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Author: Guede Mazaka
Rating: PG-13.
Pairing: Jack/sea/Interceptor, sort of.
Feedback: If you're not tired of me yet.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: For unen2gemismasin in return for icon.
Summary: While he and Will are on the Interceptor, Jack has to attend to something.
***
It's stupid and foolish, and he really should be keeping an eye on young, distrustful Turner, but Jack needs this.
He's dangling off a line in the very front, as far into the spray as he dares. Its white bubbles tingle and prick as they burst into stars against him, slicking his skin with sun-warmed salt. He can feel the hitch and buck and plunge of the Interceptor through the rope, and it's almost--God bless her eager-to-please timbers--almost enough.
But there's no special way in how she spins against his hand, how her wood creaks and bends to his mastery. So he's got to go to the water. Let it beat him, and batter him until his insides stop screaming for dreamy black speed, and merely whimper.
He has work to do, and there's no time for pointless dalliances.
***