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And Taxes 10 - The Mad Fangirl

Title: Taxes 7: The Holiday Season

Author: The Mad Fangirl - batya_93@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: Not mine, savvy?

Rating: NC-17

Arrrrchive: Yes, please - just tell me where.

Pairings: W/J, A/K (sorta - you'll see)
Warnings: Hot guy-guy slashy action; i.e. men having graphic sex with
other men. Also, for those that avoid such things, there are het
references. Nothing graphic, though, and it's only to serve the greater
good of the slashy plot, I swear!

X-Posted to the usual J/W oriented suspects.

Summary and Notes:

Hi all! Okay, Taxes 7, at least the main story, did not want to get up
to X-Mas week itself, even though it was meant to be the holiday fic. I
tried for a while to whip it into shape but it stubbornly resisted, and
then started saying, "thank you, ma'am, can I have another?" I found
that to be just a bit disturbing, so I let up, and the fic smirked at
me. I backed away slowly. Thus, here we have a couple of loosely
connected Taxverse vignettes, taking place the week before X-Mas, 2003.
I do have a bunch more holiday-themed material, so I may just use it to
back-fill, eventually, doing snippets from the actual festive week
itself. I mean, y'all gave me some fun ideas for presents and events,
and I'd really like to get to some of them...at some point...Maybe it'll
be Christmas in July ;). I also do want to move on to the OUATIM xover
and other fun stuff, though, so we'll see what develops.

You'll want to have read Taxes 5A before this fic - Taxes 1-6 and the
Valentines' day special can be found somewhere around here, and also at
Melethryn's "High Seas" archive, specifically
http://www.melethryn.net/HighSeas/author4.html#madfangirl. You can check
out the Pet Shop of Horrors Xover snippet here:
http://www.livejournal.com/community/pirategasm/432749.html .

* * *

BTVS Continuity Notes: After the series finale, natch. Most of the gang
has spread out across the globe; Giles has sent Andrew ahead to Europe,
but hasn't yet moved himself. Giles has decided to stick around central
California to coordinate everyone's Federal disaster relief payments
(great Sunnydale quake, don'tcha know) and host the X-mas gathering. He
will probably keep the house available to Slayers and other Scoobies
passing through. Buffy has not yet found out that Spike is back.

* * *

POVs this episode: Will, Will, Jack, Jack, Buffy

* * *

Taxes 7: The Holiday Season

Part 1: My Dinner with Giles

* * *

Along the coastal highway, Christmas lights were beginning to pepper
hillside homes and the odd palm tree. Tinsel wreathed the signs marking
cities and harbor towns. There were trees in most windows, though many
of the trees were bare. As the moon rose on a particular mid-December
evening, Will and Jack were on the road, heading to the first of several
social engagements for the season.

"So you know and I know this whole dinner's a setup so he can pump us
for information on the curse."

"Yep." Will took a turn at prodigious speed and Jack compensated, but
leaned into Will anyway. The younger man continued, "So, how much do you
want to tell him?"

"Well, frankly, I can't see any good reason for holding much back. We
don't know where any of the elements are - Barbossa's got them all. And
this guy seems to be on the right side, what with the whole Halloween
incident."

"You mean his horny jackass sorcerer of an ex?"

"Right. So, while I can't say I trust him-"

"-or anyone else..."

"-or anyone else, save you," Jack went on, "I see a good bit of gain
possible without a whole lot of risk. And that's all of me talking."

"Sounded like it. Your accent kinda wavered."

"Yeah, huh. I mean, this guy seems to be fairly clued into magical
goings-on, and we'd like to be, right?"

"Because if we aren't, it'll bite us in the ass again, even though it
might anyway..."

"Mm-hm. And, since our friend Miles-"

"-Giles."

"Right. What'd I say?" Jack blinked. "See, this is what happens when I
meet people as Sparrow..."

//...Aye, but me incredible personal magnetism compensates...//

Will spared a glance from the road. "What'd he say?"

"Never mind."

"'Sokay. I can guess."

"Anyway, since our friend Giles wants to do some holiday entertaining
and incidentally find out all about the Curse of Cortez, we can use the
opportunity to do some fishing about modern-day magic."

"Take all we can, give up what we have to..."

"...And get ourselves some booze. Guy does know his pirates."

They passed the Santa Barbara city limits near sunset, and as they were
making their way through the town's streets, Jack leveled a look at his
Will. "There's the Turner angle too, of course."

Will glanced over again and then tapped his brakes for a stop sign. "I
admit I'm kinda curious. I mean, reincarnation is the hard way to look
like someone; there's an easier way to do it. And I may still be a dead
ringer for Dad at my age, but this guy looks a whole heck of a lot like
my dad does right now."

"Worse things t' have in one's family tree than Turner blood, me lad."

"Hope he agrees with you."

"Oh, c'mon. In this day and age, people think having pirate blood is
cool. It's far enough back, right? I mean," pointed glance, "I doubt
he'd react as you did."

"Oh, could you cut me a break? Barbossa nearly took me out when I was
how old? I'd think I might be forgiven a bit of a grudge." Smith and
Turner there, neither giving an inch. Jack smiled.

"Aye, and I managed to corrupt ye thoroughly in short order anyhow, so
no harm done save to your virtue, Will me love."

"Virtue," Will said slowly, in a tone that caused heat to spread through
Jack's...chest, "can be highly overrated."

"Lad, do ye want t' get there or not?"

* * *

They did eventually reach the modest two-story townhouse, perhaps only
five minutes late. Jack hefted a bottle of rum by the neck, and Will had
a pan-full of his chocolate-laced gingerbread. Bill had drawn Jack aside
a day or two after Thanksgiving and explained about the baking:

~"This isn't the last you're going to see of the gingerbread. He..." And
here the professor / pirate had paused, run fingers through his hair. "I
think it started with his missing his mother, as a way to keep busy. But
now, it just isn't the holidays to the kid without massive amounts of
baked goods. Seriously. Gird your loins, and your waistline, because if
you get invited out anywhere, he's going to bring something fattening."~

Bill knew his son. On the other hand, Will's cooking being what it was,
the gingerbread was nearly a better bribe for information on the
supernatural world than was a pirate tale.

"Are you sure, then?" Turner, speaking through Smith again as they shut
the car doors. "About not keeping things so close to the vest, this
time?"

Byrd gave Sparrow voice, that he could reply, "Aye, lad. Well, as ye
know, there was a time that I did not play it so close, and then I lost
me Pearl. On the other hand, once, I did play things closer, and got
meself hit by an oar, on account of one mistrusting my motives." He held
up a hand to stop any self-recriminations on Will's part, and then
raised the same hand to Will's cheek, stroking the remnants away. "Not
entirely your fault, love, and I'll have no guilt."

"I know," Will said, smiling slightly. "Bad for the digestion."

"Precisely. What I mean to say is," Hands spread wide now, wrists
describing small circles, "I've learned both lessons, so I've got me
choice of which to follow. So we'll ... go with the flow," Byrd
finished. "Anyway, we're here."

Obligingly, Will knocked on the door, heard a faint, "Coming!" from
within. Presently the door swung open, revealing the man they'd met
Halloween night. "Ah, hello," said Rupert Giles, pushing his glasses a
half-centimeter up his nose. Then Giles waited.

Jack waited.

Giles waited.

Jack waited more, and as he was Byrd again, would not barge past the
man.

Will broke the deadlock, politely, of course. "Um, no offense, but what
are we waiting for?"

"Surely anyone who has existed as long as you needn't ask that
question."

Click. Click. Some of the gears were in Byrd's mind and some in
Sparrow's, but the result was the same. "You're a detective, Mr. Giles,"
Jack observed. Will gave him a quizzical glance. "See, it's like this.
He doesn't want to invite us in, and he thinks we should know why he
doesn't." Jack slouched just a little against the outside wall. "He's
trying to gauge what we know, and from the way he phrased that question,
to attack the mystery of what we actually are." Partly to watch their
responses, and so to see if in fact they had existed that long after
all. He suspected reincarnation already, then. Well, he'd been
considering letting Giles have that one for free anyway.

And there was the other piece. "Will," Jack went on, "what supposedly
needs an invitation to enter a home?"

Will thought back to Halloween. "A vampire."

"Right. So, lesson the first, vampires are real." Sparrow was shading
his speech now, he could tell, but he didn't mind. "Answer the first,"
He paused, and then stepped over the threshold. "We aren't vampires."

"I hadn't thought so," Giles replied, as they walked in. "Not
considering that poor transformed woman's reaction on Halloween. But she
was not truly a vampire, so I couldn't assume."

Jack gazed about as Will asked, "But there are real vampires, then?"

"Oh, yes," their host replied. "Most definitely." And meanwhile the
house received a cursory casing aided by the pirate behind Jack's eyes.
Everything new, but not too new. Christmas tree, as yet undecorated.
Little that was personal - most of the d�cor shouted 'furnished
apartment,' but a cabinet by the door had a very old-fashioned hidden
catch and compartment.

All this ran through Jack's mind, but what he said was, "Well, this is
shaping up to be a very interesting evening." And he set the rum down on
the dining table as they passed it, then set about looking for more
expensive alcohol in trade.

* * *

Not much later, the three were sitting in a sunken den, settled about a
fireplace with drinks in hand. "I notice," Giles began, "that your
accents have changed..." Jack watched him, this uncanny image of
Bootstrap, but with a secretive ghost of a smile that would have been
out of place on Bill, either one.

"Well, yeah," Jack replied. Time to whet his appetite... "That's
because, while I am Captain Jack Sparrow, I'm not, except I really am,
but not right now, exactly."

Will snorted as Giles put two fingers to his temple. "That's a
bit...confusing."

"Wait 'till he gets going," Will murmured. Jack rolled his eyes, and the
kid managed to look innocent and guilty at once.

Then he turned his attention back to the Englishman. "I don't know. I
think you've already figured it out."

"Reincarnation."

Jack spread a hand out before him and inclined his head.

"You - you were Captain Jack Sparrow in a past life?"

"My last life, as far as I can tell. And my first, as far as I know."

"But...Halloween - that was not merely memory. That was a walking,
talking-"

Jack's hand went up. "Whoa. My turn now." He leaned forward over his
cocktail. "You know magic. You know people who do magic. You probably do
magic yourself. So, as my prior life might put it...what manner of man
are you?"

"English. My turn."

Eyes widened. "You cheated!" Narrowed, with a grin. "I approve." He
looked over to Will, and caught the kid rolling his eyes, of course.
Back to the Englishman..."Okay. Ask away."

"Well, I think you have an idea of what's next. How is it that the
Captain is a fully-realized person, moving and speaking as himself?"

