It's Just You
It's Just You
This is PotC; it's W/E set between the two movies, based on a line in the second movie. Will teaches Elizabeth how to use a sword. One-shot.
Ever since Will Turner had collided into Elizabeth Swann’s life when they were children, she’d loved to ask him questions. Whereas everyone else tended to laugh or brush her off as simply a rich and silly and somewhat strange girl, Will had always seemed happy just to be asked and answered each question patiently and seriously.
What does that do, Will?
How does all of that turn into a sword, Will?
Will you teach me how to ride a horse, Will? I hate the way they make girls do it.
Tell me about the place where you grew up, Will.
What’s your favorite book, Will?
Will, will you please just call me Elizabeth?
He actually had called her Elizabeth, when they were children. It was as they got older that he seemed to retreat somehow, seemed to think it wasn’t his place to speak to her as an equal.
He was calling her Elizabeth now.
That probably wasn’t even one of the first ten things Elizabeth loved the most about their change in relationship; there were too many things to list. But it still gave her a thrill every time she heard her first name come from his lips.
She hadn’t been intending to ask him anything when she peeked into the shop one fall afternoon, just planning to surprise him. She felt the smile that came so automatically when she saw him curve her lips as she spotted him, so intently working on perfecting a sword. He seemed oblivious to the world. She quietly slid into the shop, but she hadn’t even gotten halfway to him when he spoke.
“Is someone trying to surprise me?” he asked, not batting an eye as he continued to work, but a smile flitting across his own face.
Elizabeth stopped dead. “Clearly I’m not very good at it,” she sighed.
He chuckled and looked up at her. “I’m surprised,” he protested weakly. “I wasn’t expecting to see you until tonight.”
Elizabeth stepped up to where he was sitting and wrapped her arms loosely around his neck, coming flush up against him. He reddened a little as he always did, but put his hands on her waist all the same.
“Oh calm down, Mr. Turner,” she teased. “No one is around to see us.”
“I fear that sense of propriety your father believed I had is all but gone,” he sighed, sucking in his breath as she moved closer.
“Where’s the fun in that?” she taunted against his lips before blending them with his. Their kisses almost always started the same. He was gentle and respectful at first, but as the kiss caught fire he matched her forcefulness; he’d stood up by the time they finished, pressing her against the table.
Elizabeth smiled and rubbed her nose against his, delighting in the flush that was creeping up his neck. He wasn’t as modest and proper as he’d once believed himself to be, but sometimes it was hard for him to accept that. “How has your day been?” she asked, taking pity on him and sitting down on the stool opposite where he’d been working.
“Dull,” he shrugged, sitting back down. “I had several orders but I finished them all yesterday.”
“What do you do after you finish your work so quickly?” Elizabeth asked curiously.
Will laughed. “I usually practice with them.”
“So THAT’S why you’re so skilled at that!” Elizabeth exclaimed.
“Were you really so surprised?” he teased her. This time it was her turn to flush. “I’ve had a lot of free time on my hands,” he smiled, this time letting her off the hook.
It was said in a lighthearted manner but something about the statement struck Elizabeth as sad as the realization that his life had been very lonely hit her like a bolt of lightning. Ever since coming here, he’d kept to himself apart from her and they’d spent less and less time together as they got older. This must have been how he spent his days and nights, in this shop, working so carefully on these swords and then perfecting how to use them.
“Will you teach me?” she asked, suddenly and impulsively.
Will raised his brows. “To make one?” he repeated slowly, clearly remembering that he already had.
“No, to use one,” she clarified, smiling a little at his somewhat stunned expression. “What, you don’t think I can?”
“I…I didn’t say that,” Will sputtered. “I just…I didn’t…alright,” he said weakly as her brows rose further and further, clearly knowing he was going to be in trouble if he finished the sentence any other way.
“Good!” Elizabeth smiled, pleased. “Let’s get started.”
He was going to die.
That was the only real thought in Will’s mind as he watched Elizabeth brandish a sword. That was fine, it was a better way to go than most, but he didn’t see how he possibly was going to survive this.
“Does he EVER wake up?” Elizabeth was asking, turning around to look at Mr. Brown and swinging the sword she was holding dangerously close to Will as she did so.
“I’d say once a week,” Will muttered, holding onto the table behind him to keep from stumbling as he jumped back. “Elizabeth, please be careful with that,” he pleaded as she swung around again.
