Rp for captjacksparrow

[bertiewwooster]

'Dash it, Jeeves, it's too bally early!'  He grumbles, still half asleep.  'If you're going to wake a chap up at an indecent hour like this you could at least bring him a cup of tea, what?'

But Jeeves doesn't answer.  There is no serene voice next to the bed saying 'My apologies, sir, but you had requested to be woken at this hour,' no cup of tea

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[captjacksparrow]

'Not the plan, no.'

Jack keeps his gaze directed mainly at the window, but out of the corner of his eyes he can see Bertie hunting around for his clothes. Jack glances down at his own skin, dried sweat patching little white trails down his chest and stomach, but doesn't much mind being naked. In fact he tries to be that way as much as possible, thoroughly enjoying a lack of covering, but right now it's a subtle concern. An irrelevant fact when he's sitting here, gone off without a word and Norrington probably ready to stretch his neck six feet when he goes back.

Not an idea Jack particularly fancies. He frowns. Maybe he just shouldn't go back. The notion sends a surge of panic through his veins, so he ammends a brief yet to the equation. He shouldn't go back yet. He's hung about this long, so it seems all right to hang about some more. And he enjoys Bertie's company. Quite a lot.

Jack flickers a smile at Bertie. 'But a suitable alternative.' The man's still close enough to touch -- Jack could curl into him again, fall back asleep, wake up in a better way -- so Jack leans in, giving him a chaste kiss. 'Don't you think?'

[bertiewwooster]

Bertie ceases his frantic search for his clothing- his shoes are there by the bed, but where the deuce has his shirt got to?- when Jack leans in to press a quick kiss against his lips. He has a point, actually. Shockingly.

Bertie's immediate thought had been Jeeves, of course; he'd be worried about Bertie, surely, wonder where he'd gone without any notice, demand (well, more like request politely) what he'd been doing all night. And fair enough all of that is probably true, at least to an extent. But Jeeves had spent his night with that Susan filly. Perhaps she's even still at the flat; maybe they'd taken advantage of the fact that Bertie was gone and if he returns home now he'll find them curled up on Jeeves' bed just as he and Jack had been a moment before.

A sick feeling rises in his throat at that thought and he shoves it away as quickly as he can. He'll not be thinking of that now, not with Jack leaning on his shoulder like that, looking at him with a queer little smile.

'Not a bad wheeze, actually,' he concedes, lifting an eyebrow at Jack. 'Jeeves can wait, what? The blighter's my man, after all; I've no obligation to tell him what I get up to.'

And if it sounds suspiciously like justification, Bertie doesn't really notice. Not really.

[captjacksparrow]

When Bertie doesn't shove him away, Jack plants another kiss on his jaw, then one on his neck. Bits and pieces of last night are filtering back into his mind, and a heat is beginning to grow through his limbs at the memories. Jack hasn't been that hard in a while, especially with Norrington deciding he prefers papers over people. People meaning Jack. The idea leaves a sour taste in his mouth. He doesn't want to think about it much, so distracts himself by mapping the line of Bertie's jaw with his lips.

'Bailey never cares to hear my stories,' he murmurs against the skin, trying to reassure Bertie. If he sounds a bit petulant, it's only because he feels sorry that Bailey should miss out on tales of Jack's adventures. The man could use a little excitement, stuck answering doors and retrieving letters all day. Life as a London servant is about the only thing worse than life as a London gentleman.

If Jeeves is just a servant, a butler like Bailey, then Jack doesn't mind that Bertie shouted for him. Maybe one day Jack will get used to having tea or eggs brought to him in the morning and come to expect it.

He wrinkles his nose at the idea, suddenly overtaken with the image of Gibbs -- or worse, that wooden-eye bloke -- wearing a frilly uniform and carrying a silver tray laden with breakfast into Jack's cabin. He grins devilishly when he puts Barbossa in the part and nips playfully at Bertie's jaw.

[bertiewwooster]

A little murmur of content escapes as Jack kisses his way along Bertie's jaw, and he leans into the touch like a cat, his lips curling in a smile. It is first thing in the morning, after all, and his body is more than willing to cooperate. He tilts his head a little so he can brush his lips against Jack's cheek, over his mouth, feeling the scratch of morning stubble.

Still though, he feels the need to correct Jack's misapprehension. Even if Jeeves is with someone else, after all, he's still Jeeves.

'Mmm, but Jeeves knows everything about the young master, you know. Except... that one thing.' He waffles. 'Just the way of it, what? Lends an ear if I need it, there to fish me out of the soup if I fall in. Don't know how I'd get on without the man.'

