For Want Of A Nail

Chapter 14

by

The Dala

Jack ran fingers up his ribs, firm enough not to tickle. "Don't go blamin' me, now."

"And why not?" Norrington demanded. "I've got you at me day and night, Sparrow, I shouldn't be surprised if it turns out to be entirely your fault."

Raising an amused eyebrow, Jack sent a fingertip down the soft treasure trail beneath his navel. "Haven't heard you complain about my attentions before this." Norrington merely scowled at him and tugged at the quilt Jack was monopolizing.

Jack bit down on a sigh. There was no getting around it: Norrington was a moody bedmate. Not that Jack was a perpetual ray of sunshine, of course, but the commodore was as mercurial as the sea herself and twice less likely to share why. Questioning only resulted in getting him snubbed, so Jack had resorted to the far more effective and enjoyable method of fucking him back into a good mood.

"Been making up for lost time," he said silkily as he thumbed a nipple into a reluctant peak. "My dry months are bad enough, but count you in and we've got years to work for."

Reminding the man of his unlamented celibacy was not a good move, immediately rendering all the valuable work he was doing with his hands moot as Norrington pulled away from his touch.

"I told you," he muttered, patting the covers down to make a little valley of space between their bodies, "my back hurts. We were up most of the night and I would very much like to spend my Sunday morning in peace, thank you."

"Then I might wonder why you're here in my bed,"Jack said under his breath, muffling his voice against a pillow.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," he said more clearly, rolling his eyes. Truth be told, he would welcome some sleep, but he was not about to put up with this sulking for the rest of the day. He yanked firmly on both quilt and top sheet, taking them with him as he hopped off the bed.

Norrington yelped as his body was laid bare. Jack snickered as he attempted to cover himself with both hands, blushing furiously. Completely shameless in the dark, yes, but render him so beautifully naked in daylight and he tended to take it amiss.

"Up," Jack commanded, smacking a pale hip lightly.

"Why?" Norrington said indignantly, making a grab for the stolen bedclothes and glaring daggers when Jack skipped out of the way.

He clucked as he spread the quilt on the floor. "Trust me. C'mon, up with you," he coaxed as Norrington, still looking skeptical, swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Pulling him up, Jack said, "Lie down."

"This is not comfortable," Norrington complained. He did obey, however, stretching out flat on his stomach at Jack's prodding.

Jack ignored his protests and knelt at his left side, hands hovering over his back. "Where does it hurt?"

Norrington twisted one arm behind him, gesturing at the small of his back. "Low. And straight down the center. And my shoulders—"

Jack interrupted him with a chuckle. "I truly have been rough on you, haven't I?"

"Perhaps I just slept badly," said Norrington primly.

"So one minute it's all my fault and the next I've had no effect whatsoever on your body, eh?"

"You know perfectly well what effect—Jack? What are you doing?"

Jack had gotten up and was probing between his shoulder blades with one heel. "Relax," he said to the face looking up at him in mild alarm, holding his arms out for balance.

"Are you going to walk on me?" Norrington wanted to know, sounding none too thrilled at the prospect.

"Yes, and if you don't hold perfectly still and do what I say, I'll accidentally break your back." Which was an exaggeration, but he appreciated the way Norrington went quiet. "Take a deep breath," he instructed, finding the right spot with his toes, "and let it out."

Norrington did so and Jack pressed his weight down, satisfied by the resounding crack and Norrington's stifled gasp.

He was still for a beat, letting his foot rest gently while Norrington breathed quietly underneath it.

"Did you... break me?" Norrington finally managed.

"Try to move," said Jack evenly. Norrington did so, fidgeting before he twisted this way and that, pleased astonishment taking over his face.

"It feels better," he marveled.

"Mmmm," said Jack, kissing the back of his neck as he dropped to his knees again. "Want more?"

"God yes." His moan was as heady as it had ever been in bed, and Jack grinned. He settled himself atop Norrington's hips to begin the massage in earnest. Starting at the top and working his way down, he drew out more cracks and soft, guttural noises with the heels of his hands on either side of Norrington's spine. He used each finger, his elbows, and once his chin to knead away the knots he encountered in the layer of muscle between flesh and bone. Norrington's breathing was slightly labored, his head turned to the side with his eyes closed in rapture.

