Title: Certainly Unexpected
Author: Colimbina
Rating: PG-13 to begin with, ultimately NC-17 for wild pirate sex and rampant debauchery. (Will be censored for ff.net)
Disclaimer: All characters are property of Disney, except for Capitan Jack Sparrow, who refuses to be owned by anyone beyond himself.
Pairing: Jack/Will, mention of Will/Elizabeth
Archiving: Ask first or die.
Summary: Mainly a character study focusing on Jack and the possibility of Jack and Will's relationship. Very little plot—just some vague ideas for now, but may advance to something developed and sentient in time. We can all hope.
Feedback: Appreciated, especially constructive criticism. But honestly I would rather you spend your time writing good fic. This has the potential to be a great fandom if we keep in alive.
******
William hadn't been a man of great instinct until he met Captain Jack Sparrow. There were a lot of things William hadn't been until he met Jack, actually, but as he and Elizabeth watched the man sail toward the horizon on his beloved ship, for the first time in his life Will felt that something was off. His blood was still singing from the escape—it had been like nothing he'd ever felt before, battling at Jack's side, each knowing exactly where the other was and what they were about to do. Now, standing next to the woman he loved and watching the other man sail away, Will felt he'd miss-stepped and the folly would lose him something critical.
"Will," Elizabeth whispered close to his ear when the Black Pearl was reduced to a dark spot quickly blending with the horizon. "I love you, too, Will," she said. Will tried to smile genuinely, remembering how he had longed to hear those words, trying to summon that warmth that had come so easily when he had dared to imagine them, but the unsettled feeling was growing stronger as the ship faded and he couldn't understand why.
"Will, darling, are you alright?" Elizabeth asked, now sounding genuinely worried.
The Black Pearl vanished completely.
He finally turned to Elizabeth, smiled as well as he could, and pulled her close. "Of course, I'm… wonderful."
When he returned after four weeks at sea working as a privateer—the governor's daughter could hardly be engaged to a true pirate—his fiancé greeted him with nothing warmer than ice. In public that day she was cold and stoic, mechanically polite as a lady of her standing must be in company, but that afternoon when they found a moment to themselves, the ice melted instantly.
Will ducked as pottery was hurled at his head with great precision.
"Elizabeth!" he said.
"William! You left me here, alone, for a /month/, William! All I've had to do was stare out the window and pine for you like some… some… sailor's wife!"
She threw a powder jar, which exploded on impact and covered Will's chest in dust.
"I don't understand, Elizabeth," he said with a touch of panic and dodged something else, "I thought you wanted me to be a pirate—privateer."
"I wanted!—" she paused, eyes flashing, hand poised to throw a heavy silver hairbrush. She let out a growl of frustration, put the brush down, and marched over until they were nose to nose. "You will /not/ leave me behind again, William Turner," she said fiercely and marched out of the room.
The next time he left port, she came along. Her father had forbid it, of course, despite the pleas from both Elizabeth and Will—as had Commodore Norrington, who had commissioned the journey. Will had naively thought she had given up on it. Elizabeth, hardly being one to forfeit adventure so easily, had stowed away with the provisions. Will had to barter away a quarter of his share of loot and remind the crew very forcefully that she was Elizabeth /Swann/, only daughter of the governor, to convince the crew not to throw her overboard the moment she was discovered. Even with that he had fallen out of favor with the crew, having broken the Articles, and was made to do all the worst jobs and take all the worst shifts.
On Elizabeth's part, she learned that not all adventures on the high sea were terribly adventurous. Her first one had lasted less than a week during which she had been kidnapped, marooned on an island, propositioned by cursed undead pirates (along with a cursed, undead pirate monkey,) saved multiple lives multiple times, and began her romantic relationship with her fiancé. This second voyage mostly consisted of sitting and waiting. The boat was old and slower than any she had ever been on, so there days of inaction between the raids, and when those did come around, the crew locked her in one of the cabins despite her kicking, screaming, and scornful looks to Will. They let her out for the celebration afterward, but being the only female on the ship, she was more want to lock herself back in the cabin. The salty air made her skin constantly itch, and a diet of hardtack and grog did little for seasickness. When they finally returned to Port Royal, she was desperate for her life of fine lace dresses and meals that consisted of more than stale bread and very bad alcohol.
