Black Polished Chrome
Author: boot-stealer
Summary: Jack takes Will out clubbing in London. Will's night is turned upside down by substances, and righted again by the company of a woman. AU Modern Willabeth
Disclaimer: By my knowledge, none of the clubs actually exist in London. I do not own Jack, Will, or Elizabeth, but I do own this plot and I own any new characters that may grace the story.
The place was nearly pitch black except for the blinking multicolored lights, flashing ridiculously, the strobe light spinning ridiculously, the music blasting…ridiculously. Hundreds of bodies gyrated and slimily grinded against each other, the musky smell of other peoples' breath invaded the air, or what was left of it that wasn't carbon dioxide.
"Jack, do we have to be here right now?" Will Turner yelled over the booming techno. He bumped into a large, beefy guy and apologized, seeing the man begin to turn, his hand in a fist.
"What?!" Jack Sparrow yelled, still moving through the throngs of people.
"What are we doing here?!" Will yelled back.
Jack grabbed his arm and pulled him into a slightly less loud area where they found one couple making out, another couple on the couch in the corner actually consummating whatever relationship they may have had.
Will felt incredibly uncomfortable and apologized to the couple. Their lack of attention to his apology made the young man feel there was really no need for him to lower his voice or leave the room.
"Jack, can we please get out of here?"
"Why?!" He stared at the couple on the couch, his jaw wide open, his eyes wide.
"Jack, don't be disgusting!"
"Listen, these two prob'ly met tonight and look at 'em go! I want that! This is where I can get it. C'mon, Will…what 'ave you got to lose?!" Jack finally diverted his attention and looked to his best mate. "Come ooon."
"Jack, I don't do this one night stand, sex with someone on a random, gross couch in some room in a techno club thing. I just don't."
"Yeh should try it. Just watch, I'll get ya a nice, sexy girl. And then you'll want to come back tomorrow and the next day. And because you liked it SO damn much, you'll want to come the day after that."
"Oh, c'mon, Jack. This really isn't my thing," Will argued. "I'm not like these guys."
The man making out with his girlfriend in the corner sent him a glare, to which Will responded, with wide eyes, "Hey, mate, I'm not judging you at all." The man went back to his lady friend.
The woman on the couch began making loud, slightly obscene noises, causing Jack to stare again.
"Jesus, Jack…you're sick."
"Wot?!" He asked defensively. "Will, answer me this." He pointed into Will's chest. "Are you a man or not?"
"Oh shut the hell up, Jack. Of course I'm a man!"
"How much of a man, my friend? Because what kind of man doesn't like having sex?" Jack stretched his arms to the side and shrugged. "C'mon mate. Really."
"I'm just not the type of guy that believes in dancing that consists of having sex with a woman with my clothes on. That's all I'm saying, mate. I don't judge you, you don't judge me. C'mon." Will turned to leave, but Jack grabbed his shirt and pulled him back.
"Will, just indulge me this one night. Get roaring drunk and screw some bird. Please."
"Look, I'll indulge you in staying here. And I'll dance. But this whole screwing a bird and getting drunk thing…no." He turned and left the room, entering into the loud atmosphere of the club.
A techno loop of Marilyn Manson's music reverberated through Will's brain, shooting through him and making him almost nauseas. He watched the sweaty mounds of people, moving together like amoebas or maggots, wriggling and vibrating. They were like emotionless zombies.
He stumbled over to the bar and wedged himself in. "Club soda!" He yelled.
The bartender completely ignored him and made the hard drinks for everyone else. Will just stared glumly. "Yeah, thanks!" He yelled, shoving his way from the bar and finding a corner where he wouldn't get other peoples' alcohol-smelling sweat all over him.
Jack stumbled towards Will with a small-looking girl in his arms. "Ey, mate! This is—wait, wot's yer name?"
"Leila!" She yelled in her small voice.
"This is Leila, Will! Are yeh interested?" The girl smiled drunkenly at Will. He smiled but then glared at his friend.
"No, Jack!"
The girl was put off for a moment, but grinned up at Jack as soon as he said "Fine, I'll have her. Hello, Leila."
"Hello, Jim."
"Jack."
"Whatever."
Jack started walking towards the door of the club. Raising an eyebrow, Will tore after his friend and grabbed him by his black sleeve. "Where the hell you going, Jack?!"
"I'm tired of this place. C'mon, we'll go somewhere with better drinks and less people." He turned and walked with his arm around Leila out into the cool London night air. Will followed him with relief.
A layer of smoke floated above the people on the dance floor. The band on the stage seemed near death, they were so thin. The eyes of the dancers were either closed or glazed over. If the last group was zombies, what was this??
Will turned to look at Jack and saw that Leila was nowhere to be seen. Jack stared strangely at the people bobbing up and down to the reggae sound of the band. Will poked Jack's shoulder. "Jack, where's your friend, Leila?"
"Who?"
"Leila."
He glanced to his side. "Shit. I dunno. Whatever. More where that came from. Let's go a street over and see wot's there."
"Jack, really, another one?"
"Let's go, damn it!"
"Can we please go, Will?"
Jack stood behind his friend, his eyes void of any emotion, his cheeks sunken in annoyance and his jaw clenched. "Please, Will."
Will was jumping on each foot, his eyes shut, his arms pumping into the air, screaming the lyrics to the song. "Yeah you! Shook me alllll niiiight long!"
"Will! Fuck, mate! Let's go!"
He grabbed Will's sleeve and pulled him past the long-haired, jean vest wearing rockers. Will looked at him, confused. "What's wrong with this place?"
