Nothing But Trouble

Title: Nothing But Trouble
Author: Terrabm
Fandom: POTC
Pairing: Jack/Barbossa (prequel)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The beginning of a beautiful disaster








Barbossa made his way over to the hammock, the only one still occupied in the hold. The one filling it was curled up into a bit of ball, face nearly smothered by his arms, which seemed to be trying to wrap themselves around his head and cover himself completely. He must have gotten cold during the night, for he could not spot a blanket anywhere. The little bit of Jack’s Sparrow’s face that he could see was serene in sleep, obviously lost in a dream so deep that no shouting from the deck nor thundering of feet could rouse.
Hector smirked.
He readily grabbed the edge of the hammock with both hands and heaved upward.
With a loud shrieking yelp, Jack hit the floor with a thud, flat on his face.
“What the bloody hell–!?” he snapped, whipping his head up and around to see his attacker. His scowl deepened when he saw who it was.
“The sun’s been up for two hours,” Hector said, folding his arms across his chest. “The rest of the crew are up and attending to their work. All but you, ye great lazy carcass!”
Jack pulled himself into a sitting position, rubbing the lump upon his forehead where it had collided sharply with the deck. “Ye needn’t be so rough about it!” he barked.
He leered up into the pale face of his fellow crewman. How he hated being treated like a child, when he was clearly far from it. He was almost twenty now, no boy to be scolded and told what to do. But Barbossa, as well as his own bloody father, seemed to think otherwise. Jack had protested greatly to the idea of having a body guard appointed to him, but Teague was not a man who stood for an argument. What the Keeper of the Code said was law, and even his own son was helpless to protest. Not for lack of trying mind you.
Barbossa hadn’t been thrilled with his new duty either. They had both stuttered and pleaded with Teague to reconsider his decision, but to no avail.
“Ye think that just because ye be the Captain’s brat I’ll coddle ye, is that it?” he mocked with a laugh. “Ye couldn’t be more mistaken, boy.”
Jack got to his feet, pushing his loose hair out of his face. “I’m not a boy,” he snarled, pulling his pistol from it’s place in his sash and poking Barbossa in the stomach with it. “I’ll beg ye to remember that.”
The older man smirked, pushing the barrel away. “Alright, enough. Top side now, before I box yer ears!” he warned. Face twisted in pent-up frustration, Jack moved roughly past the other man and made his way towards the deck. Hector lingered behind a moment, watching him with an eagle eye.  That pup was going to be more trouble than he could ever imagine someday, he knew it instinctively. He wondered what sort of crime one had to commit to earn a punishment such as this.
Sighing heavily, he followed after him.

***



Barbossa leaned leisurely against the side of the rail, watching with smug satisfaction as Jack scrubbed on his hands and knees, grumbling bitterly to himself as he raked the brush back and forth over the filthy deck. It was good to see the lad knocked down a notch or two.  “Ye missed a spot!” he called out to the younger man, who shivered visibly with indignity and glared daggers at him over his shoulder.
The pale man smirked when Jack turned back to his work, scrubbing twice as hard as his grumblings increased. His pale eyes wandered to Jack’s back side, watching it sway slightly as the pirate scrubbed. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking such things, especially about Jack Sparrow, but he could hardly deny what was in front of his own eyes. Thoughtfully he bit in the ripe green apple in his palm, eyes fixed forward.

