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Disney owns POTC, I just play with it. Well, mess with it. Make it naughty.
Not that they didn’t make it naughty.
I mean, wasn’t that just the slashiest movie you’ve ever seen? I say they were asking for this…
The Two Turners
There were two of them. Two. And Jack, who’s footing on dry land was tenuous at the best of times, felt the earth tip beneath his feet. It was only a hip-rolling, arm-waving miracle that kept him on his feet. He discovered quickly that if he kept his hands waving in a close to figure eight pattern his balance could be maintained.
Bloody Anamaria and her bloody girlfriend and their bloody ideas. Social call, indeed.
Jack swayed and stared and blinked and could only barely believe his black-shadowed eyes. The two Turners stood facing each other. They were the same height. No, Will was maybe an inch taller. They were of the same build. No, Bootstrap’s legs were just a bit more muscular. In fact, Will was a slightly slighter version of Bootstrap all over, except his shoulders, which were just as broad. And Bootstrap had just a touch of grey in his hair, Jack could see now in the sunlight, where Will’s hair was lightened with streaks of blond. Same liquid brown eyes, studying each other with the same intensity.
Bootstrap was clean-shaven, smooth tanned skin and sharp lines, such a beautiful face. Will had a scruffy looking beard and moustache, not at all hiding the same jawline, emphasizing the same high cheekbones, if a little more delicate. But the jaw. The cheeks, the nose, the mouth, possibly the lips, probably the tongue. Same. It was almost too much to conceive of.
Same sweet, adorable, lovable, lickable, beloved eyebrow crease.
If it weren’t for the nigh unbearable awkwardness of the moment it would have been like being in two different heavens at the same time. Awkwardness, and the fact that Tessie loomed just behind Bootstrap’s left shoulder with an altogether too keen scowl on her face.
Anamaria just smiled. She’d been waiting for this moment ever since she first laid eyes on her new stepfather. Everything had been instantly clear to her, and she wanted, even needed, Jack to own up to his actions. This was her chance to force him to take responsibility.
It was not that she was opposed to Will and Jack being together. She had no real protest against it. Nor was she opposed to Will as her stepbrother, in fact she was rather fond of that idea. But the idea of Jack as her brother in law, that took a bit of doing. If she had to endure Jack in the family, he’d do well to prove he could survive a situation such as this one. Not that she doubted he would; he was, after all, Captain Jack Sparrow.
Charlotte could only hold her breath. She thought back to how utterly tempting and innocent Will had looked when she’d first laid eyes on him at the brothel. Judging from the way he’d been sitting so gingerly in the boat on the way over, and the distinctly carnal noises she’d heard the night before, he wasn’t nearly so innocent as he was on that fateful night. Still, when she looked at him now, he radiated youth and energy.
Then she looked at Bootstrap. More mature, more solid, just as beautiful. And it didn’t bother her at all that this was her girlfriend’s mother’s boyfriend and his son. After all, she’d experienced a good many odd situations before. It was simply too delicious. Like chocolate cake with chocolate frosting on your birthday. Better. It was like chocolate cake and chocolate smeared all over your body and someone simply divine licking it all off you.
And when Charlotte took in Jack, the desire painted so eloquently on his fine face, and imagined just what had gone on the night before and how it must have happened many years before as well, she couldn’t help admiring his excellent taste. And she quivered all over with delight.
Anamaria and Tessie frowned in the exact same manner.
Tessie saw the resemblance. Oh, and she knew instantly what it meant. She’d seen the way Jack looked at Bootstrap when he showed up in the middle of the night, before. And now, perhaps because of his generally debauched demeanour, squinting in the sun and staring at her husband and his son with that stunned look on his face – not stunned, almost worshipful – he looked, if it were possible, even less reputable.
It didn’t bother her that her that her husband had had a male lover in the past. After all, both of her sons preferred men to women, even though the youngest one hadn’t really come to terms with that. What bothered her was this: what kind of a man would bed the son of his former lover? And it was obvious he’d bedded Will; that fact simply could not be hidden from her knowing eyes. Yes, it bothered her. After all, this was her stepson, and it was her duty as a mother to protect him from harmful influences. The fact that the two Turners looked so much alike made the matter even worse, in Tessie’s mind.
