Summary: What if the kiss at the end of Curse of the Black Pearl wasn't Will and Elizabeth's first?

DISCLAIMER: I don't own PoTC, sadly, because if I did, Jack Sparrow would be mine and I'd be sailing the seven seas right now.

A/N: Enjoy!

Young, thirteen year old Elizabeth Swann knocked politely on the door. It opened and the middle aged town blacksmith greeted her with a broad smile. 'Why, hello Miss. Swann, what can I do for you?'

'I'm here to see Will,' Elizabeth said, trying to look around the slightly plump man to see her friend.

'Ah, young William's inside,' the blacksmith said, stepping aside. 'Do come in.'

Elizabeth did so as the man shouted out for Will before returning to work. Elizabeth hurried into Will's working room.

As Elizabeth walked in, Will smiled brightly. 'Thank goodness you're here, Miss Swann. I need a break but master won't give one to me.'

Elizabeth sat on a stool that she pulled up and gazed at the sword Will was making. 'That looks incredible,' she said. 'What's it made out of?'

'The handle is a shark's bone,' Will said, sitting beside Elizabeth. 'The blade is made out of a stone I've kept in my pocket since I was a boy. My father gave it to me.'

Elizabeth gave a sympathetic smile.

'Miss. Swann...'

'Elizabeth, Will. You were absolutely fine with calling me Elizabeth when we first met.'

'Yes...however when we first met I had absolutely no idea you were a Governor's daughter of such high class. I'm a blacksmith's apprentice, Miss...' He grimaced. '...oh fine, Elizabeth.'

'Honestly,' Elizabeth sighed. 'I couldn't care less. You're better than all those irritating little girls Father keeps making me play with.'

Will chuckled, picking up the red hot sword and plunging it into icy cold water and there was a loud hiss and steam filled the room. 'Sorry,' Will apologised.

'No, it's fine,' Elizabeth assured him. 'I wish Father would allow me to get my hands dirty once in a while.'

Will stepped through the steam and folded his arms, leaning against his bench. 'So what is the purpose of your delightful visit?'

'Oh, just to talk,' Elizabeth said vaguely. Will frowned. 'Care to explain further?'

'Do you have any friends around here, Will?'

Will shook his head. 'Not many. You're one of the only ones. Why?'

'Oh...' Elizabeth sighed. 'I don't know. Just wondering.' There was a small silence between them and then Elizabeth blurted out 'Haveyoueverkissedanyone?'

Will stared at her. 'What did you say? It was all a little...rapid for my understanding.'

'Have you ever kissed anyone?' Elizabeth repeated. Will looked slightly taken aback but then exhaled. 'Alas, no. Why?'

Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders. 'I suppose it's just, neither have I. I was talking with those horrifying girls I was forced to stand and apparently, by our age we should've kissed someone by now. They all have. I feel like a little kid.'

Will patted her shoulder. 'Some people do things before others. It's completely normal. However, my family expected me to be betrothed to someone at thirteen and a half.'

Elizabeth snorted with laughter, causing Will to playfully shove her. 'Oh stop. They only wanted what was best for me. Sometimes I wish I could just get all the things I hadn't done over and done with.'

Elizabeth met his eye. 'Aye,' she agreed. 'We could...couldn't we?'

Will's heart started to pound in his chest. Was the beautiful Elizabeth Swann asking to kiss him?

'Well?' she asked. Will nodded. 'Might as well.'

Will leaned in at the exact same moment she did and their lips met. A couple of thundering heartbeats later, they broke apart. They gazed at each other for a while and then Elizabeth spoke. 'Here's the deal,' she said quietly. 'When we turn eighteen, you have to kiss me again. And then, we'll decide who you're betrothed to.'

Then, giving him the usual, friendly smile she always gave him, she left the room and as her breathing finally starting slow, she climbed into the cart that was waiting outside which rode her home.

Back in the work room, Will turned in total shock, starting to pace.

'Ye know,' his master said from the doorway. 'I have a feeling you and her have something very special.'

Will turned to the man he had learned to call his guardian. 'What do you mean?'

'In seventeen years when you two are married with a child, a son as far as I think, I will be saying "I told you so."'

Fifteen years later, aboard the Flying Dutchman, Will thought back to that day and his master's words and smiled. Maybe the man would've been a better prophet than a blacksmith. He held Elizabeth's latest letter in his hand with William III's scrawling signature at the bottom. He picked up a piece of parchment and began to write.

Dear Miss. Swann...

A/N: R&R please! Let me know what you think! I couldn't think of a name for our dear old blacksmith. Plus, I reckon that Will and Elizabeth would've been closer friends as kids.

Willabeth for ever...

Can't wait for POTC 4!