"Ego," Will coughed, and then put the innocent look on again as Jack
shot him a very Sparrow death-glare.

"It's just the way he came back," Jack said, shrugging. "When I
remembered who I had been, there he was, all of him. Took some adjusting
at first," and a beautiful, terrible weekend flashed through his mind,
so that he had to focus on keeping it out of his eyes, "but we wouldn't
trade it for anything."

"And yourself, Mr. Turner?" Giles tossed casually to Will.

Jack sat up straight, but not before Will replied, absently, "No, nor
would we." And then, fully modern again, with a loud "D'oh!" Sheepish
grin. "Crud. Sorry, Jack."

"Another freebie," Jack sighed. Eyeing Giles with yet more respect, he
said, "I would really hate to play chess with you. Or poker."
"You'd cheat."

"You'd probably notice."

"So how did you know who I used to be?" Will asked.

Jack sighed. "There went our question."

"So sue me. I'm curious. You're a famous pirate - me, not so much."

"You sell yourself short, Mr...."
"Smith, this time around. So, for those of you playing the home
game...your turn. I think what Jack meant to ask before was, how do you
know about magic? And you also owe me about my last name. Or rather, my
last last name." Turner's accents just slightly, and Giles' eyebrows
raised.

"Well, as to the latter, merely research. Captain Jack Sparrow is in
many the history book, both standard and arcane. You are mentioned in
several as well, although I admit I found your name first in a book on
precedents for gay marriage in, among other places, pirate codes."

"More like guidelines, really," Jack murmured.

Will, meanwhile, sighed. "So I'm the girlfriend?"

"Or spouse, depending on the source," Giles replied, removing his
glasses to clean them. "And it also depends - are you the father or the
son?"

"William Turner the Second," Will replied. "And now you owe us two
again. So spill about the magic."

"You're not as bad at this as I thought," Jack said idly.

"Oh ye of little faith," Will smiled. "Was just lulling him into a false
sense of security."

"Right. If this were strip poker you'd be nude by now." Jack paused.
"Giles, do you have any cards?"

"Let's not get distracted. We haven't even gotten to the Curse of Cortez
yet."

"And we won't, not 'till ye pay up, so let's have it then. Magic."

"Does that partial change happen a lot?"

"Uh-uh. No more freebies," Jack said, although he was beginning to
wonder when "Interrogate the Pirates" had become a party game.

//...likely when we decided we could trust this one...// Sparrow
murmured. //...at least nearly as far as we might throw him...anyway, I
don't yet regret it, and I'm less trusting even than yourself...//

Giles interrupted their dialogue by stating, simply, "I was a member of
a secret society that was developed to watch and aid champions in the
fight against evil. We used some magic to those ends."

"Secret society..." Jack didn't turn it into a question. Instead, he
asked, "...Can I see your wrists? Your bare wrists?"

>From Giles' slight smirk, though, he had the idea he'd taken the wrong
tack, and in fact, the man's wrists were bare. No blue, circular, runic
tattoos, for certain.

"Wrong secret society," the Englishman replied. "It was a good guess,
though."

At Will's quizzical look, Jack explained, "I thought he might be like
that Tierney fellow. With the scar?"

Light dawned. "Oh! The one who kept following MacLeod around. Right." He
shrugged. "I thought it was a crush. You knew better."

"Well, not until the bloody Scot nearly set me mast alight after having
it out with Kerry..." He shook himself. "Anyhow, our turn, right?"

"No. Cheating?"

"Pirate."

"Of course." Giles gave a slight nod. "At any rate, it's my turn to ask,
and high time we discussed the -" Headlights, more than one pair, grazed
the curtains, and engine noise quieted. "Ah. That may be dinner."

"What's on the menu?"

"Roast duck, wild rice, and various other trimmings."

"Duck?" Will asked, as Giles opened the door.

"DUCK!" screamed a female voice, and Giles did, immediately before
something metal and spiked embedded itself in the wood.

"The cabinet has-" Giles got out, and by that time, Jack had already
thumbed the hidden catch, to reveal a rack of weapons.

"Ha! Thought so!" Jack withdrew a cutlass after Giles snatched an axe,
running outside and trusting Will both to select his own blade and
follow. And while the Englishman was not a known quantity, William was.
Jack could sense the other shift to the self who was master of blades,
as he did likewise. The captain kept his mate and the wall behind him as
he found himself facing...

...what the hell *were* those things, anyway? Hairy, ugly, very much
*not* human...three at *least*...didn't matter. The svelte brunette who
faced them bearing only a long knife managed to prove that they bled,
which was enough to start with. The blonde girl who faced them
bare-handed (bare-handed!?) proved that they broke.

Not, though, easily. One of the beasts swung its spiked mace with near
enough force to wrench Jack's sword from his grasp. Still and all, it
brought him close enough to run the knife he'd palmed across its throat.

"...no honor..." the beast gurgled as it fell.

"You're catching on," Jack said with a bladed grin, and proceeded to
backstab the one that Will led, instinctively, onto his knife. He
withdrew, began to turn away, heard a roar, turned back to see the
blonde twist the thing's neck around just as it raised its mace to
strike.

Of course, William had had to pull his own swing so as to miss her, but
that did not change the fact...

"Ye saved my life." Grin widened. "However shall I repay you?"

A quick scan of the battlefield, also known as Giles' front walk,
revealed the other monsters (four after all) down, and beginning to
bubble and steam. It also revealed trampled take-out containers and the
remains of a duck dinner, all about the flagstones. That which wasn't
scattered over the tall, well-built brunette girl, of course.

The brunette brushed rice from her hair. "Um, dinner's on me?"

"Yrgke?" Giles said, as he retrieved and cleaned his axe.

"Gesundheit," Jack murmured.

"Yeah," the blonde replied. "Angel got word they'd picked you out this
year." She gave Jack, then Will, slightly cross-eyed glances. Then she
stepped in to give the man a bone-crushing hug. "Missed you!"

"Gah...obviously..." And, axe dangling from his free hand, Giles grinned
like a madman, Jack being one to know. The lightly orange-sauced
brunette ran up to make it a group hug. "Buffy, Dawn, it's wonderful to
see you both. You're a bit early, you realize."

"'Well, yeah! Head-hunting demon clan..." Dawn, the brunette, trailed
off as she eyed Jack in turn. "...um, gang on PCP?"

"We're familiar with the monsters that lurk off the edge of the map,
love," Jack replied.

"Captain?" Giles inquired, disengaging both sets of slender arms and
composing himself in the process.

"The same. D'ye mind?"

"Not at all."

"Um, introductions would be really good, but can we go inside first?"
asked Buffy, the blonde.

"Yeah. Those things dissolve in thirty minutes or less, and I could
*really* go for some pizza."

"Dawn!"
"What? I'm hungry."

* * *


The Yrgke corpses were left to biodegrade while the somewhat larger
dinner party wandered inside. Will closed the slightly cracked door
behind him. Dawn slipped into the bathroom and emerged half a minute
later wearing noticeably less food.

This gave Jack time to observe the dynamic. These three were a family,
for certain, but also comrades in arms, and if they hadn't faced at
least as many mystic threats as had Will and himself in the Caribe of
old, he'd eat his hat.

//...and comrades in arms talk to comrades in arms...// he thought, when
he felt Byrd's attention.

//... you're right. if the objective is information, we may have the
most to gain from full disclosure...what the hell, we were going to give
most of it up anyhow...//

"...so, how are you finding Rome?" Giles was asking the girls, as Jack
pondered, and incidentally helped himself to more rum.

"With a really big map," Dawn replied. "Sometimes we even use a globe."

"If ye don't mind me interrupting, by the by, what were those things
outside?" Jack asked, with a smile calculated to be congenial but
slightly nervous, and thus to stop short of implying he was up to
something. "I mean, I'm no stranger to fell beasties, but that lot was
new t' me."

"The Yrgke are a clan of lesser demon families that compete each year to
see who can bring the best gift to the chieftain at Solstice," Giles
said, cleaning his glasses. "They each hunt for the head of the wisest
man. I should be proud, I suppose. It's generally a once-in-a-lifetime
honor."

"Giles," Buffy said, "who *are* these guys, anyway? New recruits?"

At that, Jack drew himself up, inhaling and spreading his arms wide,
then sweeping them both behind his back in a bow so deep he briefly saw
the opposite wall. "I am *Captain* Jack Sparrow, miladies, most
absolutely and abjectly at your service and in your debt." He stood and
waved an arm at his mate. "That there's Will."

Predictably, Will snorted and rolled his eyes. Then he gave a quick
glance to Jack - the patented Turner 'are you sure?' look.

Jack decided to answer it verbally. "Will, they're practically the man's
blood, anyone can see that. And while I do expect he'll keep our status
confidential, for the most part, I doubt there's much of his life that's
not shared with these lovely ladies." At sudden glares, he raised his
hands parallel to his face, and said, "Didn't mean it that way!" Shot
Will a glance, stage-whispered, "Don't offend the blonde, she's
freakishly strong..."

Twin exasperated sighs, or maybe more, as Will said, "This is how you
keep getting slapped..." Jack shrugged.

Then Buffy said, slowly, "Oh...yeah. The pirate guys from Halloween."

"See?" Jack said, and Will gave a shrug, a nod, and a slight smile.

It was Buffy, finally, who ordered the pizza, prompting Will to inquire,
"So, what happened to the last deliveryman?" Paused, frowned. "Or do I
want to know?"

"Chucked the chow at me and took off," Dawn said, shrugging. "Hey, is
that gingerbread?"

"With chocolate chips."

"Baking pirates. Huh." Dawn fished a piece out of the pan, to Buffy's
"Hey!" and a more considered, "Hey..." as she stared at the baked goods,
then pulled out a piece herself. "Mmsh ish pretty good..."

"Thank you, milady," Will said, with his soft smile that Jack knew he
couldn't help, but the bloody girls' eyes were looking just a bit too
dewy of a sudden - both pairs. Definitely time for a distraction...he
grabbed the pan in one hand and his drink in the other, and pivoted with
two fingers against the railing, leaping down to stand before the
fireplace.

"Well, our audience has rather grown, and so it does appear an
auspicious time for me to start in on that tale you were wantin', hmm,
Niles?"

"Giles." But perhaps this now-fatherly Englishman had caught the lasses'
eyes upon William, as he looked almost grateful for the distraction.

"Right. So gather 'round, mate, lasses, whelp..."

"Jack..."

"...sit right back, and you'll hear a tale..."

"Jack, no Gilligan's Island."

"I just always wanted t' use that opener."

