Tick Tock of the Clock, a pirates of the caribbean fanfic

Tick Tock of the Clock

Author: williz

Summary: A one-shot (even though I always write really long one-shots) in which I wanted to write pointless Will/Elizabeth marriage fluff. There is a small amount of plot, but you'll like it if you like Will/Elizabeth. No other characters. Now, for the summary. Wait...I really have no summary. Just read the thing. I guess.

Disclaimer: I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean. I don't own William Turner. I don't own Elizabeth Swann. But I do own their home! Honestly, though! If I own their home, why can't I also own them, if they live in that home?! Come oooon!! Give me a break here! But anyways, as it stands now, I don't own them. But like I said before, if Keira reads this and maybe wants to come over and hang out, I will go out and buy some Dr. Pepper, put on Peter Pan, and bake her some rasberry strudle. UH OH! Keira-Karen party!!

Tick. Tock.

Elizabeth watched the hand on the grandfather clock in the entryway of her new home. The rich, mahogany wood of the large, grandiose clock matched the wondrous wooden wall it was pressed against, as well as the banister that led upstairs.

Elizabeth's bedroom was upstairs, her new bedroom, with the large bed, the silk sheets and thick duvet. Only one pair of slippers resided beneath the bed at the moment. A large, manly pair, tucked beneath the frame so that no one tripped on them. The other pair that was usually pushed right next to the manly pair was a smaller, daintier pair, like a ballerina's slipper.

That pair was on Elizabeth's feet as she stood in the entryway, staring at the clock. It was fifteen minutes past ten o'clock and as worried as the young wife was, she kept herself calm by reminding herself there was no need to be fretting.

Surely work kept many young men from their wives.

Tick. Tock.

Is it just me, or is the clock going slower than it was five minutes ago?

Elizabeth bundled her robe tighter against her and retied the front as a small chill went through the home. It was not fully furnished yet, as she had made it her home only three weeks before.

The home was small and tidy, but still large enough to be comfortable. There were three rooms and a wash room on the second floor. On the first floor was a library, an office, the entry way, a kitchen, dining room, and sitting room with a fireplace.

The young bride kept a dainty garden in the back, blooming with Jamaican fruits and flowers, as well as a few necessities, such as squash and tomatoes. She kept it up herself and was happy to do so, for the shining look in her young man's eyes when he saw her out on her knees tending to the garden gave her such a leap in her heart.

With a sigh, Elizabeth turned away from the ticking clock and strode aimlessly into the library. She was rather tired, but not in the way in which she wished to sleep. She was tired in that she just wished he would be there, his old, sooty hat in his hand, the ready smile on his lips and in his eyes, the tired slump of his shoulders.

She loved that slump. It meant he would just collapse into her touch and she would be absolutely free to fondle, cuddle, and smother him without so much as a blush.

Elizabeth was annoyed at how strong he was sometimes. She knew he thought she expected him to be the strongest man in the world, to always protect her emotions and feelings. And she begrudged him of his thinking that he couldn't show his own emotions and feelings to her.

One of these days, she decided she would just hit him hard enough to make him cry. Although, she thought, that would be ill of her to do so. He just made her so angry sometimes.

With her hand running down the spine of a leatherback book aimlessly, Elizabeth let her eyes stray to the sparkling wooden floor beneath the bookcase. She bit her lip with a smile as she thought of the past three weeks.

If the rest of her life was to be this blissful with the man she loved, oh God…

She heard a click in the entryway and the comforting squeak of the front door being opened. She looked at the library clock and saw that it was half past ten. The nerve of that man not sending her any sort of warning or note. She expected him four hours before he arrived!

Hurrying through the other library door, she snuck into the kitchen as she heard shuffling.

He must be taking his cloak off. Hurry!

She checked the food she had made especially for him, as they could not afford a cook just yet, and decided it was good enough. Luckily, she had chosen to make cold ham with pea shoots, so she had not had to worry about the food becoming cold or wasted.

She set the food out, ready to put it on the china plate, and then strode out of the kitchen into the hall. The young woman of twenty three was absolutely overjoyed to see her husband standing at the front door. But even in her excitement, she took notice that his hand was still on the handle, his back was to her, and his hat and cloak still adorned his head and shoulders.