William hadn't faired any better on that voyage, having to deal with both the taunts of the crew over his /Missus/, and scorn from said Missus for taking her along on the wretched trip. Afterward William had virtually locked himself in the smith, putting all his conflicting emotions into beautiful blades. He did not hear from Elizabeth for weeks, having secluded herself in her father's mansion, and he thought better than to approach her for… well, as long as he could avoid it.
It stopped being an option when, one day at dawn, a messenger delivered an invitation to his own wedding scheduled two weeks from that day. He went to the mansion as quickly as he could, still covered in filth from doing little else than working at the forge for weeks.
"Oh, William, you're filthy," Elizabeth greeted cheerfully and kissed the air near his cheek. "Come, let's get you cleaned. You need to be fitted for your gown as soon as possible."
He was dragged into the bath room, stripped, and bathed by two servants despite a great deal of protest and blushing on his part. Elizabeth stood behind a screen the entire time, speaking matter-of-factly about the wedding and their future plans, most of which were a surprise to William.
"You're going to buy me a forge?" He said.
"Yes, daddy decided to include it in the dowry. Your talent with blades is too good to waste, and you can hardly be Master Brown's apprentice your entire life, can you? You'll get your own shop, with the best equipment available. You'll be world-renound for your work!"
"That's—" he said, picturing his life anchored in a shop overlooking fleets of ships that he wouldn't be on. One of the servants scrubbed restlessly at his scalp, trying to get all the dirt out. "Great…"
"Is anything the matter, dear?" she asked.
"Of course not," he said, trying to sound anything other than desolate.
She went on to talk about the plans for the wedding. It would be a huge ceremony, nearly the entire town attending. Will imagined it vast and bright and clean, and the wrongness he had been feeling since he watched the Black Pearl sail away increased, churned around his stomach while the maids rinsed him off one last time.
He stood through the fittings by day and worked on swords at night, dread building silently, so vast and encompassing he struggled to muster any emotion beyond blankness. The swords he made were possibly the worst since he had begun his training. His wedding gown was… elaborate. It was possibly more expensive than everything he had ever owned combined, layers of fine cloth and lace, all creamy white. The hat was nice, though, gigantic with an unnecessarily large plume. More than once he thought about a particular pirate that would quite like the monstrosity, and the thought seemed to be the only thing that could make him smile anymore.
The sun was setting when he left the governor's mansion the night before the wedding. He hadn't seen much of Elizabeth lately, her being to busy with the wedding preparations, but that night she met him at the door before he left. She felt so fragile in his arms, and when she kissed him all he felt was the heavy weight in his stomach.
"I love you, William," she said.
"I love you, Elizabeth," he said, and felt awful.
He walked home slowly, watching the sun set over the water. This would be the last night he would spend in his childhood home, curled up on the hard but familiar apprentice's cot in the blacksmith's storage room. He would move into the mansion and sleep in a fine bed, eat fine meals, and wear fine clothes. He would be married to the woman he had loved for as long as he could remember, and he would be /happy/. Surely.
He was so absorbed in these thoughts that at first nothing seemed amiss in the smith. Only when he situated himself in front of the forge did anything seem wrong. He frowned and looked around, and noticed… a hat. A familiar hat perched on his anvil like the first time he had ever glimpsed it. He reached for it, thinking it was a mirage brought on by stress or possibly the peculiar soup he had been served for dinner, but his fingers brushed worn leather, sure enough.
A sword came down and rapped his knuckles smartly.
His eyes followed the blade up slowly, stomach fluttering with something other than dread now, something far more exciting, and he met familiar kohl-lined eyes.
