"Worth Counting" (Pirates of the Caribbean)
Three fics finished in one day! I shall go distracted! *grin*
Worth Counting
By Lokei
Rating: PG-13
Universe: POTC
Disclaimer: Written with affection but without pretension to ownership.
Author’s Note: Written for romanticalgirl's Getting Lucky challenge, and dedicated to my dear 0_rollergirl, who likes romance. With love and kisses from me and my favorite blacksmith.
+ = + = + = +
Will got in the habit of counting almost-kisses. It started when they were thirteen, and old enough to no longer ignore the fact that Elizabeth was not, in fact, a boy, and that Will, in fact, decidedly was. What had not been an issue in their friendship before, in innumerable games of adventure in which they took equal turns at being hero and sidekick, rescuer and rescuee, now seemed to loom large in every encounter.
More than once Will caught Elizabeth (who still liked playing the villain even though Will was no longer entirely certain it was proper) eyeing him in a speculative manner that had nothing to do with the piratical fake mustache she was twirling at the time. But asking her what she was thinking only earned him a wooden sword at his throat and a pair of amber eyes dangerously close to his own as she delivered dire threats against a prisoner who dared speak out of turn. Other times he would make an innocent comment that would never have bothered her a few years ago, only to have this thing in skirts which wore the face of his friend toss her head, snort “Boys!” and flounce away. It was most confusing.
So he started counting, looking for the pattern to her inexplicably girly behavior in the same way he had been trained to count the rhythms of hammer and anvil. He knew almost instinctively now how the heated iron would respond to short, sharp taps or long, full-arm blows, could tell by sound and color whether it was time for fire or water. Surely it would be no harder to learn this new Elizabeth. He just had to figure it out on his own this time-he doubted Mr. Brown would be much help in this particular apprenticeship.
Fortunately, the best part about being the blacksmith’s boy was that Will had run of the town. Brown’s services were needed just about everywhere-by cooper and carter and carpenter, by soldier and stableman and servant to the Governor himself. So Will had ample opportunity to pursue his new course of study-namely, girls, and how to deal with them. He saw a girl in a tavern give a sailor that same speculative look, which the sailor returned with interest until the girl sat in his lap. Will wasn’t sure exactly what happened next because the barkeep returned with the bottle for Mr. Brown and Will had no more excuse to linger-but it looked like it would have been interesting.
Equally fortunately, Will was a resourceful boy. And that particular sailor/barmaid interaction was hardly a one-time occurrence. There were a few taverns in Port Royal where Mr. Brown had not exhausted his credit, and Will was a very careful observer there, counting out his preciously earned nuggets of information on girls later on in his loft bed, thinking about behavior that apparently lead to kissing, which now he was fourteen was looking like an attractive idea.
There was an almost-kiss in the forge once, when Elizabeth snuck out of her chaperone’s sight on a trip into town to shop for new embroidery silk, and caught Will practicing his swordplay. She gave him such an admiring glance Will felt himself go goose-bumps all over, and she leaned very close to tell him that he was, truly, very good, but she thought perhaps his feet ought to move more? She smelled good, and he turned his face and their cheeks brushed.
Will didn’t sleep particularly well that night.
When they were sixteen Elizabeth insisted on teaching him the dances she was learning from her dancing master, and Will didn’t mind particularly when she’d show up in the yard behind the forge where the well was, and made him put his hands on her waist and twirl her around. She stumbled once on the rough cobblestones and Will caught her as she pitched forward, bringing her to a stop with her nose an inch from his own. They were of a height then, and her eyes got very wide before she stepped out of his careful hold.
Shortly after that Will shot up in height, Mr. Brown started drinking more, and Elizabeth became consumed by the duties of the lady of the governor’s household. The rare times they saw each other, Will was careful to keep his awkwardly long limbs to himself.
The day she offered him her hand like a fine lady, he started to call her Miss Swann.
There were no almost-kisses after that, and Will didn’t bother to count the practice ones he got later with Sally from the milliner’s shop, who seemed rather fond of him. One day he saw her walking in the street with Davy from the cooperage, though, and that was the end of that. Will didn’t particularly mind.
When Elizabeth got taken by the pirates, Will minded.
