the Dalaverse

More mpreg. I am trying to get the rest of it out, much like a cat hacking up a hairball. First, a couple of things I forgot in my catch-up post.

Loving "Coupling" to tiny bits and pieces. I'm through the second series; trying to make the third one last a bit. I wonder if there's a forum on TWoP? Our sucky basic cable doesn't get BBC America. Anyway, the end of "Naked" is one of the funniest things I have ever seen in my life. There are moments in which the phrase 'bust a gut laughing' becomes not a vague euphemisn, but a very grave danger. My mother came to ask me if I was okay and I could only point at the screen, tears rolling down my face. She said. "Riiiiiiight...." and went back upstairs.

My boobs looked awesome today. I was fascinated by them. Must wear that particular black tank top more often, even if it is a bit longer than I like. I'm wearing it now without a bra and it still makes the girls look perky.


And now,
Nothing New Under the Sun (XI)



Will was drifting, floating through clouds on a sea the color of Jack’s eyes. He let his head loll back, staring at the sunless sky above him. A splash just to the left of his head interrupted his blissful reverie and he turned, catching the sight of – of something at the very corner of his eye. He turned and reached for it – reached – stretched – just a bit further...

The sky broke up with a sound like thunder and shattering glass. Will huddled, drew into himself, and the whatever-it-was slipped soundlessly away.

He opened his eyes, getting a sideways view of the fireplace in Elizabeth’s guest room. The sound came again, rattling air against the back of his neck, and he sighed.

“Jack, you’re snoring,” he said, turning awkwardly under the arm Jack had draped across his hips. His only response was another long, rumbling snore. With a small smile, Will rubbed one hand up and down Jack’s back, stroking his chest in a matched rhythm with the other. “Jack,” he whispered against the bob of Jack’s throat as he smacked his lips and swallowed lazily, “wake up, love. Jaa–aack...” Fingertips creeping ever inward, over the swell of arse and up the front of his thigh to cup a stirring erection.

Jack moved into his caress, his mouth curving sensuously. Will rubbed his thumb in little circles over half-hard flesh, then stopped.

Pulled out of sleep by disappointment, Jack cracked eyelids to half-mast and peered at him. “Hullo.” His voice was low and rough, smoky with sleep. It was, Will thought with a great deal of certainty and a shiver, the most erotic greeting that had ever been spoken in the history of the world.

Will shifted onto his elbow to wake him properly with a kiss, but the new angle to the world put his head and his stomach into a familiar spin. He scrambled amidst the bedding, leaning over the side to heave into the chamber pot on the floor.

As the convulsions left him trembling and grimacing at the taste in his mouth, he felt Jack’s hands sliding cool against the back of his neck.

“All right?” Jack’s voice was full of concern this time, and Will allowed a sigh for the lost moment.

“Fine,” he said shortly, letting himself be pulled back into bed and against Jack’s chest.

Kisses rained down on the top of his head. “You know,” said Jack conversationally, still petting him, “I’m ‘bout ready for this part t’ be over with.”

“I really agree,” said Will with feeling.




All the way home, James told himself that he would not allow Sparrow to draw him into an argument tonight. Last night’s battle over supper had ended in Sparrow smirking and preening, James purple with suppressed rage, Will with his head in his hands, and Elizabeth ordering the both of them out of the dining room. It didn’t matter how Sparrow prodded, how many rude hints he dropped, however he managed to ferret out every one of James’ buttons and gleefully stab at them – tonight James was going to ignore him completely.

When he arrived at the house, however, he found a strangely empty parlor. A search of the lower floor turned up no one, so he made his way upstairs.

Elizabeth was leaning against the wall opposite the best spare room, wincing as she stared at the door. Idris was huddled at her feet, tying sailor’s knots in a length of twine.

“Shhh,” Elizabeth hissed as he approached, not taking her eyes from the door. “Jack and Will are having some kind of row in there. They shouted for a good ten minutes, but now it’s strangely quiet. We’re hanging about to make sure they haven’t done injury to one another.”

James bit back a snappish reply and instead smiled down at the little girl on the floor, who buried her face in Elizabeth’s skirts. He had no idea why she would never look him in the eye – whether she was just shy or whether he frightened her in some way.

Just then the door burst open and three pairs of eyes jerked to a panting Jack Sparrow. His hair was wet, along with the upper half of his shirt, and he had a red flower tangled absurdly around an ear.

