I want to thank Katie/Kurt/FancyZebra for this, since she is my coauthor and I don't know how to do that on but regardless. I've been meaning to post this since the Kurtofksy Big Bang ended but here you go.

"Do you ever get deju vu?" Dave asked, his voice soft as he faced the sunrise. He had so suddenly stopped walking that Kurt only had a few seconds to stop himself from colliding with his love.

He responded by shrugging simply. "Yes, but everybody does."

Dave closed his eyes and took a breath in of the salty air. "No I mean... I feel like I've been here before. But I've never been to the ocean until this week. I remember how this sand feels but I've never felt it. I feel like I've seen this coast before. This lighthouse," he pointed., "I can remember how the light hits the ocean during the night. I swear I've sat on that rock. Stepped on that rock and bled and someone with soft, gentle hands wrapped up my foot. I remember the pressure of drowning in the water and the taste of salt-water in my mouth, But Kurt… I haven't. I know I haven't... but I don't… believe myself." Dave's brows wrinkled in either confusion or deep thought.

Kurt blinked and smiled sweetly. Wrapping a gentle arm around Dave, he hugged him. But what he didn't say, or acknowledge, is that he agreed. The settings were new, there was no way he should have known what it all felt like, but every sensation was like a distant memory. He felt like his body shouldn't be reacting so smoothly to the strange sense, but here Kurt was, looking at the sky with his newly minted husband; something that a little voice in his head said had happened before. Kurt knew otherwise, though.

Like Dave, Kurt's body was being called to from the sea. Telling him it's home.

Dave kicked off his sandals and motioned for Kurt to follow suit before they started their walk to the ocean, traversing through slightly sun-warmed sand. Dave sat down on a rock, his feet dangling into the cold water. He'd swear he could see dolphins, but Kurt would chuckle and say that those are probably ravenous sharks. But he doesn't. Kurt and Dave just sit there, watching the sunrise.

"I never realized just how beautiful a sunrise is." Kurt says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"It's because you've seen too many sunsets. You see how the day ends," Dave wraps an arm around Kurt, holding him closely and rested his chin against Kurt's head, "But rarely how it begins," he finished softly as they nestled in to a comfortable silence.

Most stories have a beginning and an ending. Most stories don't have a time period parallel to their own. Most stories are just a repeat of the past, a fading light figment. But Dave wouldn't call this "most stories." Then again, if you asked him how he and Kurt fell in love he'd just smile and tell you that he walked through a little place called hell to get there. Which, in a manner of speaking, is what high school was. Although high school is considered hell to most, Dave and Kurt were unfortunate enough to have their own special level of it.

Just as the sun was barely above the waterline, Kurt smiled and grabbed Dave's hand, leading him into the water. Dave stopped just as the water covered his ankles before he rolled up his jeans. Surprisingly, Kurt showed no worries. "These are throwaways, bought them just for this reason." He smiled and waded to his waist. He openly shuddered, exclaiming that the water was cold, but all Dave did was chuckle at him. Kurt let go and scrambled onto a rock, perching. "Hey Dave?"

He looks up and grunted in acknowledgement of Kurt, playing with the hem of his pants as he rolled them up as high as he could.

"I love you."

"Love you more, Fancy." He smiled, feeling like he was made of jello, the butterflies in his stomach descended and erupted. Something that only Kurt could make him feel. "Let's go for a boat ride," he said with a twinkle in his eyes.

xXxXxXx

"Oh my god! This is crazy!" Kurt said, his hands gripping the railing of the stationary boat. His knuckles white from fear and also delight. Kurt squeezed his eyes shut, a song on his lips. "There once was a pirate, who put out to sea. His mates all around him, no maiden on his knee." He sighed softly, the salt-laden air licking at his hair. He squealed, "Dave I can't see the bottom of the ocean, but there is this pretty fish. It's my favorite colors-"

"Kurt, be careful, please." Dave passed a glance at Kurt, before continuing to talk with the boat's captain. Dave and Kurt both only had minimal instruction before getting on the ship. Dave knew it was wise to have a crew, at the very least a licensed captain on a ship. They had already been on the ocean for a few short hours, but it felt like they were meant to be there all that time.

