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It’s late evening when James is startled by a soft knock at his door, and Theo Groves pokes his head into his office.
‘Good god, James, are you still here?’
James looks up briefly at him, resisting the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. ‘I fail to see how my hours of works are in any way your concern, Lieutenant.’
‘You know, one of these days I’m going to take that tone of yours seriously and stop asking after your well-being.’ Groves takes James’s coat off its peg and holds it out to him.
James looks at it and raises his eyebrows, and Groves waggles his hand until James laughs and gives in, taking the coat from him.
‘Andy and I are getting a spot of dinner. Would you like to join us?’ he asks, smiling warmly at James.
James smiles back briefly as he pulls his coat on. ‘Thank you, Theo, but Mrs Partridge has a cold pie waiting for me, and I dare not think of what she will do to me if she comes in tomorrow and finds it uneaten.’
‘All ready?’ Gillette looks around the edge of the door, and James can’t help noticing the way Theo’s face lights up as he turns around.
‘Apparently James has already arranged for a tryst with one of his cook’s lovely concoctions,’ Theo grins, and James feels something catch in his throat. It’s been too long since anyone has looked at him the way Theo is looking at Andrew now.
More precisely, it’s been far too long since Jack has looked at him like that, for James hasn’t seen him in over four months now. He bids a quick good night to his lieutenants and heads homeward.
--
He senses Jack before he sees him. There’s a fragrance in the air that flirts lightly with his senses as he enters his house, making him feel light-headed with anticipation as he makes his way upstairs.
He enters his study and finds Jack perched on the edge of the writing desk, thumbing through a book balanced between his thighs. He looks up as James comes in, the candlelight reflected in his eyes and catching the little charms braided into his hair.
‘Hello, sailor,’ he says, his eyes wandering appreciatively over James. He closes the book and sets it aside, leaning back on his palms and cocking his head to one side, his eyes holding James’s, beckoning.
Helplessly drawn by his gaze, James moves to him and rests his hands on Jack’s hips, the smooth velvet of Jack’s black coat under his palms. He enfolds Jack briefly in his arms, kissing the side of his head. ‘Hello, Jack,’ he says into Jack’s hair, taking a deep breath. He smells, as always, like the ocean.
Jack wriggles forward slightly so that James is between his thighs, and reaches up to tug James’s hat off his head. His fingers brush over the nape of James’s neck, and slip under his wig to stroke his hair. ‘James,’ he says, his other hand cupping James’s face, his thumb running over the day’s shadow of stubble over his skin. ‘Have you been all right?’ His thumb moves over James’s lips, and James kisses the pad of it, his fingers slipping into the sash around Jack’s waist and tugging him closer.
‘I’ve been just fine,’ he says as his hands slip below Jack’s thighs, hitching him closer.
‘Good to know that.’ Jack finally tugs off James’s wig, snatching the ribbon from his hair and letting it spill over James’s shoulders. His tongue traces James’s lips teasingly before parting them and stroking unequivocally into his mouth.
James takes a few steps backward and then they’re tumbling back on to the sofa, the breath knocked out of his chest as he lands on his back with Jack on top of him. Jack doesn’t miss a single beat, and begins nibbling at James’s throat as his hand reaches for the buttons on James’s breeches.
He pauses for a moment and lifts his head to look down into James’s eyes. ‘Where were you so long? It’s late.’
James smiles and pulls the scarf off Jack’s head, and his hair spills forward. He shakes it back a little, looking down inquiringly at James, raising his eyebrows.
‘Where do you think I was?’ James grins up at him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Jack’s ear.
‘I dunno, James.’ Uncertainty flickers in his eyes for a moment, and an unexpected wave of affection washes over James.
‘I was at the fort, Jack.’ James smiles, rubbing his knuckles over Jack’s earlobe. His eyes clear immediately and he leans into James’s touch, almost purring with contentment. James trails his mouth down to the golden-brown skin bared by Jack’s open-necked shirt, and feels a familiar thrill run through him at the taste of Jack.
--
‘Well,’ James says into Jack’s hair as his breathing returns to normal, ‘we almost managed to get to the bedroom this time.’
Jack lifts his head from James’s sweat-slicked shoulder and flashes him a grin. Sweaty tendrils of hair are plastered to his forehead and cheeks. ‘Almost,’ he chuckles, kissing the tip of James’s nose lightly before starting to shift.
‘Stay a minute,’ James says, his hand rubbing the small of Jack’s back, and Jack signals his approval with a sigh, burrowing into James’s shoulder. James closes his eyes and lies back against the cushions on the sofa, breathing in the scent of Jack and savouring the feel of his warm weight on top of him.
