Written by: mamazano
Title: Familiarities with Pirates
Rating: M
Characters: Jack, Will, Gibbs, and the crew of the Black Pearl
Disclaimer: Borrowed from Disney, without permission, with all intentions of giving them back…maybe
Summary: Will Turner has to decide whether he wants to turn pirate...or not. An AU, set after CotBP
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Good Will to All
Act I – The Guise
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Port Royal – Blacksmith Shop – December 24th – Dusk
The smithy was dark, save for a light in the back room, spilling out of the partially open door. Cautious to step carefully around the pool of light, Jack peered into the room, his lips quirking in silent mirth at what he saw. The sole occupant of the room, of whom mere sight had brightened Jack's mood considerably, was at that very moment struggling to lace up a lady's bodice...on himself. His brow furrowed in concentration, Will fumbled with the lacing, taking a deep breath as he pulled them tight around his chest.
"I don't know why I listen to him, I really don't." Will muttered to himself, adjusting the stays and gasping slightly. "No wonder Elizabeth passed out. Heaven knows why a woman would wear something this ludicrous…"
"To give their man a very pleasant eyeful, before uncovering the package, and the real pleasure, obviously," Jack interrupted. "Isn't that the whole point of pretty gift wrappings, in the first place? To heighten their desirability?" Before Will could reply, Jack stepped behind him. "Here, let me…" He took the laces in both hands and gave them a tug, causing Will to both exhale and curse loudly.
"Tsk, tsk, William, that will never do," Jack scolded, curving his hand on Will's hip to lean and peer around, waggling a finger at Will's nose. "A lady would never refer to her chaperone as a 'bilge-sucking miscreant'."
Will scowled and huffed as Jack went back to tying the lacing. "I thought the whole point of this was to get Elizabeth away from her chaperone."
Jack checked his handiwork appreciatively, and waved a dismissive hand while looking around for the stuffings for the next step of the transformation. "No worries, mate. We'll have her away from the Commodore, and into the garden in no time."
"We?"
Jack squinted at Will, tapping his chin with a beringed finger, obviously pondering something. Will squirmed under Jack's scrutiny, until he burst out in exasperation.
"This is ridiculous. I don't know what ever possessed me to let you talk me into this. Honestly." He began tugging at the laces. "Forget it, Jack. I don't want to go to the stupid ball." He tugged harder, finally turning and demanding Jack unlace him.
Jack, delighting in the curve of Will's arse, just below the corset, ignored the younger man's protests and, after another lingering glance, turned and resumed intently searching the room.
"We shall need a bit of padding or something," Jack mused, rummaging in a chest next to the bed. "The previous owner of the gown was a bit more, shall we say, endowed?" His eyes flicked briefly lower, before catching Will's stare with a grin. "Not dismissing your own obvious endowments," Jack said, with an appreciative leer at Will's lower reaches. "Just not in the proper location, 'tis all." He straightened and fluttered his fingers in Will's direction. "We'll just have to rectify the situation, now won't we?"
Tortuga – December 24th – Dusk
"Giselle, have you seen my new stays?" Hands on hips, Scarlett surveyed the narrow room they shared. "You're not wearing them, are you?"
Her roommate tossed her head. "Why would I be wantin' to wear yer bloomin' stays?"
"Same reason you're always taking my stockings," Scarlett huffed.
Giselle pulled up her skirts in protest. "I ain't wearin' yer stockings or yer stays. See? I don't need to be stealin' yer stuff."
Scarlett sat down on the bed, and sighed. "Now what am I going to do? I was hoping to dress extra special for tonight. Those were my best ones."
"You can borrow mine," Giselle said, softening. "Tell you what, Letty. I'll even loan you my new gown, the blue one Pierre made me. You'll be the prettiest girl in the Bride." Excited, she went to the rickety corner wardrobe and opened the doors, only to exclaim in dismay, "My gown! It's missing, too!"
Scarlett hurried to peer inside. "I can't imagine who'd be wanting to steal our stuff."
"Ain't no one been up here," Giselle agreed. "Not since…"
The two women looked at each other and said in unison, "Jack Sparrow!"
Port Royal – Governor's Mansion – December 24th – Dusk
"Do you think he'll come?" Elizabeth peered out her bedroom window towards the town, the lights from the many taverns and shops flickering in the fading light.
Her maid, Estrella, laid out the new gown, which Elizabeth's father had specially purchased for the evening's festivities, on the bed. She smoothed the silken skirts, wondering how long it would take for Elizabeth to tire of this one.