Dave only had a split second to react before Kurt lost his footing and found himself in the ocean.

I remember how the salt tasted when it filled my mouth and my lungs. But in this case, I am not he, but I and I am me. But regardless, I was in the water too. The water was everywhere and it took everything I had just to keep my head above the waterline. I lost everything that day. I lost my ship. I lost the treasure I had on that ship. ( Every good pirate knows to have a stash someplace, but even then, I had lost my ship and had no way to go there.) I lost my crew. My crew is easier to replace than a ship. It took me ten years to find out how to get a substantial sized ship. Even then I was always leering at the other ships at port. Sturdier ships. Ships with beautiful flags. Mine was torn to shreds and I didn't want to think about what hoops I'd have to jump through to procure a new flag; one of my standards, at least. But I'm getting away from the point. Water.

I still remember how heavy I felt when I washed up on shore. I don't know how long I was out. Logic tells me it wasn't too long, a human can only go so long without going crazy from dehydration. He said I wasn't that far along from it. He... I... It's hard to talk about him. There is this tightness in my chest; He was irreplaceable. As much as it pains me to say that so willfully.

His face was the first thing I saw through my blurred vision. His hair was pulled back loosely, it was a dark. Brown with hints of red. That's what I noticed first. It was just brown hair and skin that spent too long in the sun without a hat. Then my eyes flickered into focus and I saw him. Gorgeous hazel eyes laced with worry enveloped me. It was strange and I wanted to run, but I knew my legs wouldn't carry me. I was hungry, and tired, and so very thirsty. He muttered something at this point, and before I knew it, he had swung me over his shoulder. Strong shoulders... but I'm running from the point again. I believe I must have said something about my hat because I remember a change in the distance my face was from the sand for a moment and I had reason to believe he grabbed my hat. Then my memory went fuzzy again.

When I woke back up, I was in a bed and didn't smell of salt water, or anything anymore. No proper pirate grime or splashed rum or seagull droppings. All I had on was a loosely fitting undershirt. I remember looking to the side table and seeing a pile of my items, including my clothes freshly washed, something even I rarely worried about. Dirty clothes meant blending in, especially when you were running through the forest. Which, in all honesty, doesn't happen very often when you rarely leave water but I like to plan for all possibilities, even the extremely unlikely.

I was so hungry, I remember that clearly. I was half way out of bed before this middle aged woman appeared out of thin air and tutted me back into it, saying "The young master will be up soon with some food," and that I should sit back and relax. Then she murmured about how it's no one's job to cook dinner for guests but hers, so clearly "this ragamuffin" was important. I didn't catch it all as she whisked out of the door. I turned my attention to the other side of the room. I could see the ocean from the window.

My life always found it's way back to the ocean.

My life is the ocean.

A life I was so keen to relish in before him.

He was in the door-frame when I turned back. My eyes flickered and I was unsure if he was a part of the door, but they quickly steadied. A tray in his hand that had soup, a crusty bread and what I assumed to be some cheese. He just smiled - it was so sweet, that smile - and sat the tray down before he sat in the chair next to the bed. He ushered me to eat and it took all of my willpower to pull my attention from studying his features to staring at the contents of the bowl. I poked at the mystery broth with my spoon. How I longed for a piece of fatty bird to grease my hands, but I had to eat what was given to me.

"I didn't know how long you were without food. And I didn't want you to feel sick if we gave you something too rich. Whenever father makes a trip to and from France, he eats simple foods for a week or two," he mumbled quickly noticing my behavior. My eyes flickered over to him again before I started my meal. The broth was warm and slightly fragrant. The thought crossed through my head of where I was. I knew it was 1726, and where I last remember seeing land was tropical islands, but this place was new to me. The air was warm and the more I focused on it, the more I was uncomfortable with the still air. I was so used to the moist air of the ocean or the tropics that this was new to me.