She noticed the drooping shoulders, the way his head hung low.

"Will…?" Her excitement suddenly turned to concern.

He spun quickly at her voice, and the instant grin on his face was just an instant too late, for his young wife saw the confusion mixed with anguish that was there the moment he had turned.

"Elizabeth…my love," he breathed in relief, the creases in his forehead not going away, but lessening at seeing the beautiful girl standing there, the beautiful girl that was all his for the rest of his young life.

He swiped his dirtied hat off his dark head with such gracefulness and strength, that it brought a slight, ironic smile to his wife's pouted lips. The little boy who she rescued from the waters on the crossing from England eleven years before grew into a strong, handsome man. He had a poor background, a working class life, and always managed to have some smudge or another on his jaw or forehead from blacksmithing.

William Turner had always seemed a dirty, hard-working man, no money to his name, no title, and no future. His boots were always scuffed, his hair more often than not was messily pulled into a little ponytail at the base of his neck, dark brown tendrils dropping in front of his eyes. And what was less, he was only an apprentice. Not even the blacksmith, but the blacksmith's apprentice.

But for such a poor, scamp-like upbringing, as everyone had assured Elizabeth when she made known her strong, enduring love for him, he had such manners and grace, such as a man of Elizabeth's own social class could have been proud to have. Many of them didn't.

She walked to him and put her hands to the open front of his cloak, pushing it over his strong, muscled shoulders as he shrugged it off a bit. She took the heavy, leather cloak to the entryway closet and hung it up neatly, before going straight to him and melting into his embrace.

"You are so late, Will. Why?"

"Where's dinner?" His voice was soft and pained, but she recognized the tone in him and the look in his eyes. He would tell her everything later. But for now, he was hungry.

"I have it all ready for you, Will. I made it myself." Her beautiful, proud smile brought a lift to the young man's heart like no other sight could, so he just grinned back and nodded his head.

"First meal you've ever made, Mrs. Turner?"

She scoffed, then was silent for a moment. "…maybe…"

"I'm sure it will be excellent," he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

When he got so close to her, she could smell his perfect scent. He smelled of burnt wood and metal. She could feel the stickiness of his face from the sweat of working hard in front of a hot fire all day. But the best of it was the smell of the sea that wafted into her petite nostrils. She knew it was because he would take half hour breaks at lunch to go down to the beach or docks, depending on whether he felt inclined to be social or alone. He would sit and eat the fruit he had bought in the market, watching the waters and the ships coming in.

There was always (and always would be, she guessed) that nagging thought in the back of her mind that the pirate blood in him would someday pull him back to the sea, leaving her, and maybe their child someday if they had one.

But when Will held Elizabeth like this, so closely that she felt they would mold as one, when she could smell and feel him as he could smell and feel her, those thoughts drifted to the back of her mind again, where they would stay.

"Come," she whispered, taking his hand and pulling away from his grasping arms. "I don't want it wasting."

Excited for him to try the first meal she would ever make him in the short time they were married, she led him quickly into the kitchen. He let go of her hand as she hurried to the plate and filled it with her food. She set some lettuce leaves beside the ham and pea shoots, then grated a bit of cheese on it, before lifting it into her soft, elegant hands and taking it into the dining room, where her husband followed.

"Wait…" she admonished as he went to sit down. He looked up at her with his dark brown eyes, his eyebrows raised at her sharp tone. "Your hands…"

"What about my hands?" He asked, looking down at them, still bent over as if he was going to sit.

"Well, William…they're dirty and have soot all over them. You expect me to let you just sit and touch my wonderful food with those hands?" She placed her hands on her hip, set her lips in a pout, and raised an amused eyebrow.

With a sigh, he stood and walked into the kitchen, where there was water that pumped from the outside well. As he bent into the small sink, Elizabeth pumped the water for him. She gasped immediately when she saw that grime and soot weren't the only things on her husband's hands, but blood was there as well.

