Horrible Trainwreck: "Insufficient"
Title: "Insufficient"
Rating: PG-13, implied slash (Jack/Will)
Length: 600 words.
Beta: the splendiferous justawench, who is nonetheless not to blame for this.
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial use of characters who belong to their respective copyright holders. It has also been heavily influenced by my fellow fanfic writers.
Feedback of all sorts (good, bad and/or ugly) is lovingly welcomed.
Warnings: Horrible trainwreck. Angst turned up to 11. Specific warning is a spoiler, highlight to read: Unhappy mpreg = character death.
Will ignored it at first. Nausea was a common side effect of ocean voyages, after all, and gaining a bit of weight through the middle was something that happened to nearly everyone as they got older. His sensitive nipples he put down to a shirt that hadn’t been washed in months. As for Tia Dalma’s comments, he simply pretended not to hear her. They had a captain to rescue, a captain who wouldn’t appreciate his rescuers stopping to drop off an unwell passenger before dislodging him from hell. Even if that passenger was his pregnant male lover.
By the time they were reached World’s End, feigning ignorance was no longer possible. His already thin frame seemed miniscule in comparison to the growth swelling in front. Tia Dalma could not restrain her cackling about the consequences of disturbing forces beyond his ken, and Elizabeth seemed to vacillate between jealousy and a fierce protectiveness that embarrassed him to no end.
When the rescue party debarked at purgatory, Tia Dalma stayed behind to nursemaid the pregnant man. Perhaps if she had joined them, she could have found a way to return Jack to them. As it was, the only way that Jack would live on would be through his magical offspring.
---
Will adjusted. Jack wasn't coming back, but the coming birth represented a new hope, and Will slowly began to look forward to parenting. As his time approached, it seemed as though Elizabeth and Tia Dalma had switched places, the witch becoming soothing and protective, his ex-fiancée becoming amused at the proceedings while staying safely out of reach. An only child whose mother died at her birth, Elizabeth seemed to find the birthing frightening, and irrationally, she lashed out at Will.
When the pains began, he asked Elizabeth to sit with him, but she would not. At first, she made excuses, duties that called her topside. Soon it was obvious that she simply could not handle the sight of him in pain, and he resigned himself to a birthing with no loved ones present.
Instead, Ragetti was pressed into a nursemaid, boiling water and assembling the necessary tools; a bit of twine for the cord, swaddling clothes for the babe, oil to massage the passage. He carried his burdens to Tia Dalma.
When he entered the cabin, Will was naked, on all fours, panting between swells, his eyes open but unseeing. The pirate was oddly competent in the unfamiliar role, hands pressing firmly on Will's lower back during contractions, smoothing his hair in the brief intervals between.
In time, Will's cries changed, became lower, and soon, the round protuberance coming from him was revealed to be a head, covered with black fuzz. A few more pushes, and a shoulder appeared. Tia Dalma carefully supported the babe, and twisted gently to free the other shoulder. The baby slithered out, and the witch reached a pinkie into the tiny mouth to remove a bit of slime, triggering a healthy squall. Will sat back and reached for his son.
---
Within three days, they knew it was hopeless. Baby John was a miracle, rarely crying, eyes open, alert, and fascinated by all he saw. Jack's heritage was obvious in every feature, from the gleaming eyes to the thick dark hair. Even Elizabeth was entranced, awkwardly supporting the tiny neck while telling him pirate stories and singing sea chanties into little shell ears.
And there was no milk on board, and no port less than a week away. They had all assumed that the magic that had given Will a womb would somehow transform his breasts as well. It was not to be; his nipples remained small, masculine, empty despite the baby's frantic rooting.
---
John's eyes remained bright to the end, tracking his father's hand as it stroked his cheeks. He didn't cry, even at the last, only a slight hiccuping sound as the air left his lungs, and then the long silence that followed.
Rating: PG-13, implied slash (Jack/Will)
Length: 600 words.
Beta: the splendiferous justawench, who is nonetheless not to blame for this.
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial use of characters who belong to their respective copyright holders. It has also been heavily influenced by my fellow fanfic writers.
Feedback of all sorts (good, bad and/or ugly) is lovingly welcomed.
Warnings: Horrible trainwreck. Angst turned up to 11. Specific warning is a spoiler, highlight to read: Unhappy mpreg = character death.
Will ignored it at first. Nausea was a common side effect of ocean voyages, after all, and gaining a bit of weight through the middle was something that happened to nearly everyone as they got older. His sensitive nipples he put down to a shirt that hadn’t been washed in months. As for Tia Dalma’s comments, he simply pretended not to hear her. They had a captain to rescue, a captain who wouldn’t appreciate his rescuers stopping to drop off an unwell passenger before dislodging him from hell. Even if that passenger was his pregnant male lover.
By the time they were reached World’s End, feigning ignorance was no longer possible. His already thin frame seemed miniscule in comparison to the growth swelling in front. Tia Dalma could not restrain her cackling about the consequences of disturbing forces beyond his ken, and Elizabeth seemed to vacillate between jealousy and a fierce protectiveness that embarrassed him to no end.
When the rescue party debarked at purgatory, Tia Dalma stayed behind to nursemaid the pregnant man. Perhaps if she had joined them, she could have found a way to return Jack to them. As it was, the only way that Jack would live on would be through his magical offspring.
---
Will adjusted. Jack wasn't coming back, but the coming birth represented a new hope, and Will slowly began to look forward to parenting. As his time approached, it seemed as though Elizabeth and Tia Dalma had switched places, the witch becoming soothing and protective, his ex-fiancée becoming amused at the proceedings while staying safely out of reach. An only child whose mother died at her birth, Elizabeth seemed to find the birthing frightening, and irrationally, she lashed out at Will.
When the pains began, he asked Elizabeth to sit with him, but she would not. At first, she made excuses, duties that called her topside. Soon it was obvious that she simply could not handle the sight of him in pain, and he resigned himself to a birthing with no loved ones present.
Instead, Ragetti was pressed into a nursemaid, boiling water and assembling the necessary tools; a bit of twine for the cord, swaddling clothes for the babe, oil to massage the passage. He carried his burdens to Tia Dalma.
When he entered the cabin, Will was naked, on all fours, panting between swells, his eyes open but unseeing. The pirate was oddly competent in the unfamiliar role, hands pressing firmly on Will's lower back during contractions, smoothing his hair in the brief intervals between.
In time, Will's cries changed, became lower, and soon, the round protuberance coming from him was revealed to be a head, covered with black fuzz. A few more pushes, and a shoulder appeared. Tia Dalma carefully supported the babe, and twisted gently to free the other shoulder. The baby slithered out, and the witch reached a pinkie into the tiny mouth to remove a bit of slime, triggering a healthy squall. Will sat back and reached for his son.
---
Within three days, they knew it was hopeless. Baby John was a miracle, rarely crying, eyes open, alert, and fascinated by all he saw. Jack's heritage was obvious in every feature, from the gleaming eyes to the thick dark hair. Even Elizabeth was entranced, awkwardly supporting the tiny neck while telling him pirate stories and singing sea chanties into little shell ears.
And there was no milk on board, and no port less than a week away. They had all assumed that the magic that had given Will a womb would somehow transform his breasts as well. It was not to be; his nipples remained small, masculine, empty despite the baby's frantic rooting.
---
John's eyes remained bright to the end, tracking his father's hand as it stroked his cheeks. He didn't cry, even at the last, only a slight hiccuping sound as the air left his lungs, and then the long silence that followed.