I was allowed to eat in silence, my location nagging at me. I was near the ocean, I knew that, and this man's accent was only slight to the point where I was unable to decipher where he was from. But his reference to France moments earlier gave me reason to believe he was French. After I finished the broth, I started picking at the bread in silence. "So where, pray-tell, am I?"

"In my bed," he titled the side of his mouth, a laugh in his voice. I wanted to shoot him for toying with me. No one toys with me. But my gun was nowhere in sight, and undeniably, unusable. So I just sighed, and glared at him.

"I could have told you that. Now I require my location in the world. I see ocean, and it's warm here, so I must not be too far from Port Royal. So. Where. Am. I." I was even more annoyed. He just kept smiling at me and it drove me mad.

"New France. Southern part of the territory. Port Royal is a boat ride south of here. Just on the other side of the gulf." He was still smiling. If I had the strength in my body, I would have lunged at him.

"Stop smiling at me."

"You need a ship. My father and I are ship-makers."

That's right. My ship. It was torn apart from the battle with some rivals then the storm came and it fell apart beneath me. I felt it crack and crumble. I remember how the wood sounded like it was groaning. I was the one who stood there while my lazy crew jumped ship. I was the one who, I assume, lived. I was the one who watched my ship get swallowed by the sea, joining the fleet of Davy Jones.

"I know you're a pirate. I made sure that you didn't look like one when I brought you home. You owe me. I'll help you get a ship, you help me to get out of here. Simple." His eyes twinkled and the green in the hazel of his eyes sparkled brighter. He had me cornered. I wanted to grab my gear and run, but I was stuck and even to this day, I am unsure if I was... happy about it. I didn't know his intentions, but I knew mine. He looked like the men I found myself wishing to take to my cabin or to secluded inns.(But that was rarely, if ever the case.) Tall with broad, strong shoulders. Painfully strong arms that could hoist a sail with a few swift strokes. He was like a mobile tree trunk, sturdy. "The question of me being comfortable at sea is already answered: We're ship-makers. I've made countless trips on a ship. Perhaps not like yours, but enough that I've got my sea-legs." He went quiet again and I let my thoughts get themselves in order. It was possible, even if a bit unwise at this current conjecture in time.

"I-"

"But if you're unsure, I'd be more than happy to drop you off on an island somewhere. With a gun. That is custom, yes? For someone in your position?" I mentally noted how cute he looked when his head was titled to the side like a questioning mutt, his eyes muted as thoughts darted across his mind.

"Don't interrupt me. First, that is saved for mutinies. I merely lost my ship to the sea. Second, I was going to say that you're welcome to follow through with your plan. I will let you stay on my crew. But since you were so quick to put so little faith in me, perhaps I might have changed my mind in that short mount of time." I was lying, I still fully intended to agree. But he didn't need to know this. It was cruel, yes. But it was merely a game. I could see his eagerness to escape dissipate to slight annoyance. But I quirked a smile and locked eyes with him for a second before I smoothed down the covering on the bed.

"I-"

"I may be a pirate but I still have honor. Dubious honor, but it is the same in every language. I can be trusted to follow through on my word. But if you're so quick to retreat, who is to say that you won't when the time comes and I need you?" My question hung in the air and I remember the look on his face as he was deep in thought. His forehead crinkled and I was quick to stifle the urge to reach over and to touch his face.