‘James?’
‘Mm?’
‘You finished that book yet?’
James smiles into Jack’s hair. ‘I finished Faustus soon after your last visit.’
‘Lend it to me?’
‘Yes,’ James says, sleepy. ‘Of course.’
--
James returns home the following evening to find his house apparently empty. He goes upstairs and lights the candles in his study, and is removing his coat when he becomes aware of the smell of cigar smoke.
‘Jack?’ He pulls the curtains aside to find Jack on the windowsill, smoking one of James’s after-dinner cigars and staring out into the twilight.
‘I thought you’d left,’ he says in relief, sitting down across the window-seat from Jack.
‘Almost did, actually.’
‘Without saying goodbye?’ James says gently, sensing a blackness of mood.
Jack tosses the cigar out into the garden and draws his knees up against his chest. ‘I was at the Imperial Arms around lunchtime today.’
James stares at him in confusion. ‘You were?’
‘Yep.’ He continues to gaze out into the gathering darkness, and James puts his hand on top of Jack’s tightly clenched ones.
‘Jack, what’s wrong? What are you thinking?’
‘Don’t have to think, do I? Pirates don’t have eyes or brains, do they?’ Jack says coldly, his eyes dark with restrained fury.
James withdraws his hand, astonished. ‘Jack, whatever are you talking about?’
‘I’m talking about that tall pretty boy you were eating lunch with, James.’
‘Jack, I beg of you, don’t jump to conclusions. He is merely a colleague who—’
‘Who happens to eat lunch with you, and takes the liberty of wiping sauce off your chin.’ Jack slides off the window-seat, moving away from James.
‘Jack, he just happens to be a friend who took that kind of liberty. I assure you—’
‘A friend now, is he?’ Jack pounces on the word immediately. ‘Thought you said he was a colleague, Commodore.’
‘There’s no need to ‘Commodore’ me, Jack,’ James says as reasonably as he can. ‘You’re getting yourself aggravated for no reason. I do not want to go around fucking every beautiful man in sight.’
The moment he says the words, he knows he’s made a mistake.
‘Beautiful man, eh?’ Jack says slowly, his voice cold as ice. He takes a step toward James.
‘Jack, I meant—’ James breaks off as Jack’s hand slaps him on the shoulder, hard.
‘Jack,’ he protests, holding his ground as Jack steps closer. ‘Whatever you think you saw, I assure you—’ Jack slaps at his other shoulder this time, shoving James back hard, forcing him to take a step back to keep his balance.
James grips his wrist. ‘Jack, don’t provoke me.’
‘I’m provoking you?’ Jack jerks his wrist out of James’s grasp and shoves at his chest with both hands.
‘Jack, will you please desist from manhandling me?’ James exclaims, but Jack is in no mood to listen. He shoves James again, knocking him back against the wall. James loses control momentarily and pushes back, hard, and Jack is knocked to the floor on his back.
‘God, I’m sorry. Are you all right? Jack—’ James reaches a hand down to help Jack to his feet, and finds himself yanked violently to the floor.
‘Jack!’ He gasps in protest as he falls, bracing himself on his hands as he hits the floor.
‘So you want to play it rough, eh?’ Before James can recover his breath, Jack straddles his back and twists James’s arms behind him.
‘Jack,’ James groans. ‘Please, let’s not do this. Let me go.’
Jack ignores him, tugging back on James’s pinioned arms and wrenching his wrists together. James’s muted gasp of pain is enough to make Jack loosen his grip instantly, but James’s blood is spiked now. He twists his hips, sending Jack tumbling off him, freeing his arms in the process.
Jack’s lightning reflexes help him to right himself even as he rolls off James to the floor, but James grabs him by the shoulders, sending them both tumbling over and over until James is on top. He seizes Jack’s wrists, pinning them above his head.
‘Stop this insanity, Jack.’ He’s struggling to keep his anger under control now.
‘Let me go,’ Jack snarls, struggling to get his hands free, twisting and wriggling beneath James.
‘Not until you act reasonably,’ James pants, trying to hold Jack down. Attempting to hold him is like trying to hold a very slippery, human-sized fish. Strands of James’s hair come loose from their binding and tickle Jack’s face. Jack sneezes once, and then once more, and James fights back a mad urge to laugh, for there is nothing funny about the expression of enraged disappointment in Jack’s eyes.
‘Just tell me if you’re fucking him,’ Jack whispers as he looks up at James, his eyes huge and dark and despairing.
