Je t'aime

Title: Je t’aime

Author: Murron

Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Jack/Will

Summary: Boredom and a chance encounter… (FYI: je t’aime = I love you)

Author’s notes: Damn, I am so burned out right now. My school load is getting to be a bit…unbearable. I’ve had this one on the go forever. Sorry if it be a bit jumpy, it’s been written over a long period of time, spanning many different moods. I needget get it out of my life, because it won’t leave me alone. It keeps popping into my head at strange times and nagging at me to finish what I started. So here it is, in all it’s strangeness and unedited glory… (oh god, the ending is so cheesy I could just die! *expires in shame*)

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Bright sunshine drifted into the spacious dining room where Will and Elizabeth sat, finishing their noonday meal. No words passed between them. Will was trying to concentrate on the daily news, secured in the hand that was not holding his fork. The words on the paper swam in front of his eyes as he called up every ounce of his self-control, his fingers itching to pick up the heavy brass candlestick in front of him and heave it across the table at his lovely wife. The dainty, concentrated, upper-class way of eating she had developed irked him especially today. The measured scratches and scrapes of fork and knife made him grate his teeth in restrained annoyance.

For Will, marriage into money had not turned out to be the smoothest transition. Granted, for a while he had enjoyed the wealth. The lavish wedding, the gorgeous house, clothes, gadgets, and baubles, they were all fun in the beginning. Then the boredom set in. Will realized that, generally, he wasn’t really expected to do much of anything, except to look pretty, attend silly parties, and command the servants of the house in mundane matters for which he cared little. He found the people that he was expected to fraternize with utterly boring, and Elizabeth, despite her rebellious tendencies of old, had shifted into the role of socialite housewife rather seamlessly. Or at least she wore the disguise of contentment much more convincingly than Will ever could.

Take today for instance. For some reason, unbeknownst to Will, Elizabeth had decided that the sitting room needed a new rug, though the one that covered the floor now had been there less than a year and looked even newer. So, off to market she would go.

“Are you sure you would not come with me today??” she asked, for the tenth time, if Will’s count was true.

He shook his head, eyes still glued to the page on which he had not read a word.

She came around the table with great swish of skirt, stooping a little to kiss him on the cheek.

“Mmm” he responded, sounding rather disinterested.

Then she was gone from the room, serving girl in tow.

Will sprang up as he heard the front door of the house close behind Elizabeth and her entourage. Finally, she was gone! He pranced through the foyer of the house, straightening his jacket, all buttons and braid, as he went. He waited by the front door for a minute, giving Elizabeth time to get out of sight, and then he opened it himself.

“Excuse me, Mr. Turner?” Will had one foot out the door . He stopped in his tracks and turned to see the tiny, timid girl who was paid to clean house for them, looking up at him with giant blue eyes wide.

“Yes?” Will tried to sound as pleasant as possible. The poor thing looked like she might begin to cry over the stress of actually talking to him. She wore her shyness like a cloak.

“Where are you goi- I mean, what should I tell Missus Turner when she comes home? About where you’ve gone?” Little more than a whisper was this, and Will had to crane in a little to catch it.

“Tell her…” …I’ve run away forever, Will finished the sentence in his head. Didn’t sound quite right, though.

“Tell her I’ve gone to visit an old friend.”

The girl nodded and bowed back into the recesses of the house, obviously very glad to have come away from the experience alive. Will shut the door behind him and set off towards the waterfront, the docks, whistling to himself and tipping his hat to everyone that he passed.

Visiting an old friend was really not a lie, he thought to himself. Or he hoped it wouldn’t be. For he had heard a very interesting tidbit of information this morning from the boy who sold papers on the corner of the street. The real news, Will had found, came not printed on a page, but from the mouth of those who kept their ears to the ground.

Around town, a rumor was flying that a strange ship had been spotted anchoring in a little cove not far from the harbour of Port Royal. And not just any strange ship, a strangip wip with black sails and a very raucous crew. Will was betting that it was none other than the Black Pearl. And he meant to find out if he was right or not.

The docks, as always, were teeming with people, both coming and going. Will weaved his way among sailors, merchants, little boys hoping to make a few pennies doing odd chores, women soliciting for all types of nasty things and all the others who had joined the crowds that day. He finally found what he was looking for, a small boat available to take him out to the ship that he hoped was the Pearl. The little thing was not even to be properly called a boat, for it was nothing more than a dory with two warped-looking oars. The man commanding it was red and fat, around forty years old, missing a leg above the knee, which evidently why he rowed instef saf sailing. He swore to know exactly what boat Will was talking about, and in exactly what cove it was located. They pushed off and as the man rowed, he chattered and guffawed with laughter, making the boat wobbly in the otherwise flat waters.