"Will!" She grabbed his hand and held it up. "You're bleeding? What's happened? Did you get distracted again with the hammer?" She inspected his fingers, thinking she would see one smashed with a discolored nail, as she had seen many times when she visited him in his smithy whilst they were still betrothed and courting.

But she didn't see anything.

"No, no, love. I'm fine. Just a small cut."

"Where?"

"I'm fine." He washed his hands of the small amount of blood and dirt, and then splashed his face a bit as well. When he finished, he sent his wife a mischievous look, before sending a small splash her way.

She squealed and jumped back, incredulousness and slight amusement in her ethereal features. "WILLIAM TURNER!! YOU CAD!!"

He laughed as she let go of the pump and the water stopped. She jumped at him without a plan, really, and he caught her and held her tightly by her wrists, his face pressed lovingly into her cheek. "Gotcha," he breathed softly.

She giggled and pulled back a bit to kiss his wet nose. "I'll get you back, you'll see."

They walked back into the dining room when he dried off and he sat down at the head of the table. "Why aren't you eating as well?" He asked her.

"I ate a few hours ago, Darling. I'm sorry…I couldn't wait." She blushed a little bit. "Actually, I made this especially for you!" Elizabeth chirped.

William Turner had never been one accustomed to excellent meals, as he had never quite been one to expect those types of meals his entire life. But even at that, as he looked down at his plate, he wondered whether or not this food was edible.

He would never doubt Elizabeth's cooking skills. Really, he never would.

But his insides squirmed as he saw the black, burnt film covering the ham and the brown spots on the pea shoots. Now, Will was no native to extravagant, rich foods, but he knew what ham and pea shoots tasted like. And he definitely knew salad.

He looked up pitifully to see Elizabeth watching him very closely, excitement in her eyes. Oh, those eyes. Those beautiful, strong, light brown eyes watched him. Love radiated from him, inside out. He gave her a very reassuring grin, then eagerly (but difficultly) sliced a piece of the ham with his knife and fork.

As Will put it in his mouth, he immediately felt as though it wasn't a piece of ham, but indeed one of the nails he used to make his tables and chairs. Nevertheless, he fought the grimace and gag from his entire countenance and chewed it, before swallowing.

"How is it?" He heard her ask, timidly, biting her lip and clasping her hands nervously in front of her white, flowing robe that sat lightly over her nightgown.

"Wonderful, Darling."

The smile that lit up her face, encouraged Will to eat another bite, then another. After a little while, the taste wasn't so bad and he relished the food in his stomach.

The pea shoots weren't crisp, as they should have been, but he figured it was because she might have overcooked them. They still had a bit of flavor to them, though, as she let them sit in garlic.

The salad leaves were too drenched in the dressing to be edible, so he just told her his stomach wasn't up to eating anymore food, as Mrs. Latterly, the seamstress two shops down brought him a small piece of cake that she had just made.

Elizabeth accepted it, and then leaned down to kiss his temple, ruffling his hair adoringly. She then carried his plate into the kitchen and set it in the sink. It took her less than ten minutes to get the kitchen clean and back to normal, but when she came back to the dining room, it was empty.

Furrowing her brow in happy confusion, she walked through the hall, passed the stairs and into the sitting room, as the door was propped open, hinting where her husband was. As she stepped inside the room, she saw that her husband had started a fire in the fireplace and was holding his hands up to it.

That lost, confused look was still on his face.

Elizabeth floated to him and set a hand on his back, rounding his hips with her other, and then pressed her face against his chest. "Will, please tell me why you were late and what is troubling you so."

He turned and sighed, a hurt and disappointed look in his gaze.

"Mr. Brown is dead." He met her eyes fiercely, the fire dancing in his intense stare.

She gasped, bringing a hand to her mouth and stepping away, leaning against the brick of the fireplace. She looked into the crackling embers, feeling a weight settle in the pit of her heart. "That's terrible," she whispered.

Will looked away and put his hands in his pockets. Elizabeth looked up at him and saw in his eyes a moment of confusion, before his hands came back out of the pockets, trinkets in them. At seeing the trinkets, his eyes softened a bit.

"He had no one but me. These are his effects. The only effects he damn well had." A moment later the softness in his gaze changed and anger poured in torrents from his eyes. Elizabeth felt a chill, despite the warmth of the fire at her side.

