Somebody shoot me. D8 This is Laven...and Yullen (a bit one-sided though). D8 ...LAWL. 8D

However, I will be SO incredibly proud and happy with myself when I finish this. This came to me as I was flossing my teeth and I almost died from the brilliance of it. I don't know, I was thinking about everyone's amazing fanfictions and suddenly came up with this, like a compilation of them all or something.

This has taken so much work and effort on my part, but it's completely worth it. This will forever hold a place in my heart as one of my most original works, so I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed working on it.

Start day: Monday, December 29th, 2008

Freaking Cage proudly presents...

To Be At Sea

Come all ye young fellows that follow the sea,

to my way haye, blow the man down,

And pray pay attention and listen to me,

Give me some time to blow the man down.

I'm a deep water sailor just in from Hong Kong,

to my way haye, blow the man down,

if you'll give me some grog, I'll sing you a song,

Give me some time to blow the man down.

'Twas on a Black Order I first served my time,

to my way haye, blow the man down,

And on that Black Order I wasted my prime,

Give me some time to blow the man down.

'Tis when a Black Order's preparing for sea

to my way haye, blow the man down,

You'd split your sides laughing at the sights that you see.

Give me some time to blow the man down.

With the tinkers and tailors and soljers and all

to my way haye, blow the man down,

That ship for prime seaman on board a Black Ball.

Give me some time to blow the man down.

'Tis when a Black Order is clear of the land,

to my way haye, blow the man down,

Our Boatswain then gives us the word of command

Give me some time to blow the man down.

"Lay aft," is the cry,"to the break of the Poop!

to my way haye, blow the man down,

Or I'll help you along with the toe of my boot!"

Give me some time to blow the man down.

'Tis larboard and starboard on the deck you will sprawl,

to my way haye, blow the man down,

For "Mad Doc" Komui 'mands the Black Ball.

Give me some time to blow the man down.

Pay attention to order, now young and older

to my way haye, blow the man down,

For right there above you flies Black Order.

Give me some time to blow the man down.

Allen breathed in the scent of salty sea air. The sun made its first appearance of the year, but the looming clouds overhead suggested it would only last another hour. The seagulls cawed and cackled above him; they dropped their waste wherever it suited them and managed to scare some fine ladies out of their stockings by swooping down to pick up any rotting fish off the ports. The wind blew high, revealing Allen's scar and he quickly adjusted his cap to sit on his head once more, properly.

He looked down on his once-white but clean suit and smiled. The collar was old-fashioned and round, fitting easily from daily life to the sea. The tie hung lower than necessary, large on Allen's small form and thick compared to his own width. The cap had two holes in it, both on each side of his ears, so that it became a habit to pull his hat up, and then down when it had gone up too far. Allen had cut the pants and sewn in extra lining to make the sides go out - the need for motion would be essential.

All in all, Allen looked a bit out of place in it. He was a small young man for fifteen, and the uniform was easily meant for someone one and half times, if not twice, his size. It was his father's however, and so he wore it for the sentimentality. Allen hugged his peacoat closer, shivering and blowing out a shock of cloudy breath. He squeezed his duffel tighter to his back and searched about the dock eagerly.

At midday she would sail, and Allen would be on board as the newest crew-member of The Black Order.

Allen Walker had finally become a sailor.

He smiled wider as he weaved through the Marina to the southern-most area. He searched about him, looking for the grand ship he would work upon and his excitement almost caused him to bump into someone.

"Oh, beg pardon sir!" Allen said immediately.

"Aye, landlubber!" snarled the man. Allen jumped back, surprised at the sheer anger the man had shouted at him, but as quickly as he'd come, he was gone. Allen huffed, bothered at the name, and continued on.

A half hour later and he still had no idea where to find it.

Allen sighed and furrowed his brow. At this rate the ship would leave him stranded in Liverpool till next fortnight and California waited for no man. The year of 1849 had been the epic year, the year all from around the world had acclaimed at the announcement of the discovery of gold in a small fort in the middle of California. Allen had held his breath all year, waiting at the Akuma Orphanage until he turned fifteen - the year he could finally be set free.

