#johny depp

I rolled around... again and again. Until I just sat up on the bed. Thankfully, Jack was sleeping like a log, one leg kicked off the mattress, his arm dangling toward the floor like he'd passed out in the middle of an opera. I rubbed my eyes, the skin around them hot and tight. Red, probably swollen. I hadn't really slept in days.

The journal sat by the bedside, waiting. I picked it up carefully, reverently almost, its cracked leather cover soft from years of wear. It was the diary of the sunken ship's lost captain, and inside it, the maddest riddle I'd ever laid eyes on: constellations that didn’t match any known sky, frantic sketches of sea monsters and mythical beasts, and a medallion so intricately drawn it looked like it could slip off the page and into my hand. The stars were familiar. I knew them one by one. But I still couldn’t figure out how they belonged together. The sky refused to align. The words—cryptic phrases in a sailor’s slant—didn’t help either.

I slipped from the bed as quietly as I could. Jack snored softly behind me, utterly at peace with the world and the half-full bottle of rum he’d left next to the pillow. I moved through the ship’s corridors, barefoot and silent, until the night air kissed my face. The deck was nearly empty—just a pair of sailors at the helm, murmuring to each other as the waves lapped gently against the hull.

I walked to the very front of the ship, where no one would ask questions or offer advice. I perched on the railing, high above the sea, letting my feet dangle into the empty space below. The wind played with my hair as I let it fall loose around my shoulders. It made it easier to breathe.

I opened the journal and tilted it toward the moonlight. The medallion shimmered faintly even in ink, the star map wrapped around it like a secret that didn’t want to be found. Elizabeth needed us. And Will... the look in his eyes when we left him behind still haunted me. This wasn’t just a treasure hunt. It was a rescue. And I couldn’t afford to be wrong.

I looked from the pages to the sky. Studied. Compared. Studied again. I didn’t know how long I sat like that, how much time had passed, or when the night began to bleed into dawn.

Then—

A hand touched my shoulder.

Reflex. I twisted, knife drawn in a blink, the blade slicing the air toward—

"Easy there, love," came the voice, slurred and warm with sleep, but unmistakably amused. Jack’s hand caught my wrist before the blade could do more than flash. "You may get us injured. And by us, I mostly mean me, and that would really put a dent in my morning."

I exhaled, the tension leaving me in a rush. "Don’t sneak up on me like that."

"Didn’t sneak," he said, releasing my wrist gently. "I staggered. Completely different."

I shook my head and turned my gaze back to the journal.

He leaned over my shoulder, eyes squinting at the page. His breath was warm on my neck. "Still deciphering the diary of Captain Starcrazy, are we?"

"Captain Harrow," I corrected.

"Sounds like a man who mistook moonlight for mermaids and followed it to his watery grave," Jack said, peering at the drawing of the medallion. "Pretty trinket, though."

"It’s not just a trinket. It’s a key. The stars—this map—he left a trail. We just haven’t cracked the code yet."

"No," Jack said gently, reaching into his coat and shrugging it off. Before I could protest, he draped it over my shoulders. It was warm from his body, heavy with the scent of salt, leather, and rum. "What you haven’t done, darling, is sleep. Which is a very underrated activity when one’s brain is halfway into madness."

"I’m fine."

"You're fine like a ship’s fine when it’s on fire but still floating. Technically true, but not ideal."

I ignored him and flipped another page. The same constellation. The same nonsensical arrangement. It had to mean something.

Jack sat beside me on the railing, legs swinging. "Tell me something, love. When was the last time you closed your eyes and didn’t see stars trying to murder you with confusion?"

"You’re exaggerating."

"I’m charmingly illustrating." He tilted his head. "There’s a difference."

I sighed. "If I stop now, I’ll lose the thread. I’m close, Jack. I can feel it."

"Yes, well, you can also feel my coat, which is a clear indication you need to step away from the ledge of astral insanity and come back to bed."

"Can’t."

"Won’t," he corrected. "Big difference, darling."

I didn’t respond. My eyes scanned the map again. I was sure the stars had shifted slightly since I’d started.

Jack leaned in, his voice lower now. "Look, I know why this matters. You want to help Will. You want to save Elizabeth. You want to solve this. Because that’s who you are. But I also know the sea doesn’t pay you in answers when you’re half-dead from exhaustion."

"And what does it pay in?"

"Rum. Regret. Occasionally cursed treasure. And if you're lucky... sleep."

I smiled faintly. "That last one’s not sounding very pirate-like."

"Well," he said, stretching like a cat, "maybe I’m evolving."

I side-eyed him. "Is this your version of a heartfelt speech?"

"It’s either that or a drunken poem, and trust me, you don’t want to hear the one that rhymes with 'constellation.'"

I laughed softly despite myself. "I can’t let it go. Not yet."

Jack reached out and closed the journal with a gentle but firm hand. "Then let me look for a while."

"You can’t read half of what’s in there."

"Exactly. Which makes me immune to its madness. Give me an hour to stare at it like a confused raccoon, and you—" he tapped my forehead lightly "—rest that big beautiful brain of yours."

"You’re ridiculous."

"And you love me."

I stared at him, tired, grateful, maybe a little amused. "A dangerous combination."

He grinned, eyes twinkling. "Only the best kind. Now, come on. Doctor Sparrow’s orders. Back to bed before you start charting constellations on my face."

"Is that a promise?"

"If it gets you horizontal, I’ll let you use me as a star chart."