Jack succeeded in pulling his younger friend out onto the sidewalk. "Will…what kind of girls are you gunna get in there, idjit?"
"First of all, don't call me that. Secondly, what do you mean 'what kind of girls'? I love AC/DC, girls or no girls. Man, they were rocking! Did you see that guy head bang—"
"You disappoint me."
Will glared.
"Don' glare at me! I'm tryin' to get you out fer fun an' you hop up an' down like a git to some hair band from the 80s. Really, Will. The only thing they 'ad wos beer. And girls tha' looked like they hadn't showered in years."
"So what? The music was awesome."
"You've got lots to learn, Skywalker." He grabbed Will's arm and pulled him along again.
"Well, shit, you brought me here, Yoda!"
"Fuck yes! This is it!"
Will looked up at the sign. The Black Pearl. That was promising.
Shit.
It was one door. And the moment it opened, a large-breasted woman wearing an obscenely low-cut bright red blouse stumbled out drunkenly with a bearded man who was just as drunk if not more so. Music exploded loudly into the rowdy night air, immediately ceasing to just a dull thump as the door snapped shut again, almost like a suction cup.
"God…" Jack murmured, staring at the door with just as much awe as Will stared with absolute horror.
"You're not bringing me in there."
"I'm bringing you in there."
"No!"
"Don't be such a bitch! How old are you, man?! Stop being a little girl and suck it up. Yer damn well screwing a bird and ye'll do it in there!" Jack quickly whacked Will in his privates and walked ahead, leaving his younger friend with a wholly violated look on his face.
"Those are not yours!" Will barked as he followed Jack into the bar, the music almost blasting him backwards, it was so over-powering.
"Not yours either!" Jack yelled back to Will, who resisted boxing his friend in the ear.
Immediately, a woman who looked closer to thirty nine burst in front of his vision. "Buy me a drink, sexy!"
"I've got syphilis." She was gone in a flash. He chuckled to himself. Maybe next time he would try genital warts. Haha, this was funny.
Jack was already downing an Irish car bomb, the men behind him chanting loudly. Oddly enough, they all had scruffy beards. One of them even had an eye patch. And Jack made fun of him?! At least the blokes in the other club had both their eyes.
"I'll have a Club Soda!" Will roared over the masses of kissing, yelling, singing, and roaring people, young and old, that surrounded him.
A dirty mug was slammed down in front of him half full of Club Soda. The bartender was immediately gone. Should I be paying for this? He looked around. "Fuck it," he muttered, moving away from the bar and running into a breezy Jack Sparrow.
"Oh, thanks mate!" He grabbed the mug and took a huge amount of the Club Soda into his mouth. His eyes widened and his cheeks bulged. Club Soda soon wet the right shoulder of Will's newly pressed shirt.
"Oh, good. Thank you, Jack," Will replied calmly.
"What the fuck is this?!" Jack asked, looking almost betrayed.
"Club Soda."
"Who drinks this?! Yer such a girl!"
"If I'm such a girl, will you please let me go home? Please?"
"No. You are a girl, but you'll be a partying girl tonight." Jack grinned maliciously and jumped into the throngs of dancers, grabbing whichever girl he could find first and dancing very close to her. He motioned Will to come out.
Rolling his eyes, Will maneuvered his way in and found two girl at one time trying to straddle his legs. "Jesus!" He yelled, diving out of the dancers again, feeling almost as violated as he had when Jack smacked his privates.
Jack joined him a moment later. "Shit, Will! You got two at one time! You've got great sell ability!"
"They're like animals!"
It was an hour later of Jack dancing his Irish Car Bomb off, making out with girls, and Will trying to hide in the corner. He had tried to go to the bathroom, but found it smelled as if a large ape ate fifty rotten eggs and pooped, only to be followed by a skunk pattering in to spray the pile of crap. He almost vomited.
Will finally asserted himself and marched into the people gyrating. He grabbed Jack by the back of his collar and tugged him into a clear space. "We're going. I have spent too long in these places. I am sick of this loud, scary shit. You are going to take me someplace quiet, where I can get a drink that I can lift without people yelling chug at me!! Got it?!"
"Aye! Aye, mate! Let go o' me collar!" Will let go of the collar roughly, making Jack sock him in the shoulder. "Damn it, this is new! Stupid git!"
"Well?! Where are you taking me?"
Jack thought a drunken moment. A sly grin leaked onto his already sketchy features. "I know jus' th'place for yer lame arse."
"Will, this is where all your Technicolor dreams come true. Your psych is obliterated. Girls are no longer just girls. They're enigmas. The whole world is your enigma. This one night, you can be whatever you want, wherever you want. What do you say?" Jack grinned widely in what Will knew Jack thought was an endearing fashion.
"I say sign me up, Bead Man." Will looked passed Jack to see a man with a Beatles haircut, in an all-black skin tight suit, a joint hanging from his lips. The man grinned slyly, his hands in his pocket, his eyes seen through small purple lens sunglasses.
Jack turned, fingering the string of beads he had woven into his long, black hair. "Shut the fuck up with your purple sunglasses."
"Whoa, man." The guy chuckled and walked away. Will just laughed.
"Christ, Jack. You're a prick. He was just being…a stoner."
"I don' give a shit. He made fun o' me beads. Me mum made these."
"No she didn't."
"Shut up, they're sentimental."
The soft chords of a keyboard sounded behind Will. His brow furrowed as he turned and peered in the corner behind him. A speaker was hidden beneath a black and white striped piece of cloth. Turning, Will meant to ask his friend why the speaker had a weird piece of cloth on it, but found he was gone. He recognized this music.
