For fabu, who requested Sparrington and provided some lovely inspiration.



"How do you find trouble so easily when not on the Pearl?"

"Such a loud sigh from such a quiet man."

"It wasn't a sigh, it was a question. And one that God is more likely to be able to answer than you."

"Talk to God, do you?"

That finally teased a sigh from The Commodore (the disapproval in that expression was never entirely James'), a nice deep one. Jack licked his lips. Thought about licking another pair, far richer in flavor and promise. Then he surrendered to impulse and history, and grinned, an invitation: Come, take with me what's been offered, and give it a shake.

His charm went to waste, though; the man's eyes stayed trained on the opposite wall of their exceedingly tiny cell, and his back remained straight, no doubt held that way by the fecking pole the Navy had taught him to shove up his arse. Deciding that a touch more trouble couldn't cause any lasting harm, Jack draped an arm heavily over the man's shoulders. He didn't play with the dark hair escaping the leather tie he'd gifted James with before they'd set off from the ship, keeping any comments about its highlighting temptation to himself as he tugged it tight. No, it wasn't time for that measure of distraction yet.

"Finding trouble's never my aim, wherever I am. It's far more bother than it's worth, and not half as much fun as you'd expect. But I can't help it if it's there, now, can I?"

A sardonic glance (aye, there James was) from green eyes. Jack adopted a wounded expression.

"I suppose you can't," James allowed, deigning to loosen his spine enough to lean into Jack's arm and against the chilled stone at their backs. "However, would it be so difficult to make an effort to ignore it the next time you happen upon it?"

Now was time for one tack, time indeed. Jack brought his lips to James' ear, savoring the slight tremble that caused to take the body beneath his arm.

"Are y'asking that I ignore you?" he asked, keeping hardly above a rasp.

The sound of a quick breath, sucked in and held, stirred the bit of dank air between them; just enough air to be noticeable when he closed the gap and brushed the hair falling over that ear with his mouth, still avoiding flesh for now.

"Are you?"

James' breath released in a stuttering rush, but, quick as ever, his head turned, forcing Jack to retreat or be brained.

"No. That is not what I'm asking."

The intensity. The strength. Two things so similar and different, and together as one.

"Good," Jack purred, satisfaction bearing almost as heady a flavor as James' mouth against his. "I hate to have to disappoint."

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