He stood and offered his hand, which I took after a moment’s pause. The coat around my shoulders felt like a shield. Like home.

As we walked back toward the cabin, I glanced once over my shoulder. The stars blinked back at me.

"Still got that storm behind your eyes," Jack muttered beside me, peering up at the sky as if trying to out-stare it.

"I’m fine," I repeated, more to myself than him.

"A lie only becomes truth after the third shot of rum," he said, and with a dramatic flourish, pulled out his ever-loyal flask. "Doctor Sparrow prescribes one generous gulp. For nerves. And charm. And maybe the tiniest bit of hallucination."

"It's not even dawn."

"Exactly. Still counts as yesterday in pirate time." He held it out again, eyebrows raised like a challenge. "Come now, don’t make me drink alone. It’s unsightly."

I hesitated, squinting at him. "You're trying to get me drunk so I’ll forget the stars."

"I’m trying to get you drunk so you’ll stop staring at the stars like they owe you rent."

"I’ll sip," I relented, taking the flask and tilting it just enough to let the burn kiss my throat.

Jack watched with far too much interest. "See? Warms the bones. Softens the grimace. Gives your brain a nice fuzzy coat to wear."

"You're infuriating."

"Only when I’m sober. Which—luckily for us both—is almost never."

He nudged open the cabin door with his boot and gestured inside with a sweeping bow. "After you, stargazer."

Inside, the lantern flickered lazily, shadows dancing on the walls like forgotten dreams. I stepped in slowly, still wrapped in Jack’s coat. It smelled like trouble and comfort.

"Don’t suppose you're going to lie down willingly?" he asked, kicking the door shut.

"I don't suppose you're going to let me study that journal in peace?"

"Absolutely not." He tossed his hat toward the hook—it missed and landed on the floor. He didn’t care. "Now then, you look like a rope wound too tight. Loosen up. Come here."

I resisted for a heartbeat, arms folded. Jack tilted his head. "What if I sweeten the deal with a second sip?"

"You’re bribing me with rum."

"I’m bribing you with affection, and rum just happens to be part of the package."

I laughed in spite of myself and took another sip, handing the flask back as Jack stepped closer. He raised a brow, then leaned in and pressed a kiss to my temple. Slow. Soft. Sincere.

"Now you’re almost relaxed," he murmured against my skin. "Still twitchy—but less murdery."

"You know this doesn’t mean I’m giving up."

"Wouldn’t dream of it. I’m just saying maybe we strategize... horizontally."

He tugged me toward the bed, and with the kind of exaggerated swoop only Jack Sparrow could make look endearing, he flopped backward onto it, pulling me down with him. His arms circled around me, warm and firm.

"Mmm, this is better," he murmured, letting his fingers trail up my spine in a lazy, teasing motion. "Two tired, brilliant creatures tangled together in the sheets... I daresay we make a rather stunning constellation ourselves."

I rolled my eyes, barely biting back a laugh. "You're incorrigible."

"And yet, here you are," he said with that infuriating, irresistible grin, reaching over to grab the flask again. "Doctor’s second opinion—one more sip. Just to make sure your thoughts don’t wander back to that pesky map."

He held it up and I hesitated, then gave in, our fingers brushing as I took it. My fingers lingered a second too long, the heat from his hand sending a shiver up my arm. His eyes gleamed with that maddening glint, like he knew every thought I wasn't saying aloud.

"See, I knew you couldn't resist me... or the rum," he teased, voice dipped in velvet mischief.

"It's mostly the rum," I murmured, but the words tripped slightly on my tongue, coming out softer than I meant.

Jack's grin widened. "Oh, you're slurring already? And here I thought you were the sharp one."

"I'm fine," I said, too fast.

"Aye, and I'm the governor of Port Royal," he said, inching closer. "But I like you better drunk—cuts through all that stubborn pride and leaves the sweetest little flush on your cheeks."

"I'm not drunk," I lied, the room now gently tilting—whether from the ship or the rum, I couldn't tell.

He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering far too long, tracing the curve of my jaw. "Not yet," he whispered. "But you will be. And you'll love it."

My heart beat loud enough to drown the creak of wood and hush of the sea outside. His eyes dropped to my lips. Then lower.

"Jack—"

"Mmm?" he hummed innocently, leaning in until his breath tickled my neck. I turned my face slightly to avoid the sudden blaze under my skin, but it only gave him more access. His lips brushed just beneath my ear.

I gasped. He smiled.

"Careful," he murmured, voice low and wicked. "You moan like that again, love, and we may never find that bloody medallion."

"It's mostly the rum," I lied. Badly.

Jack leaned in, kissed me again—deeper this time, fuller. My heart gave a traitorous flutter, and before I could hide it, he moved to my neck, lips brushing skin that had no business feeling as hot as it did. A sigh slipped from me. No—a moan.

He smiled against my throat. "Aha," he breathed, smug and low. "Now we’re getting somewhere, love."

The journal sat on the nearby table, untouched for now. The stars could wait.

His lips found mine—tasting of salt, rum, and promises he’d never put into words. His coat slid from my shoulders as our bodies tangled beneath the lantern light, laughter and breath and whispered names blending with the sway of the ship.

And finally, finally, I let myself rest.

Maybe, just maybe, the map could wait until morning.

Or maybe it never wanted to be solved by someone standing alone.

Hiiii

its the first Sparrow fic I made and it was an entertaining process to be honest. Id be glad to make more of your requests, so do not hesitate. I hope you enjoy ut and do not forget that i always appreciate your comments

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