FIC: "i would you were the world" [Crucible, Jabbergail, PG]
Title: i would you were the world
Author: el_em_en_oh_pee
Fandom: the Crucible
Pairing, characters: John/Abigail (Jabbergail!), John/Elizabeth
Rating: PGsomething.
Wordcount: 456
Author's Notes: Written for snarkylightning's birthday (January 2007) but as yet unposted
"What would you have me be?" she asks, crawling up his bed, leaning in to kiss him.
"What would you have me be?" she asks, running her hand down his leg
I would have you be my wife, he thinks, biting back any words, any sounds.
"What would you have me be?" she asks, licking one of his buttons wickedly.
I would have you be proper, he thinks, but all he says is "Abigail."
She bites his lip. "Aye," she breathes. "That I am." And she runs her hand down his stomach and pulls the hem of his shirt loose. "What would you have me do?"
Ah, but there is the root of wickedness! He would have her kiss him, would have her indulge in carnal acts that could no doubt bring them both shame.
He would have her love him, but he cannot love her, not while Elizabeth is there.
He would, if he could, have her and Elizabeth, together. He would have her with almost all the rest of the townspeople (her uncle, the reverend - the thought makes him chuckle even as he aches with longing.)
He would have her dance for him. He would have her sing and laugh, would have her work naked, would have her.
"Touch me," he says, even as he hears Elizabeth teaching their sons their letters downstairs.
She smiles wickedly. "I'll do that."
He shivers at her cold hands.
Their entire time together, he worries. Worries for Elizabeth, worries for Abigail, worries for himself, if he is caught. Worries his sin will touch his sons, worries that he will always be unsure about who he wants.
And that's just it: he wants. He wants what he can't have, what he shouldn't have, what he shouldn't want. Sometimes, he wants so hard it hurts.
He wants most to be happy with what he has, but satisfaction has never come easy to him.
Later, he straightens his clothes and fingers his hair flat. Abigail adjusts her dress. She makes the bed and starts sweeping as he goes downstairs to Elizabeth. Kisses her on the cheek.
She's crying. "I would you were a good man, John," she whispers, the remnants of her illness trailing into her voice. She beckons to someone in the corner. "This is Mary Warren. She's our new maid."
He looks at her, only a little confused.
"I think it were high time Abigail lived with her uncle," Elizabeth explains. "She needs to learn humility, and I am not satisfied with her work."
He nods. "As you will," he says. It's for the best; he realizes this. It's just... only...
Elizabeth turns on him, her mouth a thin line, her eyes belying emotion. "What would you have me do, John Proctor?" she asks. "What would you have me be?"
Author: el_em_en_oh_pee
Fandom: the Crucible
Pairing, characters: John/Abigail (Jabbergail!), John/Elizabeth
Rating: PGsomething.
Wordcount: 456
Author's Notes: Written for snarkylightning's birthday (January 2007) but as yet unposted
"What would you have me be?" she asks, crawling up his bed, leaning in to kiss him.
"What would you have me be?" she asks, running her hand down his leg
I would have you be my wife, he thinks, biting back any words, any sounds.
"What would you have me be?" she asks, licking one of his buttons wickedly.
I would have you be proper, he thinks, but all he says is "Abigail."
She bites his lip. "Aye," she breathes. "That I am." And she runs her hand down his stomach and pulls the hem of his shirt loose. "What would you have me do?"
Ah, but there is the root of wickedness! He would have her kiss him, would have her indulge in carnal acts that could no doubt bring them both shame.
He would have her love him, but he cannot love her, not while Elizabeth is there.
He would, if he could, have her and Elizabeth, together. He would have her with almost all the rest of the townspeople (her uncle, the reverend - the thought makes him chuckle even as he aches with longing.)
He would have her dance for him. He would have her sing and laugh, would have her work naked, would have her.
"Touch me," he says, even as he hears Elizabeth teaching their sons their letters downstairs.
She smiles wickedly. "I'll do that."
He shivers at her cold hands.
Their entire time together, he worries. Worries for Elizabeth, worries for Abigail, worries for himself, if he is caught. Worries his sin will touch his sons, worries that he will always be unsure about who he wants.
And that's just it: he wants. He wants what he can't have, what he shouldn't have, what he shouldn't want. Sometimes, he wants so hard it hurts.
He wants most to be happy with what he has, but satisfaction has never come easy to him.
Later, he straightens his clothes and fingers his hair flat. Abigail adjusts her dress. She makes the bed and starts sweeping as he goes downstairs to Elizabeth. Kisses her on the cheek.
She's crying. "I would you were a good man, John," she whispers, the remnants of her illness trailing into her voice. She beckons to someone in the corner. "This is Mary Warren. She's our new maid."
He looks at her, only a little confused.
"I think it were high time Abigail lived with her uncle," Elizabeth explains. "She needs to learn humility, and I am not satisfied with her work."
He nods. "As you will," he says. It's for the best; he realizes this. It's just... only...
Elizabeth turns on him, her mouth a thin line, her eyes belying emotion. "What would you have me do, John Proctor?" she asks. "What would you have me be?"