|Game 3: Mousetrap
Author: Guede Mazaka
"Jack," Norrington called, walking quickly after the other man into the Tortuga. "Jack. Jack."
Whirling about, the other man would've resembled a gaudy spinning top if it hadn't been for the dark stony glint in his eyes. "Y'want somethin', Jaime?" he asked, voice deceptively mild. "If it'd be th'cover story, we'll go wi' th'usual. If it'd be comp., lemme chat up th'accountants a bit, an' I'll recompense you handsomely in 'bout a week. Say, over dinner Friday?"
"Do not be flippant with me, Jack," Norrington growled, advancing at a prowl. "I lost men, damn it. Gillette won't be out of the hospital for a week. And don't tell me Elizabeth can take it; I saw her eyes outside, and she looks awful. Did she kill someone? No-answer that second. First, I want to know what the hell is going on."
"Damned if I'd know. Ask Will-oh, beggin' y'pardon, he ain't here," Jack muttered, gathering up bottles from behind the bar. Popping the first one open, he chugged it, waited, then shook his head and commenced on the second bottle. Halfway through, however, it was abruptly removed from his mouth.
"Sparrow-" Brows arching to the ceiling, Norrington raised a careful hand to the gun wedged against his throat and moved it away.
"Do. Not. Touch. The. Rum," Jack warned, face completely devoid of humor.
"It happened to be in the way," Norrington replied brusquely, suddenly twisting the gun down and stepping forward so he pinned Jack to the bar. "Goddamn it, they wouldn't stay down…" he began to say, smashing his mouth up against Jack's.
The other man immediately seized the Brit's shoulders, clawing down Norrington's suit as he yanked James to him. A few breathless moments later, they separated temporarily to deal with cells, pagers, guns and the such, and then Jack attacked the lovely pale--tanned--lily neck before him, gleefully raising red welts all along its length. His searching hands sought flesh, found hindering cloth, and virtually ripped it away so they could run over hard muscle, press into the dip of ribs--too tall, should've been lower--draw moans and whimpers from a tremoring body-wrong voice. Ripping away, close to tearing hair out in his frustration, Jack seized at James' shoulders and pushed down.
Cursing, already resigned to the inevitable ribbing he'd get tomorrow, James dropped out of Jack's grasp and to his knees on the filthy floor, fingers busy at the front of the other man's pants. But before he could touch lips to cock, a hand grabbed his own. He looked up inquiringly into regretful eyes. "Jaime, this isn' fair t'you," Jack told him. "I…it's Will. 'cept it isn', 'cause he's not 'round at th'moment…"
"Just like Elizabeth," the Brit grumbled to himself, tilting his head to rest it on Jack's thigh. He felt a tentative stroke over the top of his head, and decided, staring back up. "Jack," he declared, "You are introducing me to him. Soon. In the meantime, shut up and watch me. Because this is still mine."
And he finished freeing Jack's cock from the stretched fabric, wrapping his mouth around it as soon as he could and swallowing till the tip poked down his throat. As his head bobbed up and down on the stiff flesh, neck muscles contracting rhythmically, James let his fingers wander over the rest of the exposed skin, rubbing the heavy balls, curling fingertips along the very edges of the hidden hole, gentle touch in extreme contrast to the hot hell of pleasure to which his lips were subjecting Jack's cock. He listened intently to the stream of prayers and curses the other man was expounding to the uncaring ceiling, tracking the increasing whine in Jack's tone, and when it nearly cracked, he pulled off and stood up. Cupping Jack's face so it couldn't turn away, James said, softly and firmly, "Whatever Will and you do in private is your business, not mine. But I am not letting our business together go. Not because of anything that concerns our jobs and duties, but because I happen to care about it."
"You…you're stealin' my words," Jack panted, pupils dilated till they swallowed up the rest of his eyes. "What kept you?"
"Incidentally," James added, "I probably have similar intentions toward Elizabeth, so it would hardly be proper to hold you to a double standard."
"'s hardly proper for you t'be capable o' talkin' like that," Jack breathed, words a meager warning. The world smudged itself in explosive red, and when James' eyes focused again, he found himself bent over the bar, with his pants around his ankles, his shirt hiked up, and a wet pair of lips nipping down his spine. "Oh, God, please…" the Brit moaned.
Something creaked, and both men stiffened. Jack took a quick glance, then immediately returned to the slight salt and lemon taste of James' skin. Gasping, the other man came somewhat back to reality. "Jack, wait-oh, God in heaven-dammit, Jack. Jack! There's no door-"
"An' y'were doin' fine wi'out it a moment ago," Jack reminded him. Snorting, James tried to wriggle loose, but his hands were instantly slammed against wood and held there. He began to protest once more, but then the nipping mouth slipped between his buttocks and sucked at the entrance to his anus. James' breath abruptly vanished, and his voice fell to a low keen as Jack circled the pucker, then plunged his tongue in several times. "One momen', Jaime," Jack whispered to the flushed skin, letting go the other's wrists to flip out a bottle of hotel hand lotion from the puddle of fabric around his own ankles.
Coating his fingers liberally, Jack used one hand to hastily prepare James while his other got the frustratingly clingy pants off his feet. And then he braced himself on jerking hips, and thrust in.
It was short and hard and messy, but it left something obscure satisfied in both men when they finally came to a shuddering stop. When James had regained some of his former composure, he craned his head back and asked, "So…feel…better?"
In response, he received a contagiously insane grin, which gradually turned tender. "Too good, Jaime, too good. Y'should've stayed in th'navy."
"Nothing's free, Sparrow," James retorted, easing off the counter. He grimaced as Jack pulled out, and then stared unhappily at the remains of his suit. "I suppose that makes up for the sight of the addicts, but you still owe me a debt."
"Addicts? Th'brave secret agent's frightened o' somethin', after all?" Jack teased lightly, helping to get them somewhat decent. Norrington made an indifferent noise, causing Jack to look up, and then to turn somber. "That bad, then."
