PotC Fic: Will Turner By Any Other Name
Title: Will Turner By Any Other Name
Author: kissesago
Fandom: PotC
Pairing: Jack/Will incidental
Rating: PG-13 language, and sexual suggestion
Disclaimer: Not mine, don’t sue.
Summery: The Pearl’s in a bit of trouble, and it’s up to Will to save her. He’d been inside Jack’s clothing one way or another for years, how was this any different?
notes: still not betaed, and please leave a note: you liked it, you hated it, I spelled something wrong...
“I feel ridiculous.”
Will Turner stood upon a box in the center of the room he shared with Jack under the scrutinizing eyes of Gibbs and Ana Maria. He’d been holding his arms out to the side, and he now let them flop back against the heavy, and surprisingly non-smelly coat he was wearing. He grabbed the coat tails and turned, craning his neck and looking like nothing so much as a dog chasing after his own tail. Stopping, with a shake of his head, he fixed a look at the two pirates with an expression of utter desolation.
“Well, lad, you look ridiculous too.”
Gibbs kept his face straight for a moment before giving into the inevitable and releasing braying laughter more suited to the ass Will used back in the forge. Ana Maria pounded on his back, perhaps a little harder then necessary, letting a chuckle or two of her own out.
Scrunching up his face, Will jerked the tri-cornered hat off his head and stepped down toward the exit. Gibbs got to the door before him using both hands to keep it shut while Will tried to escape. “Let me out,” Will gritted through his teeth, getting a foot up to give himself more leverage. “I can’t do this!”
“You have to, lad,” Gibbs grunted and gave up the struggle causing the door to swing violently open. Will went flying, sliding backwards until his head crashed into Jack’s bunk and then he just lay prone. Gibbs and Ana Maria came and stood over him looking down. “Besides, Captain, you’re supposed to look ridiculous.”
“I’m going to kill Jack.”
Will couldn’t believe it when he’d been rudely awakened at an ungodly hour this morning by Jack crawling over him to retch miserably in the chamber pot. At the time he’d been sure the pirate had just overindulged and a lifetime of rum had finally caught up with him. When he’d woken up again to find Jack curled on the floor moaning softly to himself, Will knew this was no mere hangover.
He’d went and got Gibbs and Ana Maria at once, the first muttering about bad luck, and the second screeching about her privacy and lack thereof. They’d got the point though when Will had rushed back to Jack’s side brushing away the sweat-dampened hair and gestured madly. Gibbs proclaimed Jack had food poisoning and that they had bigger problems to worry about, like the French representatives due just before the lunch hour. Then this whole miserable plot had been hatched. Jack had been moved to another bed while Ana Maria played dress up with Will, seemingly taking delight in how horrified he was.
Gibbs held out his hand to help Will up and Ana Maria said while smiling, “You’ll have to get in line, boy.”
Half an hour later, William Turner, stood at the helm of the ship, Gibbs and Ana Maria on either side and a little behind him. The sun was high above them declaring the lunch hour, and though the hat did little more then perch jauntily on his head, Will had to admit the lining around his eyes did help with the light reflecting off the water. The wind blew the scent of land into his nose, of fertile fields and spring flowers awakening a wanderlust that had nothing to do with the Pearl.
The rest of the crew were making last minute preparations on the ship, mostly cleaning and arranging some of the loose items, and only occasionally slipped a glance at the odd figure standing above them. Will sighed and looked down at himself, one more time hoping the entire day had been a figment of his imagination. Alas. He was still wearing his own shirt, pants and boots, but around his waist was tied a scarlet scarf with gun and sword belted over it, the loose ends left to dangle by his side. The long coat that smelled of pirate, sea, and rum sat on his shoulders and added weight that was not totally of the physical kind. His hair was left hanging down his neck, a small rolled strip of cloth across his brow and underneath the hat he’d resignedly put back on his head.
He rubbed his chin warily, Ana Maria hadn’t let him shave that morning, and the scruff was only adding to his general dismay. He’d nearly poked an eye out trying to put on Jack’s kohl, and now he wished he had. Then he wouldn’t be forced to take part in the farce. The leather wrapping around his wrists and palm, made him conscious of his hand movements and let him understand Jack a little more. The rings on his fingers shone in the light and every once in awhile his eyes were drawn to them.