And the fact that the pirate might be thinking of her husband while he bedded her husband’s son? She would be dishonest if she didn’t admit that bothered her a little bit as well. And Tessie was nothing if not excruciatingly honest.
Bootstrap stood stock still and took in the sight before him. His son. My god, his son was alive. Not only alive, but very well indeed. And here in front of him. He looked strong. He looked capable. He looked like a good, decent man.
He also looked somewhat dishevelled. And he had looked sideways at Jack in an all too familiar way, as if seeking assurance or at least support, just a moment before. And he had a love bite on the side of his neck, at the juncture of neck and shoulder, one of Jack’s favourite places to suck, as Bootstrap recalled.
Bootstrap looked over at Jack, who resembled, more than anything else, a rabbit who had happened upon a most delightful garden chock full of kale and radishes and carrots, yet ever watchful for the wrath of the farmer. The curled up moustache twitched nervously, and long agile fingers Bootstrap remembered so well, fiddled with the two neat braids in Jack’s beard.
Jack hadn’t had the beads in the beard before. Bootstrap liked them. He couldn’t help imagining what it might feel like, to have those beads trail up his body, following a slick tongue. To feel them tickle his chin when they kissed. To have them press into his bollocks when Jack took him deep in his throat. He held back his hand from reaching out to finger the beads, and to stroke Jack’s smooth cheek. He concentrated on his son.
Will blinked. His mind was blank but for the realization that this was his father in front of him. He didn’t think about Jack or Tessie or Anamaria or Charlotte or what anyone else might think. This was his father. Knowing he was alive had done nothing to prepare him for the actuality of it.
Jack coughed. Somebody had to. “Well, then, Will, may I have the extreme pleasure of introducing you to your father. And William, your son…” He made a courtly gesture and stepped back, bowing slightly. All the better to avoid the daggers Tessie’s eyes were throwing his way.
The two men continued to stare. But Will took a step to his left, right foot crossing in front of the other, boot scuffing just the surface of the rock-strewn path in front of Tessie’s house. Bootstrap took a step to his left as well, unconsciously mimicking his son. And another. They circled, like fighters, turned to the side now so they could view each other in profile. Now circling back to the starting point.
“Isn’t this just a fine how do you do?”
Everyone swivelled to look at Tessie.
Will had a bewildered look on his face, not all that dissimilar from the look Tessie remembered on Bootstrap’s face when she’d fished him out of the tide two years before. It made him look young. It made him look lost. It brought out every maternal instinct in her body.
Bootstrap had a similar stunned look, but it was flavoured with a sneaking dash of desire. It made Tessie want to claim him for her own.
Jack jumped back a foot or two when Tessie spoke.
Will and his father both turned back to face each other. At the exact same moment they both smiled. They both smiled and stepped forward and opened their arms and in the next second they were embracing.
Jack watched this and yanked hard enough on one of his braids to cause his mouth to fall open. Bootstrap’s arms were wrapped around his son protectively and Will, bless him, had his face buried in against his father’s shoulder, and was holding on as if a violent storm might come at any moment and tear them apart. Ordinarily the sight of his lover in the arms of another in such a fashion would have produced a blinding fit of jealousy in Jack, but that would hardly do in this situation. He could only watch grey-tinged and gold-highlighted chestnut waves of silk blend together and feel the cold little part of his heart that reminded him that he would never embrace his own father in such a manner.
Charlotte watched all this avidly. First the joining of the two Turners, for it was all sinew and long limbs and everything she loved to watch even if it was in a strictly platonic context. But then the look of hurt passed over Jack’s face. And she resolved to tell him that Will was not the only person who had figured out who Jack really was. For she knew Will had heard every word she spoke in Jack’s cabin and was bright enough to put it all together. Even though Jack might not want to think of Charlotte as in any way related to him, which was perfectly acceptable since they were not in fact related by blood, he should be told he was not the only one who’d survived the Earl of Duncroft, and he was not entirely alone in the world.