He minded quite a deal, and the handful of almost-kisses took on a new significance as Will contemplated never having another one, almost or actual. He minded enough to throw his lot in with the exceedingly odd and distressingly verbose Sparrow, and he minded enough that when he saw Elizabeth fussing incoherently over bandaging her hand, he broke the carefully learned habit of years, and reached out.
The feel of her fingers between his as he wrapped her hand was galvanizing, and Will heard himself apologizing for his rough hands without really knowing what he was saying. He leaned forward, closer, so close, and he knew exactly what to do if she’d just lean forward too and he’d go track down Sally who’d married her Davy later and tell her thank you-
Elizabeth leaned back.
Battling disappointment, Will listened to her story of the medallion he thought he’d lost, the cold metal a poor substitute for her hand. Will lost his battle and slammed the coin to the table, driving Elizabeth up to the sunlight and leaving him alone in the dark hold.
Will refused to add this one to the tally.
He gathered up the shards of that shattered barrier and put them back again, keeping a careful distance when he learned that she’d come back for him, but with a fiancé in her wake. Bleakly amused once he had the time to think about it, Will reflected that at least he hadn’t kissed her. If it had been Sally and then Elizabeth, that would have looked like a pattern.
Still, there was little he could do, he knew, once pardoned. Elizabeth was no longer a pirate’s captive, but he still minded her situation very much. Norrington was admittedly unobjectionable--except for the fact that he was not Will, and he had what Will had planned for and studied for and yearned for for years.
Will had seen sailors cut down by barmaids once, twice, even thrice, who had kept up that look, and finally won the attentions they sought. Once upon a time Will had just wanted his friend back, but now he wanted it all, and as he was likely to get himself hanged for his troubles, he had nothing left to lose.
He gathered his sword, his cape, and his courage, and told Elizabeth exactly what he meant to say, before all hell broke loose.
Then unexpectedly, Will had everything he wanted, going from condemned for treason to contemplating the only person who really saw him, clasped within his arms.
Will leaned down.
Elizabeth reached up.
They were a perfect fit.
Sometime later, and somewhat dazedly, Will decided that that one was worth counting.
Worth Counting
By Lokei
Rating: PG-13
Universe: POTC
Disclaimer: Written with affection but without pretension to ownership.
Author’s Note: Written for romanticalgirl's Getting Lucky challenge, and dedicated to my dear 0_rollergirl, who likes romance. With love and kisses from me and my favorite blacksmith.
+ = + = + = +
Will got in the habit of counting almost-kisses. It started when they were thirteen, and old enough to no longer ignore the fact that Elizabeth was not, in fact, a boy, and that Will, in fact, decidedly was. What had not been an issue in their friendship before, in innumerable games of adventure in which they took equal turns at being hero and sidekick, rescuer and rescuee, now seemed to loom large in every encounter.
More than once Will caught Elizabeth (who still liked playing the villain even though Will was no longer entirely certain it was proper) eyeing him in a speculative manner that had nothing to do with the piratical fake mustache she was twirling at the time. But asking her what she was thinking only earned him a wooden sword at his throat and a pair of amber eyes dangerously close to his own as she delivered dire threats against a prisoner who dared speak out of turn. Other times he would make an innocent comment that would never have bothered her a few years ago, only to have this thing in skirts which wore the face of his friend toss her head, snort “Boys!” and flounce away. It was most confusing.
So he started counting, looking for the pattern to her inexplicably girly behavior in the same way he had been trained to count the rhythms of hammer and anvil. He knew almost instinctively now how the heated iron would respond to short, sharp taps or long, full-arm blows, could tell by sound and color whether it was time for fire or water. Surely it would be no harder to learn this new Elizabeth. He just had to figure it out on his own this time-he doubted Mr. Brown would be much help in this particular apprenticeship.
Fortunately, the best part about being the blacksmith’s boy was that Will had run of the town. Brown’s services were needed just about everywhere-by cooper and carter and carpenter, by soldier and stableman and servant to the Governor himself. So Will had ample opportunity to pursue his new course of study-namely, girls, and how to deal with them. He saw a girl in a tavern give a sailor that same speculative look, which the sailor returned with interest until the girl sat in his lap. Will wasn’t sure exactly what happened next because the barkeep returned with the bottle for Mr. Brown and Will had no more excuse to linger-but it looked like it would have been interesting.