"Yes, that bad," James acknowledged darkly, jaw clenching briefly. "It was like seeing a live excerpt of Revelations."
"So I jus' reaffirmed life for you?" Picking through the pile of dropped articles, Jack swiftly divided the weapons and handed the other man his share. James impatiently tapped a foot, and Jack reluctantly gave up the rest. "'s not fair. You MI6 always get th'pretties sent t'you, while we've got t'buy 'em."
"You never actually buy anything," the Brit reminded, rearming himself. "Why are you so concerned about Will, anyway? I realize he has knowledge of considerable value, but you're taking this much more personally than Anamaria's injuries…oh." James blinked. "But it's only been a few days since you first met," he objected.
"Same goes for you an' Lizzie," Jack retorted, straightening his headscarf.
"It's a different situation. I've known her longer-all right, granted, the last time I saw her, she was still a girl-" James' cell rang, and he flicked it open. "Groves?"
"Ah," Jack smirked. "So it's like that."
"No!" James flushed, then hurriedly told the phone, "No, not you. My apologies-what?"
Sixth sense pricking, Jack began listening more closely. Not that it helped; on the phone, Norrington was terse and wary.
"Yes, yes," James said. "No…the normal set…no. Yes. Good work." And he snapped the cell shut, twisting to face Jack with expression set in 'business' mode. "One of the smugglers we took just decided to talk. Barbossa had his men going one-by-one to all the clubs you frequent, watching and waiting until they could get Will alone. Another group went after Elizabeth in case they needed a bargaining chip. In either case, they were to rendezvous at the Interceptor at Pier 51."
"51?" Jack repeated, immediately taking out his own cell phone and dialing furiously. "'lo, Cotton? Get th'docks shut down. No in, no out, 'specially for an Interceptor. Don' care, just get it done. Call in a bomb threat, or somethin'. Meet y'there in thirty."
He snapped the phone shut, then swayed back to Norrington and slapped a hand on the other man's shoulder. "Jaime, sorry 'bout this, but 've got a boat t'catch-"
"Ship," James corrected, lips twitching with anything from long exasperation to amusement. Jack waved him off, drawling, "As y'please. But anyway, do a favor an' take Lizzie wi' you; Anamaria's out, an' I don' have anyone left t'watch her. You an' her can mess wi' th'laptop."
Disbelievingly, James hooked two fingers in one of Jack's pockets before the other man could escape and dragged him back, saying in a puzzled tone, "Sparrow? You do recall that I work with you and not under you."
"Semantics, Norrie," Jack tossed back, somehow still making headway toward the door, despite having a six-foot man hanging off his waistband. "'sides, y'jus' contradicted y'self. An' very nicely, by th'way."
Embarrassment pricking his cheeks rose, James nevertheless persevered. "Jack, I was referring to information disclosure. We do work for different countries. Granted, both our superiors are happy that we aren't fomenting World War III--" Fabric and braids unexpectedly whipped up, and he stumbled backward to avoid the whirlwind.
"An' I was referring to you acting as our auxiliaries, Jaime," Jack grinned. "Despite it not falling under the guidelines of interagency cooperation."
"Thanks." And Jack darted a quick kiss on James' startled lips before spinning both men out and more or less throwing Norrington into Elizabeth's arms. "Play wi' the commodore for me," he told the staggering girl, just before he smacked his mouth against her cheek. "An' thanks for ev'rythin', Scarlet love," he smirked, deftly dodging her slap and slipping into his car.
"Well, I never," the nightclub mistress huffed, arms akimbo as the three watched Sparrow speed off, then nearly fling himself into a stop sign as he crashed the intersection. "That boy just waltzes in, completely wrecks my front siding, and then-" she smiled beatifically at the packet of money James waved under her nose "-But he does have such lovely friends. Y'all sure you don' want to stick around an' have a little somethin'?"
"The offer's very much appreciated, Madam," Norrington excused hastily, closing the laptop and tucking it under one arm, "But Jack's just asked me to put this somewhere safe-"
"Ah." Still smiling prettily, Scarlet set down the sledgehammer.
"-and we really must go," he finished, offering an arm to Elizabeth. Shrugging, she accepted and let him lead her back to the car. And did not mention his mussed hair and clothes, or the scent of Jack wafting from him. When they were inside and buckled up, she suddenly paused, chuckling. "God, this is all I ever seem to do."
"Be chauffeured everywhere?" James asked, carefully moving the car out of the parking space.
She smiled in reply, then sobered. "Will-he'll be fine." She repeated it again, making herself sound more confident. "He'll be fine."
"I have to agree," James said, checking the rearview mirror as he changed lanes. "Jack has the most miraculous luck in the world, I've found. If he's determined to get Will back, then Will is coming back."
Propping her elbow on the windowsill, Elizabeth dropped her head onto her hand and glanced over at Norrington. "You're different from earlier," she said slowly, meditatively. "Think I like it, but…what happened?"
Pursing his lips, he stared out into the traffic for several minutes before replying. "Fear…is something that can never be simply trained away. It has to be faced, and dealt with directly." When they flicked across, his eyes were shadowed in the fluorescent afternoon sun. "Today I saw something I didn't even realize I had feared. And somehow, between it and the bullet, the world altered around me."
Will woke to the electronic chattering of a monkey. Groaning, he very, very carefully lifted his head, then tried to move the rest of his body.
"Hey, he's up," screeched someone. "Pintel, he's up. He's up, he's up-"
"Heard y'the first time, y'one-eyed twit," growled another someone, who sounded as if he were gargling rocks.
"Owww…Pintel, y'knocked out m'eye! M'beautiful bluesy! Where's it? Come t'mommy, precious…"
Curling awkwardly around his cuffed hands, Will managed to lever himself up and finally see the speakers. Or part of them, anyway. The squeaky-voiced one was crawling frenetically over the floor, searching for his…eye, so only his skinny-boned ass was in clear view. Pintel turned out to be an unshaven thug lounging by the door, grinding his teeth and kicking at his fellow guard whenever he had the chance. And there was a Gameboy™ on the floor, displaying a screaming pixelated monkey.