Spoiled rotten, she is. Girl's never happy with what she has, always wanting more. Practically engaged to the Commodore, and still stringing along that nice blacksmith, Will Turner. Can't rightly blame her, though. Not with them dreamy eyes of his. Girl has her pick of the gents; don't see no reason for her to be taking the best of the tradesmen, too.
Estrella caught herself. Now, now… it won't do to be having uncharitable thoughts, 'specially on Christmas Eve. She silently scolded herself. Besides, if that nice Mr. Turner were to find his heart has not grown fonder over time, perhaps he might be willing to walk in the garden with another…
"I cannot say, Miss," Estrella said aloud, "I left instructions, just as you asked." She set about the not-so-minor task of readying the young daughter of Port Royal's Governor for the Christmas Ball. "That funny little Frenchman took the message, and promised to escort Mr. Turner himself."
"I wonder what sort of disguise he'll wear." She sat in the chair in front of the vanity to allow Estrella to arrange her hair.
Estrella hushed her. "Best you act like you don't know a thing, miss. Wouldn't want your father finding out."
"He never liked Will," Elizabeth sighed. "I knew it. I knew he'd find a way to stop us." She fiddled with her skirt and sighed again. "Oh, I do hope he comes. I haven't seen him in ages."
Estrella pinned the last curl in place and stood back to admire her handiwork. "Even if he doesn't, you'll be the prettiest girl at the ball. You'll have a grand time."
"I suppose," Elizabeth said glumly, then brightened at the sight of the gown. "Oh! It's lovely!" Giddily happy once more, she twirled around the room, imagining the festivities that would soon begin.
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Fort Charles – December 24th – Dusk
Commodore Norrington hated balls. To him, they were nothing but a long night of polite conversation with pompous bores, not to mention the necessity of having to dance, an exercise that he found particularly loathsome. Nothing worse than having some simpering female trample his feet, and make inane conversation, or worse, a group of them, giggling together, like a gaggle of geese.
Unfortunately, the social obligations came with his new promotion, and were not easily shirked. Fortunately, this evening, the ball was being held at the Governor's mansion, which meant that James Norrington would have the privilege of entertaining the only intelligent young lady on the island, Miss Elizabeth Swann.
And hopefully, before the evening was out, she would be his fiancée, once again.
It had not been a good year. First, there was the debacle of the onerous pirate Jack Sparrow escaping from under his very nose, aided and abetted by the upstart blacksmith, Will Turner. Then, there had been his very public rejection by Miss Swann. Further humiliation resulted from his inability to recapture the elusive Sparrow, despite several opportunities.
To make matters worse, with renewed hostilities looming on the horizon from the Spanish Main, there was talk of a general pardon being issued, which amounted to nothing more than legalizing the very crime that Norrington had set out to eradicate. With former pirates being furnished with Letters of Marque, the seas would once again be at their mercy.
Now, with the port city being overrun with these scoundrels and blackhearts, it was even more difficult to maintain the tenuous, civilized state that had barely taken root. Yet, despite all this, the Governor had elected to throw a Christmas Ball, in the hopes of ushering his daughter back into respectable society. In a rare moment of frankness, Governor Swann had confided in the Commodore of his fears for Elizabeth.
"She fancies herself still in love with the boy," Swann had told him one afternoon, over an amiable glass of sherry. "I was hoping that she'd forget all this nonsense about pirates, once we returned to Port Royal."
The two men had been sitting in the governor's office. Having finished their official business, the conversation had turned to matters that were more personal. Norrington had politely inquired about Elizabeth, who had just recently returned from an extended tour of Europe, a discreet effort on the Governor's part to allow both time and distance to ease the scrutiny of their small social circle on the young woman. Not to mention the young man she fancied.
"Perhaps, if you spoke to the boy," Norrington suggested. "Let him know your concerns."
Swann shook his head and sighed. "I have attempted to do so. It appears the boy is just as smitten." He stood and walked to the window, which offered a panoramic view of Fort Charles and the blue Caribbean Sea beyond. "I had great hopes for Elizabeth, that she would marry well."
"If there is nothing else…" Norrington cleared his throat. Putting down his glass, he made to leave, not needing to be reminded, once again, of his own failings.