***

Jack’s whole body ached from the rigorous tasks that Barbossa had put him through. Not only had he scrubbed the deck till his fingers were sore and cramped and splinter-riddled, but he also set him to work scrubbing pots in the galley–and utter indignity for poor old Jack–and other mindlessly boring tasks.
He was currently slumped over a bit railing, trying to catch his breath and ease the ache in his muscles when his tormentor came upon him.
“What now...?” Jack groaned. “I’ve done everything ye asked, and if you think I’m cleanin’ that galley again, I’ll–!”
Barbossa shoved a bowl of soup into his hands. “Eat, you’ve earned it.” he grunted.
Jack hissed as the steaming liquid sloshed a bit over his hands, but soon forgot the pain and blinked up at Barbossa who was almost smiling at him. “I’m impressed. Ye can work, when forced.” he grunted, taking a sip from his own bowl.
Jack scowled, brows knitting together haughtily. “ ‘Course I can. I was born at sea, I know how to attend to a ship!” he insisted.
The red-haired man smirked a bit. “That so.”
“Aye, that’s so.” Jack snapped back, drinking the hot watery bowl of broth in several hurried gulps before thrusting it back into Barbossa’s grip. “You act like I’m some pampered land-lubber wot don’t know his mast from his keel, we’ll I’ll tell you something you sack of–.”
What Barbossa was a sack of exactly was never disclosed. The Captain had made himself known then, for he had spent lengthy hours in his own quarters, pouring over maps and had neither been seen nor heard from since sunrise.
Teague strolled slowly through the crowded deck, dark kohl lined eyes searching out something. They fell upon Jack and Barbossa, standing there idly. He said not a word as he came to stand in front of them, eyeing them mutely.
“Captain, sir?” Jack asked, for even his own son referred to him by his proper title. Teague would have it no other way.
“Did I say anything to you, boy?” the older man grunted, dark eyes flickering towards his son’s.
Jack nodded, going quiet.  Teague surveyed the two of them for a long moment, making each feel deeply scrutinized and uncomfortable.
“Something I can do for ye, Captain?” Hector ventured then, knowing he was speaking out of turn but wanting anything to break that uncomfortable silence between them. To his surprise, Teague smiled a little. He draped an arm around Barbossa’s shoulders, leading him forward. “Aye, ye can. A moment of your time, me lad, is all I require.”
The Captain turned his eyes back upon his son. “Jackie, wait in me quarters. I’ve a word or two to have with ye as well.”
Jack nodded and darted away without hesitation, though he seemed to be scowling at being called a pet name in front of another crewmen. Teague knew it and had done it just at that purpose, as if he wished to remind Barbossa and the others who Jack was exactly.
If Jack was waiting in the cabin, where were they headed?
Barbossa could not help but ponder this as the Captain lead him along the deck, leaning in close to him. He stunk of rum, though did not appear to be drunk. His hands trembled a little on Hector’s shoulders, as they always seemed to these days. Teague was no longer a young man, and Hector had long suspected some disease was settling into him, making him quake and shudder a little from time to time. But whatever it was, it had no effect on his clever mind.
“Ye’ve done well for me, young Barbossa.” he said in that low trembling voice of his as he walked. “Lookin’ after me boy. I know it’s a task you didn’t desire in the least.”
The red-head knew well to hold his tongue rather than speak his thoughts. The idea of looking after Jack Sparrow like some sort of wet-nurse made his blood boil. After all, as the lad had so often pointed out, he was quite capable of handling his own foolish affairs. Even if more often than not, Hector had to pull his tail from the fire.
“Just following your orders, sir.” was all he could conceded.
Teague let out a rattling sort of laugh and squeezed the lad a bit tighter. “Aye, aye, orders...”
They stood now at the stern of the ship, looking down at the dark swirling water behind them.
“We’ve been out to sea for a long time,” the older pirate began carefully, his voice quaking and creaking a little like the ship itself. “Not a spit of land in weeks, much less port. Dangerous waters these are...the crew is getting restless.”
He paused a moment to look carefully at the fiery young lad next to him. “You know of what I speak.”
Barbossa could guess at least. After long periods of boredom had settled into the ship with no shore leave, the crew tended to...act out, as it were. Unspeakable things would go on below deck, some even above. Which of these Hector was not sure the captain was referring. “Tempers are short, patience is thin. The crew is hungry and not just for a good hot meal. There are wandering eyes...” he added then.
It sunk it quickly.
“What of it sir? You want I should keep the whelp in check, that it?”
Teague draped a bejeweled hand over his shoulder again, giving it a painful squeeze. “As often as you can spare them, Barbossa.”
Hector nodded. “Aye, Captain.”
“Good lad.”
With that he sauntered away, off to whatever other task he felt needed tending too. Hector was left alone upon the deck, staring at the ocean, with a new worry in his mind.


