Pirates, The Tropics, Kurt and Dave. What more could you want? I'm new to this and would love any feedback!

...

The first thing Kurt Hummel noticed as he slowly came to was the bitter mixture of sand and seawater swirling in his mouth and up his nose. With a pathetic cough and sputter, he expelled as much of the brine back onto the beach, where he found himself sprawled haphazardly. The movement brought a new realization to his mind: every muscle of his body ached, as if he had been tossed and handled like a rag doll. He groaned as another wave washed over his wet and ragged limbs.

After a few moments of rest and mental preparation, Kurt willed himself to move to dryer land and recollect his thoughts. He remembered being violently disturbed from his sleep by the terrifying bobbing and swaying of his cabin. The ship must have been caught in a powerful storm on its way to New Spain, and the severe blow to the head that Kurt received from a wayward piece of debris promptly excused him from experiencing the trip that resulted on the beach.

Gaining strength from these recollections, Kurt picked himself up to assess his surroundings. The beach stretched on for several hundred feet in both directions before his line of sight was interrupted by small peninsulas, forming a shallow bay. Palm trees and various other tropical plants that Kurt could not identify began roughly where the beach ended, bordered in some places by rocky fields of weeds. To his left, Kurt noticed a few remnants ofthe HMS Osprey: a tangled mess of rigging draped loosely over a large section of the hull.

Seeing the piece of the large ship that was suppose to bring him to his new home in Santo Domingo finally brought to Kurt the unfortunate realization that the shock of waking up stranded on a deserted beach had kept at bay: he was stranded on a deserted beach. Worse yet, his clothes were ruined. The fine linens that his posh life in london had afforded him were reduced to tattered pants and what remained of a dress shirt hanging loosely over his now red shoulders. In a panicked daze, Kurt fell to his knees and let the waves wash over his feet as he looked absently at the ground. He was going to die here, if not from thirst or starvation, from sheer loneliness and isolation. No one would find him. The new world was immensely vast, and inhabited by violent natives who cooked englishmen and shrunk their dismembered heads. Kurt had heard all the stores that his younger relatives told him about the new world, and had dismissed them at the time as foolish, but now, amid the unknown depths of land in front of him, those dreadful thoughts were all he could think.

Fortunately, his morose musings were interrupted when he noticed something quite out of place amid the tropical scenery. A meager line of smoke trailing up from behind one of the peninsulas. Kurt stared at this impossible sight for a few seconds before picking himself up and walking to it. After a few paces, he turned around, and thinking ahead, gathered some of the rigging that had washed ashore.

The walk over the rocky peninsula was difficult for Kurt, given that his body was still recovering from the beating it must have endured. Finally reaching the crest of the hill, Kurt took in the scene before him. The trail of smoke had been coming from a small fire near the edge of the forest. A figure was lying by the fire on what appeared to be a shabby bed of palm leaves and pieces of cloth.

He was not alone! Only finding a manned vessel at dock would have made the small man happier. Forgetting the pain in his muscles, Kurt began running toward the fire, impatient to meet whoever his companion was to be. He quickly broke his stride, however, upon discerning a troubling new detail. Stabbed into the sand near the figure rose a rather intimidating cutlass, worn and nicked from serious use.

Kurt was beginning to reconsider his luck when the figure rose from his prostrate position. Kurt froze as the stranger's eyes fell upon his own.

"Oy there," called the man, "You! HEY! Right here! Come here!" The man was standing now, waving his arms as if Kurt could not see where he was. "Where're you coming from? A settlement? ...oh." As his eyes fell upon Kurt's torn clothes, the stranger's excitement faded and he sat back down.

"Good Morning" said Kurt as he approached the small fire.

"Hardly" the stranger said gruffly, not looking away from the fire.

"I take it there are no others then. How did you make a fire?"

"S'easy if ya got the right stuff. Any idea where we are?"

"No. ...er, My name is Kurt. Hummel."

"Good to know."

This stranger didn't seem like a conversationalist. However, Kurt was less concerned about his name than the sword that he couldn't help but stare at.

"Why, er... where did you get that sword?" he asked, with a little more apprehension than he would have liked.

"S'mine. Got it a long time ago. A blacksmith's."