“What? Oh, I’m sorry,” she blushed a little.
“Before we get into a duel I think I’ll show you a few maneuvers,” he suggested weakly, putting down his own sword and moving behind her.
Elizabeth grinned as he put his arms around her from behind. “I think I’ll like this part,” she said mock innocently, even as she pressed further back into him. Her smile widened as he shifted uncomfortably.
“Alright, you’re going to move your feet like this- whoa!” Will laughed as she stumbled over the hem of her dress; holding onto her to keep her from falling. “Something tells me this is not the proper attire for this lesson.”
“Are you suggesting I take my clothes off?” she teased.
Will flushed again. “I have a spare pair of my own clothes in the little room over there,” he said pointedly, motioning to a corner of the little shop.
Elizabeth mock sighed. “You are just no fun at all.” But within five minutes she was wearing some of Will’s work clothes, a belt tightly buckled around her, back in the position she had been.
“Footwork is just as important as your hands when it comes to a sword,” he was explaining to her. “So when you move the sword like this, move your feet like this.”
“Oops!” she winced as she stepped on his feet; she’d had to remain in her stockings as no belt would help her with the fact that his shoes were about three times too big. “Sorry.”
Will laughed. “Don’t worry, you don’t even want to know what I did when I first picked up a sword. I still have a scar. Let’s try it again…”
One thing Elizabeth could see as they slowly worked throughout the next two hours was that Will was as patient as he’d ever been. This was probably the most involved- and certainly the most dangerous- skill he’d ever tried to teach her and he didn’t falter in the slightest. It vaguely occurred to her that he would have been a good teacher.
“You’re very good at this,” Will commented. “Anyone can learn to use a sword to a basic extent but you’re a natural.”
“Really?” Elizabeth said, pleased. One of the things she’d always loved the most about Will was that he never made her feel inferior because she was a girl. Impulsively, she let the sword clatter to the floor and turned around to kiss him. Surprisingly, this time he responded instantly, cupping the back of her head in the palm of his hand.
“Lesson over?” he murmured against her lips.
“Oh no,” she laughed lightly, standing up on her tiptoes. “This lesson is just beginning.”
“You’re letting me win!”
Elizabeth protested Will’s tactics after a week of lessons. He’d been very good at teaching her how to use the sword, but practical lessons on how to defend herself in an actual fight weren’t going quite as well.
“I am not!” he weakly protested.
“Please,” Elizabeth said impatiently. “Will, how am I supposed to protect myself if all I know how to defend myself against are men who WANT me to win against them?”
“Who would you be protecting yourself against?” he asked skeptically.
Elizabeth sighed. “Must I tell you the full story about how when Barbossa’s men broke into the house, I attempted to get one of the swords out of the display Father has in his study?”
“You thought those were coming out?” At her pointed glare, he held up his free hands. “Fine. I’ll try harder.”
Elizabeth temporarily regretted the request; she’d forgotten just how skilled Will was. He moved almost quicker than she could see; her sword was on the floor before she even had a chance to blink. He raised his brows innocently at her and she gritted her teeth and tried again.
It wasn’t easy; it was clear Will had had years of practice. It took two weeks for Elizabeth to hold her own against him with her sword and another two weeks before the first time she knocked his own out of his hand, and she had a feeling that was possibly dumb luck.
Somewhere along the way she realized she was spending almost every waking moment with Will, and enjoying herself more than she ever had at her little luncheons and social events.
“I think I was born in the wrong place,” she sighed one day as they sat down for a break.
Will’s brow knitted as he handed her a glass of water. “You seem fine to me,” he lightly teased.
“No, I mean born in the wrong…class, I suppose,” she explained. “I know I’m probably being simplistic; I’m sure you’ve lived your life worrying about things that have never had to concern me. Still, I don’t think I’ve ever felt as free to be myself as I have these past few weeks.”
“Do you want to know a secret?” Will leaned in to kiss her cheek, then whispered in her ear. “Neither have I.”
Elizabeth smiled and blushed, closing her eyes and leaning into his touch. “Perhaps it’s not about class. It’s just you.”
Will leaned back a little to look at her. It was as if some silent understanding was reached between them. He didn’t flush like he normally would; simply smiled.
“Come on,” he smiled faintly, stepping back and reaching for the sword he’d made especially for her, holding it out to her. “Back to work.”