Not that he was alone at all, as evidenced by those noises from the night before. But that was a whole other scenario and it was not appropriate for Charlotte to be thinking of that particular image. Not that impropriety would stop her.
At length, the two men parted and stood, again facing each other, at a distance of a few feet. Identical overwhelmed expressions. It was too adorable for words, or so Jack and Charlotte both felt.
Anamaria spoke. “Aye, I thought it was high time for these two to meet. But we’ve lots of adventures to tell you of, Mum, so let’s go inside and talk. I have news of the family for you, even Jacob. Let the men here get acquainted. Or,” she looked at Jack, “Re-acquainted, as it were.”
Tessie nodded. As much as this little melodrama concerned her, news of her children took precedence.
Anamaria had to grab Charlotte by the arm and drag her into the house, away from the spectacle of the identical Turners and their former and current lover.
The slam of the door shook Bootstrap out of his stupor. He ran a hand through his hair. Will did the same. Jack took a step forward.
“So, William,” he began and both Turners swivelled to face him, “there’s a bit of a tale to be told, I suppose.”
Bootstrap only nodded.
“See, it’s like this, mate. When I was here last I suppose I didn’t have the time to tell you a few things.”
Bootstrap nodded again.
“I’d already met young William here. Actually quite a while before. When the curse was broken.”
Bootstrap raised one eyebrow, is such a perfect imitation of Will it came close to rendering Jack speechless.
“I believe, for the sake of clarity and in the spirit of full disclosure, that this is an occasion most decidedly calling for a drink. Is there any possibility we might procure some rum?”
Tessie drummed her fingers on the table.
“A new settlement, free of the navy and the king you say.”
Anamaria nodded.
“Kay and Franklin and all the children?”
Another nod.
“Jacob mutinied and left the navy and wants to be part of the family again?”
Anamaria smiled. This part pleased her most. She’d missed her little brother terribly. It was so good that he’d decided to rejoin them.
“Alphonse and Matthew…” Tessie shook her head. It was just plain evil how her son had to suffer for so long, and poor Matthew as well. Such a waste of time. “…together again. My, that is good news. I can’t wait to meet Matthew, we’ve heard so much about him. Truly, this is a time of miracles. Isn’t it? Jacob was able to liberate Matthew and find Alphonse. You two together. And now young Will meets his father…” Tessie’s face clouded over. Will and Will’s father. And Jack. “It’s not entirely proper, is it?”
Anamaria choked on her tea, but Charlotte beamed at her girlfriend’s mother. “What’s not to be proper? They’re in love.”
Jack drained the last of the rum from his mug at the same time Will finished his recital of Norrington’s botched capture of Jack and Tessie’s children. It had taken the better part of the day to tell the whole tale, from Jack’s chance encounter with Will in the smithy to the setting adrift of Norrington and his men.
Bootstrap listened without interrupting unless it was absolutely crucial. And Will had left out certain parts of the saga, certain personal details, but his furtive glances at Jack and frequent blushing gave Bootstrap all the clues he needed to piece together the missing parts of the narrative.
In the end, he sat back and drained his own mug. Only ale, though. Tessie didn’t approve of the hard stuff.
“So, here you are. A fine young man, and one I can definitely be proud of, I’d say.”
“I just can’t believe it’s you, after all this time. When Jack told me, I was so…” Will paused to consider what happened when Jack finally told him about his father. He was thankful they were in a dim tavern. In broad daylight his skin tone would have resembled a boiled lobster.
Jack inserted himself between the two men, one arm around each, head rolling from side to side in a drunken haze. All day was quite a lot of rum, and the heady scent of the two Turners made the rum all the more potent. How did one deal with a situation such as this?
Bootstrap and Will looked at each other over Jack’s head, as it dropped forward to the table with a dull thud.
“You take one arm, I’ll take the other,” Bootstrap said.
“We’ll drag him out to the well and throw a bucket of water over him,” Will said.
They both smiled at the same time.
Next: Chapter 47 He's Yours Now
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