But gather they did, and Jack thought he might as well begin at the
beginning, or near enough, with a mutiny at sea. Of course, he took full
advantage of the flickering light behind him, manipulating the shadows
with his fingers, and soon his audience was enthralled. The blonde's
face became less guarded, and he saw deep echoes in her eyes, the weight
of authority beyond her years. Of a sudden, she minded him of
Norrington. 'Twould be a public service, truly, to draw her further into
the tale and lift those cares...and so he began to embroider just a
little.

"...and then they made me their chief."

"Okay, I still don�t get what the goat had to do with anything." Buffy
looked at Will. "Will, is he making all this up?"

"Well, I've no independent confirmation of any events yet following the
mutiny. This was before we met. So...probably."

"Et tu, William?"

He did his best to look hurt, and when Will met his eyes, he did allow,
"Well, perhaps not all of it. The reality of our lives was frequently
quite fantastic." He grinned then. "But bear in mind that we're soon
coming to the part where I become involved, so I'll be here to keep you
honest."

"Ah, Will. Always settin' yourself impossible tasks."

Will sighed. "Improbable, at the least."

The doorbell rang for the pizza, and Giles moved to pay. In the
meantime, Dawn asked Will, "So when did you remember...y'know."

"This fall, actually."

"What was it like, finding out you weren't who you thought?"

Jack's ears perked up just a little. That question seemed a bit personal
to the lass...

"Well, actually..." and here Will took a deep breath. Turner did not, it
seemed, wish to speak for Smith on this matter, and Jack sighed at the
closeness of the overlap that was shifting back to Byrd, the more
grounded clarity that washed all through him as he came modern again.
"Actually, it was more like discovering why I was who I was, you know?
Little things about myself I never quite got, before. It was
like...meeting a long-lost relative or something."

"Did you just switch?"
Will nodded.

"That's kinda cool...in a freaky Sibyl sort of way."

"Thanks, I think."

"Hey, I always liked that movie."

In the meantime, Buffy and Giles were getting plates and
discussing...well, him, and so he edged closer to the doorway to
eavesdrop.

Buffy was saying, "...pretty good looking. You guys...you're not..."
Paused. "Are you?"

Giles sighed. "Jack is very much with Will."

"Oh! Okay. But Will's kind of...my age, and Jack's kind of..."

"My age?"

"*So* didn't mean it that way." She paused, apparently thinking about it
"Or *that* way! Ick!" Jack could nearly hear her blink... "Not that
you're ick, but it's - we'd be -" Deep breath. "I'm going to stop
talking now."

Jack edged away from the door, so as not to surprise them, or get
caught. He rejoined Will and Dawn just in time, as the others came out
dish-laden. Buffy's next words managed to surprise him, though in
retrospect they probably shouldn't have.

"Um, Giles?"

"Yes, Buffy?"

"There's a weasel on your couch."

"Jack may be just a bit scalawag, but there's no need to-"

"No, I mean there's a weasel on your couch."

Jack (who was not in fact on the couch), Will, Dawn, and Giles turned to
look. A dark-furred, light-masked ferret perched on the arm.

"Oh, my *god!*" Dawn squeaked. "That's the cutest thing *ever!*"

"Hector!" Jack shouted, and the critter stood on hind legs, at
attention. "Get over here!" The ferret ran down the couch, across the
living room, and up Jack to his shoulder. "I'm sorry," Jack said
helplessly, scratching Hector behind the ears. "He has a terrible habit
of hitching rides and going where he's *not invited...*"

The ferret looked entirely unrepentant.

"Can he have pizza?"

"Squeak!"

* * *

By the time they gathered again in the small sunken living room, Hector
was curled at Dawn's feet and was attempting to negotiate a piece of
pizza noticeably larger than his head.

"So," Jack continued, "Where was I?"

"Getting to the part where Will comes in," said the weirdly formidable
blonde, who'd polished off half a pie already.

"Right." He turned his back on the company for a moment and rolled his
shoulders like an actor assuming a role.

//...ye wish me t' tell it then?...//

//...you were there...//

//...aye, and tall tales were always me forte...that a good bit of this
one is true doesn't make it much the slighter...// Jack stepped into the
sway and twist that was Sparrow, rolling with him a moment, becoming him
again. With a bobbing nod, he turned to his audience.

"So I've told ye what I'd already heard, that the heathen gods placed
upon the gold a terrible curse. Well, in the time after I bestowed me
chiefhood on me as-yet-unborn issue, that bein' the princess' get, I
traced the odd legend, and ended up learnin' all the alleged details of
the Curse of Cortez. I wanted me ship back, savvy? And the breaking of
the curse was one of many brilliant plans I had on hand to do so."

"If in fact the curse existed."

"Well, ye know for a fact it did, dear William, so pipe down."

"Aye, Captain."

"Right. So, what I'd heard told afore followin' rumors of the curse an'
the Pearl t' Jamaica was this..." He paused. "Well, I'd guess ye two
lasses were born and raised in California, so ye'd know of the bloody
death Hernando Cortez an' his armies visited upon the Aztec nation."

The girls both nodded, and Giles said, "He had the element of surprise,
as he fit the description of their god Quetzalcoatl in human form."

"Aye, but he was not, in fact, Quetzalcoatl, for as bloody as the
heathen gods were, they weren't suicidal. At any rate, Cortez was a
greedy bastard, and let his hunger for gold be known. Thus, he was
constantly gettin' it shoved at him t' fend him off. The Aztec priests
added their own gold t' the mix, eight hundred and a few score of coins.
He took the coins and kept on killin', of course. Ironically, I don't
think he ever opened the chest, bein' as he'd plundered so much, just
shipped the lot to Spain only it never got there. And as he never
removed a coin, he were never touched by the vengeance meant t' be
visited upon him."

"That is frequently the way of curses and vengeance," Giles replied, and
now the girls were eyeing him with sympathy. Oh, there was a tale here.
"They are meant for the satisfaction of those taking revenge, and are
not overly concerned with justice."

"Well," Jack replied, turning his head so his eyes caught the firelight
just a little, "Justice was had, nonetheless. Barbossa and the rest of
those mutinous scalawags did in fact find the gold where it were hid, on
the Isle of the Dead..."

"Which is apparently a very popular seaside resort, these days."

"Would ye can it, whelp?"

"Aye sir." Utterly unrepentant, worse than the ferret. Oh, the whelp
lacked discipline, and he'd enjoy disciplining him later, and where had
he been, exactly?

Right. "Anyway, they took a coin, each and every one."

"What exactly did it do?" Ah, Giles leaning forward, *very
interested*... here was the meat of what Giles wished to know, and a bit
more detail here would tell Jack much about the man. "The context in
which I heard of the curse was the danger of its creating an army of
immortal, skeletal demons. Can it? And if so, how does one fight them?
How did you?"

"With guile and savvy, Miles me good man." Ah, such questions were of
use to two types only - those who sought the curse's power, and those
who wished to defend against it. On Halloween, Jack hadn't been entirely
sure Giles wouldn't fit into the former category, but now, hearing his
words on champions and seeing his relationship with one of those such,
perhaps two, all of Jack judged him as the latter.

//...it's almost like...Jack, this is how we vetted crewmembers, isn't
it?...you're eyeing them for crew, such as it is...//

//...well ye know me, me own. May have a ship no longer, but we're still
Captain Jack Sparrow, and though they be scattered, having such
resources as me *second* crew did give me would not go amiss...//

"The curse of Cortez," Jack continued, leaning forward, hunching
slightly, looking up, "does the following. It does indeed make of a man
an unkillable skeleton, what feels very little pain. On the other hand,
said man feels no pleasure either. Food and drink lose all flavor, and
touch brings no satisfaction. But the time it takes t' set in varies,
might be as long as weeks, or as short as hours, and ye don't see the
effects, nor feel them fully, 'till next moonlight hits you. And then
you see the bones beneath your skin and know yourself for what you are,
and the ghost of your emotion is all that's left when even your heart
sloughs away..."

He blinked, and found his audience rapt. He'd drawn the lasses in a bit
too close, perhaps, for in their eyes he saw the memory of pain. Back up
a little... "Aye, I was so accursed for a time. But was only a few
hours, and it wasn't all that bad, really." He turned to Giles. "In
answer to your question, the only sure way I know to destroy the
accursed is to remove the curse and kill the man. Though," and he
smirked at Will, "I did not, in fact, see one of them regain his feet
after dynamite was set off inside his ribcage. But to be certain, to
make the cursed men truly men again, every piece of gold has to be back
in the chest, with at least a drop of blood from every man who took
one."

"...Or, from a direct descendant." Giles said slowly. "Is that how you
two met, I wonder?"

Dawn was on the edge of her seat now. "So how'd you do it? How'd you
meet Will, get the gold into the chest, take down the bad guys, and get
your ship back?"

"Ah. Now, that...is another story." He grinned at her dismayed
expression, mirrored ever so slightly by her more stoic sister. "One
which I'm quite happy to tell, mind ye, but I think 'tis time to
trade..." He looked at Buffy and met her eyes "...Champion."

* * *

Buffy blinked.

That wasn't her title. That was Angel's handle. Though it was kind of a
catchall for those who fought the good fight, vamps with souls and
slayers included.

So Giles trusted these guys, kind of, but he was being cagey. She could
understand that, but she wondered if he'd thought it through...

"Actually," she said, to the pirate in jeans and silk, "the word you're
looking for is 'Slayer.'"

Giles' eyes on her, of course, so she explained. "Giles, think about it.
All the really big bads - did we ever have to tell any of them who I
was? They all knew. We only ever had to explain it to the good guys."

"But...ah..." She watched Giles blink, and rub at his temple. "You know,
you're right."

"Doesn't mean he's not a little bad, but we can handle that." She let
just enough threat into her tone for the younger pirate guy to sit up
straighter, eyes narrowing.

Jack, on the other hand, slouched more, leaning against thin air and
grinning. "Oh, I'm at least a little bad, love."

The warm tone felt...naughty. Buffy's turn to blink, because wasn't he
gay?

Anyway. Time for the Reader's Digest version. And Giles wasn't saying
anything - not because he disapproved, she knew, but because, well, this
was her job now.

"In all the world, there are a few girls given the power and the
instincts to fight monsters like we ran into tonight. They're called
Slayers." She met Jack's eyes. "That's what I am. We're not sure how
many Slayers there are out there, or how many know what they are, but we
think I'm probably the oldest."

"Ah." And something in those dark eyes said he really did understand.
"And what else is 'out there,' then?"

Giles did chime in now. "Well, vampires, as you know, humans with magic
of varying sorts, some who use it with ill intent, and demons of many
and varying kinds, for short. Most people go their lives without meeting
any, but..."