Allen shook his head at the memory of leaving all the pitiful children behind - half-starved and unloved - and thought a small prayer for them all. "I'll save you all one day," Allen thought. "I promise."

Allen straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin higher. He had to get aboard that ship - and now.

"Sir, if you've the time," Allen began, grabbing hold of the nearest person to him. The man seemed disgruntled, as if in a hurry, but Allen begged further. "Whereabouts might I find The Black Order?" The man shook his head and pointed out to the furthest point on the port. It was quite a distance, and Allen wondered for a moment as to the placing in general. He squinted his eyes for a clearer look, but saw not much. He turned to thank the man, but the said helper had already pushed past him, stepping on toes and tripping over fine luggage, in pursuit of his own ship. Allen shrugged his shoulders and carried on.

It was well an hour before he even reached the end of the port and Allen stopped and gaped in horror at the ship he would be helping to man. The ship was long past her prime, barely gripping her paddles together and Allen would wince forever after this moment when he saw a wave come too harshly - seeming to rip them from the stern. The color had faded to a dull gray, matching Allen's uniform nicely. She was taller than Allen could have thought a ship possible, her forecastle alone could have topped Liverpool's highest whorehouse Allen was willing to bet.

And Allen did not bet lightly.

But even stranger than those was the location. Allen's jaw dropped as he saw the Jacob's ladder was the only way to get aboard the ship. It hung limply, as if waiting for some kind soul to do it the pleasure of allowing it a euthanasia and to drop into the cold sea below. It swayed dangerously over a large rock, and Allen shuddered to think what would happen if the rope were to break. The waves would on occasion crash against the rock, spraying water and salt against its time-wasted surface, and Allen gulped, gripped onto his duffel again and approached the ladder.

He looked up the long rope, squinting his eyes and hoping someone could direct him to another entry way.

"Aye there!" he shouted. The howling wind gave him the answer he needed: no one could hear him from that height. Allen steeled his nerves and clapped his hands together. He gripped the broken wood from the ladder strongly, making sure that his duffel was securely attached to his back and began his upward journey.

His hands shivered from the cold and his teeth chattered to the rhythm of the waves, but Allen's pace was set and he looked steadfastly ahead - determined not to lose his motivation. He sang some old tunes he'd concocted as a lad and hummed to himself as he climbed up, up and up, upward and higher, sighing in relief when the railing was at his reach.

"Aye Timcanpy, seems we've made it." A small squeak sounded from Allen's duffel, and the skittering of small claws made their way up his back to his ear, lightly nibbling on the cap. Allen smiled, but kept climbing - there would be plenty time to congratulate with his small mouse once his feet were on firm ground.

Allen grabbed hold of the ledge, shooting out a breath of cold air and grinning to himself. His numb fingers gripped it firmly and he hoisted himself up, bringing his head above the cracked wood and looking out onto the deck, to what his future beheld and his life had come so far to reach.

He nearly lost his grip at the smell alone.

He willed his hands to hold fast as the smell of rot and decay firmly pressed themselves against his nostrils. Old fish, mold, salt and sweat melted nicely to create a concoction Hecate would surely delight in. The floor was black, and Allen watched in shock and distaste as a well-built man moped it down using a mop so old Allen wondered if the fibers were indeed hair. Several crew-mates worked on the futtock shrouds and Allen watched two more up beyond the poop deck at the binnacle.

"Where's yer pass?" Allen gasped as he was grabbed by his collar and thrown on board. "No mercy for any daft wretch refusing to pay!"

Allen's eyes widened significantly and he tried waving his hands innocently, but as his neck was being firmly grasped he decided he'd rather focus on trying to breathe than ward off any accusations. Allen shut his eyes closed, trying to take in oxygen but could only feel his small body shake like a rag doll in the man's clutches.