"I admit I'm weary, but I realize I have no other chance to leave here. I don't want this life. I don't want to inherit my family's name, the business. I don't want to have the pressure to be who my father wants. I don't wish to marry, that is what he wants. But what I want, what the world wants for me, is to be found somewhere at sea. Somewhere out there," He gestured to the window, the clear skies and calm seas singing a siren's song to me, that must only be louder for him and more tempting. "My life has already been made for me, all that is left is for me to grab it and call it mine." At this point he sunk down in to the chair that sat next to me and roughly grabbed my hands, I noted how calloused his hands already were from being on a ship and my mind was set. "I need you to get me out of here, and you need the same. " He went silent, his hands still wrapped around mine.

"You need to listen."

"Excuse m-"

"I already said yes. But now it's definitive. Fill your side of the bargain and I'll fill mine. If I fail to follow through, I give you permission to punish me in a way you feel fit.

He relaxed and slumped back and instantly my hands felt colder from the lack of touch. He sighed and palmed his face for a moment. "3 nights from now. That should give you time to recover enough to run. We'll act normal. There is a ship docked, I don't know who it belongs to, and it's make is common enough as to not cause alarm. Meet me at the dock on the far end, by the fisherman's ship. Our ship is the one with no flags. Which is easy enough to procure. When the city quells for the night-"

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"We'll board it and be long gone before anyone would pay a wind's notice! Before we even know, we'd be in Tortuga, or someplace I am more welcome, to find a new crew!" I finished excitedly. In my hazy mind, it seemed flawless. But naturally now, I am wise enough to see the holes, but still, I wouldn't have changed it. He smiled at me this time, and it took everything I had to calm my heart.

"There are a pair of satchels beneath the bed. We'll use those when we leave. Fill them with food from the kitchen, whatever we can muster-"

"Never forget the citrus, and rum. You must have rum? But aye, you're french so wine will have to do until we make port."

"I'm not quite sure I've had rum."

"Ah, it's fantastic. Lovely. Never leave home without it, well. I have now, but that's because my ship is home... which is on the bottom of the sea so it's no use to me. Oh rum... "

"I'll make sure to find some." That smile... He smiled again and it felt like I was on a ship, my legs wobbled but I was still in bed. He nodded his farewells, taking extra care in noting that he'd miss his bed but the one down the hall was suitable.

The next few days passed painfully slow. I found myself talking to his father a few times, but never for long. He was strange man, a powerful man. He reminded me of my own father, making him all the more frightening. He spoke softly, and deliberately, struggling with his accent and words more than he son did. He liked to ask me why I thought his son saved me and I, countless times, assured him it must have been out of the pure kindness of his heart. Having walked by a poor, washed up soul like I, who could turn their noses the other way and ignore it?

On the last day, he merely smiled at me as he walked past that morning. I was standing by the window, watching the outside world. Silently, I thanked the gods in the heavens above that he didn't stop and talk. I was struggling enough to contain my excitement to return to the sea again.

But he and I found ourselves talking for hours every night. He being him. We spoke about everything. Childhood, family, what makes us happy and sad, and love. We spoke for many hours of love. And I found myself growing more attached to him as the time went on, and it was not something I was used to. I was used to control. And I had none over him.

At this point in the story, you don't know who I mean when I refrain to "He" then you are out of luck. He won't be named, he's more important than a name. A name is just a mess of letters and sounds, but he was his heart. His voice. His soul.

And I only wished for it all to be mine.

On the night that we were to run away, he had barely said a word to me that day. Panic erupted in me and I worried that he had changed his mind and didn't trust me any more, but honestly, I wasn't even sure I trusted myself. But when he dropped off my mid-day meal, he smiled and his eyes twinkled in excitement.

He whispered, his voice just nigh above the winds, that everything was in order.

I was going back home.

I have never felt more free.

That night was riveting. It's a haze. I remember grabbing the satchel and darting to the kitchen, and lugging food to the meeting point, dodging guards and a few civilians. I remember my relief when I saw him; I almost threw my arms around hi, but I remembered: I was a pirate and I was a man. I calmed my steps and stood next to him, a slanted smile on my face. "This one?" I asked when I pointed to this ship he was standing near. It was medium size, which was good because I hated having a crew more than what I needed. I started thinking. 8 cannons, I'd need three people per cannon. An extra dozen or so on deck. I remember he nodded at this point and ushered me on to the ship.