Lost in his own thoughts, Swann didn't answer. "I had hoped she'd have settled for one of eligible men she met while abroad; any of them would have made a fitting match. Lord Huckleby's lad, for example, a brilliant match that would have been. Or Sotheby's. Or Chatham's. Or…"
Norrington quietly left the office, leaving the Governor to his dreaming, for if James Norrington didn't know anything else, he knew this: Elizabeth Swann would only listen to her heart. And he was determined to find a way to win it.
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Black Pearl – December 24 – Dusk
"I don't see why you get t' be the Knight." Pintel said scowling.
"T'wasn't me that decided." Ragetti sniffed. "Besides, you've got two roles t' play, you don't hear me complaining none."
"That's because you get to be the Knight in Shining Armor." Pintel's scowl deepened as he scrutinized a mask. "Me? I get stuck being a lousy Dragon."
"Only 'cause yer fierce like one." Ragetti said, trying to console his friend. "It's a fine role."
"Fierce?" Pintel's face brightened and he smiled. "I like that."
Encouraged, Ragetti added, "Besides, ain't no use havin' a Dragon Killer without the Dragon. Could be worse: you could've been picked t' be the Christmas Queen, like Turner."
Pintel winced. "No way you're talkin' me into wearing a dress again."
"Don't know why," Ragetti shrugged. "You always look nice in one."
Pintel's face turned red and he hollered, "I look nice? Why, I oughtta…"
"That'll be enough, gents," the stern voice of Gibbs interrupted.
Pintel pointed in exasperation at Ragetti. "He's the one talking about dresses!"
"I was just tellin' him he looked nice in a dress." Ragetti folded his arms across his chest. "Wouldn't you agree, Mister Gibbs?"
Gibbs frowned. "If my memory serves me, that's one sight I'm not lookin' forward t' seein' again in my lifetime."
"Nor will I be wearin' one either," Pintel said with finality.
Ragetti sniffed. "If t'weren't for them dresses, we would never have 'scaped them guards. T'was only the good will of Mr. Gibbs here, that 'nabled us to talk the Captain into takin' us back." He turned to Gibbs with a smile. "Ain't that right, Mr. Gibbs?"
Gibbs just scowled along with Pintel.
"You remember, don'tcha? 'Bout this time last year it were, I remember, we was in Tortuga, and you… and the mistletoe…"
Something in Gibbs' face told Ragetti he'd better stop while he were ahead. He ducked his head and scuffed his toe across the floor. "Just sayin' that's all."
"Let's just say we won't be sayin' nothin' and leave it at that," Gibbs said firmly. "Now, the Captain wants these costumes over t' the blacksmith shop by nightfall. We best get a move on."
"Aye, sir," the two men said, hurrying to bundle up the odd assortment of clothing.
"And watch that Dragon!" Gibbs hollered, shaking his head afterwards as if even he couldn't believe what he just said.
The long night had just begun.
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Blacksmith Shop – December 24th – Early Evening
"No, no! The breeches, they must come off!"
Will gave the diminutive Frenchman, who had appeared suddenly in the doorway, an incredulous look. He glanced over at Jack, who was leaning casually against the wall, seemingly more interested in his fingernails than what was taking place.
"Best do as he says," Jack said, with a flutter of hands. "Pierre here, is known for his penchant for stealing breeches."
Pierre huffed. "Only to replace them, with the garment most fine." He gestured towards Will. "But, if I am to dress this young man in the finery you requested, then he must look the part, oui?" He opened his satchel and pulled out a cloud of lacy, white cloth. "The breeches, they will not do for the Christmas Queen. Voila! I have here what the proper English lady would wear."
Will's eyes widened as they darted between the frilly petticoats and stockings dangling from the Frenchman's hands. He opened his mouth to protest, but before he could utter his dismay, Jack straightened from the wall and provided his contribution as well.
"Garters," he explained, deadpan, holding up two silken bands he'd fished out of his pocket.
Pierre waved Jack's hands away. "You must wait your turn, mon capitaine. It will take the patience, and many talents. By the time we are finished, not even his own mother will recognize him."
Will sighed resignedly. How did he ever allow Jack to talk him into this crazy scheme? At first, it had sounded foolproof enough: the crew would dress as Mummers and gain access to the Governor's Mansion, diverting attention long enough, for Will to spend a few moments alone with Elizabeth, as a Christmas gift. In return, Jack and his men would gain a few coins in their pockets, for their own merriments later, in town. But, as per the usual with most of Jack's ideas, this one had taken a life of its own, and had gone from simple, easy to remember, to bordering on ludicrous in its complexity.
Will could only hope that everything would go according to plan. Little did he know what was in store.
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