This is PotC; it's W/E set between the two movies, based on a line in the second movie. Will teaches Elizabeth how to use a sword. One-shot.
Ever since Will Turner had collided into Elizabeth Swann’s life when they were children, she’d loved to ask him questions. Whereas everyone else tended to laugh or brush her off as simply a rich and silly and somewhat strange girl, Will had always seemed happy just to be asked and answered each question patiently and seriously.
What does that do, Will?
How does all of that turn into a sword, Will?
Will you teach me how to ride a horse, Will? I hate the way they make girls do it.
Tell me about the place where you grew up, Will.
What’s your favorite book, Will?
Will, will you please just call me Elizabeth?
He actually had called her Elizabeth, when they were children. It was as they got older that he seemed to retreat somehow, seemed to think it wasn’t his place to speak to her as an equal.
He was calling her Elizabeth now.
That probably wasn’t even one of the first ten things Elizabeth loved the most about their change in relationship; there were too many things to list. But it still gave her a thrill every time she heard her first name come from his lips.
She hadn’t been intending to ask him anything when she peeked into the shop one fall afternoon, just planning to surprise him. She felt the smile that came so automatically when she saw him curve her lips as she spotted him, so intently working on perfecting a sword. He seemed oblivious to the world. She quietly slid into the shop, but she hadn’t even gotten halfway to him when he spoke.
“Is someone trying to surprise me?” he asked, not batting an eye as he continued to work, but a smile flitting across his own face.
Elizabeth stopped dead. “Clearly I’m not very good at it,” she sighed.
He chuckled and looked up at her. “I’m surprised,” he protested weakly. “I wasn’t expecting to see you until tonight.”
Elizabeth stepped up to where he was sitting and wrapped her arms loosely around his neck, coming flush up against him. He reddened a little as he always did, but put his hands on her waist all the same.
“Oh calm down, Mr. Turner,” she teased. “No one is around to see us.”
“I fear that sense of propriety your father believed I had is all but gone,” he sighed, sucking in his breath as she moved closer.
“Where’s the fun in that?” she taunted against his lips before blending them with his. Their kisses almost always started the same. He was gentle and respectful at first, but as the kiss caught fire he matched her forcefulness; he’d stood up by the time they finished, pressing her against the table.
Elizabeth smiled and rubbed her nose against his, delighting in the flush that was creeping up his neck. He wasn’t as modest and proper as he’d once believed himself to be, but sometimes it was hard for him to accept that. “How has your day been?” she asked, taking pity on him and sitting down on the stool opposite where he’d been working.
“Dull,” he shrugged, sitting back down. “I had several orders but I finished them all yesterday.”
“What do you do after you finish your work so quickly?” Elizabeth asked curiously.
Will laughed. “I usually practice with them.”
“So THAT’S why you’re so skilled at that!” Elizabeth exclaimed.
“Were you really so surprised?” he teased her. This time it was her turn to flush. “I’ve had a lot of free time on my hands,” he smiled, this time letting her off the hook.
It was said in a lighthearted manner but something about the statement struck Elizabeth as sad as the realization that his life had been very lonely hit her like a bolt of lightning. Ever since coming here, he’d kept to himself apart from her and they’d spent less and less time together as they got older. This must have been how he spent his days and nights, in this shop, working so carefully on these swords and then perfecting how to use them.
“Will you teach me?” she asked, suddenly and impulsively.
Will raised his brows. “To make one?” he repeated slowly, clearly remembering that he already had.
“No, to use one,” she clarified, smiling a little at his somewhat stunned expression. “What, you don’t think I can?”
“I…I didn’t say that,” Will sputtered. “I just…I didn’t…alright,” he said weakly as her brows rose further and further, clearly knowing he was going to be in trouble if he finished the sentence any other way.
“Good!” Elizabeth smiled, pleased. “Let’s get started.”
He was going to die.
That was the only real thought in Will’s mind as he watched Elizabeth brandish a sword. That was fine, it was a better way to go than most, but he didn’t see how he possibly was going to survive this.
“Does he EVER wake up?” Elizabeth was asking, turning around to look at Mr. Brown and swinging the sword she was holding dangerously close to Will as she did so.
“I’d say once a week,” Will muttered, holding onto the table behind him to keep from stumbling as he jumped back. “Elizabeth, please be careful with that,” he pleaded as she swung around again.
