Title: Elusion

Author: Crimsonsenya

Rating: PG13

Pairing: Jack/Will

Summary: Construction and deconstruction.

Disclaimer: The ambiguously gay pirate & blacksmith duo belongs to Disney. No profit made. No corrupting of children intended.

A/N: Unbetaed.

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Will had always loved to be a blacksmith. He loved to have the power and skill to turn a heavy, blunt chunk of iron into something that had a form. To bend metal through water and fire with soil between his toes, managing all the elements, imagining for a short while by the forge that he was the creator of all shapes in times long gone when the earth was nothing but a deep void.

Somewhere inside his guts there was a chunk of another kind, a formless mass of something dark and unnameable, nevertheless as solid and impenetrable as the one made of iron. He used to think the feeling had to do with his fondness of Elisabeth, who for so long graced the naïve castle of his childhood dreams, full of heroic knights and princesses, but regardless of its weight, the ache inside of him was too vague, escaping all definition or his desperate attempts to label it.

The sensation grew and diminished as it pleased, especially at the sweaty, suffocating hours of the night when he could see the stars twinkling in the ink black sky through the smoke-dimmed window of his sleeping alcove. The stars were apart but never lonely, unlike him, as he tossed and turned restlessly on his cot, panting and throbbing, painfully aware of the numb dissatisfaction the morning would bring. He had no face for the longing, until he met Jack.

No matter how much he despised himself, the dark mass took the shape of the annoyingly mad and self-conceitedly lovable Captain Jack Sparrow. When Will truly realized it, it was already too late. They were in Tortuga, having a pint of ale in a seedy tavern after meeting Gibbs. A hooker came to sit down on Jack’s lap. Her loudly squeaking, constantly giggling, red-smeared mouth disgusted Will. When Jack slipped his ringed fingers under her cleavage, Will’s blood boiled, but his skin bristled, so much he wanted those fingers touching his own chest. Jack’s eyes caught fire too, and to Will’s great surprise they never left his.

When he had seen a string puppet as a child, he had wanted to pull apart its long limbs and see how the moves were born in the wooden joints. Jack too was a collection of colourful, ragged bits and pieces, but even if he had been taken apart and every scattered part had been scrutinized, there still would have been no answer to what held him together, or what were the laws that moved the irritable and fantastic scarecrow of a pirate.

Despite of the unpredictably and randomly functioning mechanics of his mind and whatever hidden motives –like getting rid of an ancient Aztec curse that turned his body into a skeleton in moonlight– he might have had, Jack tended to gravitate towards certain centres, The Pearl and the sea, and what those two implied to him.

Then one day, it was only he and the boy on board of The Interceptor, gazing at the vast, glimmering expanses of water, the warm breeze ruffling the loose strands of Will’s hair, and making the beads in his own hair cling. The skin on Will’s nape of the neck was tanned, very smooth and slightly sheening with sweat. It was way too easy for Jack to take a step forward, snake his arm around Will’s waist, and embrace him.

Instead of tensing, Will’s body shivered as Jack’s lips ghosted over his neck. To feel thirst and never be sated, was part of his curse, but Jack licked a few salty droplets from Will’s skin just to see if curses had loopholes, and he wasn’t disappointed. Jack had always been elusive as water, but also as adjusting. His body melted naturally on Will’s back.