"You have no idea how lovely you are like this," Jack murmured, blowing into his face. Norrington didn't move except to curl his lips into a smile, the corner of which Jack kissed as he ground his knuckles against an especially stubborn spot just above the white scar on his right side. "D'you remember the tiny scrap of a massage you gave me in the study that day? Torturous, lad, with how you made me want you."

"Were you faking?" Norrington asked, his mouth barely moving.

"The back pain? Aye, maybe a little." He brushed his eyelashes against a flushed cheek, lowering himself back down to let Norrington feel his awakening hardness. "But turn over and I'll show you some things which can't be faked."

The morning was just starting to get interesting when they were interrupted by a knock at the door. "Jack, there's a young Mr. Turner here t'see ya."

Jack groaned against Norrington's thieving tongue before reluctantly pulling away. "Tell 'im to come back later."

"'E's been a bit insistent," said Mrs. Perry just before Will's voice joined her.

"Let me in, Jack, it's an emergency!"

"Now look here, whelp—" Jack began before he was distracted by the struggle of trying to hold onto the legs wrapped around his waist, but Norrington managed to wriggle out from underneath him. Eyes large with panic, he clutched the quilt to himself and dove beneath the bed.

Jack got up and followed after, trying to reach him with a flailing arm, but Norrington evaded him.

"Very bright, Gabriel," Jack hissed, a bit dizzy from straightening so quickly. "Just for that, I'm going to seduce him so's you can hear every word."

A foot shot out to kick him in the ankle and he cursed, dragging his breeches on and grimacing as he fastened them over his neglected arousal. An untucked shirt thankfully concealed the bulge by the time Will had given up on what little tact he possessed and barged into the room.

It was immediately apparent that he was in no condition to notice the state of Jack's breeches, or his reddened face, or the uncovered bed.

"It's Elizabeth," said Will urgently, pacing to the opposite end of the small room and turning back again.

Jack caught him by the upper arms, a thousand things racing through his head and none of them good. "What's happened? Is she all right?"

Will shook his head, gazing out at Jack from a loose shank of curls. "She's thrown me out," he cried, his face crumpling as he fell heavily onto the bed.

Hoping he hadn't landed on a wet spot, Jack sat down beside him. "Slow it down a little, William." Despite Will's great air of tragedy, he had a hard time believing such a crisis was at hand.

"It started this morning," said Will, waving his hands artlessly around as he tried to explain. "She said she didn't want to go to church because she was tired of waddling around among all the skinny wenches in town—her words, not mine—and I said that was fine, and I didn't want to go either if she did not. Then she started shouting at me to go, because otherwise everyone would think we were disgraced or ashamed or something of the like—it was difficult to understand her at that point. When I asked exactly why anyone would think that, she chucked a plate at my head and told me to get out." Finished with his tale, he flopped back onto the bed and threw his arms across his face.

Jack reclined beside him, frowning. "Doesn't sound like our sensible Lizzie. Can't imagine her missing a clean shot like that."

"I can't do anything right," Will moaned.

"Of course you can't," said Jack frankly. "You're a man."

Will raised his arms to blink at Jack in confusion. "Yes, and?"

Sighing, Jack shook his head. The boy was as clueless about the fairer sex as his father had been. "You're trying so hard to understand what she's going through, and in the end you just can't. Push her in the direction of some fellow women—kindly ones, mind, not those catty society bitches who'll whisper behind her back—and she'll feel better."

"That's it?" said Will, looking doubtful. "That's the reason she's been so short with me?"

"It's the best one I can guess at," Jack replied.

Will sat back up and regarded him with something like awe. "How do you know these things?"

"I've never been accused of bein' responsible for a babe, but I have spent some time around them. Didn't I ever tell you about Charlotte?"

"No." The boy spun around to face him, sitting cross-legged, always eager for a story.

Jack crossed his hands behind his head, letting a slow smile steal over his face. "I fell madly in love with Lottie when I was thirteen. She lived down the street and she couldn't've been more than sixteen, seventeen, but she had a little boy and no husband to be seen. I used to go by and keep an eye on him sometimes when she'd have a few working girls over for tea. I spent a good deal of time with those ladies for a year or so, an' I learned a lot about the female mind." He smirked, studying a thumbnail. "And body."

Will's jaw dropped. "You did not, Jack."