Door. Gameboy™. Okay. Will was in a cabin on some ship. He was lying on a bench, hands cuffed to some pipes. His head seemed to have exploded sometime in the past, and his ass still wasn't feeling very pert. And…they'd taken away his weapons and Jack's cell. Damn.
"There y'are," crooned the man on the floor, pouncing on something. Then Will was treated to the wonderful sight of a false eye being popped back in place. Lip curling, he turned disgustedly away.
"Hey, y'bastard, no mockin' us," snarled Pintel, striding over and yanking Will's head up by the hair. The second guard quickly joined him, crowing, "Yeah, no makin' fun o' m'eye."
"Ragetti, shuddup a'ready."
"Are y'gonna hit 'em?"
"No," said a third voice, and suddenly both smugglers were slapped out of the way as if they were flies. In their place stood Barbossa, baleful smile displaying a full set of chipped dragon's teeth. "Well, then, Mr. Turner. I do apologize for the mistreatment of late. God an' the Devil knows too many knocks on the head do funny things t'men."
"Suppose it'd be pointless to ask where I am," Will commented, fighting down the freezing sourness in his throat.
"Oh, feel free, feel free," sneered the other man. "Ye'd be on the Interceptor, whelp, an' I'll even go ye a few better. We'd be going to Havana, an' Jack'll comin' for me there, an' I do believe I'll be killing him."
"And what would I be doing in Cuba?" Will jeered. "Went there once, got pickpocketed and pretty much hated the place."
His entire body snapped back from the slap, which knocked him painfully into the wall. And then his throat almost crushed shut, as Barbossa's hand locked about it. Dragging him up until his manacled wrists jerked him to a stop, the smuggler looked Will in the eye and said, voice seething rage, "Ye'd be working for me, puppy. An' ye'd be doing it with a smile. Or I'll show ye worse than hell."
Dropping the younger man, a smirking Barbossa silently exited the room, heavy boot crushing plastic and metal as he went. Gasping, gingerly rubbing at his neck, Will barely registered Ragetti's dismayed wail. "M'Donkey Kong. Pintel, 'e's done in Donkey Kong!"
Ignoring the ensuing argument, Will began considering and discarding plans. He appeared to be in a cabin on top of the deck, so jumping ship shouldn't be too difficult. Nor should dealing with Ragetti and Pintel-though Barbossa was by no means stupid or unobservant, which argued for more, better guards outside. Couldn't know till he got out, on the other hand, and couldn't get out until he dealt with the handcuffs. Surreptitiously examining his surroundings, Will searched desperately for a hairpin, a thin scrap of wire. Something. Anything.
But the cabin was as clean as the smugglers were dirty. Disappointed, Will slumped back down, jingling the chains on his jeans as he went. Glaring at them, he snorted at Scarlet's taste. And then he looked more closely, and the next second he was silently praising Jack's friend to the skies, while trying to bring his knees to his ears.
The clip at the end of each chain was a lockpick. Thank fucking Christ for Southern decadence, Will thought fervently to himself.
"Why aren't we leaving?" Barbossa demanded as he stalked into the steering cabin. One of the men bent over the controls looked up timidly. "Ah…well…" he tittered nervously. "They ain't givin' us clearance, sir."
"Clearance," Barbossa echoed meekly. And then he flipped out a gun the size of a sub and snarled, "Since when did I need clearance? It's Sparrow, y'imbecile. He's gotten the ports shut down so we can't leave."
"Oh…that's sensible." Pivoting, Barbossa slammed the gun into the new speaker's face, sending two teeth clattering to the floor in a welter of blood.
"That ain't sensible, y'fuckers," he fumed. "That's time to go. Now get us out."
Agents came running up even before Jack had stopped the car. "Captain," gasped one, "It's all down, but looks like they're leaving anyway."
"Well, where's ev'ryone?" Jack asked, wiring his earpiece up as he spoke.
"Ambush pattern. Snipers there and there and there. We intercepted a call from Barbossa to his base, but most of the people Anamaria sent out had gotten into position, and they're moving in now, so no reinforcements for him."
"Excellent," Jack praised, and then he pointed out a few of the people gathered around him. "All right, you're wi'me, an' th'rest of you, find a good perch. We're goin' in on m'signal. Savvy?"
A chorus of whispers answered him. "Savvy, Captain."
"Jaime-" Norrington twitched. "What?" asked Elizabeth, cradling Will's laptop to her.
"Nothing, really," he replied. "Up until now, only Jack's called me that. But I don't…you can…if you wish, you can call me that."
"Okay." Shifting restlessly in her seat, Elizabeth suddenly remembered what she'd been trying to say. "Jaime. I can't just-wait. I need to do something. I need-"
In the elegant rare wood- and leather interior, the growling stomach was humiliatingly crass. Elizabeth blushed.
"When's the last time you ate?" James inquired worriedly.
"Um…" Frowning, Elizabeth tried to sort it all out from the crazed flurry of memories, from the blood, the shooting, the needle-"Breakfast," she stated definitively. "Which was…six hours ago."
"Right. We'll get you lunch then." Catching the beginning of her protest in his peripheral vision, James raised a hand. "And after that, we can compare notes. I suspect that we both have only half the story, and there's no sense in trying to work with that. Considering neither of us is Jack. Or Anamaria."
"Or Will," she added. "God, when I get him back, I'm going to kick his geeky ass for complicating my life like this. It's definitely not fair. He got to see me at my worst, but there's so much shit about him he never told-"
"Seeing you now, I find it difficult to believe you ever had a 'worst'," James remarked, turning to drive down a ramp and under a gracefully rising skyscraper.
"Oh, you'd be surprised," Elizabeth muttered. Light and dark barred over her face, flicking rapidly over the fine features as they descended. "You know what you said about fear, back by the Tortuga? Well, I had one of those moments today, and I think I failed. No, I know I failed. Miserably."