His voice goes a bit misty at the end there, thinking of the man, and his brow creases. He shouldn't be thinking about Jeeves, not now. He's got Jack next to him, Jack who listened to him and understood him, Jack with the glittering pirate grin. Bertie doesn't need to be thinking of anyone else. He flashes a small smile at Jack as if in apology and drops a hand onto the bare curve of his knee, running his fingers along the tendon just under the skin.

[captjacksparrow]

Jack sucks a patch of skin, worrying it alternatively between his teeth and his lips. He pulls back when Bertie mentions that one thing. He tries to remember what that one thing might be, because other than Bertie mentioning his o. of a., Jack can't think of what things there were. He laves the red spot blooming on Bertie's pale skin, devilishly pleased with leaving on mark on him, only have listening to what Bertie's actually saying.

He's come to like Bertie's babbling, odd words dropping from his mouth that Jack doesn't necessarily understand. It feels comforting right now, sitting in the sun with him, creating a lovebite on his jaw, having him blather on about Jeeves. His tone gets a bit pear-shaped at the end, prickling Jack's attention. The hand on his knees jumpstarts it into fully aware.

Jack glances down at the fingers, then up at Bertie. 'For a man what only answers your doors, you spend a good bit of a time talking about him.' He doesn't mean it reproachfully. More just teasing, finding it almost endearing that Bertie is so attatched to a servant.

Then it clicks. As if magically, the cylanders clatter into place and the locks turns. Jack narrows his eyes. 'He's... your o. of a., yeah? The one you...?' Love dies on Jack's tongue as it all suddenly becomes abundantly clear. 'The idiot.'

[bertiewwooster]

His hand travels absently up to his jaw to rub at the wet spot Jack's created there, and he absently wonders if it'll bruise and if it does, how on earth he'll explain it to people. Tell them he met a pirate, perhaps, just to throw them off. It'd be quite a story for the lads down at the Drones to say he'd been bitten by a pirate. He wouldn't tell them the rest of the story, of course, but there it was.

He looks up when Jack pauses, feeling his gaze on him, and flushes with inexplicable mortification when he does speak. He vaguely remembers using the phrase o. of my a. to describe Jeeves at the bar the evening before, but of course he hadn't given a name to him then. He feels suddenly guilty, that he should be here, like this, with Jack, him knowing who Jeeves is and how Bertie feels about the man.

He looks away, rubbing more insistently at the spot on his jaw. 'Fraid you're spot on, old thing.'

His fingers tighten where they sit on Jack's leg, and he bites his lip. 'It's... a chap can't help it! I suppose if you knew the fellow...' He shrugs, trailing off. 'But, you know, jolly bad form to be thinking about that when we're here like this, what? I mean...'

I don't want to think about what I can't have is perhaps what he doesn't say next, though really he isn't entirely sure. Not at all.

[captjacksparrow]

'Jolly bad form,' Jack repeats, very quietly, his lower lip jutting out.

He's not pouting, because he doesn't do that. And he's not jealous, because he doesn't do that either. He shouldn't care, because he knew. Bertie told him before. And one night doesn't mean. It never meant anything before. Jack's done this, he knows he has, and left the next morning or or the next hour or five minutes afterwards, and it never mattered to him. Never once did he spare a thought to where the other person went, or what they did, or who they did it with.

So it shouldn't matter now. Just because happens to like Bertie and finds Bertie to be oddly charming and feels a bit trapped and lonely stuck in London town without a way out -- it doesn't mean any of this should matter. Jack's put a lot of stock on things not mattering to him.

But it does. The fact that Bertie has Jeeves stealing his heart and Norrington has the bloody Navy stealing his matters. Jack's not exactly materialistic. Other than the Pearl and his own life, he's never really needed much more. But he likes having more, and he likes both these men, and he doesn't fancy the idea of getting ignored.

'Don't want to know the fellow,' he says, still not pouting. Or being jealous. 'Don't have much patience for fools.' He doesn't know why his voice is so hard suddenly, low and dangerous (and whiney and petulant). 'Sounds like someone I already know, forgetting what's staring him right in the face.'

[bertiewwooster]

Quite suddenly Bertie feels absolutely horrible. Almost ill, in fact. But not about Jeeves, as he had done before; guilty that he should be abandoning the bloke he loves (even if Jeeves doesn't know it) for a night with a handsome stranger who's more interesting than he should be. No, now he feels guilty about what he's done to Jack. He's got drunk with Jack, spent an evening baring his soul to Jack, slept with Jack, and he likes him a lot, perhaps even fancies the chap, but he's in love with Jeeves. That's really just bad form, isn't it? Not the way a preux chevalier operates at all.

