And Taxes 2 - The Mad Fangirl

Title: Taxes 2 - Past Life Hangover
Author: The Mad Fangirl
Rating: This is pretty PG most of the way, but there's some NC-17 at the
end.
Archive: This list's archive, absolutely! Anywhere else, just ask.
Disclaimer: Not mine, savvy? Well, Jack S. and Will T. sure aren't, but
I will admit I'm getting a bit possessive of Jack B. and Will S. Who and
who? Well...

WARNINGS (and a bit of backstory): Hot guy-guy action, but that's what
you came here for, right? There will be TMF-style strangeness, that's a
given. Also, avast! There be het ahead! But it's only to serve the
greater slashy good of the plot, I swear. And yes, hopefully there will
be a plot...eventually...if I feed me pirate muses enough rum. For now,
prepare yourself for a little light romance, of both the het and slash
varieties.  Those of you who haven't read "And Taxes," - well, what're
you waiting for? But seriously, what came before is that Jack Byrd, IRS,
and Will Smith, ("no relation,") a manufacturing manager at the firm
he's auditing, shared a night of literally mind-blowing sex, in which
they recalled their past lives as a pirate and his blacksmith, or vice
versa. This caused some definite weirdness, which hasn't abated. If
anything, things may have gotten weirder.

Oh, and while it might not be important for a while, Will may have seen
a monkey.

New POVs this episode: Jack, Annie Mae, and Liz.

* * *
Taxes 2 - Past Life Hangover
by The Mad Fangirl

* * *

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."

Jack 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 manufacturing 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..."

---
END PART 2
TMF

...very likely tbc at this point. TMF's just gotta bring the angst now.
What, I was gonna leave them in happy fluffy land forever?...not if my
muses get their rum in a timely fashion...

Credits:

Full lyrics to "It's All Been Done Before" by the Barenaked Ladies, from
their album, Stunt, can be found here:
http://www.lyricstime.com/lyrics/4227.html, and here:
http://www.quicklyrics.com/lyrics/Barenaked-Ladies_Its-All-Been-Done.htm.
Beware the popup ads, arr.
--
TMF