She peeked over, but James wasn't preparing to say anything; he simply parked the car and then turned to face her, waiting.
"You ready?" Elizabeth asked, faking cheerfulness. "I was a druggie. Needed money for college after Dad died, since I lost my inheritance, and so I put my schooling to practical use. Not that hard, to go from producer to user. I've got one-point-five years of my life that are a complete write-off. Can't remember shit, till I woke up in Miami and bitched out some twit for falling over me. Turned out to be Will. He always says he took me in 'cause he needed a chemist; well, that's nice-guy bullshit. He didn't have to keep me around after I'd cleaned up enough to do what he wanted, but he did. And he kept me straight."
"I'll have to thank him, whenever I finally meet him," James said, still watching Elizabeth. One side of her mouth rose briefly as her eyes dropped to the computer in her lap.
"Mmm. But, yeah, I've been terrified of needles ever since," she continued, very quiet now. "Will dragged me to a doctor during detox, and then once after, to make sure…to make sure I hadn't…streetwalked for money. God, I was lucky. But ever since then…no drugs. No needles."
"No pointy objects?" he asked, only half-joking.
Snorting, Elizabeth told him sardonically, "Can't go that broad. I've killed people. Did one in this morning. And it's not so bad, now. I've got worse things to have nightmares about."
Leaning back in his seat, James nodded grudgingly. "I can imagine. Though I wish circumstances weren't such that you had to become accustomed to it."
Elizabeth put a hand on the door lever, then abruptly twisted away and scooted over the gearshift to Norrington. "Those addicts on the Aztec Gold," she whispered, nose just brushing his collar, laptop banging unnoticed on his ribs, "They're…it's like looking in a broken mirror, for me."
He turned toward her and raised a hand, hesitated, and then uncertainly, lightly, let it come to rest on her long hair. Curling in closer, she folded her fingers around his other hand and brought it to her lips, kissing the edges.
"Oh, for-" Disgruntled slouch plastering him to the door, Pintel grudgingly produced another Gameboy™, which Ragetti snatched away with a piercing squeal. Will winced and then, with one eye glued to his guards, resumed his movements. The handcuffs clattered loudly, and as two lank-haired heads whipped over to him, he froze.
"What're y'doing?" Pintel asked suspiciously.
"Ah…yoga," Will blurted. "I'm cramping up, so I'm just doing a few stretches. See?" And he 'omm-ed' as enthusiastically as he could.
"Yoga," Ragetti repeated. "I know! Saw it on th'TV. Was a luvverly lady doin' it, Pintel, an' wi' the prettiest tights. I wanted 'em, but there weren' a phone number."
"Shuddup. I 'member, an' they weren't y'color."
"Yes, they was. They was!"
Torn between sighing in relief and rolling his eyes, Will finally swung his leg up onto the arm of the bench, which put his hip chains by his hands. Rapidly unhooking the first, he fingered the pick dangling from one end and inserted it into the lock of his cuffs. Using his knee to block his hands from view, he bit his lip and concentrated on wiggling the skinny strip of metal around until he heard the most beautiful click in the world.
Of course, then the ship decided to pitch sideways.
Jack's earpiece buzzed. *Sir, they've just fired the engines.*
"Yeah, I know," he replied, hurriedly stuffing a finger in his other ear to block out the roar. Cautiously creeping to the edge of the roof on which he crouched, he peered down at the Interceptor. Which was absolutely crawling with heavily-armed smugglers. Most of whom he recognized from his old crew. Smiling sourly, Jack swept his gaze over the pier, silently asking for an angle.
An industrial crane presented itself, its hook hanging suggestively close to the Interceptor's anchor chains. Jack touched his mike and gave the order, then watched with delicious satisfaction as a moment later, the crane ground to life, swinging out and grappling the chain, then pulling. On the deck below, men slipped on the tilting deck while screaming contradictions, and gunfire began to splatter bullets into the air. Time to go.
"All hands on deck," Jack hissed to his men, and then he snapped the end of his harness to the wire that stretched from above his head down to dip over the Interceptor's deck. Whooping like a banshee, he leaped off the roof and made the dizzying glide down, releasing himself just in time to drop on top of a smuggler who'd had the audacity to shoot at him. Balancing against the slant, Jack snapped out his guns and got to work.
"Fuck!" Will yelped, spilling off the bench. As he did, the handcuffs flew open and he slid across the floor to collide with Ragetti. Kicking and punching by reflex, he narrowly avoided a knife slash, then managed to smash both guards' heads on the floor enough times to put them out. Quickly retrieving their guns and ammunition, he rushed up beside the door, listening intently to the sources of the gunfire outside. When he'd figured he'd heard enough, Will blew out the door lock with one shot, and then, still not standing directly in front of the door, smacked it open with one hand.
As expected, outraged and rapidly-approaching voices signaled more guards. Will waited till the first stupidly walked in, then backhanded him in the face with a pistol butt and used his body as a shield behind which he could take down the other smugglers. The ship lurched again, and he just barely caught himself before he would have fallen onto a corpse. Struggling against the incline, he made his way onto the open deck, then instantly ducked behind the nearest cover. The bullets flying between the smugglers and the men who he assumed were Jack's agents put up a hail over the ship that was too thick to navigate.
Well, it made the most sense to find Jack first. Will began to scan over the deck, then shook his head in annoyance. No need for that; just head for the most chaotic section, and that would be where Jack was. And, despite it being pure conjecture, Will trusted in it.
"Liz." Absently tapping her fingers on the table, Elizabeth stared at the compass screensaver. "Why isn't it pointing north?"
Something clinked beside her, and Elizabeth glanced over to discover what appeared to be ice-cold fruit juice and a plate of gourmet French cuisine. "Damn," she said appreciatively. "You MI6 lads really live it up."