"Did too," Jack retorted. "The precious jewel of an Irishwoman herself made sure I knew just how grateful she was for all the help. Oh, she had the prettiest blue eyes, Lottie did, and holy Christ, her figure..." He sketched the shape of breasts and hips in the air, smirking at the pink-faced blacksmith.

Someone coughed and it was not either of them.

Will glanced down at the bed. "What was that?"

"The cat," said Jack smoothly.

A noise from the hallway made them both sit up straight. Elizabeth came into the room, holding her belly with both hands, her hair unbound.

Will leapt to his feet and darted to his wife's side. "Elizabeth, you didn't walk here, did—"

"Don't start!" Elizabeth shrieked. "You left me alone, Will Turner, and just before Sunday service too!"

"You said you didn't want to go—and you told me to leave!"

Jack winced at their tones and quickly stepped between them. "Perhaps the both of you need a bit of time to cool off. Will, go downstairs and ask Mrs. Perry to grace you with a sample of the commodore's fine wines—" He thought he could detect the faintest snort coming from under the bed. "—and Lizzie, you stay here an' have a chat with me."

Elizabeth crossed her arms over her bosom and sniffed at her husband, "Perhaps that would be best."

Will looked to the ceiling in hapless frustration before he stalked out of the bedroom.

Jack fixed Elizabeth with a stern look. "I know it's your first child, love, but you've got to stop harrying the poor boy."

Without warning, Elizabeth's brown eyes filled with tears.

Damn, Jack thought despondently as she burst into sobs that set her body to heaving. He guided her to the bed and sat her down, biting his lip and putting an arm around her. At least this was Norrington's shirt she was sniffling into. "There now, lass..."

"I'm horrible," Elizabeth wailed, clenching her hands in the borrowed garment. "I'm horrible to Will when he has been nothing but sweet and wonderful, and I just shout at him like a harpy. And I'm enormous! Look at me, Jack! I'm the size of a house! I've never been fat in my life, but now I can't see my feet. Where are my feet, Jack?" She lifted her legs, with some effort, to wiggle said feet. "I don't know how he's ever going to want me again after this. And I'm tired all the time, and I eat the strangest foods, and I have to use the privy every quarter of an hour, and the baby's almost here and I'm not going to be any good at being a mother!"

Jack waited for her tirade to end, holding back the desire to laugh. Her tears faded out almost as quickly as they started.

"Feel better?" he asked gently, stroking damp hair back from her brow.

Elizabeth snuffled into his shoulder. "A little," she said hoarsely. "I'm afraid, Jack."

"Which isn't something you're used to, I know, but trust me when I say so's Will."

She shook her head vehemently. "That's not true. Will is—he's Will. He's as solid as a rock and he will be perfectly fine."

"So will you, darling," Jack assured her confidently. "The both of you together—you'll figure things out and you'll be the simply the most stunning set of parents in all Port Royal. Why, I'll have to sneak into the house to take the babe away and teach it the proper way to pick pockets and swear in Dutch."

Elizabeth giggled, starting as Ned raced into the room and under the bed. "That kitten of Gabriel's has more energy than any creature needs."

"You think back on that when you're living on two hours of sleep a night," said Jack. Elizabeth, looking more like herself, was about to make a cutting remark when they were both jolted by some kind of surge.

Carefully, one hand at her back, Elizabeth got up to peer down at the edge of the bed. Where Jack could now see a corner of quilt poking out.

She looked back at Jack, pointing imperiously at the bit of green. Jack made a face, knowing when he'd been caught, and knelt down to drag it out. Norrington came with it, blinking dust out of his eyes and holding Ned by the scruff of his neck. Jack could see a smear of blood on the web of skin between Norrington's thumb and forefinger—one of the kitten's favorite snacks.

Elizabeth gaped at him as he wrapped the blanket hastily around himself, though not before a blush spread more or less over his entire body.

"Game's up," said Jack cheerfully, tossing himself down onto the bed. Norrington glared up at him from the floor. "What, you want me to deny it? Not even I could come up with a plausible story 'bout how you ended up naked under my bed, sweet."

He'd used the endearment on purpose, enjoying the way Norrington's face turned an even brighter shade of scarlet—and very much enjoying how Norrington would probably make him pay for it once the younglings were gone.