Part of James knows that Jack needs reassurance, but another petulant impulse in him refuses to dignify Jack’s question with a response. ‘Do you think you’ve earned the right to ask me that?’ he says evenly.
Jack’s eyes go so bleak at that that James regrets his words instantly, but it’s too late to take them back. The naked hurt disappears from Jack’s eyes in an instant, replaced by the stoniest glare James has ever seen on his face. ‘I’ll be taking that as a yes, then,’ he says coldly.
‘Think what you will,’ James snaps, extremely annoyed now. ‘You come and go as you please—it’s been four months since I last saw you—and you think you can question me on what I do?’
‘You think I go around fucking others when I’m not with you?’ Jack says, his eyes flashing.
James shrugs. ‘I honestly couldn’t care less.’ He turns his face away so that Jack will not see the statement for the blatant lie that it is.
‘Commodore?’ There is a hesitant knock at the door, and James jumps to his feet, grabbing Jack by the collar and pulling him up. ‘Get behind the curtain,’ he whispers urgently.
Jack doesn’t say a word, and steps backward and on to the window sill, yanking the curtains shut.
‘Yes, Mrs Partridge, you may enter.’
‘Good heavens, Commodore!’ she cries, taking in his dishevelled appearance. ‘What happened to you?’
‘It’s nothing, Mrs Partridge. I was just… I just returned home, and I haven’t had the time to wash up yet.’
‘Oh, Commodore. I suppose you had to go chasing after some vile pirate again.’ She shudders, sounding distressed.
He smiles despite himself. ‘I assure you that I am perfectly all right, and I would very much appreciate being left alone for a while.’
After his housekeeper leaves, he returns to the window. The curtain is fluttering in the wind, and Jack’s gone.
--
He wakes early the next morning after barely any sleep, angry at himself and angry at Jack.
When he reaches the fort, he can barely respond to the greetings and salutes he’s given, and strides into his office, managing not to slam the door behind him.
Just tell me if you’re fucking him.
That such a statement could have come from Jack is in itself most surprising. That Jack, with his lackadaisical ways and his devastating smile and his blatant charms, would be concerned about James’s possible trysts with others, is a strange new thought that, truth be told, is perhaps as flattering as it is annoying.
But annoying it is. To have his integrity patently disregarded, to be waylaid in such a piratical manner in his own home—to be accosted by someone he’d trusted—still has his blood simmering.
He flees from the fort that evening and makes his way to the harbour. He’s in his sloop and on his way out to sea before he can even think about what he’s doing. He strips to his breeches and lets the night breeze cool him down, soothed by the way it ruffles his hair, and by the feel of ocean spray against his bare torso.
Here, out at sea, is where his mind is at its most free. It’s where his thoughts are the clearest, and it’s where his words come back to haunt him.
I honestly couldn’t care less.
Had he really said those words to Jack? All his anger seems to dissipate in a moment as he recollects the painfully clear memory of the bleakness in Jack’s eyes, the way he’d slumped beneath James in defeat, the fight gone out of him.
As much as James had hated the uncontrolled way in which Jack had lashed out at him, it’s far worse now to think that his apparent nonchalance has pushed Jack so far away that he will not return.
--
It’s a week later that Mrs Partridge makes a curious remark while James is breakfasting.
‘That’s a mighty fine flower to have in your garden, Commodore, if I may say so.’
‘Which flower?’ James says distractedly, looking up from his newspaper.
‘Why, the bird of paradise, of course. That’s the only new bush in your garden, isn’t it? I thought you must have planted it last evening, since it wasn’t there when I left in the afternoon.’
James is on his feet before she’s finished speaking, following her gaze out the window. There is indeed a new bush of flowers in his front garden, and he shoves his feet into his slippers and strides outside.
The new bush in his garden is in full bloom, bearing dozens of the burnt-orange, crane-shaped flowers that give the species its colloquial name.
Crane-shaped flowers. Bird-shaped flowers.
James touches a ‘beak’ with a fingertip, making the fragile branch sway at his touch. He runs his gaze over the quiet street outside.
‘Commodore?’ Mrs Partridge says from behind him.
‘Please make sure this is watered every day,’ he tells her over his shoulder.
‘Of course, Commodore.’
He gives the flowers a last look before returning to the house to get dressed for work.
He sleeps on the sofa in his study that night, his face buried in the cushions that still bear traces of the fragrance of the sea.
--
The following evening, he receives a long, cylindrical package at the fort. He unwraps the protective layer of cloth over the cylindrical case and withdraws a rolled-up sheet of chart paper.