"Not always," James demurred, settling down beside her with his own helping of food. "My cover here happens to be the owner of several upscale restaurants and a shipping line."
"Still nice," Elizabeth mumbled through a mouthful of food. "So I thought you weren't supposed to tell me that kind of thing. The whole 'I could, but then I'd have to kill you' deal."
Shrugging, Norrington swallowed his bite and then answered, "It is slightly against the rules to inform new hires before they're officially cleared. But I believe that in this case necessity warrants some flexibility."
"New hires? Before they're officially cleared?" Elizabeth asked doubtfully, brow wrinkling with growing suspicion. James merely gave her a bland look and observed, "It is my experience that those whom Jack Sparrow take a liking to rarely end up leaving him."
"But it's Will that's-yeah, I think Jack's cute-well, damn," she muttered, pushing the hair out of her eyes. "Either way, I can't walk off. And why is the fucking compass broken?"
"Is that important?" James inquired politely.
"You don't know Will…and we've got to fix that." Elizabeth got a speculative glint in her eyes, and a mysterious smile touched her lips as she studied James, making him rock uneasily in his seat. "Since you're going to have Jack in common, after all, I wonder…but that's irrelevant, if more fun. Anyway, Will's got this obsession. Mystery stories. Probably has to do with him being so good with computers, but besides that, all the stories have to do with things hiding in plain sight. Jack said the downloads were still missing the interpreter, so…"
Interest sparking, James leaned forward. "You know computers?"
Flopping back with a hiss of irritation, Elizabeth replied, "Not more than I have to, damn it. Never could understand them. 's why Will and I make such a good team."
James looked like he didn't know precisely what to say. And since he wasn't speaking, he probably didn't know what to say. Grinning over at him, Elizabeth asked, "So, are we on a date?"
Realization smacked Elizabeth upside the head. She whipped back to the laptop, exclaiming, "Date! Numbers! The direction-the degrees at which it's pointing. It's a password; Will did download everything, but he hid the interpreter. Brilliant!"
Scooting his chair closer to Elizabeth, her excitement infecting him, James urged, "Come on, then. Try it."
Swiftly doing so, she was soon rewarded with wonderful scrolling lines of information. "Finally," she sighed happily. And then something else occurred to her, and Elizabeth turned to look James in the eye. "So, now that the data's here, are you going to show me the door?"
"I would hope not," he retorted unthinkingly, then bit his lip, blush already seeping into his cheeks.
"Even more brilliant," Elizabeth said lowly, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down to her lips. After the kiss, she gave him a vixen's smirk. "So that's what Jack tastes like?" she asked innocently.
Growling, James dropped his mouth to her neck, then licked a wet line up to her ear. "And this is what you taste like," he whispered, hands adroitly stripping the clothes off of her. "Milk and anise." He kissed her again, fiercely, and they both slumped off the chairs onto the floor. As Elizabeth yanked James' shirt off his arms, he bent down to kiss the newly-freed breasts, caressing their softness with an open mouth. Teeth lightly grazed her rapidly-hardening nipples, drawing a shiver from Elizabeth. In retaliation, she clawed down his pants and took his cock in one sure hand, expertly working it to full erection.
Groaning, James descended to Elizabeth's stomach, then curved around to nibble on the tops of her hipbones. His fingers slipped cleverly between her legs and explored contrast between the moistening velvet skin and the coarse blonde hairs there. Crying out, she arched up into his touch, and James let a long digit slide into the hot wetness.
"Oh, Christ, James," Elizabeth moaned.
"I do believe I can taste Will on you," he replied, swirling his finger inside her, collecting the gathering juices. James briefly removed it to coat his other fingers, and then slithered them into both her vagina and anus. Shuddering as if she'd been shocked, Elizabeth scratched down his back. "Can't you taste me, too?" she murmured, staring up at him with honey-dark eyes.
"Yes," he said, dipping down to mouth her graceful neck. "And you?"
Rising up, she bit at his shoulder, then sucked it soothingly. "Citrus," she told him. "Citrus and salt and candied ginger."
"My favorite snack," James mentioned, breath coming in torn pieces now. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and knees, Elizabeth lifting to meet him, and then he sank into welcoming heat. They moved together in the ancient rhythm, languorous at first and then frenzied as the fire leaped up between them.
Elizabeth came with a bird cry, soft and high and sweet, while James signaled his climax with a single, almost missed, whimper. Subsiding on the floor, they rested in silence for some time before Elizabeth spoke again. "That…was good. Marvelous, really." Surprising herself, she yawned. "Better'n my life's been going lately. Hope Will's day ends up the same."
In keeping with the recent trends in his life, Will found Jack when he tried to duck a marlinspike and ended up falling over a crate. Right at Barbossa's feet, with the smuggler and Jack facing off above him. Eyes nearly popping out of his head, Will scrambled backwards only to tumble over another smuggler. Who he shot once in the chest, and then repeatedly all over, when the first bullet didn't even appear to faze his attacker. Whipping back around, Will got his second gun pointed at Barbossa just as the other man began to stick an Uzi out in his direction, while keeping a handgun trained on Jack.
Jack, whose gun was aimed directly at Barbossa's heart. Will suddenly noticed that all the gunfire had dropped off to eerie quiet. The smuggler lowered his guns, staring intensely at his former captain.
"This way, Will," Jack called, glaring at Barbossa. Slowly shuffling over, Will had made it to within a foot of Jack when an ominous thundering crack whipped against his eardrums. And immediately following it, the ship surged back upright.
"Shit!" Will swore, his voice drowned out by the yelling of everyone else on the ship as they toppled over. He fell hard, dropping his guns somewhere along the way, and when he hit the planks, the by-now familiar blurring blackness started to eat up his vision. Someone grabbed him and yanked him up against a warm, firm body just before bullets tore up the wood where he'd been fallen.
Jack would've dived after the straggle-bearded bastard, but the last bullet winged him in the arm as he rolled away with Will, slowing him just long enough for Barbossa to jump ship. Below, he heard the buzzing of a tiny engine, and he yelled into his mike, "Small boat, Barbossa! Stop it!"