Elizabeth was now stabbing her finger in the air at them both, a gleam of triumph in her eyes. "I knew it! I knew something had to be going on!"

Jack picked a bit of fluff off the bedsheet, ignoring the wounded look Norrington shot him. No sense letting the man think he'd gone about blabbing the story all over town. "You didn't, lass, not really."

"Well, I suspected," said Elizabeth stridently. She pursed her lips at Norrington. "Gabriel, do get up off the floor, please."

Not even Norrington at his most formal could deny the request of a pregnant woman whose breakdown he had just witnessed. He hopped awkwardly to his feet, trying to keep every bare inch of himself covered with the quilt. Jack was torn between a possessive desire to keep that fair skin shielded from all eyes but his own, and an equally powerful desire to show him off. He settled for slinging an arm across Norrington's shoulders. The other immediately stiffened, though he was too busy looking mortified to move away.

Jack could see the corner of Elizabeth's mouth twitching as she tried to keep a straight face. "No need to look so terrified. This is too lovely a secret for me to share it."

Norrington cleared his throat as if he wanted to speak, but he couldn't get anything out.

"Am I the only one who knows?" Elizabeth asked.

"No," said Jack. "The illustrious Mrs. Perry keeps us in foodstuffs when we're too occupied to leave the bedroom."

Norrington choked beside him and flung his arm off.

"That's it?" she said, looking vaguely disappointed.

"Ah," said Norrington finally, looking as though he'd reached a new depth of shame. "Lieutenant Groves." He sent a shifty glance at Jack to gauge his reaction, but Jack only shrugged. Groves had reason enough to hold his tongue.

Elizabeth tapped her chin with one hand, looking at them with narrow, calculating eyes. "I'll not tell a soul, on one condition."

"Name it," said Norrington, relief evident in his voice.

"I want to see the two of you kiss."

Norrington gaped at her. "You must be joking."

Jack snickered. He knew Elizabeth well, and he knew when she was completely lacking in any sense of humor.

Elizabeth waved a hand at them, looking almost disinterested. "Go on. Prove to me that you're serious about this."

The word 'serious' caused Jack to instinctively balk, but he had never grown tired of being the center of attention, especially when he had such a fine partner in crime. He took advantage of Norrington's mouth still being open in shock, holding his face so that he couldn't move away as Jack kissed him. He made sure there was no slow lead-in, only the type of searing, all-encompassing kiss that would melt protest in Norrington's brain before it had a chance to form. Sure enough, he found weight sagging against him and a mouth fierce under his own, allowing his intrusion while fighting for a sense of control.

When they broke apart, Norrington's eyes were a cloudy seafoam color and Elizabeth had both hands clasped over her mouth in delight.

Jack winked at her. Let her stew on that while she was worrying about renewing Will's interest in her body.

"Elizabeth?"

Just before he came in the door, Norrington made a desperate flight to the window, abandoning the quilt. Elizabeth tilted her head in contemplation at his nude body before he managed to wrap himself in the curtains.

Will had a newly-weeping wife in his arms before he had a chance to notice the rather large feet poking out from beneath the brocade. He looked at Jack in confusion. Jack waved him onwards as Elizabeth whispered into his ear, catching things like "dearest" and "love you" and "forgive me."

The two of them turned and left, their heads bent close together.

After a moment Mrs. Perry poked her head in just as Norrington was peeping out from the curtains. With a strangled noise, he shrouded himself again.

Mrs. Perry gave her employer a strange look before turning to Jack. "Was that Miss Elizabeth I heard cryin' up here?"

"Certainly wasn't me," he said.

The woman tsked softly. "I'll be o'er their way sometime to give the poor child some comfort. You get him out from there, now—washin' the sheets so bloody of'en is work enough, but I'll be cross if I've got to do th' curtains as well."

Norrington waited until he could hear the door click shut before he emerged. "I don't think," he told Jack faintly, "I have ever been so embarrassed in my life."

"Glad I could be of service," said Jack, bowing. He squawked as he was knocked back onto the bed.

"My back's better now," Norrington growled, bending down to sink teeth into his neck. "And I've some things to say about your idea of 'service.'"

Jack laughed and pulled him closer. "If I'd known service to the Crown might entail something like this, I would've have turned meself in ages ago."

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