Is that even possible, he wonders, to be in love with one fellow but take such a liking to another? Ought it to be? Bertie's no Bingo Little, certainly, falling for a different girl every week; the way he feels about Jeeves, it's true, he knows that. Realer than anything else in the world. But Jack...

He sighs, chewing on his lip. He ought to have expected this, really.

The tone of Jack's voice is hard and hurt, and Bertie swallows, looking down at his own bare feet. It's a horrible sort of voice to hear. Bertie can't stand people being upset on his account; at least not people he cares about, and something twists in his gut. It wouldn't be right to defend Jeeves now, as much as it is his instinct to, so instead he just shrugs ineffectually.

'Doesn't know, does he? I can hardly tell the chap, after all.'

He ought to say something else, he really ought, but he quite simply has no idea what. This is not a situation he's ever been in before.

'Doesn't matter though, really. Not here, does it?' He tries desperately. 'I mean to say- this is sort of separate, in a way; you don't know Jeeves and he doesn't know you and it's just, well- us.' He clears his throat. 'Here. As it were.'

[captjacksparrow]

Jack swallows and looks over Bertie's shoulder, out the window to the overbright, grey sky. At least he assumes it's grey. Rarely is it anything else in London, it seems.

He doesn't know what to say. Or do. Or think anymore, for that matter. Everything is twisted up inside of him. What he wants. Why he wants it. How he plans to get it. Everything is confusing and blurry, like in the middle of a great storm with the rain slushing down so hard he can't see two feet in front of him and the sea churning rough and ragged, tossing his ship about. Jack's never felt seasick but he thinks it might be a bit like he feels right now, rocked about to the point of vomiting.

'Should tell him,' he says, voice getting stuck in his throat. 'Might know already if he's as smart as you say he is.' He glances at Bertie, then back out the window. There's something he wants to say, but can't find the words to get it out. Or maybe just the courage. 'It... matters, the small things. They matter. Distant and company doesn't factor into it, if there's a thing what needs doing. Should be done. Should be said. Best to do it instead of always wondering what things be like if you had.'

He's not talking about Bertie or Jeeves anymore. He's not even sure what he is talking about, only that he's been waiting to say it.

Jack jerks his chin to the window. 'My ship's out there. Somewhere. May be at the bottom of the ocean for all I know but she's there. Waiting for me.'

[bertiewwooster]

Tears prick hot and bright at the corners of his eyes as Bertie listens to Jack speak, and a lump rises in his throat, tight and painful. He doesn't even know why it should seem so tragic, but it does. Thinking of Jeeves, he always feels how hopeless the thing is, how futile to want a man like Jeeves. Now though, it's not just Jeeves. He wants to... hug Jack, just hold him and murmur useless sentiments into his ear, promise him that he'll find his ship, his Pearl, if that's the thing's name, that everything will be alright. That's ridiculous, of course, because he doesn't even know what's wrong in the first place, but he feels it anyway.

And Bertie's not the sort of man to hesitate on an impulse. At least not usually. So he shifts just slightly where he's sat on the floor and hesitantly leans forward to put his arms around Jack's shoulders.

'I-' he starts to speak, but his voice breaks off, choked, and he doesn't know what to say anyway. He's not overfond of silence, Bertie, but it'll have to do for now.

[captjacksparrow]

It's weird, what Bertie's doing. Hugging Jack. Or something. It might be a hug. Jack isn't sure, having never recieved or given one before. Seems like a hug, though, this affectionate but non-sexual act. Jack's not used to that, being touched because it's comforting, without any other gain to be got out of it. Not a lead in to something more or a slap or a drunken fumble in some alley.

And he's not use to anyone reacting that way, like Bertie does, voice choking off as if he's going to cry. Jack wishes with a fervent panic that Bertie doesn't cry, because despite all the things he's done that haven't particularly pleased people, he's never seen one of them cry. Get angry, yes. Or sad or distant. Or drunk. Usually they just get drunk. Maybe that's what he should suggest. He and Bertie should just get very, very drunk again.

Except he sort of likes this. This hug. This closeness. Being close for the sake of being close, touching another person just to touch and not because he particularly wants anything.

Tentatively, Jack snakes his arms around Bertie's back, nudging his face between his neck and shoulder. And because he can, because it's strange to just sit here like this in the sun and the silence, he bites very lightly at the cord of muscle there, running up into Bertie's neck. Just a delicate pressing of teeth. Then soothes it with a kiss.