But the sinking of his gut told him it was too late. Swearing profusely, he did a quick check to make sure all the remaining smugglers on the Interceptor were either dead or being disarmed, and then turned his attention back to the limp form beneath. His hands patted over Will swiftly, trying to suss out the injuries. "Will?" he gasped. "Will? Can y'wake up? Can y'talk? You still-shit didn' make you an eunuch, did he?"
"What the fuck kind of question is that?" Will demanded, suddenly rearing up. Startled backward, Jack blurted, "So you're all right?"
"Yeah, mostly-fuck! You're bleeding!" Will said anxiously, hastily gathering up the rest of Jack's sleeve and pressing it against the wound. "You're bleeding, and you're asking me if I'm okay," he repeated, more calmly.
"An' your face looks worse'n most day-old cadavers," Jack muttered, lifting a hand to trace the dark outline of phantom fingers smudging around Will's neck. "Christ."
"Jack, um," the younger man began nervously, "What happened to Barbossa? Is he dead?"
Grimacing, Jack shook his head, then made a fast inquiry to his mike. "He jumped over, got into one o' our boats, an' escaped. But he's alone, an' we've got th'other parts of his organization up 'gainst th'wall, so it's only a matter o' time."
"Oh," was Will's surprisingly subdued response. He blinked. "You came for me. I left you the programs, and the CIA probably could've cracked the code, even if Liz didn't figure out the clue to the interpreter. But you came. Before you had to."
Jack shrugged. "Appears I'm 'fond of you,' as Lizzie says. An' she's far too smug 'bout that. She enjoy pimpin' you out, or somethin'?"
"Wait a minute," Will protested. "Elizabeth's not-you know what? That can wait. Considering how things are going, this can't." He followed up his words with a passionate kiss. And damn it to hell, but Jack was more than fond of Will's mouth now.
Pulling the younger man up to straddle his legs, Jack forewent the nipping in favor of running soothing lips and tongue softly over the tender bruises, drawing a lovely moan from Will. His one hand massaged gently at the shadowy hand imprinted into the other's throat, and his other slipped around a slim waist to cup a firm buttock, pushing their cocks together into a pleasant languid rub.
When they parted for air, Will breathed, "I'm sorry. For before."
"S'all forgiven," Jack answered, coming in for another kiss. And another, and another, and-his mind pricked. Very unwillingly removing his lips from Will's jaw, he tilted the other man's head to one side, and then to the other. "Your pupils aren't th'same size," he noted unhappily. "Doctor's bills this week are goin' t'be horrendous."
Grunting, Will moved back in, and even more unenthusiastically, Jack held him away. "Will, we can't-"
"You're supposed to keep a concussion victim awake, right?" the younger man interrupted. "So do that."
Well, Jack couldn't argue with logic like that. Immediately returning to that inviting mouth, he swiped his tongue thoroughly along the interior, letting it ripple over teeth and gums.
"Noooo," Will groaned, dropping his head onto the older man's shoulder. Jack dearly wanted to do likewise, but the responsibilities of leadership said differently. Grudgingly rising, he kept Will clasped tightly to one side as he started giving orders for mop-up operations.
"Jack, I'm not going to run," came a muffled complaint from his chest. Not loosening an inch, the older man replied, "'s truth, but how am I s'posed t'know someone won' come an' clock you on th'head again? Any more whacks, an' you'll be in th'Psych wards for sure. So you're stayin' here." He raised his voice, calling down to the men on the pier. "Call up headquarters an' let 'em know we need a faked drug-seizure here."
The doorbell rang just as Elizabeth and James were wiping off the kitchen floor. "I'll get it," he said, hastily doing up his fly and crawling out from under the table, bumping his head on the way up. Elizabeth paid no heed, but instead dropped her paper towels and scrambled quickly after him, tugging at skirt and shirt as she went.
James tapped a screen on the foyer side-table, displaying the view on the other side of the door. Peering over his shoulder, Elizabeth squealed. "Will!...and Anamaria?"
"So this'll be William Turner, Bootstrap's boy," Anamaria drawled, giving him a thorough examination with her eyes. "Pas mal, Jack."
"Anamaria?" Jack said hesitantly, half-hiding behind Will. "Not that I'm not overjoyed t'see you so soon after surgery, but…surgery. An'…well…y're lettin' a man hold you."
"I was visiting Gillette in the hospital, and her knives make for a very persuasive argument," Groves muttered contritely, shifting so his grip on Anamaria didn't brush any of the bandages or stitches dotting her limbs.
"What, you be thinkin' I wouldn' go for house stay soon as I could?" Anamaria quipped. "Hate hospitals more'n I hate men, an' 'sides, Groves here-" she gave him an indulgent pat "-is a fine gentleman."
Next to them, the door suddenly flung itself open and a flurry of gold and tan swept out to completely envelop Will. "You're back! You're okay-well, you're standing. My God, what did Barbossa do to you?"
Grinning broadly, Will grabbed Elizabeth about the waist and swung her up to plant his lips solidly on hers. "Lizzie, God, it's so damn good to see you."
"Ah, young love," Jack sighed fondly. Jerking, James stared over at his colleague, demanding, "How did you get in here already?"
"Well, I'd believe I've a standing invite," Jack smarmed, groping James' ass as he walked further into the apartment. Stiffening immediately, the other man snorted and pulled Will and Elizabeth inside so Groves could enter and deposit Anamaria on the couch, still making profuse excuses as he exited.
"So where'd we be?" the older woman immediately asked. Jack and Will both flinched.
"Jesus Christ, have you seen a doctor yet?" Elizabeth counter-questioned. Will nodded and said, "We both did. I'm fine-okay, I hurt, but I can deal."