He spreads it open over his desk to find a finely-detailed map of Port Royal, depicting many back alleys and nooks that he hasn’t yet explored. He leans over in it in fascination, his cartographical interests inexpressibly stirred by the intricate details of the map, which is complete with a detailed coastline. A small, tucked-away cove at the southwest corner of the map catches his eye. He leans closer over it, and sees that the cove has a small sketch of a black ship.
He rolls up the map, slides it back into its case, tucks the case under his arm and leaves the fort.
--
His sloop takes a little over an hour to reach the cove he’s seen on the map, and long before he brings her in, his gaze is held by the ship with dark sails that is moored there. The Black Pearl looks, as ever, entirely beautiful.
James has never been on Jack’s ship openly before, both of them having tacitly agreed that Jack’s crew would probably not take too kindly to having a Naval officer in their midst. However, there seem to be no signs of activity on board, and James is certain that Jack would not have led him here had there been any danger of his being slaughtered by the Pearl’s crew. He takes a deep breath, and reaches for one of the manropes.
‘Jack?’ he calls out as he steps on to the deck.
Jack appears almost instantly in the doorway to the Captain’s cabin. He is sans coat, his snug waistcoat and form-fitting breeches accentuating the lithe lines of his body, his too-large shirt draped loosely over his torso, hiding his scars and tattoos.
His eyes are fixed on James, his face unreadable. James cringes inwardly at the sight he must present, sans wig and coat, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his cravat hanging loosely and untidily about his neck, strands of hair straying out of their binding, having been tugged free by the wind.
‘Where’s your crew?’ He says the first thing that comes to mind.
Jack shrugs. ‘Shore leave.’ His voice sounds a little hoarse, as though he hasn’t used it in a while. He takes a swallow from his bottle of rum. ‘Wasn’t sure you’d come,’ he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
‘The thought of not accepting your invitation didn’t occur to me, Jack.’
Jack gives him a small, crooked smile. ‘C’mon in, then.’
James follows him into the grand cabin of the ship. It’s warmly lit by candles and many oddly-shaped lanterns that Jack must have collected on his various journeys over the world.
He hands James the bottle of rum and sits down in a chair behind the ornate wooden table. James takes a sip, tasting the heady flavour of the drink as well as of Jack’s mouth. He can never drink rum without being compellingly reminded of Jack, and to drink it here in his presence is nothing short of beguiling. He leans back against the table and slides the bottle across to Jack.
Jack clutches the bottle and sneaks a glance at James, his eyes rueful below his half-lowered lashes.
James has been rehearsing what to say to Jack, but all that he can do is to say, ‘Jack, I—’
Jack chooses the same moment to start speaking. ‘Are you—?’ They both stop quickly, and their unspoken words hang heavily in the silence between them. Jack winces, taking another swig of rum.
James is racking his brains now, trying desperately to think of a way to continue this farce of a conversation, in which the silence has far outweighed the words spoken thus far. He holds back from trying to touch Jack, having a suspicion that Jack will flee if he does.
‘How’s the view from the crow’s nest?’ James says after a moment, before he’s really thought about what he’s going to say.
Jack looks up at him in astonishment. ‘What?’
‘Come on.’ James smiles at him, holding out his hand. Jack takes it warily, looking at James as though he’s lost his mind.
James draws Jack’s hand into his, running his thumb lightly over Jack’s taut knuckles. He doesn’t seem inclined to bolt, so James keeps their hands clasped.
Jack gives James’s fingers a quick squeeze, and then pulls his hand away and gets to his feet. ‘Race you to the deck, Commodore.’
Jack’s already climbing when James starts ascending the ropes on the opposite side of the rigging Jack is on.
‘Not fair, Commodore!’ he calls out as James rapidly reaches his level. James’s legs are longer but Jack is more agile, and they reach the crow’s nest at about the same time, climbing over the railing on to the platform and collapsing with their backs against the mast.
Jack digs out a flask of rum from his waistcoat and offers it to James.
‘Trust you to be prepared,’ James teases lightly. A smile plays around Jack’s lips at that, warming James far more than the rum can.
They sit in companionable silence for a while, their legs dangling from the platform, passing the flask back and forth between them, admiring the view. Behind them, Port Royal is beginning to glitter, and ahead of them, the rays of the setting sun drench the ocean with orange, reminding James of the bird of paradise.
‘So tell me about your colleague,’ Jack says finally, tonelessly, looking out to sea. ‘Friend. Whoever.’
James tucks one leg up under his body, shifting sideways so that he can look at Jack’s profile. ‘I’ve known Theo Groves since he was twelve years old, when he joined the Navy as a midshipman.’
‘Ah.’
