Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or the characters or any countries. I don't even own any pirate paraphernalia, even ifI wish I did.
Summary: Because the pirate captain would never give up the sea, but Antonio knew he wanted something more from life. AU, Pirate!Arthur and SeaCaptain!Antonio friendship, some background Spamano and USUK.
Rating: T because of the BOOZE because they're pirates, and…that's pretty much it. Human names are used.
Are you surprised that I'm not dead? It's been what, two, three years? I don't even know anymore. Anyway, I've had this sitting on my computer for a while...I wanted to finish writing it before I posted it so I could go over the final product and comb through it and stuff, but it was dragging on for too long. I decided to put this first part up for now. It will likely be a two-shot.
He Sails the Seven Seas
By FimbulvetrIce
Captain Kirkland inhaled the air around him and breathed it out, sighing. It tasted of the ocean, slightly salty and moist. Wind whipped his hair around his face as he steered his trusty ship faster. Further. Anything to distance himself from that bloody Spaniard.
The mere thought of the buoyant, green-eyed sea captain made him drop his glass of rum, shattering glass onto the deck. He let out a string of expletives.
"You know, you should really stop drinking so much."
The pirate captain gave another curse before turning around to face the person the voice belonged to. It was Gilbert, his first mate. He gave him an irritated look. "Bollocks, like you can talk, Gil. You drink more than I do."
The albino smirked, serving only to annoy Arthur further. "Maybe, but at least I can hold my rum. Look, you're already getting tipsy."
"Am not," the captain snapped. Gilbert's voice was getting increasingly annoying. Actually scratch that, the whole world was annoying right now. In fact he fancied that maybe, right now, everything was how it was just so it could annoy him. And it wasn't because he was tipsy. He wasn't bloody tipsy.
"Yeah you are," Gilbert snickered. "Hey, how many fingers am I holding up?"
Arthur swatted the offending hand away and stormed off the deck. Or, he tried to storm off the deck. He ended up not quite getting all of himself through the door and crashed into the doorframe. In retaliation, he punched it.
"Bloody door."
His first mate apparently found this highly entertaining and was nearly cackling in mockery as he skipped—yes, skipped—over to pull his captain off of the floor. "You're definitely at least tipsy, if not drunk!"
"Shut up, Gilbert, or you'll be on cleaning duty for the rest of the week."
"Wow Artie, your captain habits can function even when you're drunk? That's friggin' hilarious!"
"GIL—"
But he never finished, because suddenly the world around him started spinning…and he fell into a deep, alcohol-induced slumber.
"Aw man, now I have to carry you to your room?" Gilbert looked down at him and despaired. "Maybe I can just leave him on the deck…" But after shuddering from thinking of what consequences he might get if his captain found that he had a cold when he woke up, he decided against it.
It was nighttime, and Arthur found himself walking along the streets of Almeria; they had landing on the coast of Spain a few days back. He entered a familiar inn, and was greeted with the usual loud cacophony of gruff people with raucous behavior.
He made his way towards the only mostly-empty seat in the room and sat down, only to freeze upon seeing the other occupant.
"…You," he growled.
The other man seemed completely unaffected by his hostile greeting. "Oh, hey, Captain Kirkland right?" He gave a boisterous laugh. "Imagine seeing you again!"
Arthur just glared at him. "What are you doing here?"
"Eh? Well, I was staying in Almeria for a few days, figured I'd mingle with some people—"
"You know that's not what I mean," he interrupted. "I want to know why navy personnel would be in the local pirate's inn."
Captain Carriedo smiled. "Well you know it's not only pirates, there's also thieves, smugglers, runaways…"
"Cut the crap!"
"Oh, you're so coarse for an English gentleman. I just wanted to check it out, I'm not on military orders. Does that make you happy?"
"No. So are you going to arrest all these people now?"
"Are you kidding? There's gotta be at least fifty people in this room! I deal with military issues, not convicts."
"You've got a messed up sense of loyalty, then. And you're not going to try to turn me in?"
The Spaniard only took a chug out of his glass of beer and gave him a devious look. "I'm not an idiot, I'm not about to try take you out by myself. I've seen you fight."
"Could've fooled me," Arthur muttered under his breath.
"What was that?" Captain Carriedo said teasingly, leaning toward him.
Arthur responded by jabbing him in the chest. It was a decidedly childish move that disgusted him even as he did it, but it hadn't been the best day for him anyway. "I said you're a wanker."
"Am I now?"
It took all he had not to take out his sword and stab the stupid Spaniard.
They sat in a silence that lasted for about as long as it took for fat kid to eat cake, or so it seemed to Arthur, before Captain Carriedo started talking again.
His voice was pensive. "You know, the first time I saw you taking out that guy in the bar in Gibraltar, I envied you."
The pirate threw him a look. "Well this is new, Mr. Nice Guy appreciates getting into a good fist-fight?"
"No," he said, shaking his head, "not that. I envy the freedom you have."
Arthur scoffed. "Yeah? Then be a pirate, don't join the military."
But the Spaniard just smiled like he had before. "I prefer not to get trouble with the law. Maybe being a pirate suits you. But I get the feeling you want more out of life."
For some inexplicable reason, his words made anger flare up in Arthur's mind. What right did some military dog have to try and explain his way of life? Abruptly, he stood up and glared hard at the Spanish captain. "You don't even know me," he ground out. "So don't think it's any of your business." He turned around and pushed his way out of the inn, place to stay be damned.