"Damn bastard!" He growled between his teeth as he slammed them on top of the brick of the fireplace. "Damn…stupid….bastard." He turned away from Elizabeth and leaned his elbow next to the trinkets, running that hand through his messily bound, slightly curly dark hair, and lowering his head. Elizabeth could see the muscles of her husband's back tighten beneath the white shirt and vest covering them.

"Will…" she whispered, stepping up behind him and lightly setting her face between his shoulder blades. "Will, Darling…don't turn away from me…" When he ignored her soft plea, she stepped back from him, her lips trembling and her eyes fierce.

"I said don't turn away from me!" She said, raising her voice. There was a strong, vivacious ring to it that caused young William's eyes to widen. He turned to her in shock, confused as to her tone, but in awe at the same time.

With her bosom thrown out, her nostrils flaring, and her lips pouted, she looked amazing to him at that moment. Her eyes were glaring daggers at him and her jaw was clenched as she set her hands on her slim waist.

"I…" He started, but she cut him off.

"No! Why are you so afraid to show your feelings to me? Why can't you just look me straight in the eye and say 'I'm sad, Elizabeth. I need you to comfort me.'? Why can't you say that? You must be such a strong man and be strong for me. Who told you that?! My father?!" She challenged, her voice quiet and low, but fierce and strong all the same.

Will opened his mouth, but shut it again, deciding to just let her fume. He knew this was something she'd kept inside…probably for the entirety of the three years they had made known their love.

"My father wouldn't know strength if it jumped up and kicked him in the behind!" She snapped.

"I feel so ridiculous, always being the one who cries in your arms or seeks your comfort! I feel so good for nothing when you barricade yourself in the office or library instead of coming to me for solace! How do you think this makes me feel?"

She shrunk into herself and looked into the flame again, still managing to keep the strength in her figure. "Let me love you, Will. Let me protect you. I love you so it makes my heart twist in my chest at the thought of you sometimes."

"Your arms are so strong and they make me feel wonderful when I'm snuggled deep in your embrace, but my arms can be just that strong, if not physically, then emotionally. I want you to bury yourself in my arms, Will! You're hurting! Mr. Brown—You loved Mr. Brown! I know you did! He was like a father to you!" She walked up to him and set a hand to his face. "I want to see the William Turner that no one else sees."

She was silent long enough for him to know he could speak then.

"Elizabeth, I don't enjoy wallowing in my fears or sadness. They bring me nothing but more fear and sadness." He looked into her light brown eyes with his dark ones. "If you had just told me before…I'm sorry."

Will stepped closer to her and took her hand gently. Elizabeth looked up and sighed. "I know, my love. I'm not angry with you. Why must you be so…" She stopped as he lifted her chin to look in his eyes.

"I'm a blacksmith, Elizabeth. Not even that…I'm still just an apprentice. Against my pride and will, I reluctantly allowed your father to help with this house. I would never have been able to afford it myself. Not off of what I get from Brown."

He huffed frustratingly and put his hands in his trouser pockets as his wife only watched him.

"I can't buy you extravagant things, you know that already. Anything I do buy you is because I've been saving up for months. Months. Elizabeth, I have nothing offer you. Nothing to offer anyone in marriage…except my strength. It's all I have to put into our union and the moment I let any of my emotions slip, I lose that strength. Then I have nothing to offer you, Elizabeth, and that's worse than anything I can think of."

Elizabeth did nothing but sigh and step closer to him.

"I have to be strong. I can't let my guard down. I have to protect you…otherwise there's nothing in this marriage for you. And I would have stolen your innocence and good name for nothing, stripped you of your life, and stripped your father of a good name as well. That can't happen."

She giggled slightly. "Will, for goodness sakes. You think that just because you allow yourself some respite and comfort in my arms I'd think you weren't strong anymore? You think that I would believe you unable to protect me, to protect this house? You're blowing this way out of proportion."

For the first time in their relationship, Elizabeth saw how young and naïve Will actually was, how strong-willed and boyish he was. He honestly believed what he had just said, as he looked confusedly down at her. "What do you mean?"

