the Dalaverse

Next to last gift ficlet -- I have aradiria's Norrington/Groves, and then some Jack/Will for veronica_rich in thanks for Orlando Bloom goodness ("The Calcium Kid," btw, is cute and funny and warmhearted and I recommend it heartily). And somewhere in there, studying for Age of Absolutism midterm, and some more Percy Shelley. Fucking Percy Shelley... I'm also looking into getting my prophecy essay published in the student philosophy/religion journal. Katharina suggested it, which was one of the many Awesome Things About Monday. It's just a little campus thing, but still, the word 'publishable' sent me into a freakout.

So, extreme busyness until tomorrow night, and then driving home and extreme laziness for the entirety of spring break, hopefully punctuated by lots of reading. I finished Fluke by Christopher Moore, which was not as good as Lamb, but still highly entertaining, and surprisingly intelligent. I had to pause on all the library books because I rented "Braveheart" over the weekend and desired something in a nice plaid, and I just happen to have been carrying Outlander around for three years, looking for an opportunity to reread it. Mmmm Jamie Fraser. Although I flipped forward to the sex scene, and though it's not wince-inducing, fic has spoiled me.

Anyway...


Reflection [Jack/Will/Elizabeth with a mirror; requested by fabu]


Elizabeth sleeps lightly and Will knows it, so she has no idea why he insists that Jack keep it down.

They are at the window to the left of the bed, judging by their voices. She faces the opposite wall, and if she pulls the coverlet down just a bit, she can see men and moonlight reflected in her dressing table mirror. It was a wedding gift, that table, and at the time she’d thought its large mirror frivolous.

Now she finds herself appreciating it – the clear, shining glass showing her husband’s head tipped back, his throat working convulsively as the pirate does something with his hands beneath the oak frame. Jack drifts lower, mouth flattening against Will’s bare chest. Barely turning his head, he flicks his eyes over to the bed, checking to see if she’s asleep. Elizabeth doesn’t move.

But Jack – canny Jack – he looks at the mirror, right into her eyes, and his grin flashes in the faint light.

Will moans beneath the touch she can’t see, evidently forgetting his own command about silence. She watches through the glass, Jack now turning back to Will and closing teeth over his nipple – showing off. When next he glances at the mirror, Elizabeth raises an eyebrow. He knows very well how the sight of them together affects her. Already her nightshift is too restrictive around her body, the linen chafing sensitized skin, though she won’t give him the satisfaction of moving. Not until –

Jack chuckles and tugs Will with him as he backs up to the bed. She still doesn’t stir, waiting until Jack leans over her. She can feel the heat of Will’s breath at Jack’s shoulder, from where he’s worked the shirt loose, and she can see the edge of his reflection.

“See anything int’resting in the looking glass, love?” Jack drawls. Will looks up briefly, catches her gaze in the mirror, and consideration of their treasure passes between them. She turns her head, smelling sea salt in Jack’s hair and tasting rum on his lips.

“Another world,” she murmurs, flipping neatly over beneath his braced arm. Will pushes at his back and together they hold him fast.