[bertiewwooster]

Something lightens perceptibly in his belly when, after a pause, Jack returns the embrace, burrowing into the space between his neck and shoulder, just as he had done the night before. It's curious how awkward the other man is about it, as though he'd never given someone a hug before. Bertie can't imagine why he wouldn't have, though; why would anyone not have? Well, he supposes, if one's a pirate. One never knows about that sort of thing. Even so. He combs the fingers of one hand into the hair at the base of Jack's skull, enjoying the comfort of his breath against Bertie's neck and thinking that if it's true he's never been hugged before, he's not doing a fine job for a first go.

He smiles a watery little smile at that thought, and it cracks further when Jack bites down gently at the curve of his neck, pressing his lips against the skin. The lump in his throat is still there, but it's decidedly smaller now, and Bertie can speak around it. So he does, clearing his throat a little against the side of Jack's head.

'Dashed sorry about that, Jack. Not the done thing to get quite so emotional, that, but you know. Rummy and distressing things, human relations can be.'

He doesn't really quite want to let Jack go, not just yet, but he shifts back, loosening his arms around the other man in case Jack wants to pull away, in case Bertie's being too awkward about the whole thing. It's nice, though; he doesn't ever really sit in an embrace with someone like this. A hug is one thing, but they're usually brief, casual affairs. This is something more about comfort and solidarity and the reassurance of another body's being there, and Bertie's enjoying that quite a lot.

[captjacksparrow]

Jack laughs at Bertie's neat little summation. It's fitting, of course, which makes it all the funnier.

'Aye,' he breathes. 'Tricky and confusing.' He thinks that's what Bertie meant. 'Don't know if I call them rummy though, being rum's a good thing to have 'round.'

Bertie might be a good thing to have 'round too, Jack decides. He tighens his hold, just as Bertie loosens his, and Jack freezes, afraid that maybe he's done something wrong and this isn't how it's suppose to go. He places another kiss to Bertie's neck, because that at least he does know, and then another, tracing a pattern up to his ear. He places a kiss at the soft spot just behind the lobe, not wanting to move back and looking for an excuse to stay.

'Can think of better ways to relate,' he whispers, mouth playing with the half-formed concept of a smile. 'Not quite so complicated, this time.' He sucks the earlobe between his teeth, nibbling gently, as his fingers beat a skitering tattoo down Bertie's spine.

[bertiewwooster]

He lets out a pleased little exhalation- something halfway between a gasp and a murmur- when Jack nibbles on his earlobe, smiling around the sound because this at least means things aren't too strange. Less complicated, as Jack says. The lazy warmth of his body, which had been replaced for a moment there by a horrible sinking emptiness, reinstates itself, curling contentedly in Bertie's limbs.

Seemingly of its own accord, his head tilts to one side, baring more of his neck for Jack to access. His hand in Jack's hair slides down just a little, his finger tracing along the shell of Jack's ear, and he laughs breathily into the morning air.

'Jolly good. I must say, I do like the way your old onion works. Priorities in order and all that, what?'

He's half teasing, but it's affectionate, really. He's just glad that neither of them have left in a huff or done anything rash. And of all the ways to start a morning, this is not at all a bad one.

[captjacksparrow]

Jack hums appreciatively when Bertie bears his neck for him, nuzzling the underside of his ear, then setting to leave another mark somewhere on him. He rather fancies the pulse point at the base of Bertie's throat. He licks wetly, then closes his mouth around it and sucks.

The finger brushing his ear makes Jack twitch, skittering away from the touch. The giggling sound he makes is really a manly sort of chuckle that just goes high-pitched on the end because it tickles. He throws a put-upon look at Bertie, but can't quite pull it off.

'Not appreciated enough, my priorities.' Jack nods anf flashes a grin. 'My only endeavor is to please.' He gives a mock little bow, the incline of his head serving as a perfect excuse to continue at Bertie's neck. He pauses halfway there to nip once more at the mark on Bertie's jaw, flaming it red again.

[bertiewwooster]

Bertie insists to himself it's not really a groan, that sound he makes when Jack dips down to suck hard at the place where the blood pounds just under the skin of his neck, but it's so deep and throaty that really it can't be called anything else. He doesn't really know what to do with his hands with Jack just going at his neck like that, so he settles for sliding them up and down the other man's arms, gripping hard now and again when he does something particularly breathtaking.

He returns Jack's grin almost compulsively, and lets out a little gasp of startled pleasure when he nips lightly at Bertie's jaw. The sound quickly turns into a breathless laugh as Jack returns to his neck, and his eyes strain downward at the top of his dark head.

'Well, bally well keep endeavouring, I say, because you're making a neat job of it so far!'