"Haven't been so lucky t' this point, have I?" Jack the pirate finished.

"We're...weirdness magnets," the younger hottie - ah, pirate - replied,
the phrase falling oddly from his tongue. "At least, we were then, and
since we've recalled ourselves, the strangeness has not abated."

"And what other *good* have ye seen, in terms of the mystical?" the
Captain inquired, tilting his head and moving forward.

"Not so much," Buffy confessed. "It's out there. Don't get me wrong. But
for a long time, our crew was mostly putting out fires and the odd
apocalypse, so we were seeing a way bigger variety of bad."

"On the other hand, the Vatican has warrior nuns," Dawn put in.

"The order really exists? You were going to tell me about this, of
course," Giles said. Heh. He was pouting, and Dawn wasn't having it.
"Just told you. Was gonna be a present - kind of a verbal
stocking-stuffer."

"Oh."

"Anyway," the Slayer continued, "We know some friendly werewolves and a
few good witches. There's even a vampire with a soul out there." She
swallowed a few times, and knew Jack saw it. For all the wobbling, he
didn't miss much. He even knew, instinctively, to let it go.

"Really, though," Giles said, "there's far too much to cover in an
evening." Oh, hey. Go Giles. He'd picked up the ball and was running
with it, in a British kind of way. Let's see if he'd really seen where
she was headed... "Threats and allies are so varied in type and degree,
I think the best thing to do would be to recommend or loan a few texts,
and to make ourselves available as a resource." Oh, yeah. He knew her,
all right.

And damn if the pirates weren't right there with him. "If we may be so
bold as to ask," Will began,

"What's in it for you?" Jack finished.

The wind-up, and now the pitch. Buffy took a breath. "I said before -
not all the Slayers know what they are. There are some girls out there
who just got massively strong and started having weird dreams. Some have
already been pulled into fights with the things that go bump in the
night. If you ever see a girl that moves like me, just give her a phone
number and let her know that there are people out there who know what
she's going through. The rest is up to her."

"An alliance, Captain Sparrow," Giles said, and he had his glasses off,
the better to look all intense. "For you, to aid us as eyes and ears.
For us, to remain your resource in time of need. Do we have an accord?"

Buffy watched Jack look at everyone, noting the small smile on Dawn's
face because she definitely thought it was a done deal. And Dawn had
good instincts, for sure, but from watching them all night, Buffy knew
this was all going to turn on one motion.

Jack looked at Will, and Will looked back. Almost imperceptibly, Will
nodded.

"We have an accord," Jack replied, to Giles.

But it was Buffy's hand he shook.

* * *

Just a little later, after he'd refreshed his drink and settled on the
edge of the fireplace tile, Buffy caught Jack casting a grinning glance
at her.


"What?"
"Well, it strikes me that you'd by and large help us anyway. Ye can't be
everywhere, Slayer, and you've a vested interest in helping ensure that
things don't reach apocalyptic proportions. As do I, I suppose - this
world's where I keep all me stuff."

"I'm still a bit disturbed that the world nearly ends every other year,"
Will said to Dawn.

"That's just a rough average," she replied. The guy looked cutely
nervous. Then again, he probably looked cutely everything.

Gay...both of them...*sigh*...
"Hey," Dawn went on, "You don't have to take our word for...stuff. Like,
why Slayers should have a heads-up and all. We're all gonna be having a
big Christmas party - you should come!"

"Christmas parties? I love Christmas parties. Drinks all 'round!"

"We have a few engagements that we must attend," Will temporized, "but
should we be able, we would be honored." Then he stifled a yawn, which
made its way around the room as such things do.

"I suppose we'd best be off," Jack said. "Promised my present self I
wouldn't make him late t' work...not that he needs me help in that
department. Giles, you'll call us with the details?"

"That I will."

"Well, then." Jack downed an impressive amount of alcohol in one gulp,
and then stood. "Oh, Will! Don't forget t' ask him..."

"I had nearly forgotten." The younger man stood, withdrew his wallet.
"Giles, do you know if you've any Turners in your family tree?"

"I...I'm not certain."

"Well, as far as we can determine, we resemble our past selves
precisely. This..." He withdrew a small card and Buffy clustered with
Dawn behind Giles' shoulders "...is a photograph of my father now."

"No WAY." And Buffy had to go with her sister on that one, because he
was the spitting image of Giles, only less tweed.

"Well..." he said...and then Jack tapped Will lightly on the shoulder.
Will replaced the picture, spun, and followed his Captain toward the
door. And then it occurred to her ...

"Hey, you never told us how you got the Pearl back!"

"Or how you met Will," Dawn chimed in. "Or broke the curse..."

"Always leave 'em wanting more," Jack said with a smirk. "But a token of
good faith..." Will was out the door, and Jack was half-gone...
"...Barbossa's got the chest and the curse back, though he's likely the
only afflicted, by his own nature. I doubt you'll ever meet, but if ye
should ever run afoul of him...let me know." His grin was predatory now.
"Please."

Then the door shut, and like the Cheshire cat's grin, that bright sharp
smile seemed to vanish last.

* * *

After the modern-day pirates left Giles' condo, Buffy asked,

"So if you're the descendant of his reincarnation...or his father's...I
mean, if the guy's dad is the reincarnation of your great, great..."

"Well, I sincerely doubt there's a greeting card for it."

Dawn, meanwhile, was smirking, and it was beginning to make Buffy a
little nervous. "Y'know," the younger Summers said, "I think we dodged a
bullet there." And she winked at Giles, who had that neutral British
considering look happening.

"...okay. I know you want me to ask, so I *know* I'm gonna regret it,
but why?"

Dawn swung her feet. "Tall, dark, handsome, cool accent, good with
weapons, was undead for a while - I was just thinking we're all pretty
lucky he's gay."

"DAWN!"

* * *

As they left Santa Barbara, Will watched Jack, who sat in
uncharacteristic silence for several minutes. Finally, Will saw a
shifting and swaying out of the corner of his eye, heard the intake of
breath.

"So," Jack said slowly, "Here there be monsters."

"Apparently, everywhere there be monsters."

"Vampires, demons, witches...oh, my."

"Don't forget the werewolves."

"I think the younger lass mentioned a giant snake as well, when you two
came to apocalypses? Only the one, though, I hope."

"Rule #34. I will not turn into a snake. It never helps."

"And I thought that list was just for kicks." The captain yawned and
stretched in his seat. "Well, we wanted to know."

"Do you think we were lied to, at all?"

"We've no independent confirmation, of course, but very few of their
words acted directly to their benefit, so I'm mostly inclined to believe
them. Their accounts did, however, seem heavily edited."

"As were yours," Will pointed out.

"Ah, but in their case, much was omitted rather than added."

"So you admit it!"

"I never admit it, me William, and what's more, I defy you to prove it."

"You are insufferable."

"And yet you suffer me."

"Gladly."

"So, since I know you do not suffer fools gladly, I can take from this
that I am not, in fact, a fool, although shame on ye William mine, for
such a backhanded compliment."

A tickle from his present, and..."Smith wishes me to mention that you're
one wave short of a shipwreck."

"Ye wouldn't have me otherwise."

"So I can have you now?"

"You're as turned on as I am, then?"

"More..." Will growled through his teeth, and made a sharp
gravel-spraying turn onto a side road that paralleled, and then rose
above the coastal highway. Thankfully, the lookout point had some light
tree cover, though the moonlight streamed through.

Immediately, he pulled himself up and swung atop Jack, levering the
passenger seat down all the way and sliding it backward. He kissed Jack
hungrily and found his hunger met, even exceeded, driving all the blood
from his brain and making him dizzy...when his senses returned even the
slightest bit, Jack had somehow flipped them in the seat and was on top.

"I shall be doing the taking tonight, me William,"

"You're the captain."

//...all the possessive language - should've known...// And how they
loved their Captain forceful and desire-mad...and unbuttoning their
pants and removing them...Will felt his present self so close, flush
against him as Jack was, because there was no *way* Smith was missing
this.

Jack shed his jeans too, and then his hands, oh, his hands were
spreading Will's thighs apart and working in, kneading, teasing both his
bits and his entrance at once...he/they wriggled in the seat and it
threatened to become thrashing as Jack's teeth chewed lightly on Will's
neck.

"How you make me need you..." Will whispered, which made those maddening
gestures more emphatic. Will shifted again against the fingers and they
danced away. He might have whimpered.

"Funny...was just thinkin' the same thing." Jack was hoarse. It was
gratifying. And thankfully, there was lubricant in the center console,
because Jack's rear was pressed against the glove compartment. Will's
legs slid farther up and as wide as he could manage, and Jack was a warm
weight atop him, though those long fingers were graceful as always as
two slid in and did *that* like *that* and his manhood twitched in
opposite direction to his hips. It seemed Jack felt it, by the smile
against Will's cheek. Will pressed his hips down and with Jack's other
hand ghosting around and over nearly...nearly...then both hands away
again, and there, with a groan, oh, there was Jack.

The desire and the need was so heavy and Jack was so heavy atop him but
it was good, comfort of the best kind....he panted as Jack slid in to
the hilt, and then his legs came up to wrap around and they began to
rock together. "Oh, me own, me William..." he murmured, mouth just
exactly against Will's ear and warm and wet there.

"Jack...GOD yes..." And it was close, too close, *they* were too close
for art or games on either side...they did not need them...fun, sure,
Smith murmured, then fell back a little ...but this was pure need, the
sort that drove men to writhe in a convertible seat and what was
Jack...maybe there was a little room for...aAhhh...
"That...aah...again...again...."

"For you...anything..."

The heat of Jack's breath was against his cheek now, and his tongue,
distracting except when he...oh, again...AGAIN...."Jack!" Will knew
nothing but the rocking and the motion and the driving heavy pleasure
that rode him as Jack rode him here rode them all of him all...all...a
hand grasped him tight and *moved* and he pulsed hard and warm against
them both, feeling the warmth within him just a breath later.

* * *

"Oh, my..." It was Byrd, waking in the afterglow, and he was Smith,
instinctively seeking their balance. Then, a half-minute
later..."That...you know that's been a fantasy of mine forever. You've
got to be psychic."

"Nah. That's Liz." Will yawned, then grabbed a Kleenex from the back.
"On the car, in the car...I'm sensing a theme. We missing any?"

"Haven't done it on the motorcycle yet."

"Challenging, but doable."

The captain surfaced for a second. "Perhaps if I were to tell ye I
didn't think ye had the balance..."

Will smiled. "I think I might fall for that." He paused. "You know, I'm
surprised we don't do this more often, actually."

"Why's that?"

"Well, we are two men in love."

"Yeah, but what does that..."