“What? Oh, I’m sorry,” she blushed a little.
“Before we get into a duel I think I’ll show you a few maneuvers,” he suggested weakly, putting down his own sword and moving behind her.
Elizabeth grinned as he put his arms around her from behind. “I think I’ll like this part,” she said mock innocently, even as she pressed further back into him. Her smile widened as he shifted uncomfortably.
“Alright, you’re going to move your feet like this- whoa!” Will laughed as she stumbled over the hem of her dress; holding onto her to keep her from falling. “Something tells me this is not the proper attire for this lesson.”
“Are you suggesting I take my clothes off?” she teased.
Will flushed again. “I have a spare pair of my own clothes in the little room over there,” he said pointedly, motioning to a corner of the little shop.
Elizabeth mock sighed. “You are just no fun at all.” But within five minutes she was wearing some of Will’s work clothes, a belt tightly buckled around her, back in the position she had been.
“Footwork is just as important as your hands when it comes to a sword,” he was explaining to her. “So when you move the sword like this, move your feet like this.”
“Oops!” she winced as she stepped on his feet; she’d had to remain in her stockings as no belt would help her with the fact that his shoes were about three times too big. “Sorry.”
Will laughed. “Don’t worry, you don’t even want to know what I did when I first picked up a sword. I still have a scar. Let’s try it again…”
One thing Elizabeth could see as they slowly worked throughout the next two hours was that Will was as patient as he’d ever been. This was probably the most involved- and certainly the most dangerous- skill he’d ever tried to teach her and he didn’t falter in the slightest. It vaguely occurred to her that he would have been a good teacher.
“You’re very good at this,” Will commented. “Anyone can learn to use a sword to a basic extent but you’re a natural.”
“Really?” Elizabeth said, pleased. One of the things she’d always loved the most about Will was that he never made her feel inferior because she was a girl. Impulsively, she let the sword clatter to the floor and turned around to kiss him. Surprisingly, this time he responded instantly, cupping the back of her head in the palm of his hand.
“Lesson over?” he murmured against her lips.
“Oh no,” she laughed lightly, standing up on her tiptoes. “This lesson is just beginning.”
“You’re letting me win!”
Elizabeth protested Will’s tactics after a week of lessons. He’d been very good at teaching her how to use the sword, but practical lessons on how to defend herself in an actual fight weren’t going quite as well.
“I am not!” he weakly protested.
“Please,” Elizabeth said impatiently. “Will, how am I supposed to protect myself if all I know how to defend myself against are men who WANT me to win against them?”
“Who would you be protecting yourself against?” he asked skeptically.
Elizabeth sighed. “Must I tell you the full story about how when Barbossa’s men broke into the house, I attempted to get one of the swords out of the display Father has in his study?”
“You thought those were coming out?” At her pointed glare, he held up his free hands. “Fine. I’ll try harder.”
Elizabeth temporarily regretted the request; she’d forgotten just how skilled Will was. He moved almost quicker than she could see; her sword was on the floor before she even had a chance to blink. He raised his brows innocently at her and she gritted her teeth and tried again.
It wasn’t easy; it was clear Will had had years of practice. It took two weeks for Elizabeth to hold her own against him with her sword and another two weeks before the first time she knocked his own out of his hand, and she had a feeling that was possibly dumb luck.
Somewhere along the way she realized she was spending almost every waking moment with Will, and enjoying herself more than she ever had at her little luncheons and social events.
“I think I was born in the wrong place,” she sighed one day as they sat down for a break.
Will’s brow knitted as he handed her a glass of water. “You seem fine to me,” he lightly teased.
“No, I mean born in the wrong…class, I suppose,” she explained. “I know I’m probably being simplistic; I’m sure you’ve lived your life worrying about things that have never had to concern me. Still, I don’t think I’ve ever felt as free to be myself as I have these past few weeks.”
“Do you want to know a secret?” Will leaned in to kiss her cheek, then whispered in her ear. “Neither have I.”
Elizabeth smiled and blushed, closing her eyes and leaning into his touch. “Perhaps it’s not about class. It’s just you.”
Will leaned back a little to look at her. It was as if some silent understanding was reached between them. He didn’t flush like he normally would; simply smiled.
“Come on,” he smiled faintly, stepping back and reaching for the sword he’d made especially for her, holding it out to her. “Back to work.”