The guitar riffs sounded, the soft keyboard molding with the solos of the guitar. Jim Morrison's deep voice resonated into his senses. Let me sleep all night in your…soul kitchen.
There was a burnt smell in the air, almost like incense. He could almost see it, wafting about his head, tingling in his fingers in time with the keyboard.
Will shook his head and blinked a few times. 'Cause it's too late. Too late. Too late. Too late. And we're on our way. Now we can't come back.
A man in brown slacks tumbled passed him, his arm around a dangerously thin woman who laughed slowly, low in her throat, her dark charcoal make up smeared around her eyes, as if she'd just had a good cry.
The music slowed, almost like a psychedelic lullaby. Why is this place playing the Doors? Christ, I'm tired.
"So what's the point, man?"
Will spun and saw the same man from before, Purple Sunglasses Guy. Take it easy baby. Don't move it too fast.
"What's that?" He asked the weird guy.
"I asked what's the point? Why you here?"
"Don't know."
"Look around, man. Nobody knows. But we're here. You're here, man. You're in life, man. So live it, right?" He pointed his finger at Will with the joint hanging from his other fingers. "Live it."
"…'Kay, thanks." Will pushed passed him and entered a large room. It was strangely smoky, an almost purple smoke sitting still in the air, as if not an occupant in the room was breathing.
A large target was painted on one wall. There were three rings in the target, the inner circle was red, surrounded by a white ring, which was surrounded by a blue one. A young woman with cat-like eyes posed in front of it, her sleeveless, clinging dress stopping at mid thigh, it's black and white polka dots making her stand out in a strange way against the background.
A man knelt in front of her, snapping pictures with an old fashioned camera. His beret was moved aside so that he could see, revealing shaggy brown hair. A string of similarly dressed, thin young women stood behind him, playing with their hair, or smacking on their gum.
What the hell is this? Will thought to himself, watching as some people in the corner swayed slowly to the music, the slow sway of the blues-like rhythm matching their movement. Their noses touched just barely. Their hands were raised as if they were going to weave them together, but they didn't even touch. They were raised strangely in the air, no connection, and yet they moved as one.
One of the thin girls peered over at Will, gave him a small smile, then looked back at the corner blankly. He raised an eyebrow and weaved through the bobbing, swaying dancers. He watched them, them with their feet planted against the wood floors, their knees bobbing, their fists swinging like a pendulum before them, their necks twisting about on their thin wooden shoulders.
Again, he broke into a different room.
A cloud of blue smoke billowed into the air from a particular area in the corner of the room. He walked towards it, then stopped when he saw Jack behind it. "Will!" Jack shot up and handed him a small joint. "Man, you should take this."
"What, does pot suddenly make everyone say 'man' repeatedly?" Will asked, mindlessly bringing it to his mouth. He stopped, actually looking down before he set it to his lips. "Jack…this isn't what I think it is, is it?"
"Yeah, mate. Hit it."
"No!"
"Just do it!" The man in white ruffles said. "Can't hurt you."
Will tried to hand it back to Jack, but the shorter man pushed it back. "Nah, nah. Will, trust me. I wouldn't do anythin' wrong by you, mate, right?" Jack's face was close to his, his eyes begging Will not to embarrass him. Will sighed, looking at the burning joint in his hand.
"C'mon man! You're wasting it!"
Will put it to his lips and breathed it in. He could feel it slither down his throat and disappear for a moment, before erupting back out of his lungs, causing him to cough, earning laughs from the others.
"Newbie?" One of the men in a white pressed, ruffled shirt asked from a round seat next to where a cute girl in a black cocktail dress sat, just staring with her smoky eyes. Will diverted his eyes to the man in white.
As he opened his mouth to say something, Jack shook his head. "I don' know him. Yeh, mate, you a newbie?" Jack looked at him teasingly.
"Screw you," Will breathed, a small smirk leaking onto his features. As he turned to walk away, he felt icy fingers curl around his wrist and pull him back. Turning, he came face to face with the man in white. Raising an eyebrow and looking down to where the man held him, the unimpressed young man clenched his jaw.
"You only took one hit, man! You gotta take two before you feel anything. C'mon!" He grinned, letting go of Will's wrist and spreading his arms in a welcoming fashion. Running back to his seat, he flopped down and threw his arm around the smoky eyed young woman who continued to stare. Will's eyes flitted to her face. She seemed unfazed by the people around her, unfazed by the arm around her shoulders, unfazed by the martini she held between her long fingers. Her light brown hair was held up into a loose bun at the back of her head, letting wisps drop down onto her face, like trails of honey. Her dark eyes met his and an amused, nearly translucent smile inched onto her striking face. She broke his gaze and smiled down at the floor beneath her, reaching up with her martini hand to itch her nose with her pointer finger. He peered away.
It seemed as if wide grins surrounded him everywhere, egging him on, like Cheshire cats, bodiless, white grins peering at him through the dangerous blue smoke.
Shaking his head, Will grabbed the joint in Jack's hand and took another long drag from it. He held it in his mouth for awhile, tasting its smokiness, almost tasting the dampness of the room. Opening his mouth, he watched the smoke gracefully billow from his mouth in silky streams, float up against the ceiling and spread like spilled milk. He shut his eyes and grinned, passing it back to Jack.
"Here, now take some of this." He felt someone take him by his shoulders and push him into a warm, comfortable chair. He sunk into it gladly and sighed, taking whatever had been thrust into his hand. He opened his eyes and looked down at it. Cocktail, maybe?
