the Dalaverse

::breathes:: Okay. I have to work in the morning. I'm running on four and a half hours of sleep. I need to shut down my poor overtaxed computer.

Tentative title is "Beggars Banquet," because "You Can't Always Get What You Want" happened to come on the radio earlier and I had a weird train of thought before I hit upon that.

I could call it "Sticky Fingers," for that matter. "Get Yer Ya-Ya's Out." (Jack: OOOH! Dala: Shut UP! I was kidding!) "Forty Licks," even.

What was that I said about sleep? I could go on all night.

Now that I'm running through album titles, I like "Out of Our Heads" almost as much.

Methinks I'm going to wake up with a Stones song stuck in my head tomorrow morning.



Beggars Banquet II



James found himself falling backwards as he watched Elizabeth walk away, grateful to find a solid plank wall at his back.

She moved nervously as if she expected someone to accost her. Her hands smoothed her hair and her skirt, though he had assured her that everything was tucked back into place, neat and clean. They could do little about the color to her lips and her cheeks, or the guilt in her eyes.

Elizabeth paused before turning the corner onto her street. He could see her take a deep, steadying breath, tucking one last curl behind her ear. Her chin lifted and she glanced back; he felt glad that the shadows of twilight obscured him from her view, as the two of them had been hidden when they’d embraced.

When she had broken her vows to William Turner. When some dark thing had taken hold of him and made him pin her to the wall against which he now slumped, both of them fighting for control over a forbidden kiss.

It would be a lie to say he’d never seen her face in his dreams, even after Jack had begun creeping through his window. Sin compounded upon sin – he could blame the one for temptation, for corruption. His voice would be weak as he did it and Jack was whispering hot in his ear, telling him that he was fooling himself, but in this moment he wanted to deny any culpability he possibly could. Because this – tonight – this had been his fault entirely. Elizabeth had come to him in vulnerability, trusting in his friendship and his unshakable values. Values he had given up, again and again as he welcomed a pirate to his bed; friendship he had spat on with the first desire he’d felt while holding Elizabeth’s gaze.

But she wanted you as well, reasoned some portion of his brain that did not want him flogged until he bled. It was nothing you did to her; she was as much herself in your arms as Jack has ever been.

Thoughts of them both ran together and that was damning, too; the one person on his mind should have been Will, alone in their house, completely ignorant of the dishonor James had done him, the liberties James had taken with his wife.

He was not much for praying, but he felt that this occasion called for an attempt. Yet the words would not come; he murmured a bare “Our Father who art...” before the prayer died on his tongue. He could not live with this secret bearing down upon his lungs, freezing his throat. The least he could possibly do was apologize to Elizabeth. Telling Will was her choice, but privately James felt that the pressure of things unspoken might stop his breath forever.

And Jack – heaven only knew what Jack would say. He was a fan of taking one’s pleasure whenever and wherever possible, but he was also fiercely protective of the Turners. The only thing certain was that he’d get it out of James easily, no matter how hard he tried to resist.

He could not return home for fear that Jack would be there, and he couldn’t just stand here in the dark and feel his knees shake. And although he was probably the last person on earth Elizabeth wanted to see right now, he could not simply leave things as they were.

Rather poetically, in a way he didn’t feel he deserved, the moon rose to light him on his way.



There were many reasons Jack’s old friend would have been proud of his son. If Bill could have seen him smile, seen him throw a punch, seen him lift a perfect weapon from his beloved forge...all these things they’d spoken of in the more pleasant of Jack’s dreams, over a pint or two, and there was nothing he’d seen so far to prove Bill couldn’t hear him somehow.

The one thing he figured it might be wise to keep to himself was the pure delight in bed the boy had turned out to be.

Nerves had struck Will once again when they’d tumbled onto the bed, no doubt prompted by memories of Elizabeth fluffing the pillows and turning back the covers that very morning. Jack had distracted him with kisses that burned and twisted their limbs together, until Will was wrapped around him and clearly thinking of nothing but his body’s needs. He was too close to the edge for Jack to waste time on the proper worship such a fine physique deserved, taking the boy into his mouth just for the taste of it. The way Will’s hands immediately threaded through his hair, the way his hips moved surely under firm suction, made Jack’s eyebrows lift and an appreciate growl hum through the slim, pretty cock between his lips. There wasn’t much he’d put past Elizabeth to begin with, but she was a creative lass indeed.

One thing he was certain she didn’t have the faculties for, though. Jack eased off, placating a whimpering Will with distracted kisses as he urged him over onto his knees. The boy swallowed hard, but didn’t tremble as Jack ran hands down his flanks and swiped a tongue across the ridges of his spine. The oil was conveniently tucked into Jack’s sash, meant for James, and oh, how terribly needy and confused the man had been the first time Jack had bent over him like this. Will, to his surprise, kept his strange calm even as Jack pierced him with a finger, twitching and letting out a soft, startled grunt when Jack gave him more and twisted until he found that sweet spot inside.