***


Hector did not sleep well that evening. He had retired early, sheerly out of lack of interesting things to keep himself occupied with, and it was cooler below deck at any rate. He was dozing in his hammock, dreaming of things half-forgotten. Foggy things that made him think of another time and another place...of someone he might have admittedly missed....
A noise roused him from his half-sleep and he grunted impatiently. Opening his eyes he looked about the darkened deck, wondering what had awakened him. There was nothing in his immediate line of sight, but he could sense a presence close by. Sitting up quickly and pulling on his trousers once more, he padded his way quietly across the dark room. He had learned nothing if not stealth.
There was a good deal of grunting going on from whoever it was there in the dark with him, not to mention a few very distressed sounds. Hector could guess from this alone that it was more than likely he did not want to see what was lingering there in the dark, but then...
“Barbossa!”
The red head tensed and blinked into the dark corner, finding Jack forcibly pinned to the wall by a huge hulking, dark-skinned crewmen, who seemed to be...
Hector drew his dagger and thrust it up under the crew member’s throat. “ Let the boy be or I’ll bleed ye like the pig ye are!” he warned viciously.
Jack squirmed and then fell to the floor with a thud.
The other crew member, a very disgruntled looking Jamaican, leered down at the red-head, whom he was a full head taller than. “The boy and I were settling a debt...” he growled, cracking his knuckles loudly.
“Consider it paid. Now move along.”
The other man seemed heedless of Barbossa’s knife at his throat. “Why shouldn’t I just snap yer neck?” he asked, voice rumbling in his throat. Barbossa flicked his knife ever so slightly, enough to draw a line of blood from the man’s chin.
“If ye think ye can, then please...try.”
“Barbossa don’t!” Jack gasped from the floor. He still had not gotten up, and in the dark Barbossa could not tell what state he was in, but he couldn’t worry about it at the moment. Not until this matter was dealt with.
Hector was more than ready for this man to come at him, but to his surprise he backed down with a curse and walked away, disappearing further down deck.
Barbossa returned his dagger to it’s place in his belt and turned his attention once more to the troublesome whelp at his feet. “Yer more trouble than you’re worth Sparrow!” he muttered, crouching down beside him. The younger man had not gotten up from the floor yet and that worried him. “Are ye hurt?”
Jack growled and pushed himself up, though it was obvious it pained him to do so. “No, I’m not...” he grunted. “What did ye come charging in there for? I was–!”
“You were what?” Barbossa demanded, looking at him closely.
Jack looked at him indignantly before pushing roughly past him and staggering his way back across the deck. For a moment Barbossa thought about running after him, but stopped himself. He had resigned to turn back to his own bunk and try to sleep again, when Sparrow spoke.
“Thank you.”
Hector shrugged. “Yer welcomed.”


***

The following night, the crew were gathered below deck, drinking and telling stories. Jack was in the thick of it, always up for a good tall tale. If anyone could spin a yarn it was Jack Sparrow. The boy was a liar and an actor at heart it seemed, and above all a man with a flare for the romantic and dramatic.
Barbossa sat alone, away from the crowd, tucked in a corner, drowning himself in stale ale and vaguely listening to the laughs and cheers from the other men.
Jack must have said something particularly crass or funny at that moment for they all burst into loud bellows of laughter, a few of the younger men clapping the pirate heartily upon the back.
The raven-haired man noticed a face missing from his audience, however. He noted Barbossa tucked away in the corner, looking morose and lonely. Jack wasn’t sure why, but he felt sorry for the man. “Well,” he said then, “that was of course only a small feat of cunning, compared to Barbossa’s clever wit...” he said then, lifting his voice so that it would carry across the room.
The red head looked up suddenly, snorting into his drink and blinked back at Jack. The younger man was smiling at him, waving him forward. “Have you not heard of his adventures in the South Seas? Sea monsters...Gods, the Farthest Gate...”
Hector stared. He was sure he hadn’t told Jack any of these things, so he must have learned of them through his father. What was this whelp trying to do, put him on the spot? But there was something warm and inviting about his gaze and the others seemed interested.
“I’m no storyteller.” he grumbled, getting up.
“‘Course ye are,” Jack said, climbing across the table and grabbing his shirt sleeve and forcing him to sit down. “Tell us...I’ve run out of stories.”
“Well...” Hector began at length.
Jack clinked his glass against his and took another deep drink, draping an arm around Barbossa’s shoulders as he listened closely.