Whatever, his addled brain reasoned. He threw it all down, his face seizing as he tasted the contents, before swallowing, feeling as if he'd swallowed liquid hot magma down his throat. He gasped, opening his eyes widely. "What was that?" He rasped.
Jack appeared in front of his face. A halo appeared around his dark features as Will's vision dimmed slightly. Something must be wrong. Jack? Halo? No.
"It's called an El Presidente, young William. And now th'party starts, my good friend." He chuckled, leaving Will blinking viciously, trying to get rid of the splotches. This wasn't a party. What was going on?
"Are you alright?" A soft voice sounded in his ears.
Am I dead? If Jack went and got me fucking poisoned and I'm dead right now, I'll haunt him 'til his last breath. Mother fu—
"Wake up."
A dim light appeared in his vision as he blinked. The more he blinked, the more blurry his vision, so he clenched his eyes shut tightly. When he opened them again, his vision seemed to start to clear up.
"You're ok."
A girl came into his focus. She was gorgeous. Shit, I am dead. I'm seeing damn angels now. Jack, you killed me.
"A—Angel?" He mumbled before he could stop himself.
She laughed, wiping a strand of his dark hair from his eyes. "My father seems to think so, but we won't tell him otherwise, will we?" She said, smirking down at him. "Come on, let's get you sitting up."
He let her take his arms and pull him up. He soon felt his back against a hard surface. "Woops, wait…" He heard rapid movement and saw the flash of moving hands.
Now it was soft. Peering back, still slightly dizzy, he saw a pillow behind him. Ah…hence the hardness turned to softness.
"How's that?" The voice continued. It was low, but still very girlish, a posh London accent. He smelled her before he saw her. She smelled like hyacinth or…roses. With a hint of lime. Her hand swiped across his face to push his hair from his eyes again. He received a particularly strong waft of lime. Her fingers were lime-smelling. It was nice.
"Good," he breathed, finally able to see clearly. "W—What happened? Am I dead?"
She giggled again, leaning on her knees before him, her hands cupping his cheeks so that she could look at his pupils. "You're very much alive…Will, was it?"
"Yeh. Will." And here was the smoky-eyed girl, the one who had so momentarily captured him back when he was taking those puffs with Jack and the white-shirted bloke.
"God, your friend fixed you something nasty."
"What's an El Presidente?" Will asked.
"Well, it's part Grenadine, part sweet vermouth, part—Well anyways, that doesn't matter, because that certainly wasn't an El Presidente you drank. Your friend was bloody drunk and high off his arse when he made that drink, so I wouldn't doubt he put something nasty in there." He studied her closely and she must've noticed because she raised an eyebrow. "Can I help you?"
"What's your name?"
Her chin drew back into her chest as she smirked her pretty pouting lips at him. "Listen pal, I was just making sure you were alright. This isn't an invitation for…whatever is floating through that trashed mind of yours."
His eyes widened significantly. "Wait, no! I didn't mean that. I just—I gave you my name and I thought you might have done the same. I mean, I didn't. I'm sorry." He cleared his throat. "Got anymore of those El Presidente's?" He finished lamely.
She laughed, rocking back to rest her weight on her calves and peer at him. "You're crazy, but I kinda like it. At least you aren't like your friend out there. I have no idea what he hit, but he hit it fast whatever it was."
"His motto is 'Hit it. Hit it fast'."
"Really?"
"No, but he does it a lot when I don't watch him."
"Mm, and who looks after you, Will?"
With a smug grin, he licked his awfully dry lips and breathed in, his answer coming out with his breath. "You."
"Is it?" She asked. "By the way, I'm Elizabeth." She stuck out her hand. When Will blinked once, she took his hand of her own volition and shook it. "There."
"Will you be ok if I leave you here and bring you some coffee?"
"As long as Jack's passed out somewhere and won't give me a joint or an El Presidente, or any drink for that matter, I think I'll be fine."
"Good." She smiled, gazing into his eyes again, looking at his pupils for any brain damage, Will surmised. She stood carefully so as not to reveal anything beneath her black cocktail dress. "I'll be right back."
"Not going anywhere," he chuckled, shutting his eyes again.
He started feeling the tingles come back through his toes, up his calves, through his thighs, shooting passed his torso and down to his fingers, back up again, until they stopped at his head.
"Will?"
His eyes snapped open. She leant before him again, holding the coffee out to him. He eyed it warily. Why did he suddenly feel as if he could trust her? If he couldn't trust Jack Sparrow, his best mate since he was just a boy, how could he trust this smoky-eyed woman he barely just met?
But he took it and drank a few sips. "Thanks," he breathed, sinking back against the pillows again. "So Elizabeth…"
"Yes?" Grabbing a pillow, she shoved it beneath her small backside and sat, her legs bent to the side in front of her. He noticed that she probably still had some of that joint she shared with white shirt man in her system. Her eyes were rather glazed.
"Why did you help me? My own best mate didn't help me."
She looked up at him, her dark brown eyes meeting his. She opened her mouth, as if to say something, then shut it, her shoulders sagging. Her pouted red lips eased into a small smile. "I don't know. You hit the floor a few seconds after your friend gave you that drink." She paused. "You're different. Know what I mean?" She leaned closer, tilting her head to the side.
"No," he whispered, still paying rapt attention.
She bit her lip, diverting her gaze from him. "God, these fucking potheads are everywhere in here. And I come here every damn night. And I sleep with some of them, if I've taken enough hits." Elizabeth looked at him again, her eyes suddenly a bit desperate, as if she needed someone to hear her, needed someone to understand. And suddenly, Will Turner wanted to be that someone.
"Go on," he whispered, sitting up and watching her, his eyes wide.
