsy nod; Will flopped around until he could curl into Jack's side and nuzzle. "Yeah. Good sense of humor."
Jack bent his neck to bare more skin to Will's attentions and absently stroked Will's hair. "Good. Tell y'what, Turner. Next month, Liz an' Anamaria can go an' deal wi' those gun-runners, an' y'll come wi' me. Should keep 'em busy till they're…what's so funny?"
"You. Being scared. Honestly, Jack-it'd just be simpler to learn how to handle them." Will grinned and dropped a kiss on Jack's shoulder.
"Simpler, but less painful?" Jack pushed himself up again and regarded the other man, the beginnings of a plan forming. "Now, then, Will. Jaime's computers are just goin' t'have t'wait, seeing as y'asked for a right good fucking…"