It felt like magic when we weren't caught.

It felt like magic when morning broke and we were no where in sight.

It felt like magic having this man at my side.

He kept standing as close as he could to the bow of the ship. I had the wheel in my hand, naturally. But I was spending more attention than I should have on him. His eyes were closed, and surprisingly, his knuckles weren't gripping anything tightly. He was humming softly, every so often the wind would carry a note or two over to me, I didn't recognize it, but it was beautiful anyways.

During the days, we were silent. At night though, I asked him to join me in the captain's cabin. He looked at me, questioning. I was quick to ramble off that it may have seemed strange, and weak, for a pirate captain to have trouble sleeping with only his own self in a room.

The subsequent 2 nights, our trip being three in total, he joined me without question. And I told the voice in my head that asked him to join me in my bunk to proceed to shove the words where the sun shines not. But I relished in those moments. We told each other of past loves. We never mentioned names, and gender definition seemed to have been avoided too. For me, because I had no motivation to show him any inclination of my... choices. While he... he just seemed nervous, or like he was uttering a curse every time he spoke of past loves. The present me knows why, naturally. But then, I just assumed he was not wanting to share.

When we made port, I told him to spend the days in the city, but at night to come with me to the places pirates would find themselves.

In a week, we almost had a crew.

In a week, I realized I loved a man that I'd never have, but I was stuck being in his company. I felt cursed having this man as my first mate, my most trusted crew. How I fell in love with him I'd never be able to comprehend. It was piece by piece, falling in love over seconds in the day, but never enough that stopped me before then.

Rapidly, one day it struck me.

We were standing in an old run down building that had become the local hangout for pirates. We lovingly called it "The Scurve." An old joke on how pirates get scurvy because we're a dirty lot, and well, this was a dirty lot. The woman who ran the place was older than dirt and we commonly called her "Peg-Leg Sally". No one knew if she had a peg-leg though, but she did walk with a definite limp. It was loud and our new crew was surrounding us, laughing. Drinking in excitement. I remember he clapped a large hand on my shoulder as he regaled the story of our meeting. Of him finding me washed up on shore, a mouth full of sand and shrimp. I wanted to make him stop, the story made me come off as some weakling when I was the captain. I stopped the story when he spoke about picking me up. "Now let me tell you this," I took the time to move in to the center and to scan the crowd, I was always one for dramatics, "If any of you were to repeat this story, I won't be as kind as I am right now. I'm in a good mood, great drink in my hand. But if I find us out at sea, and you as so dare as to cross the line, I will feel no remorse to strap a cannon ball to your leg and throw you overboard. I swear Davy Jones will become your best friend." I smiled and stepped back to him, a lightness in my voice when I said, "You can continue now."

He looked startled but he didn't stop.

He didn't leave my mind and I just found myself focusing more on him and less on the crew who would be joining us at sea in a few short days. How he relaxed the instant the tankard of beer joined his hand. How his hand never left my shoulder. How he kept denying me every time I'd ask him if he'd like a swing from the rum in my hand.

The rest of the tavern-time comes in fleeting memories, I supposed I just didn't care about it. But I do remember he had to help me to my room. I remember in my fit of giggles I ordered him not to leave.

"No! I mean, go. Or stay. Or go. Your choice." I remember at this point I was huddled on the bed. Me. Huddled on the bed like an abused and broken mutt. I think I remember the bed sagging as he sat next to me. He was right there. And before I knew it, he was holding me. From the story he told me, I was crying. Muttering something about nightmares and how that's why it's hard for me to sleep alone and sleeping alone the past week, they came back tenfold.