"But I don't get anything from this shit, anymore. God, if I wasn't so bloody bored, I could quit this whole scene in a minute. I could go to school rather than sitting on my arse in my dad's place, doing nothing with my damn life." Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. "I could be something. You get what I mean?"
He nodded, looking down in slight shock as he found his hand had moved of its own volition to rest atop hers. Will looked up and saw her eyes rise to his. She smiled at him genuinely.
"I mean, you're different, Will. You don't do this shit all the time, do you?" It wasn't a question, Will knew. So he just shrugged sheepishly. "I didn't think so," she said. "You really took that first hit worse than I took my first hit."
He laughed. "Not my thing."
"I have a secret." She leaned forward and the young man could feel the heat from her warm body. He smelled alcohol on her breath. "It's not my thing either."
They smiled at each other, before Will shook his head and grabbed his cell phone from his pocket. Peering at the time, he groaned. "Shit, I have to go. It's almost 2 A.M."
"Damn, so do I. Can I drop you off?"
"Huh?"
She just stood up and reached down to help him. He accepted her help and allowed her to lead him, albeit however wobbly their steps were, and finally, after a maze of rooms, a maze of passed out, sleeping, stoned, punch-drunk people, they reached the cool air of the outdoors.
She took her cell phone out from a small handbag he had not noticed until now. She probably grabbed it on her way outside, he realized. He really was drunk. Or stoned. Either one. Or both, perhaps.
"Lawrence," her crisp voice cut through the night fog, making a slight cloud on its own. Will took his jacket off and wrapped it around her shoulders. She turned to regard him and grinned, obviously not used to the gesture. "I'm at Mods. Yes. Thanks."
Within five minutes, a nice cab pulled up in front of them and a driver leaned out. "You folks call for a cab? This is Mods, yea?"
"Yes," Will answered, leaning down. He opened the door and helped Elizabeth in first, dropping his own body into the seat. He thought momentarily of running in to retrieve Jack, then the slightly rebellious part of his brain took over, and he shut the cab door, telling the driver his address.
The ride was silent, except for the melodic tick tick tick of the wooden cross hanging from the rearview mirror hitting the beads that hung beside it. Will's hands felt strange, almost as if they didn't want to be stuck to his lap, as if they'd rather be elsewhere.
His eyes flicked to the young woman beside him and almost jumped, as her eyes bore straight into his. Her lips upturned slightly in the corners, before she turned away to look out the window again. He continued to stare, completely aware of the fact that she could absolutely tell, despite that she faced fully away from him. He didn't know why, but this girl who was definitely not his type was suddenly so alluring that he felt his head almost caving in with the pressure. Light flickered across her features with each streetlight the taxi passed. And each time, her face was illuminated in a white light that somehow enhanced everything about her. And he was entranced, mesmerized, beguiled.
Her hair had since fallen from its haphazard bun, residing itself into a nice ponytail. He watched as she reached her fingers up to pull his jacket closer against her and shut her eyes against the glass, her eyelashes brushing delicately against the skin beneath her eye.
Jesus, that joint makes me see the most detailed shit.
"Will?"
He shook his head, then looked straight ahead at the road before them before answering. "Yes?"
"I think I'm high."
Will chuckled, leaning back into his seat and peering over at her, a silly grin on his face. He was about to agree with the sentiment for his own situation, but immediately stopped, the grin leaving his face. Tears lined her eyes and her lip quivered.
He watched her bite her bottom lip and clench her lips together tightly, as if the ward off the tears. He bolted up and scooted closer to her, reaching up to touch her shoulder beneath the thick material of his jacket. He squeezed comfortingly. "Whoa, Elizabeth. What happened?"
"I don't want this anymore," she said.
He recoiled, swallowing. "Uh…want what?" He felt where this was going. And he wasn't even close to being able to deal with it. She would go on to say she hated her life, her job, her family, her friends. And she'd want to die. And all the pressure would be on his shoulders. Damn him for always having to be a good listener. He got himself into the worst predicaments ever.
"I don't want to rebel, Will." She sniffed quietly. He couldn't find anything to say. He was so confused. Thankfully, she didn't expect a reply, as she continued moments later. "I don't want to smoke pot or go to Mod clubs and sleep with dirty Mod guys who can't get over the fact that they weren't born in the fucking 60's and feel like they have to dress like the fucking Beatles all the time to make up for it. I don't want to be their bloody woman who does the same thing."
Will couldn't control his hand anymore. It reached up and wove around her shoulders. He felt tranquil and rather hazy, most likely a product of the marijuana and hard ass liquor Jack forced him to have. This whole night was a bleeding disaster! He pulled her close to his body and felt her turn her face into his shirt.
Suddenly, his entire body went numb. He was afraid. Panic rose from him like a disease, rearing its head as he felt his limbs go weak. Oh God, the drink paralyzed me!
But then he felt her. And only her. First he felt her small but strong hands on the sides of his ribcage. Her fingers spread against the skin beneath the cloth of his shirt, then shut, clutching his shirt tightly. Then he felt her face against his collar bone, and finally her lips, gracing his now overheated skin with their pout.
"You don't have to," he said. He shut his eyes and swore inwardly. Shit. Shit. You stupid. You idiot. You dumb…
"What?" She looked up at him and her eyes paralleled the smeared eyes of that first girl he saw in Mods, except Elizabeth was indefinitely prettier with her large brown eyes. She was oddly exotic, in a spoiled rich brat kind of way. He always preferred brown eyes to blue eyes anyways.