Sweet – that was what he was, no doubt about it. He murmured it into Will’s ear as he held still above him, unsure whether it was the sound of his voice or the head of his cock pressing against Will’s entrance that made the boy shudder. A quick thrust forward – no need to draw out the unnecessary – and Will didn’t make a sound, though he had his face pressed into the pillow so some small noise might have been stifled. Jack waited a moment, letting him adjust, starting to move slowly at a deep breath and a nod from the body beneath his own.

“Beautiful,” Jack continued, his eyes closing tight at the heat of it. “Tha’s what y’are, love, so...beautiful...” And Will was shifting under him, moving back against him, his head turned to the side so that Jack could see the speechless wonder in his eyes. God, he truly was – Jack suddenly found himself wishing that Elizabeth could see this, the perfect way they fit together, hear the rough sounds coming from Will’s throat and shed light on if they were any different from the noises he made when he was with her.

That old bitch Fortuna must've been having herself a hearty chuckle at his expense, because the good Mrs. Turner happened to walk in at that very moment.



She made her way back to the house like a blind woman, unseeing and uncaring of her
surroundings until her fingers were fumbling at the doorknob. There was no light burning downstairs and she shut the door quietly behind her, not wanting to wake Will.

The guest room beckoned as she climbed the stairs and passed it, because she could still feel James’ lips at her throat, his hands on her body, and she was sure Will would be able to feel it too. But coward was one thing Elizabeth had tried never to be, so she steeled herself and went on to her own bedchamber.

She was seconds away from seeing him and she still had not decided whether or not she was going to tell him. It might burst upon her tongue the moment he met her eyes; she might choke it down and smile warmly and lower herself to the bed to distract him from any shadows in her eyes. The coin was in the air and she knew she couldn’t call a side until she was actually standing in front of him.

As her hand, shaking slightly, reached for the knob, she heard a ragged sound from within, like a sob or the breathing of someone trying to hold off tears. Guilt tore through her – she would tell him, he deserved to know – she'd hold her tongue, it would hurt him so badly –

Elizabeth flung open the door and her world fell flat.

Some part of her mind registered the scene – Will on his hands and knees amid the rumpled sheets, Jack kneeling behind him, the pose unmistakable to a girl who’d grown up reading tales of piracy by candlelight – but mostly she saw Will’s face. Mostly she saw his eyes, unfocused with some intense union of pain and pleasure. Just for an instant that was all there was; then recognition flickered, and naked shame, high alarm – the second time tonight she had seen that flame within the eyes of men she cared deeply for.

She was only distantly aware of Jack levering himself off her husband and two voices calling her name, as she turned and nearly met her death from the speed at which she took the stairs.



Will felt barely a thing as Jack pulled out hastily, Elizabeth busy fleeing the room. They both said her name, Will with too many conflicting emotions to name and Jack with something like resignation.

He scrambled to his feet, meaning to follow her.

“Naked,” Jack reminded him. Will turned and caught the breeches thrown at him, needing the few seconds it took to tug them on before he could look at Jack. The other man was sitting back on his heels, managing to look both indolent and deadly alert, but not ashamed.

Perhaps he had that luxury, but Will did not. Instead he had the wedding band around his finger, which he had not even bothered to take off, and all that it implied.

“Will –” Jack began, managing to put a world of meaning behind that one syllable. He stopped as Will shook his head, as much to clear the sweat dripping into his eyes as anything else.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice sounding hollowly in the quiet room. “I have to –”

“I know,” Jack replied with a sigh that Will couldn’t begin to decipher. “Hope you don’t have any weapons in the house, though.”

All Will could hope was that Elizabeth wasn’t thinking clearly enough to remember where they were, but he wasn’t having much success believing in the thought.

He found her standing with her back to the front door. Her face looked as though the skin had been stretched too tight across the bones, and her eyes stared right through him.

“In our bed.” Voice perfectly flat. Hands balled at her sides, ready to swing at him. He didn’t think he would even try to block the blow.

“I can...” His own voice died without warning. ‘Explain’ was the logical ending to the sentence, but it was not within the realm of possibility. The words for what she had seen, what he’d felt for Jack – what he still felt, a coldly rational part of his mind could admit, what he’d have gone on feeling if they had not been interrupted – they were not words he felt he could say aloud, much less to her.

Will was completely unprepared for the sudden flood of compassion in her eyes, like tears but shining softer. “Will, we need to –”

A tentative knock at the door made them both glance to it, then quickly at each other. Will ducked into the hallway beyond the foyer.



She answered the door looking much as she had when she’d left him, flustered and well-kissed and thinking so intently he could almost hear it. Her mouth fell slightly open and James flushed, shifted his weight from foot to foot. The house was dark behind her.

He knew there had to be some better way to get through this than simply rushing headlong, but he was speaking before he could stop himself, his words running over one another in their haste to reach her.