"Will, all I ask from you is that you love me. I'm a woman, Darling. Women like to know they are needed by the men they love every once in awhile. That's just how we are. If we feel we aren't needed, we become frightened of infidelity, ugliness, old age, all of that." She smiled amusedly up at him.

"I don't understand women, and I doubt I ever will. What do you mean by need?" He tilted his head slightly, running a hand through his dark hair.

"Will, I stand in this entryway every night, waiting for you to come home. How do you think it makes me feel when you take me in your arms then walk away into your library, shutting the door? I love you so much, Will, and it hurts when you turn away from me. If you cannot show me those emotions, whom can you show?" She let a finger drift over his jaw line.

"I didn't know," he whispered.

"I understand that now, Will. I know you've lived your whole life pushing those things down. I know you've never had anyone to show feelings in front of. But it's different now, love." Stepping up to him, she wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling his hands grip at the small of her back tightly. "You have me," she finished in a whisper, turning her lips to his ear.

Elizabeth felt a drop of wetness on her neck. She pulled away lightly and looked to her husband, seeing his eyes red and watery, his lips pressed together in a thin line. He sniffed suddenly and smiled at her.

Her heart swelled as she brought him back into her arms. She clung to him for dear life, hearing him sniffling, his chest heaving. With comforting words, she rubbed his back and shut her eyes tightly, feeling tears start at the edge of her eyes.

A few minutes later, she felt that he was finished crying and she pulled back, her shoulder wet. "William, what happened to Mr. Brown?"

"He went out early to the pub…"

"But I thought he was supposed to be…"

"He's been sober for five months, Elizabeth. He broke and I let him. I let him go to the pub. He had been upset. You know, Mrs. Brown died two years ago this very night. I let him go."

She rubbed his arm lovingly, her eyes slanted sympathetically.

"It was probably about 7 or so, an hour after I told you I would be home. I was waiting for Brown to come back so that I could make sure he got in safely and then I would lock up. I knew he'd be drunk. I waited fifteen more minutes, then walked to the pub he frequents the most. Turns out he got himself into a brawl. I walked in, the other fellow had already stabbed him with the broken bottle."

Elizabeth gasped, looking away in terror, as if she could see the happenings in his eyes.

"I held onto him the last minute of his life. I felt nothing. No pain, anguish, nothing. Undoubtedly, I knew he'd gotten himself into this. I had a bit of pity, but nothing more as I looked into his drunken gaze. With his last breath, he told me he was proud of me. Then he died."

"The blood…" Elizabeth started.

"…was his," Will whispered. "He's gone."

Elizabeth couldn't fight the new feelings within her. With Brown's passing, William would be given the blacksmith shop. Will was the only person Brown had in his life. The self-consciousness that plagued her husband's mind when he thought she wasn't watching would soon dissipate, for Brown Blacksmithing was going to be transferred to William Turner.

Turner Blacksmithing flashed through her mind over and over, before she pushed it out of her mind and took Will in her arms. When they pulled away from each other, all traces of the tears that spilled from the young blacksmith's eyes were gone, leaving only the smile on his face.

"Come," Elizabeth breathed. "I made dessert that we can eat together."

Elizabeth caught Will's slightly apprehensive look before he disguised it and giggled. "Don't worry, William Turner," she drawled, giving him a slightly sarcastic eye. "I threw some strawberries, blueberries, and milk in a bowl and put sugar on it."

"Worry? What for, Darling?"

"Don't think I didn't know you stomached my terrible cooking because you are the sweetest, most loving man in the world Turner. I realized it was terrible when I saw how much trouble you had cutting the burnt ham." She had a slight blush.

'It was delicious, honestly!" He set a hand on her shoulder. "I've never enjoyed anything more!" She gave him a non-believing look, and he suddenly turned sheepish. "Alright, so…maybe it was a little bit burnt, but…and the salad might have been a bit too strong with all the dressing…other than that it was delicious! I swear!"

She laughed and shook her head. "I don't believe you, but know I love and appreciate how adamant you are about it." She kissed his lips lightly with a giggle. Grabbing his arm, they walked together into the kitchen. As Elizabeth started towards the fruits on the counter, Will took her arm and pulled her back.

