Pirate!Klaine :D

uploaded: August 19, 2011

"Prepare the sails! It's nearly time to dock at the checkpoint!"

"Aye captain!" bellowed a dozen men in unison.

Standing starboard a young man with dark hair in curls barked orders in the direction of the bow. His face was rugged and worn but somehow there was a certain gentleness about him. His actions were cold and threatening, but in his eyes there was something different; compassion? Or maybe sorrow. Captain Anderson he was called; seldom addressed by his first name, Blaine, both because of his rank and because of preference. It was unusual and he hated it. Currently on his way to a small island off the coast of Cuba, Anderson assembles his crew to find and bring aboard a new recruit who will serve as the new kitchen boy.

"Drop anchor!" he ordered, "and tie her off!"

The pirates bustled about, half of them gathering ropes to tie the ship to the dock and the other half hoisting a very large piece of lumber over the side to later be used as an exit ramp.

He watched them from the quarterdeck tiredly. His head was pounding from slight dehydration, and probably just as well from the lack of sleep he had been enduring for a generous amount of time now. Each night he woke with a start, chest heaving, drenched in cold sweat, never able to remember what provoked him.

With hidden discomfort the captain strode down from the quarterdeck to join the rest of the crew. They had finished their duties and were awaiting further instruction. He simply said, "do what you like, but be back on the ship by twilight, understood?"

"AYE!" the men replied with vigor.

Now on shore Captain Anderson wandered about the dodgy alleyways of the criminal haven only slowing to read the signs of shoddy little shops and dwellings.

Finally he found the place he had been searching for. The sun was starting to set across the calm Caribbean Sea now so he knew he had to be quick in order to get back to the ship on time. The rotting wooden board above the door was marked "Hummel Culinary Crafts". Yeah, this is the place, he thought. However more run down than he'd imagined it would be.

He pushed open the door with a slight creak. The inside looked no better than the out. The wooden floor was in such bad shape he wasn't even sure it was safe to walk atop. But without reservation he took the first step in, his heavy boot making the floor squeak and echo throughout the accommodation. Damn that was loud.

"Hello?" came a startled voice; "is someone there?" it came again.

"uhh, Aye. I'm Captain Anderson; I'm here to bring you aboard the Pavarotti. Figgins should have let you know I'd be coming 'round."

"Oh! Of course! I'm back here sir!" the voice called from another room.

It beckoned to him like the song of a siren.

He stepped forward into the dark room. Walking blindly toward the area the voice had come from. He found himself in what appeared to be a kitchen. Upon seeing it he thought it must be the cleanest room in the house. Pots and pans adorned the walls, jars and utensils on the counter tops, and then there before him, a boy who seemed to be about his own age beamed at him with an expression he doubt he'd ever seen before. It was soft and forgiving. A face purely consisting of acceptance. He seemed to glow with an almost holy light, it was somewhat repulsive.

"Right. We'd better be heading to the harbor then."

The boy only nodded in response and picked up his rucksack that clanged and clattered when he walked (presumably full of kitchen ware).

The walk back to the ship was quiet as the captain had little to say and the boy seemed too intimidated to start a conversation.

They reached the ship and found the rest of the crew to be back in their positions, but just before climbing the ramp to join them they stood facing each other.

In a hushed yet stern voice Anderson said, "kid, you're not here to waste time and sail for fun, you're here to follow my orders and work with us to survive; but, I should at least be aware of your name. Also, know that I am a pirate who leads a pirate ship, not a navy vessel. You are not protected by any monarch or government or rights of any kind on my ship, however you are no safer back at that house on this island than you would be with me, understand?"

"y-yes sir!" the boy uttered in response "and, uh, my name is Kurt! Kurt Hummel, sir!"

"Well Hummel, you start kitchen duty upon the morrow. I will NOT tolerate tardiness, and expect my morning meal in my quarters at dawn!"

"Aye Sir!"