Anamaria scowled at the younger woman, who scrunched up her face in reply. Then screeched into a fit of giggling as Will pulled Elizabeth into his lap and sat them both down on the couch, between Anamaria's fluffy bandages and Jack's lounging body. Smiling slightly as well, James carefully cleared the coffee table and then settled onto it, facing the other four. "And for the other answer?" he said.
"Barbossa's crew is gone, and yes, Anamaria, thanks for th'redeployment this mornin'," Jack answered, looking momentarily smug before becoming serious again. "But th'bastard's still runnin' around. Don't think he's on for th'programs anymore, so much as for the revenge."
"What are we doing with those?" Will pondered, raising his head from Elizabeth's shoulder.
"Sendin' a copy on to headquarters," Jack replied. "I know y'll not like that, but some o' the manufacturing might apply to other drugs. Useful ones, like."
"They do use cocaine for legitimate reasons in medicine," Elizabeth added, though she didn't look very thrilled either.
"All right," Will consented grudgingly. "I'll burn a copy to CD, and then I'm destroying the files."
"Two copies," James interjected. "MI6 will need some kind of justification for these past few days."
"Two copies," Jack and Anamaria agreed. "But that's all you'd be gettin'," Jack warned. "Sorry, Jaime, but I can't tell you where or how th'files came t'be."
"That is acceptable," James said, tone indicating he'd expected such a verdict.
Grunting, Will nodded reluctantly. "Whatever. Where'd you put the computer?"
"Oh. It's in the kitchen," Elizabeth said faintly, not blushing. Not that it made a difference. Jack chuckled, James twitched, and Will smiled knowingly, commenting as he slid out from under her, "So that's how your hair got flattened."
"Will!" Elizabeth objected vociferously to his retreating back. Slumping back into the cushions, she pouted until a hand tipped up her chin. Gazing at her with some contemplation and no little amusement, Anamaria remarked to Jack, "Merde. 's almost incestuous, how we're crossin' all over each other like this. An' where th'hell are we sleepin', now?"
"I fed Elizabeth, and I suppose I could provide dinner for everyone," James offered, eyes an ironic shade of jade. "As for the bedrooms, if you don't feel like returning to your own base, I do have guestrooms available."
"S'pose it'll have t'be a joint operation, anyways," Jack mused out loud. "Don' think they'll let me borrow from Gitmo for this, so I can't bring anyone home 'til Barbossa's taken down."
"And that, I believe, is my cue to return to work," James stated, getting to his feet. His sleeve was tugged the other way, and he looked down into Elizabeth's worried face.
"You're coming back, right?" she asked.
"He does live here," Anamaria muttered.
Ignoring the side commentary, James told Elizabeth, "Certainly. But regretfully, I have matters to which I must attend. Jack, you've lookouts for Barbossa-"
"Yeah. 'm covering the usual hideyholes, an' some o' the odd ones. Can't do much 'bout political fallout right now, though."
"-my men will see to that and to general intelligence then," James continued. "And do try to keep my sheets decent."
"If you'd be so worried, then stay an' see to 'em," Jack grinned, reaching out to briefly clasp the other man's arm.
"Thank you, but I'm-"
"-a bit sore?" Will finished snarkily, coming back with an iridescent CD twirling around one finger. "Amen to that. I know just how you feel."
Jack and Anamaria looked at a crimson James, who stared at Elizabeth, who reddened deeply. "Well, I could smell Jack on you," she muttered defiantly to James, "And of course I'm going to compare notes with Will. Keep telling you, we love each other."
"And I presume we're all too maladjusted to do otherwise," James noted. "Though it would be both churlish and false of me to protest the results." He held out a hand to Will, who, startled, took it and shook firmly. "James Norrington. I knew your father, though mostly by reputation," James went on. "He was an excellent operative, and deserved better than he received."
"Um, Will Turner. Pleased to meet you, too," Will answered bemusedly. "And you," he said, turning briefly to Anamaria, who gave him a flippant salute.
"Indeed," James replied, and something in his tone made Will twist back, then stare, a smile gradually blooming on his face. In the background, Elizabeth laughed.
Releasing the hand, James took the CD from Will and delicately stowed it in his briefcase. He walked out of the apartment, his last mumble drifting back to them. "…spending entirely too much time with Jack…debauchery…"
"Do you need another pillow?" Elizabeth asked anxiously. "Or maybe a drink? I know I saw some rum in the kitchen, and Jaime's got a cappuccino machine-"
"Fille!" Anamaria interrupted, tone brimming with irritation. "'m doing very well, thank you. Any more'n I'll be smothered t'death."
"Oh, okay. I'll go see to Will, then," the younger woman said, sounding injured. She made to get up from the bed, but a hard grip encircled her wrist and pulled her back.
"Putain de merde," Anamaria sighed. "Ev'ryone's always so damn impatient." And then her mouth was nipping at Elizabeth's, sending warm flutters all through the other woman's body. Slipping a hand into the blonde hair, the older woman pulled Elizabeth into a decisive kiss, expertly fondling breast and hip as she did.
When she moved away, Elizabeth's breathing had already begun to speed up. "James warmed you up proper, he did," Anamaria chuckled, sniffing along the crescent of the other woman's neck. "Damn shame I've got chunks o' m'self t'regrow."
"I'm glad you're all right, too," Elizabeth murmured. Then, more thoughtfully, she said, "This…I don't get it. I don't even feel like I'm betraying anyone…"
"Weren' you hearkenin' t'Norrington?" Anamaria inquired, pressing her forehead to the pale one in front of her. "Man's ass always needs a good loosenin' up by Jack, but that Brit do have brains. We ain't anythin' like common, fille."
Smiling into the older woman's cheek, Elizabeth replied, "Good. So…"
"Y'd be owin' me for the lent clothes this mornin'," Anamaria said. "Now go celebrate wi' your boy an' Jack. An' 'member t'come back an' tell me 'bout it tomorrow."
"Jack," Will gasped at the decorative plaster above him. A tongue flicked into his navel, and his hands tightened in the black mane blanketing his belly. "Jack…can't we go faster?"