As one, they peeked around him at the darkened room, but he quickly closed the door until there was only room for his head to poke out.

“We’re, er, not gonna make it to supper,” he said breathlessly. His eyes were glassy with something like panic.

“Is everything all right?” Elizabeth asked, obviously worried about Will.

Sparrow nodded frantically, sending droplets splattering against the doorjamb. James made a face; there was no telling what resided in that filthy mane. “Might be a coupla things broken in here –” He glanced behind him with an aggrieved expression. The twisting of his body revealed a tear in his right sleeve, the linen there smudged with a small amount of blood.

James was really not in any hurry to discover what mess had happened inside the room. Seeing an infernal curiosity take over Elizabeth’s face, he tucked his hand under her arm and drew her away.

“James, let me go!” she hissed, yanking out of his grasp.

“We’d best leave them to it,” he replied, looking back to see Idris behind them, tripping over the hem of the too-large dress Cook had given her.

“We don’t even know what they are fighting over –”

“I saw the Black Pearl today, just for an instant before she disappeared back into the fog,” said James, his voice darkening at the reminder that he was no longer allowed to hunt that particular ship. “Sparrow will mostly likely be leaving with the dawn tide.”

Elizabeth looked blank for an instant before she closed her eyes. “And he conveniently forgot to tell Will that he was leaving at all, I’ll wager.”

“Precisely,” said James.

“Well...” Elizabeth gazed back down the hallway with a regretful sigh. “I do hope we didn’t have anything of your mother’s in there.”

“Only cheap nicknacks,” he assured her. “I removed everything of value before I let them step foot in the room.”




Will woke when Jack crept out of bed and began gathering his things, but he remained still and feigned sleep. Although the evidence of tears had been carefully kissed away, his eyes still felt hot and raw. At least the headache had gone.

He didn’t remember at what point during the night he’d fallen asleep, only that it had been late and Jack had been curled around him after one of his efforts at leaving Will with something to last through the weeks apart – sometime after forgiveness and before the resignation that had come upon him while he slumbered.

Jack moved quietly, going to the window once to check the sky but not striking a light. When he was finished, he paused. Will could feel him hovering over the bed. Fingertips stroked lightly across his cheek and Will tensed, preparing to part from him in the same tide of desperate, painful longing with which he’d clung in the night.

But the door clicked open and then shut with no further touches.

Will sat bolt upright, staring around the dark bedroom. Did he really think he was going to get away with sneaking out like the thief he was?

He didn’t bother to dress, only threw a too-big shirt on and hurried after Jack. At the door he was beset by a twinge of pain and he had to wait, both hands at the small of his back, before it passed.

Jack, it seemed, had gone through the house with interest more in silence than speed. Will caught up with him in the foyer, a pack slung over his shoulder and his hat askew on his head. Padding quietly up behind him, he reached out to tug it straight. Jack turned slowly, not looking at all surprised to see Will standing before him.

“Going to leave without saying goodbye?” His voice came out harsher than he’d meant and Jack flinched. Grinding his teeth, Will all but threw himself forward, clutching at Jack with shaking arms. Hands came to his hips and then traveled up, gliding over his shoulder blades. Will pressed closer and Jack curved his back to make room for the added barrier against his lean stomach.

“William, William,” Jack breathed against the side of his neck. “It’s only for a little while.”

I’m acting like an imbecile, Will thought angrily, but Jack kissed his jaw and his next thought was, Oh God I’ll die if he leaves me.

He shuddered. Yes, he was an imbecile, but then so was Jack, and Will didn’t want to be alone in his foolishness.

“You have to let go, Will,” said Jack gently, patting his shoulder.

“I am,” said Will, his voice muffled in Jack’s hair.

A few moments in which they stood unmoving, and Jack said, not unkindly, “Yes, I can see that.”

Despite himself, Will chuckled. He finally managed to make his body obey him and released Jack enough to be able to look into his eyes, which were as sorrowful as Will felt.

“Please be careful,” he said, his throat tightening around the words.

Jack’s smile was watery. “What happened to ‘everything’ll be all right, I feel it,’ eh?”

“That’s different,” Will insisted. “I can’t trust you to keep yourself out of trouble if I’m not around to watch you.”

