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the_dala at 11:15pm on 07/03/2006 under fic: pirates of the caribbean
the_dala at 11:15pm on 07/03/2006 under fic: pirates of the caribbeanA small Will/Elizabeth-discussing-Jack/James ficlet for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tiggothy -- happy birthday! *smooch* Title came from a ThinkExist.com search which turned up this lovely line from Countee Cullen, apparently an early twentieth-century American poet. And is officially the only time I've ever been compelled to not capitalize a title.
The key to all strange things is in thy heart
“A visit from one uncle is usually guaranteed to make the children’s day,” Will remarked, bending over the little girl curled up on the hearth rug, “but both at once seems to have entirely done them in.”
Elizabeth nodded as she lifted Billy out from the crevice between the sofa cushions, where he had tucked himself after James Norrington managed to escape from his grasp. He murmured and turned his face into her neck. Anne was not nearly so complacent, even deep in slumber; her dangling legs kicked at Will as he lifted her over his shoulder.
“Perhaps we should have left them be,” said Elizabeth with a yawn, blinking up the flight of stairs to the second floor. Jack’s French red had left her more than a bit unsteady on her feet, and the parlor had such a nice breeze wafting through –
“They’d wake up stiff and chilled in the morning, and so would you,” Will retorted mildly. “Up you go, then.” He freed one hand to place it at the small of her back, ostensibly for support, but it had slipped lower by the time they reached the top and she had to muffle a giggle against the top of Billy’s downy head.
Though Anne burrowed under her coverlet and tucked her doll beneath her arm, Billy’s eyes fluttered open when Elizabeth laid him down. She spent a few minutes soothing him and found Will already in bed when she slipped into their chamber. He was not teasing and amorous now, but rather gazing out the window with a thoughtful expression on his face. A bit miffed at his short attention span, she took her time undressing and combing her hair free of its pins.
“Elizabeth,” he said suddenly, “I think…”
She turned, setting her brush on the vanity, surprised to see him fiddling with the sheets like a nervous – well, like a nervous blacksmith of earlier days. “Yes?”
Setting his jaw in determination but hesitant to meet her eye, he continued, “Well, I think there may be something…something going on between Jack and the commodore.”
He said this last in a rush, his reddened face cast down at his lap. Elizabeth had to turn back around to hide her smile. She’d known he would come to it some day. Maybe he had been tipped off by James’s discomfort when Jack had first stumbled in the window tonight – dramatic as always, despite the fact that he had a letter of marque and was perfectly welcome to walk through a bloody door – or how quickly James forgot it, and how easy he soon became. His friendship with Jack was no more secret than the one he shared with Elizabeth and Will, but James was usually very careful about displaying how deeply it ran. Every now and then, though, he seemed to forget there was anyone to notice, anyone to suspect - indeed, anything in a room but Jack Sparrow’s bright eyes and flashing hands. She had been on the periphery of such a moment once, and it had been enough to shake her out of hinting at the eligibility of certain young ladies of Port Royal.
Or maybe Will had finally taken note of Jack’s casually dropped innuendoes, the winks he favored Elizabeth with ever since he’d guessed that she knew, the way the corners of his mouth softened when he smiled at James, and the curious way they’d fallen into step together when they left for a nightcap.
After she had composed herself she faced him again, interested to hear him elaborate. In childhood he had thought the world of James, and his good opinion had been restored and strengthened by James’s words on the day of Jack’s would-be execution. Jack too had earned his loyalty, then and in the years following. It had not been long before her own shock turned to affection, and she had come to think the untold story as romantic as any novel; but Will had always been suspicious of the out-of-ordinary.
His expression was thoughtful again and his hands were clasped in his lap. “It’s – strange, isn’t it?” Before she could agree that it was and then prepare her case in favor, he added, “Yet to call it a sin seems too easy an answer. They are good men, both of them, and before tonight I saw no sin in their regard for one another. To imagine now that it may be…expressed in another fashion is truly not so strange as I might have thought. Which in itself is strange – Elizabeth, please stop looking at me like that!”
“Apologies, darling,” she said, biting down on her grin as she climbed into bed. Will’s arms immediately went round her waist and he seemed to gain confidence from her kiss upon his brow.
“And they are sailors, after all,” he said with finality, sneaking his hands beneath her shift. “Though frankly I cannot see the appeal – in a practical sense, I mean to say.”