She opened her mouth to question this, but found she could not make a sound. Lips crashed against hers tenderly, knocking all sense and thought from her mind. Elizabeth could feel his fingers against her skin through the robe and nightgown and it sent sparks through her entire body, as it always did.

When her young husband broke his lips from hers, he set their foreheads together, reaching up to push a wavy strand of her long, loose honey hair from her face. "Go sit down, my darling…" he whispered, rubbing her cheek with his thumb. "I'll make the dessert. As an apology for everything."

She started to dismiss the apology, ready to say it wasn't needed, but he set a finger to her lips and she shut her mouth with a loving smile. "Alright," she said softly, kissing his finger, then his cheek.

Biting her lip, she walked into the dining room and sat down, her stomach grumbling. It took only five minutes before her Will stepped into the dining room with a wide grin on his face.

She was completely aghast when he set the dessert in front of her. It was amazing and looked completely gorgeous.

He had set a warm cookie that had been in the box in the cupboard as a honeymoon gift right in the middle of the fancy bowl, then put strawberries, blueberries, and a few raspberries on the cookie. Then he poured cool crème over the cookie and fruit, topping it with a crisp leaf of mint.

"Voila, my loveliest of all my customers…I call it the Turner Special. I only make it for the people I love most in the entire world." He set an adoring kiss to her cheek, earning him the biggest, most beautiful smile she had ever given anyone.

"Will, it's beautiful! However did you learn to make this?!"

"I just did it right now. I figured you would be hungry because you ate so long ago, so I decided to add a cookie from the box in the cupboard."

"The cookies the Hollander's gave us when we came back from our honeymoon?"

"Yes." He watched as she ate some of it.

"Oh, William…this is the most delicious thing I've ever tasted!"

And suddenly, just like that, cooking privileges were given to the man of the house. No words were exchanged, no special looks. It just happened. When they both finished, the bowls were left on the table.

William Turner lifted Elizabeth Turner into his arms as she squealed happily, and then carried her into their sitting room. He sat on their couch facing the fire, his wife happily resting upon his lap, her feet dangling a few inches above the wooden floor.

As she kissed her young man repeatedly, one hand wrapped around his neck, the other playing with his hair, her slippers slid from her petite toes and dropped to the ground, going completely unnoticed by their barefoot owner.

Will chuckled as Elizabeth sighed against his cheek. "What's so funny?" She asked lightly, amusement in her tone.

"I was just thinking about how wonderful you looked when you were angry with me. God, I wonder if you got your spirit from your mother, for I have yet to see that sort of thing from the governor."

Elizabeth gave him a wry smile. "My mother, definitely."

"Was your mother also stubborn?"

"Mister Turner! I am not stubborn!"

"You are so, my love! But in the most beautiful way possible. I wouldn't have my wife any other way than the stubborn, spirited, beautiful, s…" He stopped, then cleared his throat sheepishly.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. "What was that you almost said?"

"I didn't almost say anything. Stubborn, spirited and beautiful." He turned his face away from her innocently.

"No, it started with a 's'…what was it?" There was nothing from him. "William Jonathan Turner…" She warned.

"Alright, I was going to say stubborn, spirited, beautiful, seductive…and a few other things I cannot say in the presence of a lady." Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

"Seductive, am I? Says who?" She set her fingers to the large buttons of his vest.

"Says I. Every damn day." He leant forward to kiss her neck.

"And what is it you cannot say in the presence of a lady, my husband?" She continued, enjoying his treatment.

"I cannot say, obviously, in your presence, as you are a lady. The best I've ever seen, I can honestly say. It has to do with the performance of certain acts."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow in an 'oh really' fashion and moved her face an inch from his, looking straight into his eyes with a seductive bite of her lip. "So you can perform certain acts with said best lady you've ever seen, but you cannot speak of them to her?"

After a pause, he conceded. "Good point."

Elizabeth giggled and kissed his lips languidly, resting her head on his shoulder. When they pulled apart, she made a small whining noise then said, "Will, my love? Could you do me a favor and never mention to my father what I said about not knowing strength if it jumped up and kicked him in the behind?"