The stranger's tone was less than convincing. "Alright then, what is your name? I've told you mine. I feel you're obligated to tell me yours."

"David" the stranger muttered. He looked up at where kurt was standing.

David had enough to deal with right at the moment. He could tell that the fire was puttering out, and despite what he had told Kurt, it was not easy starting it. No, he had spent hours just getting a flame started. This wasn't the first time Dave had to fend for himself in the wilderness, but he was far from accustomed to this. He had thought that he was leaving his hard life as "privateer" behind for the promising streets of Santo Domingo, only to find himself left to die shipwrecked on a foreign shore.

As he really got a good look at this new acquaintance, however, Dave's worried were replaced by a nervous wrenching in his gut. Kurt, did he say his name was? Hating himself for it, Dave couldn't help but let his eyes linger a little two long at the tears in the young man's clothes. Hoping Kurt didn't notice, Dave turned his attention back to the fire.

"This damn thing is dying down. Can you help me gather some dry wood or are you going to just stand there, m'lady?" Dave didn't know why he was being mean. He got up, making an effort to avoid looking directly at the other young man.

"Okay, okay David. I'd be happy to help. No need to be cross." Kurt was a bit disappointed that his newfound companion wasn't as friendly as he had hoped, but his happiness from simply finding someone more than made up for any reservations. Plus, his concern about the sword was alleviated for the moment.

David wandered the edge of the forest looking for dry timber. His search would have been more successful if he hadn't been using so much of his time sneaking surreptitious looks at his fellow castaway. Dave hated himself more with every guilty glance. He tried in vain to shake out the sordid thoughts that ran through his head whenever Kurt turned town to pick up a piece of wood. He tried hard to remember what Friar Raphael had told him about this most terrible sin and the evils of his lustful thoughts. For Dave, though, it was as if this boy were maliciously doing it simply to remind Dave that no matter what he did, he would always be a sinner. Dave's brow crumpled in frustration from these thoughts, and he furiously returned to scanning the ground for more wood.

"David?" Kurt called from a distance.

David, without looking, called back. "What! Don't stop, we need more!"

"No, it's just that I've found a rather large dry piece lodged between these rocks. I'm going to need your help," Kurt shouted back.

Frustrated, Dave dropped his pitiful collection of twigs and ran over to where Kurt was standing. Sure enough, a large branch of what appeared to be Eucalyptus was partially exposed underneath a large flat bolder.

"I tried to move it but it wouldn't budge" said Kurt flatly.

"When I lift it, you pull out the branch." Dave readied himself and gripped the edges of the rock. Keeping his back relatively straight and pushing against the other rock with his feet, Dave was able to open a crevice loose enough for Kurt to tug the branch out.

"Good job, David! I'm impressed. I didn't anticipate that working."

"Thanks. Put it by the fire, would you?" Dave was relieved that his reddening face could be easily explained by the exertion of moving the rock. He sat and caught his breath for a moment before walking to the fire. It wasn't long before he caught up with Kurt, walking slowly with the weight of the considerable branch.

"Here, I'll carry that. You clearly can't carry anything heavier than a purse"

"I beg your pardon! I can ...ugh -carry it- ...huh... just fine." Kurt was beginning to lose his patience with David. His sour attitude was hampering Kurt's usually sunny disposition, which to his own surprise, was immensely revived at that fist sight of smoke.

Lost in this fleeting thought, Kurt caught his foot on a rather strong vine, teetering him off balance, and sending the branch to the ground. Moving instinctively, Dave pulled Kurt's shirt before he could fall, sending Kurt crashing into Dave, who then promptly lost balance and fell over, bringing a surprised Kurt with him. Kurt landed on Dave's chest, awkwardly eye to eye.

"Sorry I-"

"Thanks, I mean-"

"Didn't mean to-"

"It's fine, just that-"

"Sort of just..."

Kurt moved his leg in an attempt to get up, inadvertently brushing against Dave's inner thigh. Dave tensed, still clutching a strip of Kurt's shirt.

"Erm... Would you let go of my Shirt?"

"Oh... right. Sorry."

The two stood up, Kurt picked up the branch, and the two of them walked back to the fire in an uncomfortable silence.