After I calmed down I told him the story of how I had to watch these men beat my mom, and how they murdered her. How at just a few years old I had to start taking care of my father. How when he met a new woman, who had a son, I left. "He doesn't need me. Not with his perfect replacement son. Who was tall and strong while I am admittedly shorter and physically weaker. I'm good with words, and control, which is the only reason why I even am a pirate. I couldn't make him happy. He doesn't nee-"

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"Hush," his arms were around me again. "Your father will always need you. When the time comes, you'll be with him again."

"I fear that will only be after my death and even then... I - I Have so many secrets that even in death I fear he will judge me. I fear not God, Davy Jones, or guns. But I fear my father," I whispered it in to his arm. I could smell him. He smelled so good I never wanted him to leave. "I am sorry, this is not something I should be sharing." He shrugged and pulled me closer.

"So tell your secrets. If you live your life with none, then in death he'll have less to judge you on."

I think in my drunken haze I told him my secrets.

I think I told him everything, shy of my love for him. But I do recall him not reacting when I told him of my past... companionship of men. He just smiled and said, "That's not strange. Not at all."

I found myself even more pulled into him when he shared his greatest secret with me: that he, like I, took companionship of young men! Imagine me upon learning this. I felt like a cannonball was shot into me, but it was most delightful. His shaky voice calmed as he realized that what I had on him, he had on me. The current me is quick to add that we are forever bound already, but the past me is just happy that I may have a chance to get what I want, and, as always, I get what I want.

The next few days were such a blur. We got the last few we needed, and had started stocking the ship days ago, with items we either looted or bought.

Oh it felt wonderful to be back on the ship again, the open sea surrounding us. I felt free again. Days I spent on deck, nights we spent together. Sharing. No more secrets, he said.

So no more secrets.

Three days into the trip, I ran out of stories. I told him I could never part with him, he smiled and said that he hoped we never had to. Then I repeated it and it was like his brain finally clicked on and he understood. He startled and his brain fumbled, and the next moment I knew, his face was pressed against mine.

He kissed me with such passion and power that I felt like the stars fell from the sky that night. The way he held me that night... I had never felt it before. I never knew what I was missing. What I'm so happy I never had before. I always went for men like me before, but he... he completed me in a way never before. The way he felt against me, I knew I'd never find someone like him again. I felt like only the brightest of fires every time he touched me. I felt like the sun and the stars backed away from the heat that radiated from me.

And I loved every moment of it.

That's only a fragment of our story; the rest I will not share. That's how we met, our life together is only his and mine. But how we were separated is much like how we began in the way that the sea caused it. The ocean was the power behind us. It controlled us. We were brought together because the ocean wanted it, but we were torn apart because the ocean wanted it also.

We ran in to a string of bad luck; much like before I had met him. My ship, our ship, was being torn apart, blown up. Soon, she found her new home in the ocean. I held him tightly, shaking, I knew what was to come. He was injured, heavily. There was so much blood but he made sure I was safe. "It's funny," he smiled and placed a bloody kiss on my forehead, "How that the ocean brought you to me, but is now taking me from you. Wait for me, I will see you in death. And if not in death, then in the next life. I will always love you, never doubt that." With that, he was gone. My heart with him. I cried so hard I felt like I filled the oceans.

Once again, the beach was there. But when I woke up, I wasn't I, but he. Kurt. But Kurt is me. See?

Kurt sputtered as the water that pooled in his lungs was expelled. Dave crouched next to his body and held Kurt's hand, shaking heavily. "Please don't ever do that again, Fancy." Kurt smiled and brought a wet hand up to trace his jawline.

"You told me to wait for you. I couldn't leave you alone." he said, feeling breathless, a soft hand tracing his jaw and a smile on his face. Dave's brow wrinkled, his mind being brought back to the time in high school where he broke down. But at that time, he had only meant it for the walks between classes, and of tormented teenage memories, the ocean's mind waking them up inside.