This was sheer insanity, he knew it, Gibbs and Ana Maria knew it, and yet here he was, in Jack’s clothes about to pretend to be the infamous Captain Sparrow. He didn’t have a chance in hell. The French representatives were due on board any moment and not only the ability to sell their stolen goods hung in the air, they were all very conscious of the canons pointed their way.
Will began to fidget tugging at his coat sleeves and shifting from foot to foot. He quickly stopped as Ana Maria smacked him in the back of the head.
“Okay, Will. Just remember, Captain Sparrow. You are Captain Sparrow, and show these Frenchies what a pirate looks like,” Gibbs told him leaning close. Then suddenly remembered something, “But not too much, I’ve heard these French can be real temperamental, don’t want to push them too far. No telling what’ll happen then.”
“So basically what you’re saying is, if I screw this up we’re all fish food,” Will sighed wondering again why fate hated him so. All he ever wanted when he was a child was to swing a hammer and marry a nice girl. Now look at him, a pirate, and warming the bed of a male pirate.
Two men dressed in the high-class fashion made their way down the dock that the pearl was tied to. They held themselves aloof and very much looked like they’d rather be anywhere else on earth then in this spot. These were the two men Will had to negotiate with while Jack slept below.
“Yeah, pretty much. Good luck then,” Gibbs said dragging Ana Maria behind him away from the approaching Frenchmen.
Will sighed, then grunted, crossed his eyes, stuck out his tongue and did a few hopping steps cranking his neck from side to side. He could do this, he’d made it his life’s pursuit to watch Jack, and how hard could it be to be Jack? He skipped a little down the stairs and sashayed his way across the deck arriving at the same time as the two men. Grinning so hard it hurt, Will extending his hand to the first man who was clearly the one in charge, and cried, “Greetings, gents and isn’t it a lovely day? I’m Captain Sparrow, and Jack Sparrow is me.”
Will promised to kick himself later for the utter fool he was making out of himself, as he waited breathlessly for some kind of reaction. After several seconds of contemplation the taller of them held his hand out very cautiously as if afraid it would be ravished at any moment.
“I am D’Aubigne, and I believe we have business to discuss,” D’Aubigne said casually wiping his hand on his jacket as soon as Will released it.
“Right you are! This way please,” Will threw an arm around the man taking savage delight in provoking him so. Maybe he could do this, and maybe he’d understand his lover a little better as well.
“Je n'ai jamais vu des personnes plus folles puis ceux-ci,“ D’Aubigne muttered to the man on his left.
Will slapped him heartily on the back happily exclaiming, “And the same to your honorable sir and yer progeny!” While inside doing a little jig, the scheme was successful and nearly over; nothing could go wrong now.
“Oy, bugger the bloody French and their silly little clams too!”
The Frenchmen at his side stopped and stiffened turning to look behind them at the man just immerging from below. Will merely put his head in his hands and stifled the urge to cry. Jack Sparrow staggered up the last of the few stairs and stumbled finally into the late afternoon light though his eyes were closed against the glare. One hand kneading the back of his neck and the other clutched a two-thirds full bottle of rum, Jack spoke again, “And who’s the scallywag made off with my hat?”
Will spun around knowing he’d have to do something soon, or either Jack would demand to know why Will was wearing his hat, or the French would simply shoot him and be done with it. Although getting shoot in the head didn’t look so bad at the moment. Gibbs and Ana Maria stood to one side, too far away to be of any help whatsoever. It was all up to him then.
“Mr. Turner!” he bellowed causing D’Aubigne and his cronies to jump, and Jack to open his eyes. Will was trying his best to look stern, but was afraid it only came out as constipated. “Mr. Turner, if ye please and ye had better, get back below deck where ye belong!”
Jack goggled at him, clearly taken aback as his eyes swept Will up and down, an expression that was fair hilarious and would probably be paid for later. His free hand came up patting himself on the chest as if to make sure he was still solid, and then rose to stroke his beard and pull at his hair. Jack’s eyes rolled around and he fell back with a thump into a sitting position with his back against the wall.
Taking the opportunity, Will quickly slipped an arm around the shoulders of either Frenchman and tried to steer them delicately away. “Sorry ‘bout that, mates. He’s just a little bit I picked up along me way. He’s a little addled in the head, think his mum dropped him on it one time too many. Still, he has his uses,” Will made sure to talk loud enough Jack could hear him and winked at D’Aubigne.