Will leaned back and watched the sky, letting the tug of the oars hypnotize him. He was startled when the man stopped his endless prattling to exclaim loudly that the ship was now in sight.

“That’s the one yer lookin’ fer, eh?”

Will lifted his head and saw, unmistakably, the Pearl, still a bit in the distance.

“That’s her.” He grinned. “That’s her all right.”

***********

It was fortunate for Will that Jack had decided to keep Ana Maria on board his ship as crew. If she hadn’t been there, he would never have been admitted to step foot on deck. The other crew members looked as if they would have rather shot him than tolerated his presence. There wasn’t a familiar face among them.

Will stood on the foredeck awkwardly, painfully aware that he was very overdressed among the shipmates in his expensive jacket. They stared at him unabashedly, sizing him up from head to toe.

“He’s almost as pretty as the one that’s in there now.”

“Just as pretty, in me ’umble opinion.”

“Prettier even!”

These jokes flew right over Will’s head, baffling him, but it was obvious that every member of the crew was in on them. Laughter and elbowing passed between them as Will blushed and looked at Ana Maria for some guidance, pleading confusion in his eyes.

She winked, but took pity on him and got to the point.

“We’re ‘ere to meet another ship, but got ‘ere a few days early. The captain has graciously given us two days of land-leave. We’re just leavin’. What’ll you be wantin’ of us, then?”

“Nothing. Of you, I mean. I was hoping to see Jack.”

“Ah, he wants to see Cap’n Jack, does he?” Will turned to the man who had said this, a huge, smirking formfullfull six inches taller than Will himself. “Well, then, go see ’im. He’s in ’is quarters.”

“Fine.” Will was tiring of the games they were playing with him, and the chance to escape was welcome. He walked stiffly away from the crowd of them, and found himself at the rough wooden door which opened into Jack’s sleeping area.

Before he could move to turn the knob, the door opened and the opener, immersed in the feat of buttoning up his shirt, ran smack into Will.

They both started.

“Ah, Bonjour!” The eyes that looked back into Will’s were liquid blue and sparkling and in very cloroxiroximity to his own. Will stepped back and took in the boy in front of him: tall and lanky frame, tanned and glowing skin, shaggy black hair that gleamed surreally. He looked to be a bit shy of his eighteenth birthday, face still smooth and free of all but the slightest fuzz. A thoroughly gorgeous creature, no doubt about that. Over the boy’s shoulder, Will caught a glimpse of Jack sprawled on a well-sized bed, naked body partially covered with one corner of a tangled sheet. Then the door swung shut.

Will managed to squeak out a Hello as he tried to keep his mouth from hanging open in shock.

“I am Pierre.” The boy said good-naturedly in a thick French accent, nodding and smiling at Will.

“Will.” Will blinked rapidly as he tried to think of something to say. “What are you doing aboard the ship?”

The boy looked at him confusedly, lips pursing and brow furrowing.

“Most apologies. Not English much I speak.”

Will rolled his eyes. Apparently Jack did not care for much in the way of conversation.

“Ah, I see you two have become acquainted,” Ana Maria startled them both.

“What is he doing here?” Will looked at her, still wanting to believe that there was a reasonable explanation.

“We took a French frigate ‘bout two months ago. We marooned most of their crew, but Jack kept thne,”ne,” she gestured towards Pierre, who looked on perplexedly, “as a cabin-boy.” She winked at Will for the second time that day, a wry smile on her lips. He could only nod, feeling as if he was dreaming.

Abruptly, she turned to Pierre. “Est-ou le capitaine?”

“Dans la chamber. Il dort maintenant.”

“Mmm, he sleeps still. Pierre must be very good.” She punched Will in the arm jovially, and he flinched away from her touch, looking rather peaked.

“All right then.” She seemed amused, not taken aback by his unease. “We’re ready to leave now. Will you be waitin’ for the cap’n to wake up or comin’ back to the port with us?”

“I think I’ll stay on board.” Will could not even begin to think of what he would say to Jack when he woke up, but rowing back to shore with the crew and their constant ribbing, of which he now understood the gist of, was not a good alternative in Will’s eyes. She shru.
.

“Pierre, nous partirons. Viens avec moi.” She nodded to Will, and she and Pierre went off, arm in arm, chattering back and forth in French.

And so Will was left on the ship alone. He stood on the foredeck and let the be re ruffle his hair. It seemed to him that time was racing and yet standing still as he waited for Jack to make an appearance. Impatience and dread mixed inside of him as thoughts of what he would say flew around in his head and butterflies fluttered in his stomach. The anticipation built to a head inside of unt until he could no longer stand still, so he paced instead.