Author: Colimbina
Rating: PG-13 to begin with, ultimately NC-17 for wild pirate sex and rampant debauchery. (Will be censored for ff.net)
Disclaimer: All characters are property of Disney, except for Capitan Jack Sparrow, who refuses to be owned by anyone beyond himself.
Pairing: Jack/Will, mention of Will/Elizabeth
Archiving: Ask first or die.
Summary: Mainly a character study focusing on Jack and the possibility of Jack and Will's relationship. Very little plot—just some vague ideas for now, but may advance to something developed and sentient in time. We can all hope.
Feedback: Appreciated, especially constructive criticism. But honestly I would rather you spend your time writing good fic. This has the potential to be a great fandom if we keep in alive.
******
William hadn't been a man of great instinct until he met Captain Jack Sparrow. There were a lot of things William hadn't been until he met Jack, actually, but as he and Elizabeth watched the man sail toward the horizon on his beloved ship, for the first time in his life Will felt that something was off. His blood was still singing from the escape—it had been like nothing he'd ever felt before, battling at Jack's side, each knowing exactly where the other was and what they were about to do. Now, standing next to the woman he loved and watching the other man sail away, Will felt he'd miss-stepped and the folly would lose him something critical.
"Will," Elizabeth whispered close to his ear when the Black Pearl was reduced to a dark spot quickly blending with the horizon. "I love you, too, Will," she said. Will tried to smile genuinely, remembering how he had longed to hear those words, trying to summon that warmth that had come so easily when he had dared to imagine them, but the unsettled feeling was growing stronger as the ship faded and he couldn't understand why.
"Will, darling, are you alright?" Elizabeth asked, now sounding genuinely worried.
The Black Pearl vanished completely.
He finally turned to Elizabeth, smiled as well as he could, and pulled her close. "Of course, I'm… wonderful."
When he returned after four weeks at sea working as a privateer—the governor's daughter could hardly be engaged to a true pirate—his fiancé greeted him with nothing warmer than ice. In public that day she was cold and stoic, mechanically polite as a lady of her standing must be in company, but that afternoon when they found a moment to themselves, the ice melted instantly.
Will ducked as pottery was hurled at his head with great precision.
"Elizabeth!" he said.
"William! You left me here, alone, for a /month/, William! All I've had to do was stare out the window and pine for you like some… some… sailor's wife!"
She threw a powder jar, which exploded on impact and covered Will's chest in dust.
"I don't understand, Elizabeth," he said with a touch of panic and dodged something else, "I thought you wanted me to be a pirate—privateer."
"I wanted!—" she paused, eyes flashing, hand poised to throw a heavy silver hairbrush. She let out a growl of frustration, put the brush down, and marched over until they were nose to nose. "You will /not/ leave me behind again, William Turner," she said fiercely and marched out of the room.
The next time he left port, she came along. Her father had forbid it, of course, despite the pleas from both Elizabeth and Will—as had Commodore Norrington, who had commissioned the journey. Will had naively thought she had given up on it. Elizabeth, hardly being one to forfeit adventure so easily, had stowed away with the provisions. Will had to barter away a quarter of his share of loot and remind the crew very forcefully that she was Elizabeth /Swann/, only daughter of the governor, to convince the crew not to throw her overboard the moment she was discovered. Even with that he had fallen out of favor with the crew, having broken the Articles, and was made to do all the worst jobs and take all the worst shifts.
On Elizabeth's part, she learned that not all adventures on the high sea were terribly adventurous. Her first one had lasted less than a week during which she had been kidnapped, marooned on an island, propositioned by cursed undead pirates (along with a cursed, undead pirate monkey,) saved multiple lives multiple times, and began her romantic relationship with her fiancé. This second voyage mostly consisted of sitting and waiting. The boat was old and slower than any she had ever been on, so there days of inaction between the raids, and when those did come around, the crew locked her in one of the cabins despite her kicking, screaming, and scornful looks to Will. They let her out for the celebration afterward, but being the only female on the ship, she was more want to lock herself back in the cabin. The salty air made her skin constantly itch, and a diet of hardtack and grog did little for seasickness. When they finally returned to Port Royal, she was desperate for her life of fine lace dresses and meals that consisted of more than stale bread and very bad alcohol.