Equally fortunately, Will was a resourceful boy. And that particular sailor/barmaid interaction was hardly a one-time occurrence. There were a few taverns in Port Royal where Mr. Brown had not exhausted his credit, and Will was a very careful observer there, counting out his preciously earned nuggets of information on girls later on in his loft bed, thinking about behavior that apparently lead to kissing, which now he was fourteen was looking like an attractive idea.
There was an almost-kiss in the forge once, when Elizabeth snuck out of her chaperone’s sight on a trip into town to shop for new embroidery silk, and caught Will practicing his swordplay. She gave him such an admiring glance Will felt himself go goose-bumps all over, and she leaned very close to tell him that he was, truly, very good, but she thought perhaps his feet ought to move more? She smelled good, and he turned his face and their cheeks brushed.
Will didn’t sleep particularly well that night.
When they were sixteen Elizabeth insisted on teaching him the dances she was learning from her dancing master, and Will didn’t mind particularly when she’d show up in the yard behind the forge where the well was, and made him put his hands on her waist and twirl her around. She stumbled once on the rough cobblestones and Will caught her as she pitched forward, bringing her to a stop with her nose an inch from his own. They were of a height then, and her eyes got very wide before she stepped out of his careful hold.
Shortly after that Will shot up in height, Mr. Brown started drinking more, and Elizabeth became consumed by the duties of the lady of the governor’s household. The rare times they saw each other, Will was careful to keep his awkwardly long limbs to himself.
The day she offered him her hand like a fine lady, he started to call her Miss Swann.
There were no almost-kisses after that, and Will didn’t bother to count the practice ones he got later with Sally from the milliner’s shop, who seemed rather fond of him. One day he saw her walking in the street with Davy from the cooperage, though, and that was the end of that. Will didn’t particularly mind.
When Elizabeth got taken by the pirates, Will minded.
He minded quite a deal, and the handful of almost-kisses took on a new significance as Will contemplated never having another one, almost or actual. He minded enough to throw his lot in with the exceedingly odd and distressingly verbose Sparrow, and he minded enough that when he saw Elizabeth fussing incoherently over bandaging her hand, he broke the carefully learned habit of years, and reached out.
The feel of her fingers between his as he wrapped her hand was galvanizing, and Will heard himself apologizing for his rough hands without really knowing what he was saying. He leaned forward, closer, so close, and he knew exactly what to do if she’d just lean forward too and he’d go track down Sally who’d married her Davy later and tell her thank you-
Elizabeth leaned back.
Battling disappointment, Will listened to her story of the medallion he thought he’d lost, the cold metal a poor substitute for her hand. Will lost his battle and slammed the coin to the table, driving Elizabeth up to the sunlight and leaving him alone in the dark hold.
Will refused to add this one to the tally.
He gathered up the shards of that shattered barrier and put them back again, keeping a careful distance when he learned that she’d come back for him, but with a fiancé in her wake. Bleakly amused once he had the time to think about it, Will reflected that at least he hadn’t kissed her. If it had been Sally and then Elizabeth, that would have looked like a pattern.
Still, there was little he could do, he knew, once pardoned. Elizabeth was no longer a pirate’s captive, but he still minded her situation very much. Norrington was admittedly unobjectionable--except for the fact that he was not Will, and he had what Will had planned for and studied for and yearned for for years.
Will had seen sailors cut down by barmaids once, twice, even thrice, who had kept up that look, and finally won the attentions they sought. Once upon a time Will had just wanted his friend back, but now he wanted it all, and as he was likely to get himself hanged for his troubles, he had nothing left to lose.
He gathered his sword, his cape, and his courage, and told Elizabeth exactly what he meant to say, before all hell broke loose.
Then unexpectedly, Will had everything he wanted, going from condemned for treason to contemplating the only person who really saw him, clasped within his arms.
Will leaned down.
Elizabeth reached up.
They were a perfect fit.
Sometime later, and somewhat dazedly, Will decided that that one was worth counting.