“As far as keeping outta trouble goes, I’d say between us, we’ve done quite the bang-up job,” he said, his gaze dropping to Will’s belly. He rubbed both hands across the cloth-covered bump. “And you, little one, stop makin’ people ill all the time, savvy? It’s a pretty trick, but the novelty’s worn off.”

“You do know that it can’t hear you.”

Grinning widely, Jack bestowed a hearty kiss upon him. “Don’t know that fer sure,” he said, touching his lips again and again to Will’s mouth. “Gotta make an impression – just in case.” Will moaned softly as he pulled away, his hands tightening before he finally let go, every urge within him protesting.

“Good lad,” said Jack unsteadily. He kissed Will’s brow and squeezed his hands. “Don’t forget I love you.”

“Don’t forget I love you back,” Will replied. “And don’t do anything –”

“Stupid,” Jack finished with a nod. “Go back to bed, sweet.”

When he pulled away, one of Will’s hands inadvertently went with him; he clucked in reproval and shook himself free.

Will sat down on the rug quickly enough to make his head spin, staring at the closed door. It was full light before Idris came silently down the stairs to find him still sitting there, chin tucked between his drawn-up knees. She talked incessantly in her own language, sometimes angry, sometimes soothing, as she drew him to his feet and led him back to bed.




When he’d first set foot upon its docks, Jack had not particularly cared for Port Royal. He’d heard that it had once been a bawdy, exciting place, but the Crown had done its best to turn it as safe and dull as possible. It was just another little corner of Jamaica, claiming a famed pirate-hunting captain and a handful of grand ships for its home port, but wholly unremarkable.

Returning as a free man, he thought it was the most stunning beautiful stretch of land he’d ever seen. He saluted the bodies hanging at Gallows Point and waved cheerfully to the sailors as they docked. He was even in a good enough mood to tip the harbormaster quite handsomely. Anamaria was convinced he’d lost his mind at last and made several suspicious-looking hand gestures to ward him off.

Technically it was his duty to report to Fort Charles and its highest commanding officer. That man being Norrington, Jack figured they were past such formalities and merely set off for the house, after turning his crew loose on the handful of taverns by the harbor. He’d meant to come back once or twice in the past four months, but in October they’d been caught in a particularly vicious storm, having to stand idle for weeks while the ship was repaired, and not long after that there had been a French vessel that kept popping into view and then skittering off. Jack was determined to take her as a prize, so he’d followed her through a merry chase. Unfortunately it had ended with the a firefight in the wee hours of the morning and the Frenchie rotting at the bottom of the sea, but better her than the Pearl, and they had at least managed to save most of the crew and pilfer a supply of sugarcane.

Jack had spent long hours going over the stories in his head, hours he would normally have spent lazing about in bed with Will. It passed the time and assuaged some of his loneliness. Besides which, the tales were backup; should Will become angry at the long absence, Jack was fully prepared to stave off argument by talking him to death. For the first time, he was able to fully understand how Bill could have left the wife and son Jack knew he’d loved. It was neglect, yes, but it wasn’t malicious or even intentional; it was the way time passed differently at sea than on land, and how simple it was for a sailor to forget or disregard that distance. The comparison made him uneasy and he pressed the crew and the ship hard in the final voyage back to Port Royal.

The maid who answered the door let him in with a resigned sigh, ignoring Jack’s charming smile. “Missus is in th’ parlor, sir.”

“Thank you, m’ dear girl,” said Jack, bowing over her hand and making as if to kiss it. The maid snatched it away from him, clucking her tongue in disapproval.

He found the lady of the house seated at a small table. She and Idris were bent over a number of old, battered readers, and the little girl was painstakingly reciting a couple of verses about a tabbycat and some bluebonnets.

“Welcome back,” said Elizabeth, smiling at him. He waved a hand as she started to get up, bending over her chair to kiss her cheek. An attempt to greet Idris got him a scowl and he quickly backed off.

“Learnin’ our letters, are we?” he asked, looking down at her scribbles.

“Know my letters,” she said primly, with an approximation of a English schoolgirl’s accent that wasn’t half bad. “Learning words.”

“Splendid,” said Jack absently. Will had mentioned teaching her before Jack had left. And Will had not come barreling into his arms the moment he stepped over the threshold.

Elizabeth caught his glances around the room and took pity on him. “He’s over there having a nap,” she said, pointing to a settee that had been pulled up to face the fire. There were a pair of bare feet dangling over the edge; one of them twitched a bit, and a snort rose from the hidden slumberer.