William hadn't faired any better on that voyage, having to deal with both the taunts of the crew over his /Missus/, and scorn from said Missus for taking her along on the wretched trip. Afterward William had virtually locked himself in the smith, putting all his conflicting emotions into beautiful blades. He did not hear from Elizabeth for weeks, having secluded herself in her father's mansion, and he thought better than to approach her for… well, as long as he could avoid it.
It stopped being an option when, one day at dawn, a messenger delivered an invitation to his own wedding scheduled two weeks from that day. He went to the mansion as quickly as he could, still covered in filth from doing little else than working at the forge for weeks.
"Oh, William, you're filthy," Elizabeth greeted cheerfully and kissed the air near his cheek. "Come, let's get you cleaned. You need to be fitted for your gown as soon as possible."
He was dragged into the bath room, stripped, and bathed by two servants despite a great deal of protest and blushing on his part. Elizabeth stood behind a screen the entire time, speaking matter-of-factly about the wedding and their future plans, most of which were a surprise to William.
"You're going to buy me a forge?" He said.
"Yes, daddy decided to include it in the dowry. Your talent with blades is too good to waste, and you can hardly be Master Brown's apprentice your entire life, can you? You'll get your own shop, with the best equipment available. You'll be world-renound for your work!"
"That's—" he said, picturing his life anchored in a shop overlooking fleets of ships that he wouldn't be on. One of the servants scrubbed restlessly at his scalp, trying to get all the dirt out. "Great…"
"Is anything the matter, dear?" she asked.
"Of course not," he said, trying to sound anything other than desolate.
She went on to talk about the plans for the wedding. It would be a huge ceremony, nearly the entire town attending. Will imagined it vast and bright and clean, and the wrongness he had been feeling since he watched the Black Pearl sail away increased, churned around his stomach while the maids rinsed him off one last time.
He stood through the fittings by day and worked on swords at night, dread building silently, so vast and encompassing he struggled to muster any emotion beyond blankness. The swords he made were possibly the worst since he had begun his training. His wedding gown was… elaborate. It was possibly more expensive than everything he had ever owned combined, layers of fine cloth and lace, all creamy white. The hat was nice, though, gigantic with an unnecessarily large plume. More than once he thought about a particular pirate that would quite like the monstrosity, and the thought seemed to be the only thing that could make him smile anymore.
The sun was setting when he left the governor's mansion the night before the wedding. He hadn't seen much of Elizabeth lately, her being to busy with the wedding preparations, but that night she met him at the door before he left. She felt so fragile in his arms, and when she kissed him all he felt was the heavy weight in his stomach.
"I love you, William," she said.
"I love you, Elizabeth," he said, and felt awful.
He walked home slowly, watching the sun set over the water. This would be the last night he would spend in his childhood home, curled up on the hard but familiar apprentice's cot in the blacksmith's storage room. He would move into the mansion and sleep in a fine bed, eat fine meals, and wear fine clothes. He would be married to the woman he had loved for as long as he could remember, and he would be /happy/. Surely.
He was so absorbed in these thoughts that at first nothing seemed amiss in the smith. Only when he situated himself in front of the forge did anything seem wrong. He frowned and looked around, and noticed… a hat. A familiar hat perched on his anvil like the first time he had ever glimpsed it. He reached for it, thinking it was a mirage brought on by stress or possibly the peculiar soup he had been served for dinner, but his fingers brushed worn leather, sure enough.
A sword came down and rapped his knuckles smartly.
His eyes followed the blade up slowly, stomach fluttering with something other than dread now, something far more exciting, and he met familiar kohl-lined eyes.