The next morning, as he and his crew departed for the sea, they received news that the navy had sent Captain Carriedo's very own ship in pursuit of them.
"I really hate him."
Vash's expression didn't change as he gave Arthur some tonic. "Gilbert or Captain Carriedo?"
"Both of them," Arthur said stubbornly.
"I understand Gilbert, but what happened between you and Captain Carriedo and you anyway?" Vash was handing him his coat and hat now, as Arthur pushed himself off his bed and tried to ignore his headache. The Swiss was somewhat of a doctor on the ship, or at least the closest to a doctor that they had.
"Nothing." Arthur forcefully yanked his arms into his coat and shoved the feathered hat onto his head. To be honest, he didn't even know why he was so angered by that ridiculous, smiley, bright-eyed idiot. "Nothing happened between me and that wanker."
"…Okay." Vash was unconvinced, as would anyone, but didn't really care about the captain of the Spanish fleet ship either way. Sure, their own pirate ship was being pursued by them at the very moment, but Vash's only concern was why Arthur wouldn't just let him bombard the boat with cannons already. It would make things so much easier, and it wasn't like Captain Carriedo would probably die, if his captain was even worried about that. Those nobles were like cockroaches anyway, with their lifeboats and their reinforcements. "Think we can out-sail them?"
Arthur climbed onto the deck and looked at the horizon, Vash following closely behind. He shook his head when he focused on the only other vessel on the sea in sight. "Pro'ly not. I'd give our ship a day or so, but then it'll be head on encounter."
"The Albion's fast," Vash countered. "We could try losing them."
"So's Carriedo's Castile. Like I said, we'll have about a day or two 'til they catch up, and there aren't any landmasses in our vicinity."
The Castile caught up quicker than even Arthur had anticipated. The next day, Gilbert had sounded the alarm and the pirate ship's crew scrambled onto the deck to see the grand navy ship not fifty feet away from them. The two huge ships faced each other menacingly, cannons ready to be fired. The air was still. Through his eyeglass Arthur could see Captain Carriedo on the bow of his ship, eyes trained on him. He had a determined look in his eyes, unlike the air-headed expressions Arthur had seen him wear previously.
Everything after that happened quickly. Blows were exchanged; ropes snapped, but no masts were broken and the hulls remained intact. Then Captain Carriedo had jumped onto the pirate ship to confront Arthur, who had swiftly turned to his gunman.
"We'll take Carriedo as our prisoner. Unleash the big cannons."
Vash easily complied, and the sky above of the ocean became painted with flames and smoke.
Arthur then turned and smirked easily at the sea captain, who was now trapped alone on the pirate ship. "Wrong move, hot shot," he drawled. To his surprise—no, annoyance—the Spaniard looked only resigned. Did he give up that quickly or did the idiot just not care? Annoyance quickly shifted into irritation.
"I thought you said you didn't deal with criminals," he spat.
All he got in response was a tired smile. "Yeah, I didn't really understand why they decided to send me after you either. Maybe they think you guys are a threat."
"Yo." Gilbert dropped in just then (literally, from the top of the mast). "We sunk the ship. But most of the crew got away, see." He gestured at the small lifeboats rowing away from the mass of smoking debris. Arthur's lips tightened into a tight line.
"Let them," he said. "'S not like they can turn around and retaliate now."
The albino shook his head and gave a dramatic sigh. "Aw, you're no fun when you're sober."
Arthur ignored him. "We're taking this guy prisoner. Take him to the lower decks." Gilbert immediately brightened and tied Captain Carriedo's wrists together with a length of rope that seemed to have appeared from nowhere. He led him down into the cabins, talking at him the whole while. Arthur followed them.
"You, know when you said lower decks, I thought you meant some kind of dank cell," Antonio said when he was introduced to his "prisoner quarters". It was a really a normal room, complete with a bed, desk and chair.
The lanky albino laughed. "We don't have those. Artie doesn't usually keep prisoners."
Captain Kirkland leveled his first mate with a look and snapped at him. "You can leave now, Gilbert."
Gilbert mock-saluted and walked out, leaving Antonio with the pirate captain. He looked closely at his new living space and sat down on the bed. It wasn't bad at all, and he wouldn't be surprised if the ship's crew all lived in similar quarters.
Kirkland watched him with his ever-present glare. Antonio might have chastised him, because he was surely going to get forehead wrinkles if he kept that up, but that would be making much too light of the situation. And then the pirate spoke, in voice that Antonio knew held an element of longing. He knew, because it was similar to his own. (He remembered pointing this out to the pirate when they had chanced upon each other in Almeria. Kirkland hadn't taken it kindly.)
"This is where you'll be staying," Kirkland said in a monotonously. "The bathroom is over there, someone will bring you food three times a day, and there's paper and pen in the desk if you seek to entertain yourself with writing. We won't be landing for at least month. You'll be here for a while."
"You're not going to kill me?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Just because we're pirates doesn't mean that all of us go around killing people when we feel like it. We're not like you nobles."
"Ouch. But you know, I don't like killing people either."
"Oh, how brilliant. We must have so much in common then," Arthur rolled his eyes, throwing Antonio's own phrase back at him. "Does that make you happy?"
"It does."
Arthur gave him an irritated look. "Stop talking, Captain Carriedo. You're our prisoner, not a guest of honor." He turned around and walked out, slamming and locking the door.
Antonio studied the desk as he heard footsteps stalking away from his room. "Could have fooled me."