"Goddammit speak or meet your watery fate!" Allen was abruptly thrown from the man's hold onto the cold wet floor. He tumbled back and slammed up against the rail, and he clenched his teeth, pressing his hand to the forming bruise on his head. He took a startlingly large fresh breath of salty air, and held back the automatic tears that formed in his eyes from such a shocking and painful ... welcome.

He shook out his light locks and squinted up, mouth dropping when he recognized the figure before him.

"Y-You," Allen stuttered in shock, and shutting his mouth firmly after.

A tall man of curious descent looked down on him with an upturned nose and a strong chin. His hair had well passed his back in a high tail and Allen wondered curiously how he managed without tarring it, being a sailor at sea. The man's blue eyes narrowed harshly and he sneered at Allen in disgust.

"Landlubber!" the man snarled.

"I'm called Allen, good sir. Remember by it please," Allen said firmly, trying to remain courteous in the tense situation.

"Saucy lad," grumbled the man.

"Aye, Yuu, have a heart!" Allen looked around for the owner of the voice, but the dark-haired man's voice brought him to attention.

"Put some tar in that hole, Lavi!"

"Ev'ry time the same! Which hole?"

"Take your pick you damned Jack!"

"Aye! I've been giv'n mercy!" A laugh, a grumble. "Look at his suit, Yuu! He be one of us, right-o!"

The intimidating man looked down on Allen, one eyebrow quirking under the slightest bit of doubt. A sneer formed on perfectly elegant lips, and Allen held his breath for the verdict. "Enough! I've had it." A growl, rough and as threatening as the sea herself rumbled from his chest and his blue eyes bore into Allen like an anchor at bay. "And you landlubber - steer clear from me way." Allen gulped, frightened by the all-too-clear threat, but clenched his teeth passively. He said nothing as the man passed him by, and only managed to stare at his back as he went to the galley. Something told Allen this would not be their first dangerous encounter, but Allen shoved all those thoughts aside. Survival at sea wasn't something to be over-thought - it was merely done.

"Avast ya! It be we have anoth'r!" came a shout from above. The voice was so loud and distinct however, Allen shot his head back up toward the sky and hit the back of his head on the rail, again. He squeezed his eyes shut at the pain and rubbed his head. Several monstrous-looking men continued to glare down at him, but alas, Lady Luck embraced Allen kindly. A raucous laugh sounded from above and Allen glanced up nervously to see a red-headed Irishman cackling at him from the top of the mast. In one fell swoop, the man gracefully slipped down a rope and landed before Allen smiling and gay as any sailor at sea should be. "Aye Jack Tar, what be th' name to ya fancy?" he asked. Allen gulped air down as he gaped surprisingly into the green eye of the man. He looked no more than a few years Allen's senior, and yet the eyepatch he sported suggested more experience than his face led on.

"Allen, I'm called," Allen said, getting the better of his manners and holding out his hand in greeting. Allen brought it back quickly as the sound of laughter filled his ears once more, not only from the man before him, but from the others as well.

"Seems we have a lady on board!" he grinned. Others leered at Allen, and Allen only looked on at the members in confusion. "What be ya age, love?"

"I-I am fifteen as this December passed," Allen answered, not knowing if he were a joke on display.

"Just a tot!"

"Aye Lavi, ye be no more than eighteen yaself," one chided beside him.

"And yet more a man th'n this." Lavi smiled down on Allen, and Allen couldn't help the small pout on his lips. Fifteen was plenty old to be a man, and he was determined to prove it.

"But to hold his against Kanda?" another said uncertainly, quietly. A reflective comment meant only to be said, and not to be stricken for.

"I say 'luck'," another sailor called out suspiciously.

"I say Yuu doesn't hurt boys not fit to be beat'n," followed the Irishman, grinning.

"I'm very well enough a man, thank you kindly," he replied saucily.