***

Two hours and two barrels of ale later, most of the crew had turned in for the evening, leaving the ship quiet and still. Sparrow walked the deck, his drunkenness worn thin, but leaving him too awake to sleep. He was whistling quietly to himself when he came upon Barbossa reclining on the rail, seemingly lost gazing at the sea.
“You’re welcome.” Jack said as he strode along next to him.
The red-haired man glanced in his direction. “What are ye on about?” he grunted.
Jack smirked. “Nothing.” he shrugged. “So...any of that true?” he asked then, pausing to lean close to him and gaze out at the dark waves beneath them.
“Ye doubt me then?” Barbossa asked quietly. “Think I’m as good a liar as all that.”
The raven-haired boy shrugged. “If ye are, I bow to a skill far greater than my own.” he chuckled. “Where are ye from, Barbossa?”
The red head chuckled. “I don’t know anymore. Seems I’ve been drifting all me life.”
He looked so lonely as he said this. “Ye know...ye don’t need to be so–.”
“So what?” Hector barked.
Jack stared at him. “That.” he answered. “Ye think ye have to be so hard and cruel. I can’t see as it’s done ye any favors thus far.”
Barbossa scowled deeply, turning his gaze out at the sea once more. “Let me be, Sparrow.” he grunted quietly.
Jack hadn’t expected this sort of response, at least not in the tone it was used. He looked curiously at the older pirate, who had been at his side for nearly six months now. He realized in all that time they had spent together, he had learned so little about the man who called himself Barbossa. He wondered if that was even his real name.
“We should be friends ye know.” Jack admitted after a thoughtful moment. “Seein’ as how we’re trapped on a ship together. Makes more sense then bickering and squabbling.”
The older man eased himself forward and back onto the deck, eyeing the younger man. “What’s in yer head, boy? What do ye want?”
Jack smirked. “Nothin’, nothing.” he said, raising his hands and shaking his head. “I just...think yer a might more bearable when you’re...not being such a prick, is all.”
For a moment Barbossa said nothing, and Jack was waiting for him to cuff him sharply across the head. Instead he laughed. “Yer a card, Sparrow.”
“A jack of aces, I hope.” the boy winked.
The older man stepped past him. “Best be gettin’ some shut eye. Dawn will be here before ye know it.”
Jack nodded. “I think I’ll stay here all the same. I like the breeze.”
“Suit yerself.”
As he started to walk away, he paused. For no reason he could rightly think of he turned and glanced over his shoulder at the young pirate. “Care for some company?” he asked, almost shyly.
Jack grinned. “Plenty of breeze to share, mate.” he answered.
At the older pirate came close once more, Jack pulled from a hidden place in his shirt a small flask, which he waved at him. Barbossa rolled his eyes. “More drink?”
“What’s a drink among friends?” Jack giggled, still tipsy. They slumped down into a sitting position below the rail, and he passed the flask to Barbossa, whom he deemed not nearly drunk enough.
“What’s China like?” the boy asked after a long moment had passed.
“Mysterious country. Beautiful. Full of things you’d never dreamed of.” Hector replied quickly.
“You miss it then?”
Barbossa threw back another shot in reply.
“You left someone behind is that it?”
The liquor burned his throat and made him cough a little as he glanced hard at Jack, who was looking at him seriously. He hesitated, for this was a subject he never talked about with anyone, but admittedly the rum had loosened his tongue a little. And it was just the two of them after all...
“Aye, I did.”