Jack rubbed his palms together as he tiptoed around the settee, prepared to spook the boy into waking. But upon catching sight of Will, he found his hands falling limply to his sides and could do nothing but stare. Will was sleeping comfortably – or as comfortably as he could get, considering he was too big for the furniture and he had to accommodate a stomach several sizes larger than the one Jack had last seen. There was an old book full of pirate stories lying open in one hand. Jack took it carefully, setting it aside, freezing when Will twitched. But he settled again, obscenely long lashes fluttering against the tops of his cheeks before falling still. Jack knelt beside him, reaching out to stroke a wayward curl from his brown. It might have been the long stretch apart, but his skin seemed softer than the tiny sets of baby clothing Jack had remembered to pick up.

“Hello,” said Will with his eyes still closed. His hand groped for whatever it could reach, finding his vest and pulling him nearer.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” Jack murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth.

Will opened one eye and smiled. “It isn’t me you woke.” Shifting slightly, he took Jack’s hand and rested it on the pronounced curve of his belly. The movement beneath his fingers was strong, nothing like the faint stirring of months ago – a genuine kick.

“See,” he said smugly, leaning forward to rest his cheek on the spot. “Does too know me.”

“Mmm,” said Will with a sigh. He closed his eyes again and Jack noted how deeply the circles beneath them were colored.

He cupped Will’s cheek in one hand. “Are you all right, love?”

Will patted the back of his palm gently. “I’m fine, Jack.” He braced himself on Jack’s shoulders as he pulled himself upright, tugging Jack to sit beside him. The pirate captain started at something sharp poking his backside.

“Sorry,” said Will, pulling the knitting needles and a lump of green cloth out of his hand. “I was making an attempt at being domestic.” He dangled the thing proudly in Jack’s lap.

Jack examined it; there appeared to be a hole for a head between both the arms and the legs. “Er, something you want to tell me about the form of this child?” He poked a finger through the extra hole.

Will scowled and snatched it back. “All right, so I’m not terribly proficient at it – my hands are too big. But at least I’m not meant to be. Elizabeth’s creation has three arms.”

“I heard that,” she called from the table. “Some people are awfully critical since they’ve become bored and housebound.”

“Some people should refrain from eavesdropping,” Will replied. He nestled against Jack, who was alarmed to feel thinness in his arms, the way his shoulderblades were more pronounced than Jack was accustomed to. And his skin, when he pressed his face into Jack’s neck, was just slightly too warm.

He squeezed gently. Swollen belly and puffy face notwithstanding, Will felt fragile in his arms. “Sure ev’rything’s in order? You seem...” Will stiffened in his grip and Jack finished, “...a mite off.” Breakable, he’d meant to say, or perhaps ill. He held his tongue for fear that Will was even more sensitive than he’d been in the first few months.

“I’m perfectly fine,” Will said, nuzzling under his chin. “Just tired, and bored like Elizabeth said. What I need...” He caught Jack’s hand where it was checking for anything unusual at his collarbones and held it still. “What I need is to go home.” His voice dropped to a husky, wistful note.

Jack breathed in the scent of his hair. Will was safe and sound, and the child within him seemed to be healthy still. That was all he need worry about. “To th’ Pearl we go then. She’s missed you, lad.”

“Has she?” There was a teasing grin to his words, but the tenseness of his body bespoke quite a different intent. Will’s soft lips were idly tracing the lines of his throat, but they too were asking questions – are you still mine, is this still what you want, has time changed your mind about all the things we dare not name?

“Oh, aye,” said Jack with a firm nod. He ran fingertips up and down the scar on Will’s left palm, reminding him of all they had shared. “Missed your face, your voice, your touch – she’d be driven ‘pon the rocks if ever she doubted your return.”

“She has always needed a steady hand,” Will whispered, saying nothing about how Jack’s own hands trembled faintly as he brought them to his lips.

Jack cleared his throat, certain that one or both of them was going to start weeping in the presence of Elizabeth and Idris, who were trying to look as though they were not watching and failing quite spectactularly. He held the yarn monstrosity out, studying it intently. “Green, eh? I’d’ve gone with somethin’ in a nice lavender, meself.”





And now I'm off to bed. Soft fluffly comfy bed....