Prefer? No. I won't see her again after this taxi stops in front of my apartment. She'll drive away feeling better about herself. Yes. But in no way will I have room to prefer anything having to do with this girl. No. No. No. No. NO!
"I meant…" he stumbled. "I meant that you don't have to be the woman those blokes want you to be. There are plenty of nice blokes that don't frequent places like that, that don't need a joint, a hot woman, and a few crazy drinks to be happy." He shrugged. "Frankly, I could do for a banana split and a good game of cards." Will smirked, hoping to get a smile out of her.
She laughed. Even better.
"Will, you're a square."
His smirk died down and she immediately lost her mirth. He swallowed. As he opened his mouth to defend himself, she hurried to alleviate his feelings.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean it in a bad way! It's just…I'm not used to your type. The type that doesn't need the superficial shit to get a girl."
He shook his head with a smile. "Well, frankly, I don't know what I need to get a girl. I'm afraid I don't attract many by sitting in the corner at parties and wishing for a good book."
She just stared at him, causing him to feel heat rise from his shirt. He swallowed and diverted his eyes.
"You're real close to getting a girl now." Her arms rounded his neck and she hugged herself to him closely, her body rubbing against his. He found he could do nothing but hold her, wrap his arms securely around her and let her cling to him for this one moment, aware that he was all she had for now, despite knowing nothing about this gorgeous mystery woman.
"Elizabeth, I don't know you at all. But I can already tell this sort of thing makes you unhappy."
"You think?" She asked, looking up at him smugly.
He rolled his eyes. "L—Look," he said, flustered that he wasn't getting much that came out of his mouth right. "I don't know why you keep coming back if it makes you upset to be there. Do what makes you happy. That's what I've been doing, despite Jack jumping down my throat. I finally gave in this one night and look what happened." He shrugged.
"It's not so easy for me. And no…no you don't know me." She smiled to lave the bite of her words. "But I wish you did." She blinked, then shook her head, as if coming out of a trance. "God, look at me. I must be a total mess. I'm sorry. I'm high and drunk and a mess."
The taxi slowed to a stop and Will once again felt panic erupt within him. This was it. He wasn't that close with this woman, but he really wanted to be. He wanted to know what it was that made her think she had to impress those people. He wanted to know what made her skin so soft, what made her eyes so mesmerizing. He wanted to see what she was like without being under the influence of drugs and alcohol, without the thick eyeliner and mascara, without the rest of the makeup.
But he was digging through his wallet, trying to find the money for the driver.
"Don't worry about it," a quiet voice sounded from beside him. Will turned and looked at her. She was smiling, but there was something gone from her eyes. Her shoulders were slumped as she reached over and pushed his hand with the wallet back. "Trust me, this isn't anything for me. Thanks for letting me spew at you." She blushed in embarrassment as she handed the driver the money.
"That wasn't anything for me," he said. His eyes widened. "I didn't mean it that way! I mean, it was everything! What I meant was…it wasn't a burden. I…I mean I enjoyed it. Not your pain, though. I enjoyed you being so…" He stared at her, his cheeks reddening. "…close to me."
Oh God, it's the alcohol and drugs talking. Oh Jesus, please. Get out of the car, Will. Now. Get out, walk away, don't look back. Forget it.
She giggled. "It was nice meeting you, Will." He watched her hand come out and extend to him for a shake. He took it and held it, not shaking it, but just clutching it warmly.
"It's been wonderful. Thanks for taking care of me when I…you know."
"Sure."
As he turned to get out, she burst forward and took his face in her hands, kissing his cheek softly, a much more graceful action than her seizing of his head. He blushed. Maybe it wasn't the alcohol or drugs. Maybe he truly liked this girl.
He got out of the taxi and sighed. I've known this girl for a few hours at the most and I feel as though I'm still sitting in there with her, as if I'm still beside her, saying stupid idiotic things, watching her smile. Christ, what's wrong with me?
"Will!"
He stopped at his door and turned, raising an eyebrow as he watched her clamor out of the door and rush at him. She stopped, her cheeks blazing and her eyes on fire.
"Your jacket." She shrugged it off her shoulders and handed to him.
But both started as the screech of tires sounded in their ears. They turned to see the taxi tear away. "Shit!" Elizabeth cursed, running back to the sidewalk and watched it turn the corner. "Shit!" She repeated, dropping her chin to her chest with a sigh.
"God, I'm so sorry! I can…" He watched as she walked up to him, trying to finish his sentence, but finding it harder each step she took toward him. "I can call you a—" He swallowed audibly. "…another one. A taxi, that is."
"Will, I may be under the influence, but would you trust me if I said it has nothing to do with my desire to follow you up to your apartment?"
His eyes exploded open as his jaw fell. "I…trust you."
"Then open your damn door."
He reached around her and set a hand to her back, leading her to the door. As he opened it, he allowed her in first, then followed, shutting it behind him. When he turned around, his jacket was off her shoulders and on the coat rack beside the door.
His ears had a low ringing in them, almost as if a small man was constantly banging a gong next to his eardrums. He grabbed his ear and shook his head, trying to rid himself of the horrible noise.
"Will?"
He looked up to see her raising her eyebrow at him. "You ok?" She asked, uncertainly.
"Oh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry. I've never done…that before."
She smiled bitterly, looking at the picture in his entry way. "I've done it too much." He watched as she edged closer to the framed photo. A tall man stood with rain boots and a newsboy cap, grinning widely at the camera. He had black hair, cropped very short, with strong features. Beside him was a small boy, looking nearly exactly like the man. His arm was raised, his hand clutching his father's tightly.
"Is this your father?" He nodded and she smiled, looking back at the photo. "You were adorable," she giggled. "Your dad still live here?"