"I'd be thinkin' not," was the smug reply. "This time we're doin' it proper. 'sides, Lizzie'd kill me if y'can' walk y'self to th'breakfast table tomorrow."
"Damn straight," came a throaty voice, and the bed dipped as another warm, soft mouth started to flicker over Will's body. Groaning, Will curled down to meet Elizabeth's rising lips, re-exploring familiar territory as his and Jack's hands stripped her till she was as bare as them. He licked gently over the light mouth-shaped bruises dotting her breasts and collarbone, while she swiped a tender tongue over the far darker ones on Will, lovingly kissing the butterfly bandages at his temple. Her slender fingers smoothed over his sides up to his back, meeting broader hands and entwining with their roughened digits to drag quivering moans from Will. Scooting up slightly so Will's cock rubbed tantalizingly against her clit, Elizabeth looked over his shoulder to discover lively eyes watching her. "Well, hello," she smiled, leaning forward to kiss Jack.
Turning his head just in time to see them, Will froze and stared, his mouth abruptly parching. "Oh, my God," he breathed.
"Yeah," Elizabeth whispered, reaching down to the leaking cock pressing against her and directing it inside. Gasping and shuddering against her, Will immediately tried to rock his hips, but found himself held securely still by two pairs of hands. "You prat," Elizabeth said, mock-angry. "You've been holding out on me. Us."
"'s a good motto for this kind o' occasion," Jack put in, his mouth tracing a hot stripe down the curves of Will's back. "Take all y'can, an' give nothin' back."
"Aye, captain," she smirked, flexing muscle inside so above her, Will thrashed helplessly back into Jack's slow-teasing hands.
"'m sorry, I'm sorry, sorry, I heartily apologize, I'm sorry," Will babbled, eyesight wavering, nerves firing randomly under the inundation of pleasure stroking over his skin, sucking along his bones, pooling in his aching cock. His knees buckled, and he nearly crushed Elizabeth before he caught himself on his elbows. "Tell you whatever, anything," he moaned. "God, just let me move. Please."
"Now that's glittery," Jack remarked, releasing Will's hips and sinking down to run teeth over the lovely quivering ass in front of him. Crying out nonsense, the younger man immediately began to piston in and out Elizabeth, but his bedmates seized his legs and forced him to a more relaxed rhythm.
"This is not fair," Will protested weakly, hips involuntarily trying to jerk faster. "I've gotten…beaten up…the most, so I…should get…nicer-nicer-"
"'Cause you're a wimp?" Elizabeth retorted, but she nevertheless brought her knees up to hug his sides and urge him a little quicker. Jack helped them along with a few well-timed pushes, while he continued to map every bit of Will with his lips and fingertips. The three rocked together harder and quicker, till Elizabeth suddenly arched up, entire body going rigid for one floating moment before she collapsed back onto the blankets, voicing a long coo as she did. Will came soon after, almost bucking Jack off the bed as he snapped his hips one last time and howled. He fell limply forward, Elizabeth's breasts cushioning his dizzy head.
"Ah," Jack sighed contentedly, ignoring his own pressing lust for the moment. "Was almost as good as rum."
"Liz-" Will growled, indignation unearthing a surprising reserve of energy.
"Precisely," she answered. Jack's eyes widened, and he made to scramble back, but three hands grabbed his wrists, and a fourth pinned his thigh to the mattress as two heads descended on his cock. Dropping backward, he carded his fingers through cornsilk and sable, letting himself sink fully into the sensations flicking and swallowing about his groin. "That's good…oh, holy mother, that's…Will, Liz…Jesus, do it again…oh, Christ in His Heavenly choir…'s hotter than a Barbados lass at noon…
"Never shuts up, huh," Elizabeth commented around a mouthful of flesh. Will shrugged and swirled his tongue over hot skin. "Don't think so," he replied, sliding over to messily kiss Elizabeth as they both sucked at Jack's balls.
Under that determined an assault, it was a wonder that Jack lasted the seven minutes he did before he finally climaxed as well. Slowly uncurling his fingers from the bedcovers, he glanced back down just in time to see Elizabeth and Will licking his come off each other's faces. "Hell," he growled, ripping the stained blankets off the bed to snuggle down behind Will, "Don' need anyone else tryin' t'kill me." Jack spooned up to the other man and draped an arm about Will's waist. "The both o' you'll take care o' that."
"Like you haven't all but signed the adoption papers," Elizabeth snorted, clambering over to give both men one last peck before she got unsteadily off the bed. "I'm going to Anamaria," she told Will. "See you in the morning."
A catty smile on his face, he nodded. "Have fun."
Elizabeth was rudely shaken out of her lovely dreaming fantasies by the shrilling of a cell phone. Grumbling, she crawled over the other woman, making sure not to jar Anamaria's injuries, and clawed the phone off the table.
"Who's it?" the older woman asked, still too sleepy to be grumpy.
"Dunno," Elizabeth slurred, slapping the cell into Anamaria's outstretched hand and then promptly flopping back down. Unfortunately, she didn't get to lie there for more than a minute before Anamaria was pulling her up.
"C'mon, fille, bonjour. Lčve-toi," the older woman urged. "Gotta see Jack, an' I need a crutch."
"I'm good for more'n that," Elizabeth muttered, but nonetheless helped Anamaria up and over to the other bedroom, where they found Jack and Will already roused, also staring at a cell phone.
"Bad news all 'round, then?" Anamaria asked rhetorically. "Merde. Goddamned lousy week."
"That was James," Will said. "He said he was questioning more of the smugglers when one of them got hold of an Aztec Gold sample they had and went wild. Wrecked the place, and during the fight, a smuggler got away with his copy of the programs."
"An' this was Cotton's parrot," Anamaria answered, holding up her phone. "Don' look at me like that. 's a smart bird. Jack, Barbossa's shown up at the Isla de la Muerte junkyard."
Game Outtake 2: Scattergories
James: *shell-shocked* I got laid. Twice.