They quickly wiggled out from under him and D’Aubigne putting as much distance as he could between himself and Will said, “Captain Sparrow, we have an accord, and as such I can so no reason to continue getting in your way. I’ll send a boy up with the documents tomorrow and you may begin unloading.”
“Thank ye kindly,” Will made a sweeping bow as the two made a hasty exit and called out to them, “Feel free to visit anytime!”
They waited until the Frenchmen were out of sight before Gibbs and Ana Maria ran to him, the former slapping him on the back, and the latter hugging him about the neck. “You did it, lad! I knew you had it in ye!” Gibbs yelled slapping him on the back, while Ana Maria just smirked having been privy to Gibbs’ moanings of doubt.
“Well, Captain, I see you somehow managed not to involve my ship in a war with the French.”
The trio turned as one to watch Jack’s approach, he was still very pale, and his weaving was mostly likely not an act for now. Gibbs, who had no kind of bluffing face and always lost at cards, immediately fell into a look of guilt, while Ana Maria suddenly became very interested in her nails, once again leaving Will with the short end of the stick.
Will was hot, tired and irritable already, and definitely not in a mood to defend his actions to Jack. “I managed quite a bit more then that, Mister. And I’d like it if I were shown some appreciation for just saving your sorry hide from getting blown out of existence!”
“Eh, it’s alright, luv,” Jack seemed to wave away Will’s anger with a brief swing of his hand. “Been called worse things then Mr. Turner before,” Jack reached up plucking his hat off Will’s head and giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder. “Kinda liked it actually, I just had to be sure I hadn’t woken up in a parallel universe again.”
This seemed to be Gibbs’ and Ana Maria’s signal to start talking at once telling Jack how well Will did, and the profit they’d made. Jack fixed Will with a look as focused as he ever got and said, “I always knew ye’d look good with a bit of Captain on ye.”
Will smiled, a glow from the praise he’d received sliding across his face, and an arm quickly found its way around Jack’s waist. He pressed himself up against Jack’s side, “I think I’d look better with a bit of Captain in me,”
“Aye, aye, Captain!” Jack handed his hat to Gibbs and the rum Ana Maria and followed Will on his way back to their quarters. Halfway there, and Jack turned, running back for his rum.
Author: kissesago
Fandom: PotC
Pairing: Jack/Will incidental
Rating: PG-13 language, and sexual suggestion
Disclaimer: Not mine, don’t sue.
Summery: The Pearl’s in a bit of trouble, and it’s up to Will to save her. He’d been inside Jack’s clothing one way or another for years, how was this any different?
notes: still not betaed, and please leave a note: you liked it, you hated it, I spelled something wrong...
“I feel ridiculous.”
Will Turner stood upon a box in the center of the room he shared with Jack under the scrutinizing eyes of Gibbs and Ana Maria. He’d been holding his arms out to the side, and he now let them flop back against the heavy, and surprisingly non-smelly coat he was wearing. He grabbed the coat tails and turned, craning his neck and looking like nothing so much as a dog chasing after his own tail. Stopping, with a shake of his head, he fixed a look at the two pirates with an expression of utter desolation.
“Well, lad, you look ridiculous too.”
Gibbs kept his face straight for a moment before giving into the inevitable and releasing braying laughter more suited to the ass Will used back in the forge. Ana Maria pounded on his back, perhaps a little harder then necessary, letting a chuckle or two of her own out.
Scrunching up his face, Will jerked the tri-cornered hat off his head and stepped down toward the exit. Gibbs got to the door before him using both hands to keep it shut while Will tried to escape. “Let me out,” Will gritted through his teeth, getting a foot up to give himself more leverage. “I can’t do this!”
“You have to, lad,” Gibbs grunted and gave up the struggle causing the door to swing violently open. Will went flying, sliding backwards until his head crashed into Jack’s bunk and then he just lay prone. Gibbs and Ana Maria came and stood over him looking down. “Besides, Captain, you’re supposed to look ridiculous.”
“I’m going to kill Jack.”
Will couldn’t believe it when he’d been rudely awakened at an ungodly hour this morning by Jack crawling over him to retch miserably in the chamber pot. At the time he’d been sure the pirate had just overindulged and a lifetime of rum had finally caught up with him. When he’d woken up again to find Jack curled on the floor moaning softly to himself, Will knew this was no mere hangover.
