Title: When Pirate Eyes are Smiling
Author: Murron (kohl_boys_rule_all@yahoo.ca)
Pairing: Will Turner/Jack Sparrow
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A boring day on the water leads to Jack mercilessly teasing Will.
Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em. Wish I did. Someday (hope springs eternal)…

The Interceptor, her nose pointed towards Tortuga, had happened upon a hitch in her plans. Not a swashbuckling-swords-clanging-blood-pouring hitch, but one of the boring-flat-sea-no-wind variety.

Will Turner sat alone on the planks of the topdeck in the blazing sun, watching the sails above him. Periodically, they moved sluggishly for a moment as the tiny whiff of breeze caught them, but invariably lolled back against the mast before long. He occasionally turned his attention to the unattended wheel, which listed this way and that under its own power. He was tempted to get up and attend to it, but he restrained himself.

Will sighed. Although it was only mid-morning, the temperature was already getting to him. The intensity of the sun made his legs itch inside his tight britches, and his shirt clung to him in annoying places. He writhed and stretched and fanned himself with his hands, but nothing helped. With a irritable grunt, he pulled himself to his feet and tugged the shirt up over his head, dropping it on the deck beside him. He stood shakily on the deck for a minute. Even on such a calm day, the swaying of the ship made him uneasy. His sea-legs were still very underdeveloped.

"Breakfast is served." Will started and turned, almost falling on his face in the midst of the quick movement. Jack Sparrow was approaching him from behind. His left hand supported the wooden crate balanced on his left shoulder, and his right hand was clamped tightly around a bottle of rum ("Surprise, surprise" Will thought), already uncorked. Jack’s bare feet clung to the planks with ease, and he flowed gracefully across the surface of the deck, the rhythm of the sea bothering him not one bit.

"The previous owner of this fine ship has left us some thoroughly delicious things in the hold." He set the crate down on the deck, miraculously (to Will at least) keeping the bottle vertical enough to avoid spilling even a drop of rum. "No gold though." He shrugged and sat. He reached into the carton and brought out two green apples, tossing one to Will.

Will managed to catch it without incident, and sat back down on the deck, reclining back on one elbow. The munched in silence, listening to the seabirds on the air.

Jack tossed his core overboard and took a swill from the bottle, which had not left his hand.

"Lad, would you like some rum?"

"Rum is the devil’s own curse." Will threw his apple core to bolster his point. It landed on the deck, a foot short of overboard. A gull who had been eyeing the ship swooped down to nab it. Will blushed and looked apologetically at Jack, who had to bite the inside of his lip to contain a peal of laughter.

"Rum," Jack said matter-of-factly, "is a gift from above." He rummaged around in the various purses and pouches fixed to his belt, and pulled out a small, shiny object that winked in the sunlight.

Will craned his neck to see what it was; a small, square mirror. Jack balanced it between his knees so that he could examine his reflection without undoing his iron grip from the neck of the rum bottle. He turned his head from side to side, pulling his lips back from his teeth, wiggling his eyebrows and such. Will watched this with a feeling of unreality. After a moment he could hold his silence no longer.

"Uh, Jack?" the timidity in his voice was very apparent.

Jack tore himself away from his reflection and looked up.

"Shouldn’t you be at the wheel-thingie…"

"The helm?" Jack broke in.

"…the helm, steering the ship?"

"Is your name *Captain* Will Turner?"

"No, but…" Will didn’t get to finish.

"And is my name *Captain* Jack Sparrow?" Sparrow cocked his head to one side as Will nodded with a sigh.

"That’s what I thought. I’m very glad we got that one cleared up." Jack pulled out something swathed in a filthy strip of leather. He unwrapped a stick of charcoal the size of his baby finger. Leaning close to the mirror balanced between his knees, he very carefully began to line one eye in dark black.

"Why do you do that to your face?" Will asked him curiously.

"It protects me eyes from the sun. And, as an added bonus, it makes me look incredibly ravishing, savvy?"

"Yes," Will agreed without thinking, smiling.

Jack squinted at him strangely and Will saw his slip-up and a look of horror passed over his face .

"No! I mean…of course not." Will shook his head vehemently. "Maybe to those of the fairer sex, but certainly not to m-"

"My dear boy, we always get the most honest answer first, do we not?" Jack winked at him, and went on to do his other eye, face smoking with concentration. Will sat, his eyes wide, unsure of how to continue. He had serious thoughts of jumping overboard and letting the sea drown his embarrassment. His mind raced and his face burned in a blush. He was so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Jack moving over to him until they were but a few inches apart.

"Let me do you." Jack said, looking at him.

"What?!" Will croaked out, his mouth hanging open.

"Your eyes, let me do your eyes. You have ne’er felt pain until you have burned the skin around your eyes in the sun."

Will let out a shaky breath and consciously forced himself to stop shaking. He and Jack sat cross-legged across from each other, their knees touching.

"Shut your eyes." Will followed this command, and felt the touch of the charcoal, under his right eye first and then his left. He could feel the warmth of Jack’s breath on his face, almost taste the sweet tinge of rum.

"There, all done." Will opened his eyes. Jack caught his chin in one hand, turning his head to one side and then the other, admiring his handiwork. He slid the mirror back out, holding it up so that Will could see his transformation.

"Looks very exotic, does it not? And ravishing." Jack said. "And it accents those gorgeous eyelashes of yours."

Will stared at him, openmouthed and wide-eyed, pink tinge returning to his cheeks.

"What?" Jack held his hands up in a shrug, "They are gorgeous." The mirror disappeared into the recesses of his clothes in a fluid motion, leaving them with nothing to look at but each other.

"…Thank you." Somehow, it did not seem right, but Will could think of nothing else to say.

"And this skin," Jack found the prominent ledge of Will’s right collarbone without breaking the connection between their eyes. He traced it slowly, his charcoal-coated finger rough and calloused, "so soft, so delicate, like a baby’s."

He stopped at the hollow at the base of Will’s neck, and his finger continued it’s journey downward, leaving a dusky black line in its wake.

"You spend all day in that little forge, you are as white as porcelain."

"Mmm," was all Will could think of as a response. His heart fluttered against the cage of his chest.

"Smooth as a newbor-…ah, look!" His finger finally stopped its teasing course just above Will navel. He gestured towards the sails above them, which had suddenly gone taut against their bindings. "We have wind!"

In an instant, Jack was on his feet. He started to move, but changed his mind, and crouched before Will again, leaning in close to him.

"You know, you should really put your shirt back on, or you’ll be red as a lobster’s arse by the end of the day." He winked at Will for the second time that day, and strolled easily towards the helm, bottle still in hand.

Will took a deep breath and blinked several times. He shook his head incredulously as he reached for another apple.