For cruisedirector: Ready with Every Nod to Tumble Down
Title: Ready with Every Nod to Tumble Down
Recipient: cruisedirector
Fandom: PotC
Author: celandineb
Pairing: James/Will
Rating: R-ish
Warnings: sex?
Summary: Will will need a successor, eventually, and chooses James.
Notes: ~950 words. This turned out much less smutty than I thought it would; my apologies! I also apologize for the woeful lack of holiday celebration and hope that returning from the dead is sufficient justification for celebratory sex. The title is from Shakespeare's Richard III, Act III, scene iv, l. 104.
"Do you fear death?"
The voice seemed to come from very far away. James shook his head slightly, not in answer, but in confusion. The sword had pierced him; he remembered pain, and regret worse than pain that he could not complete his own redemption.
"Do you fear death?" the voice repeated, now sounding more familiar.
James opened his eyes.
"Will Turner." The words came out as a harsh croak. He coughed. "Why are you asking me that?"
"Because I have a proposal for you, Commodore Norrington. Is it Commodore, still?"
"No idea. If one is dead, it seems as if old titles should not apply. Although if I'm here, and you're here, and we're talking, I suppose I'm not dead after all?"
Will shook his head. "You're dead all right. My," he faltered for a moment, "my father killed you."
"Then how...?"
With a smile that managed to be at once shy and proud, Will said, "I borrowed a leaf from Jack's book and bent the rules for you. You can't be alive again, not entirely, but you can delay your end if you'll take oath to me as the captain of the Flying Dutchman, to serve one hundred years before the mast."
James shook his head, bewildered once again. "I don't understand. I thought Davy Jones was captain."
"Gone," said Will laconically. "I'm her captain now, and I need a crew to do the job well. As I mean to. Ten years as captain, and I can be free to return to Elizabeth." He still pronounced her name in near-reverential fashion, James noted absently. "If you agree, I'll bargain with Calypso for you to follow me in the post."
"You'd choose me? Why?" James eyed Will skeptically. "We've scarcely been friends."
"You're the best man I know for the job." Will spoke with calm assurance. "It may have taken you some time to realize what decision you needed to make, but Elizabeth told me what you did to save her."
James nodded. "I do not fear death," he said, "but I love life; so I am willing to accept this half-life that you offer."
"Good." Will grinned at him. "I had hoped you would." He put his hand out and helped James rise to his feet. His hands were strong and calloused, James noticed, and reminded himself that the lad was a blacksmith by training.
"I would ask of you one boon, though, a token in celebration of your choice," Will said, and tugged James close to whisper in his ear.
The suggestion he made came as no surprise to James Norrington, Will noticed. Well, the man had been an officer at sea for at least fifteen or twenty years; it was unlikely that he was wholly inexperienced in the pleasures to be sought between two men.
"It seems only right that there should be some way of marking your return," he added when James hesitated. "I granted Elizabeth the freedom to act as she sees fit, in my absence, and in return she agreed I should have the same right. My heart is hers... but so is yours, I think? If we turn to each other, no harm is done to anyone, least of all her."
Slowly James's face relaxed, though he did not quite smile. "Perhaps not. If I cannot have her..." He shrugged. "I've accepted one unexpected offer from you today, why not a second?"
Will let his hand slide along James's arm to rest on his shoulder, thumb gently stroking the tender skin below James's ear. "Splendid. There's work to be done now, souls to be escorted, but tonight?"
"Tonight," James agreed.
James would be put into the regular watch rotation tomorrow, but for this night Will had his new crew member to himself, in the big bed that took up much of the space in the captain's quarters.
One might expect a man dead at sea -- even if he had been stabbed on the deck rather than drowned -- to be cold, but James was far from that. The dignified commodore was nowhere to be found; James was warm and lithe in Will's arms, and if Will had entertained thoughts of dominating him in bed, he was disabused of them as soon as James grasped that there were no titles between them here. James proved to be very well acquainted with the way through the narrowest gate to paradise, and Will was soon crying out under that skilled assault.
James's sense of fair play, however, meant that it was then Will's turn to demonstrate his own talent at such exquisite violation. Fucking James was both like and unlike swiving Elizabeth, Will decided. His wife might be slender, even boyish, but she was nonetheless every inch a female, whereas James was unquestionably male, encouraging Will to breach him from behind rather than take him face-to-face. Will felt a pang of regret at that which surprised him; he had intended and expected their sport among the sheets to be merely for physical relief, but he found himself wanting more, wishing that James might be thinking of Will rather than imagining Elizabeth. He found that he was doing so himself, thinking not of James as a replacement for Elizabeth, but rather as a complement, no second best nor substitute, but someone whose company he could enjoy for its own sake, whether in bed or out.
Sated now, James curled himself against Will and slept, his breath coming in soft snores and his face slack, young and vulnerable in the dim light of the lamp. Will reminded himself that they had ten years to enjoy each other's company. Much could happen in such a time, and only a fool would waste regret on yearning for something that patience might bring.