"'Thank you kindly?' Ya hear that lads? I've been thanked kindly!" Lavi laughed again, tilting back his head and opening his mouth as wide as it would go, white teeth shining to the sky and chest puffed out further than a petticoat. The sight of the man letting himself go in the gayest of ways made Allen's frown halt in place and become replaced with a wide-eyed look of curiosity. This was a free man, Allen decided. Free to laugh at the sky herself if he so pleased, for his own merriment.

"Well there Allen, need a hand?" Allen looked in front of him and saw a large hand before him. The man, Lavi, smiled genially with full heartiness and all the kindness Allen had never seen on a man, nor woman. Allen took the hand with a mirrored smile and was pulled up from the ground promptly.

"Thank you kindly," Allen said, shaking the hand after he stood on his two feet.

"Laddy, don't be so courteous. It be your weakness, aye?" Lavi smiled at him cleverly and winked. Allen laughed at the strangeness of being winked at by a one-eyed man, and didn't even mind when Lavi swung his arm over Allen's shoulder, leading him around the deck. "I be Lavi, and this here's your mates."

Shouts and smiles came from all around, and Allen adjusted his cap, smiling back at the men around him.

"That old devil be Yuu-"

"Davy Jones' lackey aye, aye!" came a cry, and several "ayes!" to follow.

"From a Jap lass," Lavi's lips turned up into a mischievous smile. "Think he likes you," Lavi chuckled. Allen blinked in confusion, and felt the hot blush on his cheeks in comparison to the cold. He looked down the way the violent man had made his exit and frowned, Just how could that be?

It would not be the first time he'd wonder of the man named Kanda Yuu.

"The captain be this here way," Lavi interrupted his thoughts. "So come with me and I'll lead ya to him, the crazy old baffoon!" Lavi laughed again, and Allen smiled along allowing his feet to be driven by his new mate. "C'mere," Lavi gripped Allen's shoulder tighter and led him higher. "Can't keep the Doc waiting." Allen's eyebrows furrowed slightly at the nickname for the Captain, but continued on. Lavi led him right below the highest part of the deck, and Allen adjusted his cap and gulped. He felt Timcanpy rustling in the back of his collar, and blushed absent-mindedly. "Ya have the shivers lad?" Lavi asked, smiling beautifully, as though he'd a secret for only you. Allen smiled but said nothing. Lavi's good eye widened before he shook his head and laughed. "Well, you're in f'r somethin' special, love," Lavi winked once more and burst open the door. "Hey Mad Doc! I have a fresh one from th' dock!"

Allen peaked in, hesitantly pushing past Lavi and looking around the office. Papers were stacked everywhere and Allen's eyes curiously gazed at each heap as they grew higher and higher as they reached the desk in the back.

He looked to Lavi, who was merely smiling, looking at nothing in particular and seeming to have forgotten Allen at his side. Allen walked forward, biting his lips nervously and taking off his hat suddenly, in an act of decency. He tip-toed closer to the back window, around the office and wondering just where the Captain was. He turned back to question Lavi, mouth open and eyebrows furrowed with confusion.

A white blur came from directly below him and Allen jumped back, giving out a shocked yelp in surprise. The white object flew forward at him from his feet to his face, and Allen blinked as the white thing turned into black boring eyes and square spectacles.

"Who be ye?" came a shout.

"A-A-Allen! Sir!" Allen's hand flew to his head, hitting the top harshly enough to earn a bruise and fast enough that Allen's cap was lost in the back of the room. A small screech was heard as the cap went flying and Allen winced as he remembered Timcanpy was still in there.

"What be that? Who are you? What brings you here?" Allen backed against the desk as the man grew closer and closer with each question. "What is this? Where am I? Who am I? What goes? How'd I come to stay? SPEAK, FIEND, SPEAK!"

Allen was shocked beyond all speech and could merely open and close his mouth like a trout out of water.

"Captain!" Lavi shouted.

"Aye!" the man turned directly, hand to his head in salute and Allen's look of fear turned to straight disbelief.