“I must apologize for earlier – I had no intentions of...I swear, Eliza–Mrs. Turner, I have nothing but respect for you and your family, and you have every right to shun me or tell your father about my indiscretions so that he might –”

“James,” she said sharply, holding up a hand. Her eyes looked strained at the corners, overwhelmed, and he was suddenly afraid she’d faint.

Instead she shook her head, lowering her gaze to the floor as she reached out to pluck at his sleeve. “You had better come inside.”



Feeling heavy dread sink into him with each step, Jack shuffled down to the darkened first floor. The air crackled as if a storm was rising, though the sky outside was perfectly clear.

He let none of his uneasiness show as he walked down the hallway to Will, who was pressed against the wall at the far end and listening to low voices coming from the foyer. He rolled his eyes at the sheet wrapped casually around Jack’s hips, waving his hand for quiet. Jack leaned close, somewhat gratified that Will was concentrating too hard to pull away.

“It’s Norrington,” he whispered with a frown. “I don’t know what they’re talking about.”

James, here – now, of all times? It was enough of a coincidence to make Jack instantly suspicious. Ignoring Will’s protesting shove, he risked a peek around the corner.

He caught the look on James’ face as he stood in front of Elizabeth, backlit by the moon, and suddenly a great deal came together in his head, almost too quickly to process. But Jack didn’t let that stop him; he stepped into view, dragging Will behind him.



As the two half-naked men came under the opalescent light, Elizabeth and James fell silent. For long moments there was naught in the room but eyes darting back and forth, bewildered and troubled – all except for Jack, who was looking inordinately pleased with himself.

Then several voices were raised at once, all of them in varying levels of indignance.

“Jack, would you let go of me!”

“Jack Sparrow, how dare you parade around my house –”

“Will someone please explain what’s – Jack, how –”

The pirate held up a hand, rolling it on his wrist while he waited for silence. They gave it to him reluctantly, wary of the grin hiding at the corners of his lips.

“It seems, friends, that we have found ourselves in quite the unique predicament.”

“Unique?” Elizabeth burst out, sweeping her glare up and down his body. “I should say so, considering what I’ve just caught you doing to my husband.”

James blinked owlishly at Will, who rubbed a hand against the back of his reddening neck. “Can we please talk about this privately?” he muttered, giving Jack an equally dark look.

“Oh no,” Jack assured him with a slight bow, “dear James is just as much a part of this tangled web as you and I and the lass.”

Surprised at this assertion, Will looked to Elizabeth. It was her turn to blush and staunchly avoid his eyes.

“Good kisser, ain’t he?” Jack asked her with an exaggerated wink.

Will gaped. “You...?” He turned to James, his brows drawing together dangerously. “You.”

“Goddamn you, Jack,” James whispered, closing his eyes with a pained expression.

Before the blacksmith could take a step toward the commodore, Jack reached out to pinch the bare flesh of his waist. “Glass houses, love.”

“Indeed,” said Elizabeth archly.

He waggled a finger at her. “I might as well say you the same. Will’s not ‘xactly the first Turner to know the pleasures of a night with Captain Jack, now is he?”

Elizabeth went from delicate rose blush straight to tomato red, fueled by anger more than anything else. “You swore you’d never tell him!” she shouted at Jack, shoulders hunching with the force of her ire. “It was on the island, long before we were married,” she hurriedly explained to Will, who was looking back and forth between them as if he couldn’t decide who had wounded him more deeply.

“But...” Will’s brow crinkled in hurt confusion. “But you were a virgin on our wedding night...”

James had backed up against the closed door and fresh embarrassment overtook his face at this.

“I was, darling,” Elizabeth said soothingly, coming nearer to him and pausing before clarifying, “...technically.”

Fury stormed in Will’s eyes as he turned to Jack with his fists raised, but he wilted as Jack quirked an expressive eyebrows at his state of undress, silently reminding him of how he’d gotten to it.

James cleared his throat to fill the abrupt silence. “I’ll, ah, just be going then, shall I.”

“Don’ you dare, James Norrington,” Jack retorted before he could even turn around. “Some might say that this is all your fault, y’know.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, James snorted. “And how do you figure that, Sparrow?”

“Well, if you hadn’t thrown me out, we’d’ve been too busy buggering each other rotten to have the pretty young things come crying into our arms,” said Jack with obvious pride at his own logic.

James’ back went ramrod-straight and the sound of the back of his head smacking against the door was plainly audible.

Since Will couldn’t pick his jaw up off the floor long enough to speak, it was Elizabeth whose flabbergasted voice rang out clearly through the hall. “You mean – you two...” Jack nodded smartly and James gave her a watery, miserable grimace.

“Oh, bloody hell,” she muttered, flinging her hands up. “Please tell me, is there anyone standing here right now who hasn’t engaged in some sort of illicit activity with every other person standing here right now?"

Will and James locked eyes across the way.






I know, I know, cruel place to end it. But I sweartagahd, if I write another word tonight I will DIE.

But the smut will arrive. Oh yes, the smut WILL arrive.