"No, he passed away awhile ago."
Her gaze clouded and she looked away, blushing. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be. I'm alright." He walked up to her and put a hand on her shoulder. When she turned and looked up at him, her eyes were wild. Yes, wild was all he could think of to describe them. Her dark eyes called to him.
His fingers moved to lightly graze her cheeks as he leaned down. She tilted her head up and their lips met. It was soft, powerful, and oddly satisfying, Will noticed. Other girls he kissed either slapped him, or immediately stuck their tongues down his throat.
She just stood, receiving his attention, reflecting it back to him. He felt her hand touch the skin on the back of his neck and pull him closer. Will set his other hand to the small of her back and pushed her gently against the wall, just beside where the picture of he and his father in the rain hung.
No, Will. No, Will. This is not ok. You're drunk and high.
She whimpered lightly against his lips and he put more of his strength into the kiss, his hand moving from her cheek to her neck, his thumb moving in circles against her soft skin there.
Yes, Will. No! No!
He pulled away quickly, his breath coming in quick gasps. She regarded him with question for just a moment, then moved to kiss him again, but he stepped away. "Wait."
Her capable fingers were poised at the buttons of his shirt. "Wait?"
"I…don't do this."
Shaking her head, she seized his face and brought it down to kiss again.
Moments later, Will found he had lifted her against him and was stumbling into the hallway and pushing open his bedroom door. You don't do this! You don't know her! Stop! Now!
Turning off his conscience, Will lowered her onto his bed and immediately covered her, his hands roaming all over her body, pushing the fabric up her thigh, brushing the hair from her neck, pulling her strap from her shoulder. His fingers lightly traced from her shoulder to her own fingers. He lifted her hand and set his lips to each of her fingers, watching her warmly as she smiled up at him.
Her other hand immediately unbuckled his belt and he dove in to catch her lips again. Slowly, meticulously, she took everything from his body save his briefs. As he pulled his lips from hers and opened his eyes, he blushed at the gawking praise in her stare. Yeah, he went to the gym a few mornings a week and played football with Jack and the fellas on the weekend.
Reaching up, he undid the bed and stood, pulling her to stand beside him. His mind was already clouding as his fingers slid under the fabric of her short black dress. He felt the silkiness of her underwear and smiled against her jaw, his lips dragging along her skin.
He saw her bite her lip and groan achingly close to his ear. He pulled back when she gasped, his eyes wide, afraid he had done something she didn't like. She was looking down, behind her. He followed her eyes and peered down to where he was lifting her dress. Her soft, bare skin was pressed against the bed post, its black polished chrome most likely cold against her overheated skin.
She smiled at him, reaching behind her to undo her zipper. As she pulled it down, she bit her lip. Will snapped back to attention, diverting his eyes from her lips, when she stopped. Taking the initiative, he reached behind her and unzipped the back of her dress completely, letting it fall over her shoulders and reveal her black lacy bra.
This girl was different from any other girl he had dated. Dated? I'm not dating this girl! I've known her for an hour! Shit!
Once again, Will forced his mind into silence, pushing the dress all the way down to her feet, where she stepped out of it, revealing matching black panties. He looked up at her from his place on his knees, his hands clutching her waist. Shutting his eyes, he pressed his face against her bare, flat stomach and nuzzled, kissing a pattern along her skin as he slowly stood before her.
"What is this?" She breathed against his ear as he hugged her to him. He pulled back again, confusion written on his handsome features. Was she having regrets? Was she going to cry again and spew more about her regrets in her lifestyle? Was she going to call him different?
Was he different?
He saw her hand on his bed post.
Oh.
"My bed post," he said simply. Giving him a glare, she continued.
"No, what's it made of? It's like nothing I've ever seen before…at least on a bed."
"Chrome."
"I thought chrome was silver."
"It's black chrome," he breathed against her lips. As he kissed her languidly, seductively, he felt her melt into his hands. Will Turner wasn't an amateur in everything. In fact, in the seduction department, when he really wanted to, he could entice women by just flashing his eyes in their direction.
"How can chrome be black?" She whispered against his lips, relinquishing her hold on the bed post to weave her fingers through his hair.
Laughing, he replied, "Not all chrome is silver and gold."
She fell back onto the bed, pulling him with her. His hands immediately began exploring her skin, sometimes softly, sometimes roughly, but it had its given effect, causing her to gasp and writhe.
Making sure Elizabeth's head was appropriately on his pillow, Will continued his teasing, ignoring the sirens in the back of his mind. Who was this girl? What would happen in the morning? Would there be a morning? He had never taken a woman in his bed within hours of their meeting. Usually there were dates before even a kiss. The sex came later, if ever.
But there was something about this smoky-eyed girl's mouth, her skin, her hair, how she smelled, that caused him to throw everything away for just one night of heaven in her arms, damn the consequences.
Her fingers were sheer havoc beneath the waistband of his briefs, teasingly pulling at the elastic. Without beating around the bush, Will tugged her undergarments from her, dropping them beside his bed, before moving away from her to discard his own underclothes.
Hovering above her, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her lightly. Moving his lips to her ear, he whispered nonsense, rounding her waist with his arms, pulling her protectively to his body.
He pulled back and watched her as she in turn stared at him. Reverently kissing her cheek, Will breathed a quiet sentiment against her skin.
"You're mesmerizing."
Everything stopped.
"What?"
Will swallowed, meeting her eyes. "I mean, you're…" He shook his head, suddenly feeling a blush creep across his features. "…mesmerizing."