"It's just that we should be used to sex in smaller and arguably more
difficult places."

He didn't entirely manage to duck the smack from that one, nor, he
decided, did he deserve to.

* * *

Back down from the lookout, they headed along the highway toward home.
Will stole the occasional glance at Jack in the glow of passing
headlights. Beautiful, and just...damn. The dark eyes were closed,
mostly, but he wasn't quite asleep. Will slowed down to turn into Jack's
neighborhood and Hector slid from whatever corner he'd occupied. He
clambered into Jack's lap as the car curved about. Jack opened his eyes
and straightened his seat back.

A cold wind was beginning to whistle through the coastal hills, and it
blew eucalyptus leaves and twigs across the windshield. Will envisioned
a warm drink, non-alcoholic. They might each be more than just one man,
but Jack, at least, had drunk enough for three. Will turned up the
driveway and hit the brakes hard. There was a man standing on the steps
to Jack's house.

Jack's eyes went from heavy-lidded to wide to narrowed as Will watched.
He sat up straight, and as Will stared ahead, marking dark skin, neat,
short dreadlocks, a track suit with leather jacket thrown over. "Why,
that's Tyler Robbins."

But Will marked a danger in the man that stood before them. His hands,
one bound up in a cast, twitched restlessly at his sides. The rest of
his body was taut, a coiled spring, a cocked pistol. Will opened his
mouth to speak, but Jack beat him to it, correcting himself.

"No. That's Koehler."

* * *

Taxes 7
Part 2: Home for the Holidays

* * *

It was a shock, certainly, and Will could watch the wheels beginning to
spin behind Jack's eyes, calculating, planning. Then those gears paused
as the same thought occurred to both of them at once.

"Oh, God."

"Anamaria."

They vaulted out of the car and ran up the driveway in tandem. There
were no rules, no recognition yet established, and so Jack said, "Annie
Mae - is she...is everything all right?"

The man who was so clearly a mutinous pirate sighed and deflated. "Aye.
She - she's well, or was when last I saw her." His glance flicked to
Will, and then he stared directly into Jack's eyes. "Anamaria is well,
Sparrow."

Will felt Jack changing, and caught the look thrown in his direction. He
nodded, and let the shift carry him as well, Turner's heat encompassing
his world until he saw with the blacksmith's eyes.

"Well," Jack said, fluid gesture in the newcomer's direction, "D'ye mind
telling me what you're doin' here, then? Considerin' the circumstances
of our last meeting, and by that I do not mean Halloween but rather your
crying for me William's blood, I can think of many places you'd much
rather be."

"You are making this no easier," the pirate growled. "Not that I
expected you to. Nor you, especially," he said, indicating Will with a
brief head-turn. "But I came, nonetheless, because...because...ah,
HELL..." He turned his back on both of them, raised his arms, and
lowered them quickly with a pained hiss.

"Oh, now, interesting that ye should mention Hell. Out o' curiosity, how
was it?"

Koehler turned back, head leading, eyes dark with that old rage mixed
with something *else,* something ineffable. "'Tis not a thing built for
mortal minds to recall, I imagine. I could not tell you if in fact I was
gnawed at by demons in that ninth ring ye promised me. But in this new
world..." a shudder wracked him, and he gasped twice, before the old
patois was replaced with a bland Midwestern accent. "...I learned
Italian. Just so that I could read Dante in the original. And I now have
no doubt that Hell exists, above and beyond what we might make for
ourselves. None, whatsoever."

The energy seemed to leave him then, and he slumped, backpedaling to sit
down hard on Jack's front steps. Will and Jack approached from either
side, leaning against a low brick wall, looking down. Tyler Robbins
gazed back up at them. His voice was quiet as he said, "She threw me
out, Jack."

Shift again, to keep up, and suddenly it was a manager and an
accountant, faced with a colleague's husband who seemed in pain and
nearly in shock. Despite history, Will caught Jack's eye and then rolled
his toward the house. After a second, Jack nodded.

"Look, Tyler, right?" The man gave a weary nod in reply. "Why don't you
come on inside?" Jack gave him a slightly sideways glance.
"Just...behave."

"I'll be good. But I can't make any guarantees for *him.* I barely
understand this - *any* of..." He held up his plastered arm and stared
at it with an expression that Jack recognized. The man was looking at
the bones beneath.

"Come on. Let's get in out of the wind."

* * *

"I broke my arm this morning," Tyler said, sitting on Jack's couch. Will
handed him a cup of coffee and he stared down into it for half a minute
before continuing. "Slipped in the shower. It was a pretty clean
fracture, the doctor said. After he'd set it and I'd got my cast put on,
I asked if I could see the X-Ray. You know, just for kicks?" He looked
up and Will nodded. "I picked up the X-Ray, and I sat there, looking at
my *bones,* and..." Took a sip of coffee, went on. "It all came back.
All my bones, bare in the moonlight, and *him.* Everything. Absolutely
everything. Annie, so damn *fierce,* and beautiful...I paid the doctor,
and Annie walked in, and then...I went away for a while."

Tyler continued to stare into his coffee. "I thought I was having some
bizarre reaction to the Vicodin. When my senses started working again,
everything was all...disconnected. I felt like I was watching someone
else in my body. Then I realized I was."

Jack reached out to touch his arm in comfort and that convulsive shudder
ran through him again at the contact. "Do *not* put your hands on me,
Sparrow."

"Byrd," Jack corrected, "and you're going to want to behave unless you
want to get Tyler thrown out of yet another house tonight." Sparrow
might have the sharper edges, Will reflected, but his own Jack was no
pushover. It was times like these that one recalled he worked for the
IRS.

The shudder was more muted this time, and as Koehler yielded to Tyler,
the stricken look faded along with the anger. "I liked you when I met
you," he said, shaking his head slowly. "I was never totally comfortable
around you, though. That's why you didn't see me much. I..." He took a
breath. "I thought it was because you were gay. I never thought I'd have
a problem with that, but sometimes we surprise ourselves in ways we
don't like." A snort and a humorless laugh. "And this isn't any better.
A part of me hates you like I've never hated anyone, sees you as a blood
enemy, the man who got me killed, the man who got to *feel* through my
ten years of soul-destroying nothingness." Will tensed a little, for his
voice had neared Koehler's growl at the end.

"So, and Tyler, forgive me for asking, but why are you *here?* Why
aren't you hashing all this insanity out with your wife? It's not like
she doesn't know what you're going through."

"No, you know, she really doesn't. Do you know when she threw me out?"

Jack, like Will, was silent, waiting.

Koehler leaned forward sharply, hands clenched on his knees. It seemed
to Will they fastened there to keep from going for Jack's throat. "'Twas
when, in blind panic, I flew into a rage, screaming at my wife for
leaving our children alone with *Captain* Jack Sparrow."

"Hey, I'm a good babysitter!"

"Blood enemies. Blood enemies, Jack, recall? For I recall both what you
did to me, and what I did to you, and I am not so blind in this new life
to see that I gave ye no cause for vengeance! And so often, you've been
alone with my kin, and it would be so *easy...*"

Jack stood so quickly that he nearly upset his armchair. Will stood as
well, slowly and cautiously, ready to get between them if needed. Jack
backed up two steps. Byrd's eyes were suddenly as dangerous, though, as
Will had ever seen Sparrow's.

"I would never, *ever* harm Eric or Lia. Not ever. And I would utterly
destroy anyone who tried." Only after that did Sparrow speak through
him. "When, oh when, did I ever give ye cause t' think that I'd ever
harm babes - yours or anyone else's?"

"I think that there was nothing ye would not have done t' regain the
Pearl."

"Not. That."

"And I suppose ye'd not leverage the life of your lover, either?"

Finally, Will spoke, and it was Turner through Smith's lips. "That was
not the last time." He did not mention that they had not been lovers
yet. "But each time, I forgave him, after realizing he was in peril as
great as mine. And I know that I am by far the younger man, but I am no
child. I knew what I was getting into. As, might I add, did you, when
you and yours threw him from the Pearl. Curse or no, you sealed your own
fate that day." The dreadlocked pirate opened his mouth and Will held up
a hand. "Mention my father and you are out the door."

"'Tis a bit of an empty threat at this point, lad," Koehler said
tiredly. "It's not as if I'm spending the night."


"Which brings us back to the question - why are you here?"

"Because I had to face my demons, damn you! I had to see what manner of
men you were, and how much hate is still in ye and in myself as well. If
I don't find some kind of peace between the man I am and the man I've
become, I may not see my children for a long time, indeed." He stood,
walking past Jack to the door and his shoulders twitched. "Annie threw
me out when Lia heard us fighting. She said she'd tell them Daddy went
on a trip..." He looked back. "But it's nearly Christmas."

Then he was gone.

Will sat back down and exhaled. "Oh, man. Poor guy."

"And one o' me oldest mates, who turned on me with a cutlass and a
grin."

"Yeah. That too." Jack sat down on the arm of Will's chair, and Will
reached up to massage his shoulders. The muscles relaxed, slowly, Jack
giving a humming sigh. Jack slid down until he was sprawled across
Will's lap, legs over the chair arm. Will took Jack into his arms and
rested his chin on the head of dark hair.

"I do recall him wanting me dead," Turner said through Smith at length,
"but to me, he was a face in a crowd that *all* wanted my blood. You,
and I suppose my father, have more stake in this...whatever it is. And
the hell of it is that..." he sighed, and then in modern voice went on,
"Tyler seems like a really nice guy."

"An' could he be, if Koehler didn't have that in 'im? I knew him off an'
on for years before the Pearl, and he was decent enough for a scallywag,
though always deadly - there was no mistakin' that about the man."

A near-memory blazed behind Will's eyes for an instant, flaring out and
disappearing, but leaving just enough..."Jack, tomorrow at work - get
Annie alone and ask her about the brig of the Black Pearl, after they'd
caught us."

"What happened? Did you remember something?"

Will bit his lip. "Almost. Almost had it, but neither of us can quite
grab it. I think it's because, for me, most of that time was about my
Dad. But there's something with Koehler and Anamaria...You want to ask
her. That's all I know."

"Okay." He sighed. "When did I ever worry about being super-professional
anyway? I guess there's no way not to get involved here."

"I think we already are, were, and have been involved. For Annie's sake,
and the kids..." Will thought about it. "And maybe our own, too, in a
weird way."

Jack gave a brief chuckle. "Y' mean perhaps there's some divine plan
that's forcin' me t' aid me enemies?" He tilted his head back and rolled
his eyes skyward. "Thanks." He sighed, going even more boneless. "All
right. Tomorrow we'll start working on getting Koehler home for
Christmas. You know, there's a bright side to this..."