"...Ya be in your quarters." The captain's eyes moved about the room sharply, hand still at his forehead and standing straighter than the mast. A moment passed and nothing much had changed. Allen finally closed his mouth and watched as Lavi smiled at the captain as though everything were normal, and the man's paranoid activity was nothing more than a small change of wind.

The captain brought his hand to his mouth and cleared this throat. He straightened his jacket and turned on his heel again, holding out his hand to Allen.

"Ah yes, hello lad. Ye be the new Jack, eh?" Allen allowed his hand to be grabbed and he did his best to turn up his lips into a smile. He could tell even without a looking glass it probably appeared more like a frightened cringe.

"A-Aye," he confirmed, nodding his head more to get his blood flowing again.

"Very well then, very well," the Captain smiled. "I be your Captain, Komui Lee."

"'Mad Doc' be his rightful name," Lavi added.

"That'll be all from you, ya tongue-wagging git," Komui frowned, adjusting his glasses. Lavi laughed and Allen took a deep breath.

"He just needs some grog aye? It's already past elev'n!"

"Good God, is it really?" Komui asked.

"Aye," Lavi nodded. Komui nodded and situated himself behind his desk. He cleared his throat once more and pulled out a small flask from his top left drawer. He swigged it up and Allen gaped. Was this man really the commander of this ship? Allen then remembered the appearance of it and his impression of the crew.

Komui continued to guzzle, Adam's apple bobbing heavily with each gulp and Allen counted well passed one minute before the captain came up for air.

To his complete honesty, he couldn't imagine anyone else for the job.

"Aye, thar she blows!" Komui slammed the flash down and his spectacles nearly fell off as he leaned over the desk, heavy with alcohol. Lavi chuckled from behind Allen and Allen looked awkwardly to the ceiling.

"I-I think I'll be off now," Allen said, trying to get as far away from this man as he could.

Komui nodded absent-mindedly and waved him off. "Aye, aye. Lavi-"

"-Yessir?"

"-Be sure to show the lad around. Keep near him. Savvy?"

"Aye Captain!" Lavi saluted lightly and Allen walked out the door to Lavi's side.

"I'll be looking forward to serving you sir!" Allen parted, one last chance to leave a good impression, and then at once, reached down to grab his hat and something else Komui had no time to differentiate other than from nothing of significance.

Komui rubbed his chin as the door closed behind the new recruit. He looked about his office and vaguely registered he had a bit of work to do. He gripped his flask strongly and glared down at one particular dent in his desk. He could not for the life of him remember how it'd occurred, but looked remarkably similar to the shape of his head.

He snapped himself out of his stupor and looked to the door, head slightly tilted from question and drunkenness.

"Did something just happen?" he asked himself before promptly passing out again, head falling directly into the dent, like a glove.

Original song (with minor changes): Blow the Man Down

A/N: Originally, this was going to be a one shot. After all, I already have tons to work on, but I ended up researching so much I could practically make sailing my second job, so I decided to elongate it. On top of that, ideas kept popping in my mind and I really wanted to keep going.

So I did. :)

As most of my loyal readers know, I love pop culture. DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO RESEARCH POP CULTURE FROM OVER A CENTURY AND A HALF AGO?

"It's two shades of shit, that's what it is."

Amen, Georgia. Amen.

I'm trying to keep Lavi's accent "authentic," but if you happen to be an Irish reader and see some grave mistakes in the accent, let me know, please. I'm trying to do my best with speech patterns back in the day. I know the work "frigging" was used, but I'm having a hard time finding out if the word "fuck" was used. Anybody happen to be a scholar of sea life during mid-19th century, I would love any help/suggestions/book recommendations. Do you know how hard it is trying to research when every book is in German? Really, not cool. :(

This is just for fun, so it's not a serious fic. I'm keeping it light, like a TV sitcom. And I know, Komui drinks coffee, but come on ladies, he's a captain of the sea now - there's going to be alcohol. Lots of it. I like drinking Komui. :D

Finish: March 2, 2009 (Holy SHIT)