And then Jack wandered out of his quarters, barefoot with his off-white shirt slung over one shoulder. He had one hand closed into a fist and he was humming off-key.

“Hello Jack.” The words came naturally to Will.

Jack jumped and squinted at him, reaching one hand out, like a curious bear cub, to pat Will on the arm. He seemed assured by the feel of Will’s substance, existence, under his fingertips.

“Wasn’t sure if you were really there. Thought maybe I was imagining things again.”

“Again?”

“So, Will Turner, what brings you out from the port to me ‘umble ship?” Jack carried on as if Will hadn’t spoken.

“I…I…” Will shrugged and shook his head, mind lacking a reason.

“Ah, so I am I to assume there is trouble in paradise?”

“No! No trouble!” Will’s conviction was less than convincing.

“And how is the beautiful Mrs. Turner?” Jack looked at him knowingly.

“Elizabeth? She’s fine,” Will looked up at the sky, stalling, “she is fully in charge of the house, and…and she is a loyal wife.”

“And..?”

“And she is utterly boring!” Will began to laugh.

“Ah, but I cannot believe that. Elizabeth? She is a spitfire.” Jack looked seriously at Will, who could not stop the bouts of laughter shaking his body

“Was, was, was. Now she is the model of elegance. Of high-class tastes. Her spirit is gone, or broken.” The giggles dried up in an instant and an awkward silence settled between the pair.

“I want out, Jack.” Will broke the still air with what sounded like a plea.

“And I suppose you want to join my crew, to be a pirate?” Jack’s eyes were dark, unreadable. He sat abruptly, crossing his legs and dumping what he had had held cupped in his hands in a pile beside him. Buttons. He withdrew a packet, needles and thread, from a pocket.

Will crouched down in front of him, leaning back on his haunches. “I don’t know what I want,” Jack’s head nodded down to the right in agreement, “but I know that I am bored with her in that little place.”

The needle was threaded by Jack’s deft hands, almost as if by magic. He unslung the shirt from his shoulder and Will could see where the pile of buttons had come from. Jack lined up the first button and began to sew, the needle flowing rhythmically, buoyed against the laws of gravity by nimble fingers.

Jack finished the first one and lifted the shirt to bite off the thread with his teeth. He finally caught Will’s stare.

“I wasa bia bit of a hurry to get it off last night.” He shrugged, a half-grin playing at his lips.

“Yes, I met Pierre before he left with the rest of the crew.”

Jack looked taken aback by that tidbit of information. His cheeks tinged pink, barely perceptible under his deep tan.

“Are you blushing?” A smile returned to Will’s face.

“I most certainly am not!”

“You are, Jack! You’re blushing!”

“It’s the heat. I have a sunburn.” Jack, tone matter-of-fact, directed his most contrived, menacing glare at Will, daring him to disagree.

“Mm-hm. A sunburn. That must be it.” Will bit at tnsidnsides of his cheeks, suppressing a laugh.

Jack started on the second button, trying to ignore Will’s existence, his very being.

Will’s jovial mood evaporated once more and his face took on a somber note as he watched Jack work on the button. A tiny, nagging question began to form in the deepest, darkest corner of his heart.

“Jack?” Jack’s eyes rose slowly, warily to meet Will’s own, needle stopping in mid-stitch.

“Why him? Why him and not me?”

“Why him and not you?” Jack folded the question back onto itself, musing.

“Yes. We were alone for days on the Interceptor. You could have had me. Why not?”

“Why not?” Jack let the shirt fall into his lap. “Because you were Mr. Will Turner,” he straightened his back and lifted his chin, squaring his shoulders into a pompous imitation of Will, “in search of your bonny lass, full of courage and loyalty and lofty ideas.”

“But…”

“Let me finish! And when you were around me, you were like one of those animals. The ones they have in the barren wilds of the north countries, they’re all pointy and…” Jack scratched his forehead with one hand, “a per…par…por…”

“Porcupine?”

“Porcupine! That’s it! Ready to draw blood the minute I got close to you. I like a challenge, Will, but you were really too much, even for Captain Jack Sparrow.”

“But what about now?”

“Now? Will, it-” Jack’s eyes had wandered back down to his shirt, searching for the fallen needle. This allowed Will to catch him, unaware, in a kiss, innocent but eager tongue exploring over teeth and gums. Jack let him do it.

Will pulled back, his eyes widened, surprised at his own boldness, unsure.

Jack was smiling, though, smugly, head cocked to one side. “Well, if you insist, Mr. Turner.”