"Yeah?"

"I didn't have to tell her."

* * *

For the entire ride to work, Annie Mae said absolutely nothing to Jack.
He opened his mouth once, to be cut off with a hiss. The second time, he
was cut off with a hiss, a raised hand, and a pointed glance at the door
that, as clearly as spoken, asked if Jack wanted to walk the rest of the
way.

Obviously, she didn't want to talk about it.

In the interests of getting to work in one piece, he held his tongue.
But as they were walking past the giant lobby Christmas tree, Jack said,
"We're going out to lunch today."

"I really don't feel like..."

"Annie Mae?" He waited until she was looking at him, then held her eyes
and said, "We're going out to lunch today."

With a small sigh she nodded, once, then looked up just in time to miss
the mailroom girl, her arms full of ornaments.

The morning passed uneventfully if uneasily. Josh was casting knowing
glances at both of them, which meant he'd recognized Annie's husband,
too. Jack wondered when. Annie, though, seemed resolved not to speak to
Jack until and unless she had to. The waiting made him begin to twitch
and fidget. When he dragged Will into the broom closet on the
Manufacturing floor, it was truly just to *talk.*

Though the kid taking Jack into his mouth came as blessed relief in more
ways than one.

"I just...mmh, oh, no don't stop...I have to be so careful...mmm...with
her right now...oh, yeah...it's critical...gah...have t'play it just
RIGHT!"

"Yeah," Will replied as he wiped them both down with Kleenex, "You're
gonna be meddling, but you want to do it in a way that brings her closer
to you at the end."

"And not at Tyler's expense, either. All of me says if I do that, I lose
her down the road."

"Okay, so..." Will said, taking Jack by the shoulders and giving a brief
kiss before turning him to face the door, "...you have to be a sensitive
scalawag. You can do that. You're, well, you."

"And lucky I am t' have ye around to remind me."

"On the very rare occasion that you forget."

Jack weathered the rest of the morning with enough aplomb to garner
suspicious looks from Josh and Annie both. Well, fair enough. He *was*
up to something, even if it sadly couldn't be classified as "no good."

Annie, of course, tried to slip away at two minutes 'till noon. Jack
caught her wrist, lightly, causing her to jerk away. At which moment, he
leaned irresponsibly far forward and whispered, "Scared?"

"Of *you?*" She snorted, and he smiled. Ten minutes later, he was buying
her a French dip at the Friday's down the street. The place was bedecked
with pine garlands, and the waitress that brought the food wore ornament
earrings.

"You knew I knew," he said, waiting until her mouth was full, thus
forcing her to chew and consider before speaking. Jingle Bell Rock
played softly in the background.

"Of course I...we...knew." Her mouth quirked for just a second, and then
the tension lines returned. She sighed. "Ye've always been an open book
t' us, Sparrow."

Byrd caught the pirate within before he could insist on his title; it
wouldn't help matters. And there came the grudging acceptance that he
felt when he was right, and Sparrow didn't want to admit it.

Still..."I seem to recall a certain boat that says otherwise."

Another snort. "Please. I knew what you were after. I just never
expected ye t' drug rum you yourself were drinkin'."

Sparrow informed his smile and gesture then, the one that said he'd
still stolen it, and Anamaria's lips grew tight. Well, things weren't
going to get any better, so best to jump back in with both feet.

"I want you to know," he said, letting his face go serious, "that I'm
not talking to you as your boss or your Captain. Because while you
looked awful this morning..."

"Oh, thanks."

"...your work hasn't been affected. This isn't about that." He took a
breath. "I know you had a rough night last night."

Annie scowled down at her plate. "Josh talks too much."

//...*Interesting*...//

"I didn't hear it from Josh." And that got a sharp look up. "When Will
and I got back from dinner, your husband was waiting at the door." Eyes
widened just a little, and he cut it off before the moment stretched too
long. "We talked, and he left. I can't say we're going to be friends,
but he was trying..."

"What did I tell you, then, nearly the minute I came back? It isn't
always about you. He began - he, not I, mind ye - a screaming match
where our babes could hear us. That was the lesser bit of it. The
greater..." No hitch in her voice - where Annie might have been
tear-roughened by now, Anamaria spoke in clipped, clear tones. "...I
can't live with a man who doesn't trust me. He thought ye a danger t'
our children, when I'd never let danger about them. Tell me, Jack, how I
earn this man's trust when after all these years of marriage I should
not need to!"

//...Ah, proud Ana...now might be time for our hole card...even if we're
playin' it blind...//

Byrd agreed, and so he said, "Anamaria, what happened between you two in
the brig of the Black Pearl?"

Whatever she'd next expected, it wasn't that. Her sandwich was left
soaking in the cup of au jus as her eyes focused elsewhere, beyond.
"I...I hadn't thought about that...not since..." She took a deep breath,
and kept breathing, slow and measured. "'Twas cold, that night. The
Turner l- Will, Will was alone in his cell, and the rest of us all
together. Most asleep of exhaustion, but not I, for accursed or not,
they're still men, and I don't trust 'em. That night, he comes down the
stairs and watches me, only watches me. I trust them even less, now. And
then it's another night and a day, and he's there again, and I look
back, for I'll not show fear even with the moon out. He stands, walks
near the bars, though not near enough to touch. Invulnerable he may be,
but stupid he's not."

Jack watched her lips curve up at the corners, just slightly.

"He looks at me and says he's sorry. Which is rare to hear from a
pirate, and so I ask 'What about?" He says, that we didn't meet some
other place, some other time. So I spit at him, and miss. The bone face
shows not a thing, and he steps closer. He says I'm the fiercest, most
beautiful thing he's ever seen, and that he's been in love with me from
the moment he saw me. I ask him if that means he'll be first in line at
the rail once the curse is lifted - after the captain, of course. He
turns, sharp, walks up the stairs, and is gone."

Unconsciously, her finger ran along the edge of her steak knife.

"The next night, he's back, and he keeps to the shadows. I tell him that
I know he's there, and he says he knows, and he wants to tell me as a
man. He says I'll not be rogered, that he'll not allow it. I ask him if
he's somehow scuttled the captain as I heard was done t' Will's da, and
he shakes his head. He puts a hand on the hilt of his dagger and says
that there may be only one way for him t' prevent it, and would I wish
that? I tell him the crew would kill him for that, and he says that's
his affair and none of mine. It's the anger in his voice that convinces
me, I think, and so I consider the worst, should it happen. I nod, and
he says, 'We have an accord.'"

Jack reached out to touch her hand, and nearly got a steak knife through
his. Anamaria came back to herself with the point a millimeter from
Jack's skin and put the knife down, slowly.

"The rest, ye know. Navy took back the Dauntless and killed 'em all,
eventually, save yourself, and possibly a few others, but I never heard
anything of him, and so I must think he died. I thanked the blessed
Virgin on most major holidays that he never had t' keep his promise, and
said one or two words for his soul."

"Well," Jack said, "It seems to me that even though you didn't know him
long or well, you've got at least the basis for trust. I don't say this
as his friend. I'm not and may never be his friend, considering what the
older part of him did to me. I'm saying this as your friend, Annie. The
man you married is a good man. The man you found within him...may not be
entirely irredeemable. And if it's any comfort, I don't think either of
them are capable of hurting you or the children on purpose."

"And by accident? He was a violent man, Jack. Back then, dying was the
only help he had for me."

"We were all violent, Annie. Some of us got a little better." He gave a
wry grin, very Byrd. "Hell, I've had two chances to kill Ragetti, one
more or less legally, and I haven't done it yet."

She sighed. "Okay. While I don't so much appreciate your sticking your
nose in, I know there's no way I could've stopped it. That being
said...your saying what you did means something, considering the
history. I'll give him a call after work."

"No need," came a raspy whisper from behind the waiters' station. A head
with short, neat dreadlocks curved around the wooden half-wall, followed
by the rest of him. There might just have been a tear track down one
cheek. "Oh, Ana, don�t ye understand? Your prayers saved my soul. You
won me free from the ninth ring of Hell, t' come back to you."

Annie, meanwhile, had her hands on her hips, and gave the impression of
looking down at her husband from a seated position. "You were *stalking*
me!?"

"Um, pirate?" Which was Tyler, because it was impossible for Koehler to
look that meek.  Then he staggered, gripping the table edge.

In an eyeblink, Annie Mae had an extra chair out and her husband stuffed
into it. "Oh, you colossal idiot. When was the last time you had
something to eat?"

"Um, lunch, yesterday?"

"Baby, sit down, have a French fry, and shut up, okay?"

He took one at first, and then a pirate's survival instincts took over,
for next he shoved a handful into his mouth. Jack heard the murmur of
approaching conversation. Someone about to be seated in their section.

//...so much for privacy, then...//

The group rounded the corner and Jack's eyes could not leave them. Nor
could he help but wonder just how much Koehler recalled of the end of
his life. For it was a group from Royal Inc. Security lead by the
department head, who once had been a commodore.

An instant later, heads turned, eyes locked, and Jack could stop
wondering. The black man stood, eyes going wide, and an instant after
that, clawed hands went to his throat. His *own* throat.

Dammit! Three years since his last CPR class...enough time to lose most

of it...not enough time, not enough *time*-

And Greg Norton had his arms behind the choking once-pirate, hands
balled beneath his ribcage and thrusting up and in once, twice - food
flew across the room and the man breathed in shuddering gasps.

Slowly, almost tenderly, Greg lowered Koehler to the floor, meeting
Jack's eyes - ah, James, then. Of course, it would be James now.

The old pirate whispered something soft and low. Norrington replied,
just as quietly, and Jack thought he might be the only one close enough
to hear. Then he put an arm on one lobby guard's shoulder and said
something else, and the man moved aside to let him walk away.

Annie made it to Tyler's side as he started to sit up, her arm around
him. "Oh, baby. Thought I was gonna lose you."

"Likewise. Just add 'again,' there."

As they moved outside, Annie Mae and Tyler had arms around each other's
waists. Jack pulled out his wallet only to be told by a wide-eyed
hostess that it was on the house. They got Tyler seated in the back of
Annie's car, and she paused before opening the other doors.

"What did they say to each other, Jack? Did you hear?"

He looked at her, meeting her eyes. "Koehler asked Norrington why he
saved him."

"And the reply?"

"Norrington said, 'For the same reason that I killed you. It was the
right thing to do, and the only thing I could do.'"

And damn the calculating wheels in his mind that could not be turned off
or stopped, for he began to laugh. Quietly at first, and then 'till
tears ran down his face. Eventually they stopped, but he knew Will would
sense them in him, and he would have to talk about it.

"Jack?"