“No?” said Elizabeth, a bit breathlessly, as his fingertips stroked her tense thighs. She slid one leg over his hips and lifted herself up, gratified once more by the solid grasp he maintained elsewhere in the realm of practical appeal. “Perhaps we can work on that…”
tiggothy -- happy birthday! *smooch* Title came from a ThinkExist.com search which turned up this lovely line from Countee Cullen, apparently an early twentieth-century American poet. And is officially the only time I've ever been compelled to not capitalize a title.The key to all strange things is in thy heart
“A visit from one uncle is usually guaranteed to make the children’s day,” Will remarked, bending over the little girl curled up on the hearth rug, “but both at once seems to have entirely done them in.”
Elizabeth nodded as she lifted Billy out from the crevice between the sofa cushions, where he had tucked himself after James Norrington managed to escape from his grasp. He murmured and turned his face into her neck. Anne was not nearly so complacent, even deep in slumber; her dangling legs kicked at Will as he lifted her over his shoulder.
“Perhaps we should have left them be,” said Elizabeth with a yawn, blinking up the flight of stairs to the second floor. Jack’s French red had left her more than a bit unsteady on her feet, and the parlor had such a nice breeze wafting through –
“They’d wake up stiff and chilled in the morning, and so would you,” Will retorted mildly. “Up you go, then.” He freed one hand to place it at the small of her back, ostensibly for support, but it had slipped lower by the time they reached the top and she had to muffle a giggle against the top of Billy’s downy head.
Though Anne burrowed under her coverlet and tucked her doll beneath her arm, Billy’s eyes fluttered open when Elizabeth laid him down. She spent a few minutes soothing him and found Will already in bed when she slipped into their chamber. He was not teasing and amorous now, but rather gazing out the window with a thoughtful expression on his face. A bit miffed at his short attention span, she took her time undressing and combing her hair free of its pins.
“Elizabeth,” he said suddenly, “I think…”
She turned, setting her brush on the vanity, surprised to see him fiddling with the sheets like a nervous – well, like a nervous blacksmith of earlier days. “Yes?”
Setting his jaw in determination but hesitant to meet her eye, he continued, “Well, I think there may be something…something going on between Jack and the commodore.”
He said this last in a rush, his reddened face cast down at his lap. Elizabeth had to turn back around to hide her smile. She’d known he would come to it some day. Maybe he had been tipped off by James’s discomfort when Jack had first stumbled in the window tonight – dramatic as always, despite the fact that he had a letter of marque and was perfectly welcome to walk through a bloody door – or how quickly James forgot it, and how easy he soon became. His friendship with Jack was no more secret than the one he shared with Elizabeth and Will, but James was usually very careful about displaying how deeply it ran. Every now and then, though, he seemed to forget there was anyone to notice, anyone to suspect - indeed, anything in a room but Jack Sparrow’s bright eyes and flashing hands. She had been on the periphery of such a moment once, and it had been enough to shake her out of hinting at the eligibility of certain young ladies of Port Royal.
Or maybe Will had finally taken note of Jack’s casually dropped innuendoes, the winks he favored Elizabeth with ever since he’d guessed that she knew, the way the corners of his mouth softened when he smiled at James, and the curious way they’d fallen into step together when they left for a nightcap.
After she had composed herself she faced him again, interested to hear him elaborate. In childhood he had thought the world of James, and his good opinion had been restored and strengthened by James’s words on the day of Jack’s would-be execution. Jack too had earned his loyalty, then and in the years following. It had not been long before her own shock turned to affection, and she had come to think the untold story as romantic as any novel; but Will had always been suspicious of the out-of-ordinary.
His expression was thoughtful again and his hands were clasped in his lap. “It’s – strange, isn’t it?” Before she could agree that it was and then prepare her case in favor, he added, “Yet to call it a sin seems too easy an answer. They are good men, both of them, and before tonight I saw no sin in their regard for one another. To imagine now that it may be…expressed in another fashion is truly not so strange as I might have thought. Which in itself is strange – Elizabeth, please stop looking at me like that!”
“Apologies, darling,” she said, biting down on her grin as she climbed into bed. Will’s arms immediately went round her waist and he seemed to gain confidence from her kiss upon his brow.
“And they are sailors, after all,” he said with finality, sneaking his hands beneath her shift. “Though frankly I cannot see the appeal – in a practical sense, I mean to say.”
“No?” said Elizabeth, a bit breathlessly, as his fingertips stroked her tense thighs. She slid one leg over his hips and lifted herself up, gratified once more by the solid grasp he maintained elsewhere in the realm of practical appeal. “Perhaps we can work on that…”
hopeful
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