Recipient: cruisedirector
Fandom: PotC
Author: celandineb
Pairing: James/Will
Rating: R-ish
Warnings: sex?
Summary: Will will need a successor, eventually, and chooses James.
Notes: ~950 words. This turned out much less smutty than I thought it would; my apologies! I also apologize for the woeful lack of holiday celebration and hope that returning from the dead is sufficient justification for celebratory sex. The title is from Shakespeare's Richard III, Act III, scene iv, l. 104.
"Do you fear death?"
The voice seemed to come from very far away. James shook his head slightly, not in answer, but in confusion. The sword had pierced him; he remembered pain, and regret worse than pain that he could not complete his own redemption.
"Do you fear death?" the voice repeated, now sounding more familiar.
James opened his eyes.
"Will Turner." The words came out as a harsh croak. He coughed. "Why are you asking me that?"
"Because I have a proposal for you, Commodore Norrington. Is it Commodore, still?"
"No idea. If one is dead, it seems as if old titles should not apply. Although if I'm here, and you're here, and we're talking, I suppose I'm not dead after all?"
Will shook his head. "You're dead all right. My," he faltered for a moment, "my father killed you."
"Then how...?"
With a smile that managed to be at once shy and proud, Will said, "I borrowed a leaf from Jack's book and bent the rules for you. You can't be alive again, not entirely, but you can delay your end if you'll take oath to me as the captain of the Flying Dutchman, to serve one hundred years before the mast."
James shook his head, bewildered once again. "I don't understand. I thought Davy Jones was captain."
"Gone," said Will laconically. "I'm her captain now, and I need a crew to do the job well. As I mean to. Ten years as captain, and I can be free to return to Elizabeth." He still pronounced her name in near-reverential fashion, James noted absently. "If you agree, I'll bargain with Calypso for you to follow me in the post."
"You'd choose me? Why?" James eyed Will skeptically. "We've scarcely been friends."
"You're the best man I know for the job." Will spoke with calm assurance. "It may have taken you some time to realize what decision you needed to make, but Elizabeth told me what you did to save her."
James nodded. "I do not fear death," he said, "but I love life; so I am willing to accept this half-life that you offer."
"Good." Will grinned at him. "I had hoped you would." He put his hand out and helped James rise to his feet. His hands were strong and calloused, James noticed, and reminded himself that the lad was a blacksmith by training.
"I would ask of you one boon, though, a token in celebration of your choice," Will said, and tugged James close to whisper in his ear.
The suggestion he made came as no surprise to James Norrington, Will noticed. Well, the man had been an officer at sea for at least fifteen or twenty years; it was unlikely that he was wholly inexperienced in the pleasures to be sought between two men.
"It seems only right that there should be some way of marking your return," he added when James hesitated. "I granted Elizabeth the freedom to act as she sees fit, in my absence, and in return she agreed I should have the same right. My heart is hers... but so is yours, I think? If we turn to each other, no harm is done to anyone, least of all her."
Slowly James's face relaxed, though he did not quite smile. "Perhaps not. If I cannot have her..." He shrugged. "I've accepted one unexpected offer from you today, why not a second?"
Will let his hand slide along James's arm to rest on his shoulder, thumb gently stroking the tender skin below James's ear. "Splendid. There's work to be done now, souls to be escorted, but tonight?"
"Tonight," James agreed.
James would be put into the regular watch rotation tomorrow, but for this night Will had his new crew member to himself, in the big bed that took up much of the space in the captain's quarters.
One might expect a man dead at sea -- even if he had been stabbed on the deck rather than drowned -- to be cold, but James was far from that. The dignified commodore was nowhere to be found; James was warm and lithe in Will's arms, and if Will had entertained thoughts of dominating him in bed, he was disabused of them as soon as James grasped that there were no titles between them here. James proved to be very well acquainted with the way through the narrowest gate to paradise, and Will was soon crying out under that skilled assault.
James's sense of fair play, however, meant that it was then Will's turn to demonstrate his own talent at such exquisite violation. Fucking James was both like and unlike swiving Elizabeth, Will decided. His wife might be slender, even boyish, but she was nonetheless every inch a female, whereas James was unquestionably male, encouraging Will to breach him from behind rather than take him face-to-face. Will felt a pang of regret at that which surprised him; he had intended and expected their sport among the sheets to be merely for physical relief, but he found himself wanting more, wishing that James might be thinking of Will rather than imagining Elizabeth. He found that he was doing so himself, thinking not of James as a replacement for Elizabeth, but rather as a complement, no second best nor substitute, but someone whose company he could enjoy for its own sake, whether in bed or out.
Sated now, James curled himself against Will and slept, his breath coming in soft snores and his face slack, young and vulnerable in the dim light of the lamp. Will reminded himself that they had ten years to enjoy each other's company. Much could happen in such a time, and only a fool would waste regret on yearning for something that patience might bring.