"I'm okay, Annie. Just drop me back at the office and take the rest of
the day off. Spend some time with your family."

"Aye, Captain."

* * *

Will brought Jack home that afternoon. Jack was silent for most of the
ride. As soon as they were out of the cherry red car, Jack pressed Will
against the door. One hand on the knob, Will opened it and they fell
back into the hallway. Legs entwined as they stumbled to the bedroom,
fetching up against walls as shirts, pants, shoes peeled away. Jack held
the man to their bed and kissed him hard, ground into him harder. He let
go, let the pirate flood him, for it was Sparrow somehow that needed
this more. He felt Will becoming Turner beneath him, saw the muscles
ripple and heard him sigh.

The pirate smith's eyes opened and Jack saw himself reflected, eyes
intent, face set. Then he saw only Will, and that familiar drowning took
him. Hard, equal, hungry kisses even as the rest of the man yielded to
his touch. Need *now* and so hands and tongue slid straight to the spots
that made Will most wanton. Oh, yes, the lad shuddered, rock hard and
full up, hips rolling high. Jack reached, spread, caressed, and the man
whimpered, glistened. Angling, stroking, pushing inside, mouths, breaths
linked. Delving harder, harder, eyes closed and were they both moaning?
Rolling around and into and oh, more, always *more* oh Will we could
only lose ourself...in...you...

Oh.

Will came just after, to strokes and sighs, and they clasped tight for
long moments. Then the younger man raised a hand, ran a finger through
the sweat-slicked locks by Jack's hairline, to his jaw. "My captain,
talk to me." Paused, then Smith spoke through him. "That was 'bad day
sex' if I've ever had it. What's up?" Soft kiss. "Is Anamaria still
ours?"

"Oh, aye. That's not at all the issue, love. 'Tis just... I've begun t'
see a pattern, and it disturbs me." He relaxed against Will, secure in
his love's anchorage. //...so to speak...// murmured Byrd, with a hint
of a smirk, which fell away as Sparrow continued. "'Twas actually
something that you, or rather we, said last night, and now today with me
old mate and me old enemy reconciled, I'm seeing it a bit differently."

"Mmm?"

"Well, it was your suggestion that somehow, helping Tyler might be
something we needed to do, which made me wonder whether there were some
plan to it all, something fated. And I'd fairly well dismissed it,
until..." Jack disengaged, and Will exhaled softly. Then Jack rolled
onto his back, arms splayed, hair spread across the pillows. "Greg
Norton saved Tyler Robbins' life today." And he recounted the whole tale
of lunch, and all he'd seen and heard. One hand tangled idly in Will's
hair, while the other raised to twist as he spoke. "I'm beginning to
think, Will me love, that we were more right than we knew, and for the
life of me I've no idea what it means. Consider Norrington saving the
man he killed, and recall I've helped, now, not only Ragetti but
Koehler."

"Ragetti was at my father's behest..." Will said, then stopped, eyes
widening.

"Aye. Your father, who remembers that one-eyed swab as one pair of hands
what bound him to his cannon. And I'm not certain that's the end of it."

"What more...?"

"You'll recall all the trouble that Barbossa's pet hypnotist caused,
planting doubts about each other and ourselves."

"I'll never forget," Will replied, "and I am still sor-"

Jack's fingers left Will's hair to cover Will's lips. "Shh. No regrets."
And when the other man nodded, the hand drifted lower, to trace patterns
on Will's chest. "And you recall the resolution of those problems."

"Aye. Smith and I found our forge, and you and Byrd found the Pearl once
more. We drew upon the connections between past and present. I'd never
felt anything like it, never felt so strong or sure..." He smiled in
recollection, and Byrd tickled Sparrow's mind in a place that made him
sigh. Then they watched Will make the connection they'd made. "Oh, God.
In a way...Barbossa *helped* us. *He* helped..." Will went modern again
for an instant. "Oh...if we hadn't just...all right, now I can see why
you wanted to nail me to the mattress. This is really disturbing."

"And it gets worse." Will's eyebrows went up. "Barbossa's already
mentioned wanting a favor. If there really is a pattern...what by all
that's unholy might we end up having to do for our worst enemy?" He took
a deep breath and added, as Byrd, "On the other hand, it might all be
nothing. Correlations happen all the time. People are capable of seeing
all kinds of patterns in nature that aren't really there."

"People, sure. But you're..."

"Aye, I am. Doesn't mean I can't choose t' disbelieve me own press when
I'd rather do so."

"You do have a point. And if some strange fate does have us doing him a
kindness...we can only hope it's as unpleasant for him as his 'help' was
for us." And then Will kissed him softly on the lips, shifting all the
way to Smith as he did so. Jack let out a breath and called his modern
self up, pressure releasing as Byrd became him and vice versa, and
trailed what felt like the psychic equivalent of a grope in passing.
//...eh, me own?...//

//...hey, take what you can, right?...// Byrd replied mentally. He
nibbled thoughtfully on Will's lower lip, and then said, "So, are we
agreed that the best course of action is to ignore the hell out of this
until we can't, anymore?"

"Maybe." Will Smith relaxed back onto the pillows. "But for now...the
Royal, Inc. Christmas party's on Friday, and then we're all off 'till
New Year's."

"So we party."

"Heck, yeah."

"I can ... mmm ... live with that."

* * *

END

TMF

* * *

Thanks to GN for the beta as always!

Evil Overlord List copyright Peter Anspach. You can find it here:
http://www.eviloverlord.com/lists/overlord.html. If you haven't read it,
open a new browser window and do it now, because you've been missing
out.

The line about apocalypses comes from The Tick - an interviewer asks him
if he can destroy the world, and he replies, "Egad. I hope not. That's
where I keep all my stuff!"

The quote about sex in difficult places is heavily paraphrased from
"Mallrats" and was probably funnier there. I figure, if I'm gonna steal
dialogue, I could do worse than Kevin Smith.

Many thanks to whomever it was way back when that suggested the boys
should get together over the contents of Giles' drinks cabinet - it
works even if the original is at the bottom of Sunnydale Crater. Holler
for credit.

And Taxes 9 - The Mad Fangirl

Title: "Have At" - A Valentines' Day Taxverse Snippet.
Author: The Mad Fangirl - batya_93@yahoo.com

Disclaimer: Not mine, savvy?

Rating: NC-17

Arrrrchive: Yes, please - just tell me where.

Pairings: W/J, E/N
Warnings: Hot guy-guy slashy action; i.e. men having graphic sex with
other men. Also, for those that avoid such things, there are het
references. Nothing more graphic than the description of lingerie,
though, and it's only to serve the greater good of the slashy plot, I
swear!

Summary:

As mentioned, takes place in the Taxes universe. My muses are being
kinda stubborn on Taxes 7, but they felt sorry for me and whispered some
smut in my ear. Yay muses! This fic is dedicated to my buddy Venka, who
came up with the main bunny. Takes place after Taxes 6, for sure, and
possibly also after the forthcoming Taxes 7, if I do in fact end up
setting that one around X-Mas '03.

Speaking of Taxes, you can now visit the prior stories here, thanks to
Melethryn:

http://www.melethryn.net/HighSeas/author4.html#madfangirl

Excepting the last snippet I did, set between Taxes 3 and 4, which is on
Livejournal here:

http://www.livejournal.com/community/pirategasm/432749.html

POVs this Episode: It's all Will, baby.

* * *

Liz was a decoy, and Will knew it.

Valentine's Day being on a Saturday, neither he nor Jack could sneak
home early from work to arrange a surprise, so when Liz dropped by for
advice on a last-minute gift for Greg, he watched her and Jack, both.

A sly look...he caught Liz, and by the time he turned back to Jack,
there was only the too-innocent smile. Peas in a pod, they were, but
Jack was generally better at some things. Of course, Liz left Will no
time to call them on it. With a hand catching the cuff of his sleeve,
they were out the door.

Only as the door closed did Jack wink.

* * *

"So should I be afraid or very afraid?"

"Will, I have no idea what you're talking about. Leather or lace?"

Will thumbed a hanger. "I think that one has both." He paused. "Aren't
you going to get him anything?"

"Why should I get Jack anything? He's the only one of you I *wasn't*
engaged to." Liz blinked. "I think..."

"You know what I meant. Greg."

"This *is* for Greg."

"It's not gonna fit."

"Much as it's a fun mental image, you're right." Liz eyed the confection
of brown leather and antique lace critically, then grabbed it. With her
other hand, she scooped black silk boxers with red lip-marks out of a
bin. "Okay?"

"What about the blue with the cowboy hats?"

"Ooh!"

She ended up getting them both, the friends then settling down at the
food court for a light brunch. Tearing a piece from her peach brioche,
Liz shot Will a sidelong look. "So how about you? What're you doing for
Jack?"

Will sighed and shrugged. "I was going to buy strawberries and chocolate
and take it from there, but then I figured that was clich�d." He ran a
hand through his hair, scratching his head on the way. "Then I thought,
maybe raspberries and whipped cream, and then I realized I was wandering
out of erotica and into recipes."

"That happens to you a lot, doesn't it?"

"More often than you'd think. Anyway," he said, eyeing her with renewed
suspicion, "he's obviously got nefarious plans for me, right?"

"Does he ever have any other sort?" she said in Elizabeth's accents,
with the same woman's deviltry gleaming in her eyes.

Smith gave Turner voice in return. "Miss Swann, you've just answered a
question with a question."

"Funny how knowing that doesn't help you at all, huh?" Liz replied,
smirking.

"You just did it again!"

"Nope. I answered a statement with a question this time. Fear the
liberal arts major, Will."

"Believe me, I do." He sighed. "So what should I give him, anyway?
Besides a rose - I've got a long-stem reserved at the florist's."

"And besides giving him a sound-"

"Liz! Public!"

Smirk again. "Yeah, huh? Anyway, you were on the right track. You're a
hell of a cook; I say pick up a lobster and make it for him tonight."
Pause... "I've got a feeling you're going to be hungry."

Will decided on very afraid.

* * *

Liz ran them by the supermarket and did, after all, pick up strawberries
and cream for herself. Then the florist's, and then Will was deposited
at the foot of the driveway with a brief smack to his rear, and a
decidedly inappropriate "Have at!" as Liz sped away.

Will approached the front door, and noticed first the small silver key,
hung from the doorknob by a black satin ribbon. He wasn't certain, but
he thought he might recognize the make, and so he licked his lips. A
fire kindled, not in his belly, per se, but nearby. His breath began to
come quicker.

//...but surely this is too easy, my own self...// Turner murmured.

//...ssh! you'll jinx it...// Smith whispered in reply.

And then he placed his key in the lock, and found that Turner was right.
The key did not turn.