Will chuckled. "He will never know of it, I promise, love."

"Thank you."

As they sat on the couch, nuzzling, cuddling, and snuggling, their love grew even more. With each passing second, as they held hands, kissed each other's noses, rubbed cheeks, William and Elizabeth Turner fell in love more than any other couples had in the history of mankind.

By the time it was midnight, William looked down to his wife's face perched on his shoulder, her body bundled into a little ball on his lap, her robe on the other side of the couch on top of his vest.

"Elizabeth…" he whispered softly. She opened her eyes groggily and smiled up at him.

"Yes Darling?"

"It's midnight."

Her eyes opened widely. "Oh my goodness! Will, I'm so sorry! You have to be at the smithy early tomorrow, don't you?! And look at me keeping you up this late, oh I'm so sorry!"

He shushed her gently, kissing her lips. "Shush, Elizabeth. You forget…Brown is no longer…well, he has no more jurisdiction over me anymore, does he? He couldn't possibly. Norrington arrived with his men just an hour after Brown was killed and told me Brown had a will and in it, after Brown's death, I was to receive all his assets, including the business."

Elizabeth smiled. In spite of the tragedy, Will was to inherit Brown's assets. She wondered what sort of funds the old drunkard had, but was disappointed a moment later.

"Unfortunately all he had was a few thousand pounds and the smithy, but that's enough for me to get it off the ground and maybe find an apprentice of my own." A smile lit his features.

Every cloud has a silver lining.

"But…when do you leave tomorrow?" She tilted her head. He reached up and ran his hand lovingly through her long, soft hair.

"I don't. I've decided to take a few days off in remembrance of Jonathan Brown, a good man who might have made some poor choices in his life, but made up for it with his heart and his pride."

Elizabeth nodded solemnly. "To Mr. Brown," she chimed.

"Yes, to John…" Will's eyes were distant for awhile, before he looked back to Elizabeth. "But I am tired…I believe you and I should go to bed now."

"Aw, but I still feel like cuddling," she said, pouting.

He laughed, standing up with her still in his arms. He gallantly carried his wife up the stairs and to their bedroom before setting her on their bed and wrapping his arms gently around her lithe frame. "I love you, Mrs. Turner."

"And I love you."

"I need a bath," he said lamely.

"You do," she laughed. "I'll prepare the water for you."

A few minutes later, Will was immersed in hot water and sighing, dropping his head back against the ivory tub. He felt soft hands latch onto his face as Elizabeth's face leant down to kiss his lips upside down.

When she pulled away, Will opened his eyes and grinned up at her. "You're even good at kissing upside down. Since when was I worthy enough to have a woman like you?"

Elizabeth just giggled and kissed him again. "I love you so much, Will." She felt tenseness in his shoulders as she set her hands there, so she began to massage them. Will's eyes rolled to the back of his head as he leant back into her touch.

A few minutes later, they were lying in their bed, their arms wrapped tightly around each other. Elizabeth kissed her husband's bare chest and sighed against him, happier than she had ever been in her entire life.

There was nothing more beautiful than the feelings she had when wrapped in her husband's arms at night in the bed they shared. What made it more beautiful was that their relationship was more than just a union. They had something physical, emotional, mental…a connection that held them together mind, body and soul.

And it was something both were absolutely sure would never die. Not for as long as time raged forth. There wasn't a thing in the world that could come between the new married couple.

Nothing in the world.

And as they lie together in their warm, silk sheets, basking in the warmth of each other's embrace, time was nothing to them.

Tick. Tock.

(A/N:) This is just a break I took. Halister Balongalong told me she wanted to read something fluffy and fun and cute and all that. So I said "your wish is my command, halister balongalong" and then I wrote this on a whim. Did you guys like it? I promise I'm continuing London Calling soon, I've just reached a wall. Once I break through that wall, I'll be good. Totally.

So yes. Read and review, you guys!!! I hope you enjoyed this!

And I hope Will and Elizabeth were in character!

Ta for now! Love you all!

...sort of...

HAHAHA! JUST KIDDING!

-williz