She tilted her head, her eyes uncertain, her mouth open as if she wanted to say something but nothing would escape her lips. She reached up and set her hand on his cheek so that he could feel the soft skin of her palm against his chin, her fingers brushing his ear. Without a word, she pulled his head down to hers and kissed him this time.
He felt her bend her legs at his sides and pull him closer. As Will kissed her, he felt Elizabeth's lips widen into a smile against his own lips, but that smile quickly vanished the moment he pushed himself into her.
He felt an explosion in his head and couldn't see anything but spots momentarily. Her once gentle fingers clung to his back and she gasped audibly, throwing her head back against the pillow.
His lips dragged over her throat and neck as his hips moved. He felt electricity for the first time in his life rocketing through his limbs. He felt a woman beneath him that wasn't a timid girl. Elizabeth was something new, something better, something he wanted more of.
As he sped his pace, he heard her breathing become more labored. So he moved slightly to the side and propped himself up on his elbows so as not to crush her with his weight. She whimpered as he moved, and as he opened his eyes, he was absolutely shocked to see her staring straight at him.
For some reason, the buzzing erupted back into his ears and he shut his eyes, hunching his back to bury his face in her neck. As he continued his thrusts, he was surprised to feel her hand leave his shoulder and reappear suddenly just below his naval.
His eyes snapped open again and he pulled up to look at her, shock smacked on his face. He groaned as her hand moved lower, lower, lower. He let out a low growl, frustrated at his lack of control with his thrusts. He was always controlled in sex.
Usually Will's number one priority was to push the woman to her climax, no matter the costs, even if he had to forego his own extent of pleasure. (While he would reach his end, it was debatable whether each woman he made love to fully reciprocated the act. But he never once complained.
Until now.
This unusually vibrant woman was sending chills cascading through him, she was meeting his every move with one of her own, emitting sounds he wasn't used to hearing, and it was sending him over the edge.
Unable to hold himself up after a few minutes, he collapsed against her again, his hand falling to her thigh and pulling her closer, pushing himself deeper into her softness, emitting groans of his own.
It took them hours upon hours, with interchanging partners on top, many different surfaces, and a few bruises and scratches on each of their bodies. But finally, they lay in a tangled heap, their limbs clinging desperately, their breath mingling, and their heaving chests matching perfectly.
"Elizabeth, I—"
But he stopped his whisper, for her slim finger was pressed softly against his lips. Without saying a word, she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest.
Will Turner was left in absolute awe of this woman. She was beautiful, sexy, a powerhouse in bed…but more than anything, he felt something click inside of him. Suddenly he knew…this wasn't going to be a one night stand. This was going to be something better, something more.
He could feel it in the way she clung to him at this very moment, so desperately, so adoringly.
But he still wondered…
She didn't say anything to him. She just lied there with her face in his chest. And was that a…a tear? He was aware of wetness on his chest. But when he tried to pull away, she just clung harder.
So he held her, receiving no further evidence of her crying, but her grip never faltered. He held her. With everything in him, he held her.
And whispered words of love into her ear. Words of longevity.
And he knew beyond a doubt that she would be clinging just as hard when he woke up in the morning. And maybe tomorrow night she might cling again.
And they'd never see that ragged guy in the white ruffled shirt, or Mods, or that purple sunglasses man. Because they would have each other, and he would protect Elizabeth.
He was in love.
And those were the last words he whispered into her ear that night before falling into a deep, fully relaxed and confident slumber.
"I love you."
Oh God, the pain.
He opened his eyes and groaned, both at the light flooding in from the slit between his blinds and the dull throbbing of nearly every part of his body. He had never woken up this sore from sex. And it was oddly exhilarating.
Everything about this girl was oddly exhilarating.
As he turned over, he found there was no beautiful, sleeping girl lying beside him. But her imprint was there. It was real. He flopped his body onto the side she slept in and grinned, smelling that particular scent that flooded his nostrils as they made love hours into the morning.
He looked at the clock beside the bed. 10 AM…perfect time for…
He paused, hearing the shower.
That is the shower, right?
He sat up slowly and groaned again, feeling a dull pain especially in his groin. Ruffling his hair with his hand, he looked around the room and panic suddenly struck him in the chest.
Her clothes were gone.
Her purse was gone. He remembered exactly where everything had been and her purse was lying against the wall nearest the door to his hallway. And it was gone.
No, no. The shower.
So he got up and pulled his briefs on, before going to the bathroom and pushing the door open. The shower curtain was pulled wide open. The water wasn't running. His towels and toiletries were just where he had left them. Nothing had changed. And Elizabeth wasn't in his shower.
That's when he realized. It wasn't his shower he had heard. It was the shower in the flat above his.
The panic was gone.
And in its place was only a deep regret. A deep empty feeling rooted in the pit of his stomach. He pulled a white t-shirt on and walked out through the hallway, checking the rooms, knowing that he wouldn't find her.
And when he didn't find her, it made the pain only worse.
He slumped down into his kitchen chair and hung his head in his hands. God, all of that was just…
Will felt the need to vomit, but he pushed it down.
This was what Jack had nearly every weekend, but not once did it bother him, did it shake him as it had Will. He swallowed audibly and sighed. A one night stand.
And though he tried to forget it, forget everything he had felt the night before, her arms around him, their lips together, their bodies mingling as one…all he kept hearing were the last words he had said.
I love you.
(A/N:) Thanks for reading, everyone! And extra thanks to anyone and everyone who helped me with this story! You know who you are!!! And thank you to Jim Morrison. For showing us all the way to beautiful music. God, you don't even need to be high to love his music. That's Jesus, right there.
Thanks!