The next thought was meekly apologetic. //...sorry?...//

Will just snorted. His foot brushed something, and he looked down.

A small red box lay wrapped with black ribbon. Written on the wrapping,
in gold pen and Sparrow's script, was a message.

'The course of true love never did run smooth.'

Will began to suspect the contents, and upon opening his present, found
that he'd been right.

Only a mad, paradoxical pirate-accountant would change the locks on
Valentine's Day, and give his lover a set of lock-picks.

//...is he trying to drive us mad with lust!?...// a pause, and then the
blacksmith continued. //...and was that an incredibly stupid
question?...//

//...gonna be a short trip...oh, *hell,* he locked the dead bolt...//

The bedroom window would arguably have been quicker, but they'd had
security shades installed, and Will knew they'd be down. Besides, it was
likely Jack had the old locks around the house somewhere, so they could
do as they would to these.

//...ah, well. let's have at, then...//

Will sighed, relaxed, closed his eyes, and brought forth old knowledge
and instinct. Turner did not seek full control, nor for once did Will
seek to yield it.

//...you wish to learn this with your own hands, don't you?...//

//...yeah. guide me...//

//...always...//

They began with the harder lock, the dead bolt, manager and smith
together feeling out the metal. Blacksmith's and pirate's skills became
of equal importance. Amid scraping and soft pressure, Will's eyes slid
shut. His breathing evened, deepened. They worked further in, and when
the lock gave with a click, he felt the flush of triumph throughout all
his soul.

//...well done, myself...if we do say so...//

The lock on the doorknob itself was easier, and took a third of the
time. When it opened, Will stepped inside to a darkened house, and a
trail of vanilla-scented votives.

The candles were very newly lit.

//...he knew! he knew exactly how long it would take us. how...//

//...you know how he'd answer that...//

He and Turner were so close now, the thoughts rode one another and
he...they...felt as if they walked in a dream. Down and around, along
the short candlelit path...the bedroom door was cracked and they pushed
it all the way open.

He'd been right about the key.

The tableau before him was lit with taller black candles, scented with
licorice. In a brief, distracted moment, Will noticed that warm blue
flannel sheets had been replaced with black satin. Another flash, and
Will saw a jar warming above another small candle. A brush rested
within...oh. Chocolate body paint.

And then Will had eyes only for the centerpiece. Jack, Jack, of course
Jack, handcuffed to the bedpost. Lounging, boneless, with the bizarre
ease he always had when bound. Naked, of course, but for a crooked arrow
of chocolate that pointed south.

Byrd's grin transformed into Sparrow's smirk as Will watched. "So. Did
ye both bond, then?"

Ribboned key tossed above a dresser, shoes back behind somewhere. "How
did you *know?*"

Grin went wide. "Why, lad, I'm *Captain* Jack Sparrow." He paused. "And
thanks for the lead-in. Best Valentines' gift ye could give
m-mmmph....ahh...um, you're getting chocolate on your shirt..."
The brief Byrd observation was correct, though Will hardly cared. Still,
the shirt would have to go, and if it were already stained, who cared
about a rip or two...twisting against Jack, he shimmied free of his
jeans and underwear at once, looking back merely to ensure they did not
start a fire.

"Your canvas awaits, Will me love," Jack murmured. To Will's senses he
seemed full, as Will was himself, and Will imagined he felt Jack's
selves flowing together and apart, ever-changing as the waves.

Will took the brush and drew that sea across Jack's chest, three
rippling lines. He got to the setting sun as well, but straddling Jack's
hips their lengths rubbed just *so,* and the bird in flight was
forgotten as he fell upon his captain, devouring his mouth while the
chocolate smeared between them.

"Squeak!"

Will lifted away but an inch. "Hector! Shoo..."
"Ah, Will..."

"Squeak?"

"Hector, c'mon, just for a little bit..." And claws clicked against the
floor, then receded.

"Will...mm...Aah..."

"You were saying?"

"Not...ah...at all important..." And they found each other's lips again,
tongues sliding, tasting chocolate. The stuff was sticky and slick by
turns between them. Will's hands closed about Jack's wrists, fingertips
against cool metal. Warm tongue flicking out now to lick his ear and the
friction between them was perfect, too perfect, madly perfect...calves
hooked together and Will ground himself against his captain, who moaned
low and feral. Bodies, souls, each to each in synch and Will cried out
now, his own warmth spreading out between them both. His captain
followed with a gasp.

Moments or minutes later they lay side by side across the dark
smoothness of the bedding. Will pulled the red rose from the nightstand
and drew it across Jack's cheek, and Jack closed his eyes and sighed.
Then he snapped at the rose with his teeth, and Will snatched it from
harm's way.

"But Will," Jack murmured, "Haven't ye ever eaten rose hips? Of course,
your hips rose well enough...though I haven't had the chance to ...
well..." He smiled, eyes half-closed, and stretched, cuffs jingling.

"Oh, my Captain..." Will turned and leaned across the darker,
chocolate-streaked skin. He propped himself up on an elbow and toyed
idly with Jack's hair. When he ran his fingers behind Jack's ears, the
pirate made a rumbling noise that was nearly a purr. Then Will's modern
self had an observation. "You know just exactly how hot you look chained
up, don't you?"

"Well, I don't like to brag..."

"Liar."

"Pirate."

"No kidding?"

"Mmmm...." A long kiss, Jack licking his lips after. Will felt himself
begin to stir again. "...Of course, love."

"That being said," the prior Will put in, "I'll admit I'm a little
surprised the Commodore never..."

"Well, I'm sure he was tempted - who wouldn't be...?"

Will snorted.

"...but all told, his type runs more toward either fine ladies, or
fellow officers and gentlemen. Sharing the angst of honor, the weight of
command, and all that." Jack raised his eyebrows, adding, "Perhaps I
ought to be jealous, as I've gone to all the trouble to chain myself to
our bed and here we are discussing Norrington."

"You do have a point."

"Well, not at the moment, but I feel you're one to remedy that in short
order."

"Nothing short about it."

"Ye flatter me."

"Your ego demands no less."

"Whelp!"

"Don't you forget it." Will let his hands stray to Jack's neck and
shoulders. Jack's head lolled, picture of sinful abandon.

He spoke, Byrd again for a moment. "Damn. Forgot how good you were at
that..." Trailed off into a sigh.

"I'll have to make it a point to remind you."

"Speaking of making points..." And Jack was filling again, stiffening
against Will's thigh. Will gave an experimental grind, got a definite
groan. Then his eyes fell again on the pot of warm chocolate.

"Ooh. Finger-paint."

At that, the gleam came into Jack's eyes and he smiled that bright grin
that made Will need to *do* things...he did a few and made Jack's hips
squirm, and then plunged his fingers into the heated tub. Will traced
spirals above Jack's hips first, then moved in and down, keeping the
circling motions constant on Jack's belly. Lower and lower...the man
writhed beneath him. Spirals became long stripes, and then Will  moved
in for a taste.

He licked, then suckled, staying high on the chocolate-streaked tip.
Jack shivered, trying to rise higher, and Will pulled back, reaching
around behind to grab and hold.

"I ... ohhh... I suppose that...mm... commanding ye to finish me proper
would...be ironic, considering the steel what holds me from a commanding
position...hh..." Will slipped down further and Jack gasped for air.

"Perhaps you should steel yourself, then, captain mine..." Will said,
lifting away with a lick.

"Why? I've stolen ye away well enough...but if ye want me to beg, I've
never been too proud..."

"No need." And Will fell back upon him hungrily, taking Jack half in at
once, at the same time sliding hands around from rear to front, holding
Jack's hips to the bed.

Unable to rise, they *shook*..."William, me own! Will,
Will...oh...ahh....AH! WILL!" and he watched as eyes shuttered and that
dark head flew back, as he drank in his love.

Jack gave a long sigh before opening his eyes. Will met that satisfied,
if slightly hazy look while licking chocolate from the corners of his
mouth.

"Beats chocolate-covered strawberries all to heck," he observed,
proceeding to clean his fingers.

"Playing it cool, huh?" Jack smirked in modern accent. "You know you
just want to jump me."

"Oh, *hell* yeah." And how, exactly, hadn't he noticed his own lust
returned so strong?

//...well, I know not, but it begs to be satisfied...//

//...and he's begging to satisfy...//

Will *lunged,* grabbing a tube from beneath the pillows as he took
Jack's mouth. One hand smoothed sweat-spiked bangs while the other
sought within, finding Jack utterly relaxed, accepting, beguiling,
tempting...oh, oh, yes, he needed this again, now, NOW...pulled back,
prepared, he felt himself fall into Jack with a moan that started in his
toes.

"Listen to your Captain, now..." came the low, irresistible voice. "Give
it up, love. Stop thinking. Just move, my William. Just move."

Thought fled and Will moved...nothing but the burning heat of that
movement and the cries that had to be coming from his throat but
sounding utterly foreign...heat, movement, sound...god...GOD..."AAAH!
JACK!" Every muscle stretched taut, pleasure unbearable as they all
released at once..."JACK..."

Will fell again and knew he had been falling forever.

"...Jack...oh, God, I love you..."

* * *

...Boneless. He was utterly boneless, sprawled atop and within his
lover.

"...love you too, lad. Happy Valentine's Day."

"It is, isn't it? Wow...I need to fall victim to your nefarious schemes
more often."

"Nefarious. Always liked that word." Beneath Will, Jack rolled his
shoulders.

Which led to another thought. "Man, I really ought to un-cuff you."

"Yeah, um...good luck with that...something we were gonna mention..."

"Jack?" Will looked behind to the dresser, then carefully pulled away.
"Where's the key?"

"Hector ran off with it right about when we were getting started."

"Oh." Will paused. "That was probably kind of important, huh?"

"Seems more so in retrospect."

"Well, where's the other key? You had to have another one to cuff
yourself..."

"Yeah. Little weasel ran off with that one as soon as I dropped it
behind the bed."

"Crap. Those lock-picks are looking like a better present all the time."

"Well, have at - you got through the door in no time at all..."

"Beginner's luck?"

"What about leverage? The proper application of strength?"

"Yeah, well, I did have help. I mean, I learned a lot about picking dead
bolts, but now Turner's asleep, so..."

"You're kidding, right? Will? Will?"

* * *

END

TMF

(They get out of there before the lobster spoils, I swear...)

Happy Valentine's Day!

* * *

Credits:

Gundam Nymph, for the beta - thanks again!

Venka, for the leather-clad lusty plot bunny

Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream," for the quote Jack writes on
Will's present (and the fanfic writer who used it last - I swear I'd
credit you if I remembered who�).