Will stood on his shaky legs, tugging Jack up as well. He led him by the hand, to the captain’s quarters. The inside was darkened and much cooler than the sunny day out on deck. Jack struck a match and lit a small lamp on a low table, bathing the room in flickering glow. Will shrugged off his jacket and the shirt beneath, the air tickling his sweaty skin and sending a shiver through his body.

Jack smiled when he saw this. “You won’t be cold for long, luv.” He paused to run one flat palm across Will’s narrow chest, making Will tense, his hands clenching at his sides.

Jack withdrew across the room, kneeling in front a battered chest and digging through its contents.

“Ah-ha!” He pulled out tiny glass bottle and held it up for Will to see. It was half empty, the liquid inside a pale honey colour with a tint of red. “Magic stuff, from Singapore.”

He stood, uncorking the bottle as he returned to where Will was standing. He tipped the bottle, pilling a few drops onto his fingertips, which he held up under Will’s nose for an appraisal. “Good?”

“Good.” Will’s eyes shut as he inhaled. Hot and oily, with a hint of cinnamon.

Jack pushed the stopper back into the bottle and took a step forward, wrapping one arm around Will’s shoulders, the other hand settling in his lower back, pressing hips against hips. The sudden closeness startled Will, who stiffened as Jack began to sway to music only he could hear.

“Will, you are shaking like a leaf. Makes me think that this is your first time.” With Jack’s chin resting on the shelf of his shoulder, Will could feel the words, hot breath against his neck.

“It is. Like this anyway. Jack, you know that.”

“But Will, you are forgetting a very important rule. Never, ever let on that you don’t know what you’re doing. Pretend you are an expert and make it up as you go along.”

And Will found that, though he could not hear the music in Jack’s head, he could feel it in the way Jack’s hips moved against his own. Slowly he caught the rhythm and the tension drained out of his body, leaving him with a dizzy, weightless feeling.

Gradually, the hardness that they were both feeling grew to an unbearable pitch for Will, and he finally had to push Jack away to arm’s length. He fumbled with shaking fingers, freeing himself from his breeches, letting them gracelessly slip to his ankles. He kicked them away. Jack, who stepped out of his own with a little more elegance, was laughing at him again. Will didn’t care.

They stood face to face, both waiting for the other to make the next move. Jack finally relented, nudging Will over to the bed and turning him around. No more words were necessary, just gentle movement. Jack’s hand pressed into Will’s back, between his shoulder blades, bending him at the waist. A knee between his legs spread his thighs open..

Will was blind to the world, facing the sheets of the bed, propped up on unsteady arms. He heard a gentle pop. The bottle open again, whiff of the sweet hot smell on the air. Jack’s hands were gone from his skin for a moment, then back, slick and greasy, steadying his hips.

Will drew in a sudden breath of air as Jack pressed up inside of him. He gritted his teeth, taking Jack’s advice, pretending that he had done this a thousand times before, pretending it didn’t hurt him. The second thrust was better. Jack established a slow rhythm and Will loosened, began to move in unison.

Jack grunted and his grip around Will’s waist tightened. Will felt teeth dig into him, breaking the tender skin of his back, just below the crest of his shoulder, a hot rush of pain joining the one inside of him. He felt a droplet of blood slide down his back.

When Jack released his hold, Will collapsed onto his back onto the bed, himself still hard to the point of agony. All he wanted was a quick finish from Jack.

But no. Jack’s still oily hands found his, and tugged him upwards.

“Up, up! On your knees.”

“Uhhhh!” A groan verging on a grating whine.

“Up! You’ll thank me later.” Jack’s pull was unrelenting. Will hauled himself up onto his knees on the bed, swaying unsteadily, his head swimming. Jack stretched out on his side, head propped up in one hand. His firm lips and nipping teeth were too much for Will, and he let go of himself almost immediately, catching a fistful of Jack’s hair in one clenched hand.

Will fell onto his back in the soft bed, eyelids already drooping, drained of all his energy.

“Are you going to sleep? It’s the middle of the day!” Jack crawled up beside him, grinning.

“You’re just as tired as I am, after that.”

“I am not!” But Jack snuggled down beside him obligingly, arm cozily thrown over Will’s chest.

There were a few silent moments as both caught their breath and pounding hearts quieted.

“Will?” He jumped, caught just on the cusp of sleep.

“What?”

“Pierre taught me some French. Do you want to hear it?”

“Fine.” Will thought it wise to choose the path of least resistance.

“Je t’aime.” Flawless pronunciation on Jack’s part.

“What does it mean?”

“I haven’t a clue.”

************

So if you made it this far, thanks for reading … *hug*. I’d like some feedback on this, if you have a minute. *sings (in best Elvis impression)* “Don’t be cruel…”