He’d went and got Gibbs and Ana Maria at once, the first muttering about bad luck, and the second screeching about her privacy and lack thereof. They’d got the point though when Will had rushed back to Jack’s side brushing away the sweat-dampened hair and gestured madly. Gibbs proclaimed Jack had food poisoning and that they had bigger problems to worry about, like the French representatives due just before the lunch hour. Then this whole miserable plot had been hatched. Jack had been moved to another bed while Ana Maria played dress up with Will, seemingly taking delight in how horrified he was.
Gibbs held out his hand to help Will up and Ana Maria said while smiling, “You’ll have to get in line, boy.”
Half an hour later, William Turner, stood at the helm of the ship, Gibbs and Ana Maria on either side and a little behind him. The sun was high above them declaring the lunch hour, and though the hat did little more then perch jauntily on his head, Will had to admit the lining around his eyes did help with the light reflecting off the water. The wind blew the scent of land into his nose, of fertile fields and spring flowers awakening a wanderlust that had nothing to do with the Pearl.
The rest of the crew were making last minute preparations on the ship, mostly cleaning and arranging some of the loose items, and only occasionally slipped a glance at the odd figure standing above them. Will sighed and looked down at himself, one more time hoping the entire day had been a figment of his imagination. Alas. He was still wearing his own shirt, pants and boots, but around his waist was tied a scarlet scarf with gun and sword belted over it, the loose ends left to dangle by his side. The long coat that smelled of pirate, sea, and rum sat on his shoulders and added weight that was not totally of the physical kind. His hair was left hanging down his neck, a small rolled strip of cloth across his brow and underneath the hat he’d resignedly put back on his head.
He rubbed his chin warily, Ana Maria hadn’t let him shave that morning, and the scruff was only adding to his general dismay. He’d nearly poked an eye out trying to put on Jack’s kohl, and now he wished he had. Then he wouldn’t be forced to take part in the farce. The leather wrapping around his wrists and palm, made him conscious of his hand movements and let him understand Jack a little more. The rings on his fingers shone in the light and every once in awhile his eyes were drawn to them.
This was sheer insanity, he knew it, Gibbs and Ana Maria knew it, and yet here he was, in Jack’s clothes about to pretend to be the infamous Captain Sparrow. He didn’t have a chance in hell. The French representatives were due on board any moment and not only the ability to sell their stolen goods hung in the air, they were all very conscious of the canons pointed their way.
Will began to fidget tugging at his coat sleeves and shifting from foot to foot. He quickly stopped as Ana Maria smacked him in the back of the head.
“Okay, Will. Just remember, Captain Sparrow. You are Captain Sparrow, and show these Frenchies what a pirate looks like,” Gibbs told him leaning close. Then suddenly remembered something, “But not too much, I’ve heard these French can be real temperamental, don’t want to push them too far. No telling what’ll happen then.”
“So basically what you’re saying is, if I screw this up we’re all fish food,” Will sighed wondering again why fate hated him so. All he ever wanted when he was a child was to swing a hammer and marry a nice girl. Now look at him, a pirate, and warming the bed of a male pirate.
Two men dressed in the high-class fashion made their way down the dock that the pearl was tied to. They held themselves aloof and very much looked like they’d rather be anywhere else on earth then in this spot. These were the two men Will had to negotiate with while Jack slept below.
“Yeah, pretty much. Good luck then,” Gibbs said dragging Ana Maria behind him away from the approaching Frenchmen.
Will sighed, then grunted, crossed his eyes, stuck out his tongue and did a few hopping steps cranking his neck from side to side. He could do this, he’d made it his life’s pursuit to watch Jack, and how hard could it be to be Jack? He skipped a little down the stairs and sashayed his way across the deck arriving at the same time as the two men. Grinning so hard it hurt, Will extending his hand to the first man who was clearly the one in charge, and cried, “Greetings, gents and isn’t it a lovely day? I’m Captain Sparrow, and Jack Sparrow is me.”
Will promised to kick himself later for the utter fool he was making out of himself, as he waited breathlessly for some kind of reaction. After several seconds of contemplation the taller of them held his hand out very cautiously as if afraid it would be ravished at any moment.
“I am D’Aubigne, and I believe we have business to discuss,” D’Aubigne said casually wiping his hand on his jacket as soon as Will released it.