“Was she a beauty?” Jack asked, head dipping to one shoulder. “I’ve seen a few in my time, lovely things. They always look so delicate. Until they jab you with their fingers and your nerves go all crazy...” he muttered, thinking back on some half-dreamt up adventure from childhood.
Hector chuckled. “They were beautiful women, yes. And deadly too.”
“And yours?” Jack pressed.
The red-head smirked. “I suppose you could call him a beauty, yes.”
Jack blinked three times before speaking again. “You’re a eunuch?”
Barbossa did cuff him that time. “Blast you and that rot! I’m not a eunuch you bleeding blighter!”
“Alright, alright!” Jack yelped, covering his head.
Barbossa scowled and returned to his drink, nearly finishing the flask. “Oh come on now, Barbossa!” Jack pleaded, tugging at his arm. “Don’t be cross, I didn’t mean it...you just surprised me is all.”
“And what would a whelp like you know of it?” he muttered.
“I’m not an innocent whelp.” Jack said carefully. “Can’t say as I’ve ever been with a ‘him’ persay...but I’ve had a whore or two, or three...” he chuckled, hoping to impress. He didn’t.
“Whores don’t count Jack. I’m not talking about a cheap fuck. I’m talking about...” he paused, not sure he wanted to admit such a thing to Jack.
“What, love?”
Hector chuckled. “Aye. Love. Passion.”
The younger pirate elbowed him in the ribs, stealing back his flask. “I know what passion is!”
Barbossa bellowed with laughter. “Boy, I doubt you’ve so much as kissed someone properly, if all you’ve had is whores.” he teased.
Jack did not look amused. “Have so!”
“Have not.” The other man replied.
“Have so!” Jack said more loudly, more indignantly this time. The more angry he got the funnier Barbossa found him.
“Aye, then show me.” he challenged then.
Sparrow blinked. “What?” He seemed almost nervous.
“What Jack, afraid of a little kiss?” Hector asked, enjoying seeing the young man look unnerved.
“Yer a man.”
“Aye.” Barbossa nodded. “What does it matter?”
Something about Barbossa’s snide, superior tone pissed Jack off. He was not about to be shown up again or give Barbossa more of a reason to bully him as he had so many times before.
He glanced around quickly, but found the deck suitably deserted in the dark, before leaning in quickly and mashing his lips against Barbossa’s for what was only a second and then pulling back quickly.
The red-haired man laughed loudly. “You call that a kiss?!” he mocked. “Am I poisonousness or something?”
Jack shrugged with a smirk. “Ye might be.”
“Alright, smart ass...” Hector grunted, grabbing the back of the boy’s black hair and pulling his head in a bit closer. “I’ll show ye what a kiss is.”
Jack Sparrow only had time to let out a faint gasp before his lips were claimed by Barbossa’s. It was...strange, and surprisingly soft, but firm at the same time. And pleasantly warm. It lasted for a moment or two before the red-haired man pulled away.
Jack was speechless, his lips tingling softly. Barbossa too, was slightly flushed. “That’ll do fer a beginner.” he said when Jack still didn’t speak.
“And...what if I’m not a beginner?” the dark skinned of the two added then. “That was nice and all, but it was so...proper. I thought you said you knew about passion?”
Hector cocked an eyebrow. “Ye don’t know when to quit, do ye Sparrow?”
“Never have.” Jack chuckled. To Barbossa’s surprise, it was the boy who leaned in this time, catching his mouth and locking on. At first it was a bit forceful, a bit clumsy, but evened out quickly enough. It was a shy sort of kiss, the kind pretty maids gave to young men they had just met.
Barbossa smiled when they broke apart this time. “Better. You’ll make a lass or two blush that way, but you won’t get into her knickers with that.” he said, waving his finger at him.