‘This will sound like a cliché, but he and Andy Gillette are like the younger brothers I never had. Also, they’re quite happily committed to each other.’
‘They are?’ Jack turns to him, his eyes widening in surprise.
‘They are, but that’s irrelevant. Even if they weren’t, I wouldn’t be able to see either of them… that way.’
James can sense Jack’s forehead creasing in confusion beneath his scarf. ‘I thought you said he was beautiful.’
James takes another swallow from the flask before passing it back to Jack. ‘Jack, I said you were beautiful.’
Jack leans back in astonishment, his face so comically startled that James has to smile. ‘You did not,’ he says, half-accusingly. The wind whips his hair into his face, and he pushes it aside impatiently.
‘If I didn’t make that clear earlier, let me do so now,’ James says calmly, holding Jack’s gaze. ‘You’re an enchanting rogue of a pirate and I have my hands quite full with you, thank you very much. I don’t have the slightest inclination to look at, much less fuck, someone else.’
‘Oh.’ Jack’s eyes move away from James to look out at the ocean again. ‘I’m sorry I hustled you, James,’ he says, wincing, his gaze still far away.
James wants to soothe the grimace away from his face, but his heart lifts at Jack using his name for the first time that evening, and he stays quiet, letting Jack speak.
‘You were late the previous night, and I’d been wondering where you’d been, and you said you were at the fort. And then I saw you with this Navy boy, and I thought of you both working together all the time, and—something snapped in my mind, James.’
He turns back to James suddenly, and there’s that bleak look in his eyes again. ‘I know you said you don’t care if I fuck around with others, James, but for the record, I don’t.’
‘Jack, you don’t have to say that,’ James says, and it’s his turn to look away now.
Jack’s hand grips his sleeve. ‘I need to say it, James. I need you to hear it.’
James looks back at him. ‘I’m not underestimating the worth of what you’re saying, Jack, but I’ve been thinking about what I said earlier, and I really don’t care.’
Jack sucks his breath in sharply, his hand going limp, loosening its hold on James’s sleeve. James leans forward quickly and clasps the nape of Jack’s neck. ‘Listen to me, Jack. Listen. You’re Captain Jack Sparrow. You’re a free spirit, and you soar like a bird. I would never dream of trying to bind you to me.’
Jack’s eyes glint strangely as he looks at James. ‘Let me see if I have this straight. You’re saying you won’t look at anyone else, but I’m free to whore around as much as I want to?’
‘Jack, no. I didn’t say that.’
Jack’s face softens, and he exhales in frustration. ‘I know you didn’t. I just—I just wish I could convince you, that’s all.’
‘Why?’ James asks, curious. ‘Why is it so important to you that I believe that, when I’ve told you it doesn’t matter to—’
‘Because I want you to know, James,’ he says fiercely. ‘I want you to know that I never stop thinking of you, no matter where I sail. You’re in my blood, James, just as the sea’s in my blood.’
Something warm and large swells in James’s chest and constricts his throat. Jack’s hand grips his sleeve again. ‘I’m sorry, James. I was so pigheaded. I’m so sorry.’
James touches Jack’s face, running his thumb lightly over Jack’s lips. ‘Apology accepted,’ he manages to say.
Jack’s eyes light up. ‘You mean it? You can forgive me?’
In response, James leans forward and kisses his lips lightly.
Jack smiles shakily, and James draws him close, leaning back against the mast as Jack leans against him, his leg thrown over James’s. The stars come out one by one, and the Pearl sways gently with the rising tide.
--
Later, they lie together on the deck and watch the stars, James’s head pillowed on Jack’s arm.
‘Do you need a blanket?’ Jack murmurs into James’s hair, his hands on James’s bare back.
‘No, I’m fine.’ James smiles against his skin. ‘Jack?’ he says after a moment, his eyes closed, his body curled into the warmth of Jack’s.
‘Yes, James?’
‘The things you did for me—the bird of paradise, the map.’
Jack nuzzles into James’s hair, his fingers trailing along James’s spine. ‘What about them?’
‘You’re a complete rogue. An absolute pirate. You knew I’d never be able to resist them.’
Jack chuckles heartily, his body shaking with laughter. When their laughter has subsided to grins, he raises his head. ‘James?’
‘Yes, Jack?’ James tugs lightly at the twin braids on Jack’s chin and leans up for a quick kiss.
‘Are you done counting the stars?’
James laughs. ‘I suppose I am.’
‘Good.’ Jack wriggles on top of James, making him gasp with pleasure as he grinds their hips together. ‘Now let’s see if you can resist this.’