“Right you are! This way please,” Will threw an arm around the man taking savage delight in provoking him so. Maybe he could do this, and maybe he’d understand his lover a little better as well.
“Je n'ai jamais vu des personnes plus folles puis ceux-ci,“ D’Aubigne muttered to the man on his left.
Will slapped him heartily on the back happily exclaiming, “And the same to your honorable sir and yer progeny!” While inside doing a little jig, the scheme was successful and nearly over; nothing could go wrong now.
“Oy, bugger the bloody French and their silly little clams too!”
The Frenchmen at his side stopped and stiffened turning to look behind them at the man just immerging from below. Will merely put his head in his hands and stifled the urge to cry. Jack Sparrow staggered up the last of the few stairs and stumbled finally into the late afternoon light though his eyes were closed against the glare. One hand kneading the back of his neck and the other clutched a two-thirds full bottle of rum, Jack spoke again, “And who’s the scallywag made off with my hat?”
Will spun around knowing he’d have to do something soon, or either Jack would demand to know why Will was wearing his hat, or the French would simply shoot him and be done with it. Although getting shoot in the head didn’t look so bad at the moment. Gibbs and Ana Maria stood to one side, too far away to be of any help whatsoever. It was all up to him then.
“Mr. Turner!” he bellowed causing D’Aubigne and his cronies to jump, and Jack to open his eyes. Will was trying his best to look stern, but was afraid it only came out as constipated. “Mr. Turner, if ye please and ye had better, get back below deck where ye belong!”
Jack goggled at him, clearly taken aback as his eyes swept Will up and down, an expression that was fair hilarious and would probably be paid for later. His free hand came up patting himself on the chest as if to make sure he was still solid, and then rose to stroke his beard and pull at his hair. Jack’s eyes rolled around and he fell back with a thump into a sitting position with his back against the wall.
Taking the opportunity, Will quickly slipped an arm around the shoulders of either Frenchman and tried to steer them delicately away. “Sorry ‘bout that, mates. He’s just a little bit I picked up along me way. He’s a little addled in the head, think his mum dropped him on it one time too many. Still, he has his uses,” Will made sure to talk loud enough Jack could hear him and winked at D’Aubigne.
They quickly wiggled out from under him and D’Aubigne putting as much distance as he could between himself and Will said, “Captain Sparrow, we have an accord, and as such I can so no reason to continue getting in your way. I’ll send a boy up with the documents tomorrow and you may begin unloading.”
“Thank ye kindly,” Will made a sweeping bow as the two made a hasty exit and called out to them, “Feel free to visit anytime!”
They waited until the Frenchmen were out of sight before Gibbs and Ana Maria ran to him, the former slapping him on the back, and the latter hugging him about the neck. “You did it, lad! I knew you had it in ye!” Gibbs yelled slapping him on the back, while Ana Maria just smirked having been privy to Gibbs’ moanings of doubt.
“Well, Captain, I see you somehow managed not to involve my ship in a war with the French.”
The trio turned as one to watch Jack’s approach, he was still very pale, and his weaving was mostly likely not an act for now. Gibbs, who had no kind of bluffing face and always lost at cards, immediately fell into a look of guilt, while Ana Maria suddenly became very interested in her nails, once again leaving Will with the short end of the stick.
Will was hot, tired and irritable already, and definitely not in a mood to defend his actions to Jack. “I managed quite a bit more then that, Mister. And I’d like it if I were shown some appreciation for just saving your sorry hide from getting blown out of existence!”
“Eh, it’s alright, luv,” Jack seemed to wave away Will’s anger with a brief swing of his hand. “Been called worse things then Mr. Turner before,” Jack reached up plucking his hat off Will’s head and giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder. “Kinda liked it actually, I just had to be sure I hadn’t woken up in a parallel universe again.”
This seemed to be Gibbs’ and Ana Maria’s signal to start talking at once telling Jack how well Will did, and the profit they’d made. Jack fixed Will with a look as focused as he ever got and said, “I always knew ye’d look good with a bit of Captain on ye.”
Will smiled, a glow from the praise he’d received sliding across his face, and an arm quickly found its way around Jack’s waist. He pressed himself up against Jack’s side, “I think I’d look better with a bit of Captain in me,”
“Aye, aye, Captain!” Jack handed his hat to Gibbs and the rum Ana Maria and followed Will on his way back to their quarters. Halfway there, and Jack turned, running back for his rum.