“And how many knickers have you been in?” Jack chuckled.
“More than you. Come ‘er!” he grunted, this time yanking the boy into a more suitable position in his lap. Jack squirmed a bit, but the other man held him still. He leaned in for another kiss this time, the same as he had before, but this time parted his lips just a bit, forcing Jack to mimic the action. The warmth increased and Hector pulled back just slightly before going in again, tilting his head a bit more and kissing a bit more firmly.
They drew back again.
Jack’s cheeks were pink. “Alright...I see what ye did there.” he nodded, gulping a little.
Barbossa nodded. “Alright then. You lead.”
Jack did, and did something a bit more surprising. In kissing him, he brought one hand up along Barbossa’s cheek and held it there, tucking his fingers behind his ear and jaw. Hector smiled into the kiss. “Nice touch.” he said when they pulled back a bit.
“Not sure what to do with me other hand.” Jack admitted. The pale skinned man placed it on his shoulder. “That’ll do fer a start. Can’t be too greedy to start out with, it always lands ye in trouble.”
Jack nodded, for once really listening.
“Brave enough to try more?”
He smirked a little. “I think I can guess at the next lesson.”
He leaned in again before Barbossa could protest, parting his lips and then....
Barbossa felt Jack’s tongue slide across his lower lip. He repressed a laugh. The little devil did learn quickly, he had to give him that. He coaxed Jack’s tongue to follow his into his mouth and then began to wrestle with it. Jack let out a sigh that sent a hot shiver down Barbossa’s back. He let his own hands drop from Jack’s shoulders to the boy’s waist, and Sparrow moved forward unconsciously, drawing them closer.
Twice they came up for air before diving back in, Jack quickly learning little tricks from Barbossa and making up a few of his own. It wasn’t all about the lips, though that was the main attraction. This sort of kiss was a whole-body sort of experience. There were a lot of things to consider...hand placement, finger movement, how close to lean in, how to tilt your head just so...
Jack was leaning all the way in now, there was no room at all between them. Hector could feel the boy’s heart beat, and it was speeding up just a little. He lifted one hand to Jack’s head and tugged his fingers through the dark hair. And then, it suddenly stopped.
Jack pulled back, leaning his forehead against Barbossa’s, still breathing heavily, mouth wet. “You’re...hard.” he said softly.
The more surprising thing was Jack was too.
“Oh damn.”
Hector hurriedly tossed the boy off him, standing up and dusting himself off. Jack looked confused. “Wait...Barbossa! What just happened?”
The other pirate was in panic. This was exactly what he was supposed to be keeping Jack from getting mixed up in...well not exactly. It wasn’t like he had the lad down on all fours begging to be fucked, but it was steering in that direction...
“No, no nononono...” he muttered worriedly, looking around as Jack stood up next to him.
“Barbossa?”
Reason fled the red-haired man. If Teague learned about this...he shuddered to think. He could only reason so far that he and Jack were drunk, but that wouldn’t save his skin. He’d be flogged or worse. He stared at Jack a moment, before cocking back a fist and hitting Jack squarely in the face.
It was a sucker punch, but it did the trick.
He caught the boy before he hit the ground. “Sorry, Jack...but you’ll thank me for it later.” he promised the unconscious young man, whom he slung over his shoulder and dragged across the deck.



***

Teague woke late that morning. Normally he woke promptly at dawn, as it was utterly engraved in him to do since he was a young lad. That was unless he was in a drunken stupor. He lifted his head from his pillow, blinking about the cabin...and found something amiss.
There was a body slumped at the foot of his bed, sleeping soundly. His son.
The older pirate blinked harshly several times, wondering if he were not still a bit drunk. He kicked out a foot experimentally and struck Jack’s shoulder. The boy moaned quietly.  It was obviously not a dream.
Teague rolled his eyes and pushed the boy off the edge so that he landed on the floor with a thud and a yelp. “What in blazes ye think yer doin’ boy?” he grunted at his child as he stood up.
Jack laid on the floor, rubbing his head. Could no one wake a man gently these days?
“Mmmm...sorry Captain, that cad locked me in here...I think. It’s all gone kinda fuzzy...” he mumbled, rubbing his head.
The Captain took his hand and hauled him upwards, Jack swayed and fell against him. “Ye great useless thing...” he sighed, tossing Jack onto the bed. “Drunk as a skunk and then some.”
Teague looked his son over carefully, just to make sure that a hang-over was all he had, then dressed himself promptly and stormed out the door. “Barbossa!”
He didn’t have far to look for the young man. The red-haired pirate was slumped near the stairs that lead to helm, and the crew had been content to leave him lie there. Teague made his way over to him and gruffly grabbed his shoulder, turning him over.
“Ye’ve got some explaining to do, lad!” he growled.
Hector looked about half-dead. He’d gone whiter than a sheet and his whole being was in a state of horrible post-drunkenness and distress. “Sorry, Captain...I...the lad had a bit too much to drink and I thought he’d be safer in yer cabin then down below with the crew.” he managed finally.
The Captain did not look particularly impressed with the excuse, however believable or truthful. He struck Barbossa hard across the face once, earning a loud cry from the young man as one of his rings cut a gash upon his cheekbone.
Jack heard the yell and came sprinting out onto the deck, then was forced to grab the side of the door for support. “Barbossa!”
Teague looked back at him harshly and Jack didn’t say anything. “Get on with the both of ye! Get out of me sight!” he shouted.  Jack moved towards Hector and took his arm, leading him away down deck.
Teague grumbled something, eyeing his son and Barbossa before turning away into his cabin again and slamming the door.
Below deck, Jack eased Barbossa onto a chair. “Bloody hell...he’s in a foul mood this morning.” he grumbled, pushing back Hector’s hair in an effort to look better at the gash.
“Get off me ye git!” Barbossa snapped, swatting Jack away and continuing to hold his bruised and bleeding face. “Yer nothing but trouble.”
Jack frowned, looking a little hurt. “Well I’m not the one who...” he thoughtfully rubbed his own bruised and aching head, more his memory drifting back. “You hit me!” he gasped. “You bloody deserved that!”
Barbossa didn’t look at him. “Get on with ye...let me be.”
Sparrow growled and pulled Hector’s hand from his face. “Stop being so god damn stubborn! Let me have a look...”
He dabbed at the blood with his sleeve, eyeing it carefully. “ S’not deep. Won’t even leave a scar.” he confirmed. “Hurts though?”
“Like a bitch.” Barbossa mumbled.
Jack smiled and leaned in, kissing him softly. Hector’s eyes widened.
“What’s the matter with you?!” he gasped, though he lowered his voice so as not to be heard by anyone lurking in earshot.
“Are you daft as all that?” Jack chuckled. “You think I went along with your little lesson last night because I’m a doe-eyed whelp who don’t know any better? I like you, Barbossa. I wanted to kiss you.”
Hector stared. “You evil little cockroach...”
Jack laughed loudly, though it made his jaw ached. “You know, I meant what I said, about us wanting to be friends. Though, then you went an nearly broke me jaw, so I don’t know how you feel about it...”
The red-haired man grabbed the boy by his shirt and yanked him into another kiss. “Jack Sparrow, you’ll be the death of us both.” he growled.
Jack nuzzled him. “Aye, perhaps.”
They stood up again, knowing if they didn’t get to work soon it would be another reason for the Captain’s temper to flare and his mood to sour further. “No one can know about this, Jack.”
Sparrow rolled eyes. “Ye think I don’t know that.”
“Your father would skin me alive and use my hide for a sail.”
“You wouldn’t cover much.”
“Dammit, can’t you ever be serious?!”
Jack laughed quietly. “I am. You’re tall but scrawny. Your hide wouldn’t count as blanket.”
Barbossa dropped his head into his hand with a moan. It was useless.
Sparrow looped an arm around Barbossa’s shoulders. “You know, this could be the beginning of something beautiful, Barbossa.”
The red-head snorted. “Yeah. A beautiful disaster.” he chuckled, giving in a draping an arm around Jack in return.