A/N: This story is dedicated to Apple of Doom, my fujoshi sister and fellow lover of USUK. Today is her birthday and I wanted to write something for her because she is such a darling friend of mine. ;-) Her request is a Pirate!UK and the pairing is UKUSUK. I've never written a pirate fic before, so I agreed almost immediately! Been wanting to write it, as a huge fan of Pirates of the Caribbean and Hetalia! Oh, and Happy Birthday, darling! XD

Summary: A tale of a fortunate noble's son who's eager to learn more of the world, sneaking at the dead of night into a merchant's ship. Unfortunately, instead of a merchant's, he stows away in a pirate's ship instead. UKUSUK AU for Apple of Doom

Kiss the Gunner's Daughter

Chapter One: Stowaway

Those green eyes were mocking him, laughing at him, humiliating him.

And all Alfred could do was glare - despite the red thin line cut just beneath his left eye that felt stinging nastily, he glared hard, breaths laboring heavily. He could feel his skin and flesh were burning under the strong, merciless sun that stood proud right above his head, scorching his throat with unimaginable thirst, his lips were cracked and cut up with dried blood spots stained the tender pale blue flesh. He bit bit back a yelp when the sun hit the many lines of whip bestowed upon his torso and back, red as the blood pooled beneath the tan skin. But he cursed loudly when another sharp lash struck his the left part of his shoulder blade.

And soon the pain brought tears up his azure-tinted eyes, though it didn't fall and just stayed at the corners of his eyes. Alfred gasped wildly, taking mouthfuls of air into his dried up lungs, filling it with the salty air of the sea. He bit down into his cracked lower lips and he bit down hard until fresh blood seeped out of the crisped wound. Then Alfred grunted loudly, biting back the moan and scream. He would not scream. He would not. He refused to carve the satisfaction into this insane pack of wolves.

But despite what he wanted, he could hear blatant insults and mad laughter came from his surroundings. But he didn't heed them. This was already the umpteenth times they laughed as Alfred suffered under the relentless sun, receiving beats and whips while being tied painfully tight to a post with hands behind him. He could feel his rough ropes bit into his skin and scrapped along his wrists as he tugged them, not in order to release himself, but to distract him from the even harsher pain on his main body.

"Stop it! Stop lashing at him! Alfred! Alfred!"

Alfred cracked up an eye and saw his friend and servant, Toris was looking at him with an absolute horrification and worry drawn on his face as he struggled to release himself from a much bigger and muscular man who was holding him still, preventing him from going towards the blonde. Toris looked disheveled and messy - unlike his ever-presentable fashion - with his deep brown hair stuck and went all over his sweaty face, he looked like he would cry anytime as he shouted "stop it!" in vain attempts at rescuing his master. Aside of all that, he was still perfectly healthy and fine, only minor bruises covered his face and an eye, but no whip wound was found underneath the ripped clothes. The black man who was holding him still only laughed mockingly.

Alfred glared at him, and then turned the target to the green-eyed bastard who was smirking at him, tapping the handle of a long black whip with a sharp, but shallow blade at the end of a snake-like line lied on the floorboard, onto his other hand. Unlike the rest of the group, he wore a much flashier outfit, obviously made of silk. It was in the color of indigo and white. The big hat he wore was black with white feathers adorned the side of the hat. He was the captain of this group of pirates. Alfred lowered his gaze and found two flintlock pistols and a sheathed Nimcha hung on the twin belts that circled around his waist and hip.

"How 'bout it lad?" He asked in a degrading manner, tapping the whip lightly. "What say you to giv' up an' work fer me instead?"

Alfred spat at his shoes.

Emerald eyes lowered to his shoes, where the spit hit. "So this is your reply, eh?" He raised an eyebrow as his gaze returned to Alfred's again. "Very brave fer a lad who trespasses my ship."

"Don't touch Toris." He blurted out hoarsely, feeling the back of his throat burned and stung in dehydration.

The green-eyed bastard chuckled. "What it's for me, lad? I don't see why not. He's a stowaway in our ship. Stowaways're bad luck ya know." His crews cheered for him.

"He's not here because he wanted to! It's my fault-" Alfred coughed violently, panting after. He cursed mentally, he shouldn't have let out such loud voice when his throat was hurting. "-I brought him here. I should be the one punished for it." He choked out, managing not to cough again.

"That is why what goons it brings us, I say."

"Do what you want with me. But don't touch him."

"Ya know that's not enough, lad. We're pirates. We need more than just wasting our time with ya." The pirate captain yawned, obviously didn't have the interest. The other pirates laughed and cheered, Alfred could see their hungry eyes darted towards his best friend slowly being surrounded, their hands brushed lightly against the sheathed cutlasses on their waist.

"You'll regret it if you touch him." Alfred quickly spat out.

"And why is that, lad?" The captain suddenly turned to him, slightly interested.

"Because…" Alfred hesitated. "I am a governor's son."

Alfred F. Jones had never seen such extensive canvas tinted by the most brilliant color of blue stretched wide and seemingly limitless as it extended far beyond the horizon wherever he threw his gaze at, velvety white clouds brushed slightly with light grey acted as a line that divided the sky and the sea.

He had seen only a little, from as long as he remembered, only the view of the small but lively town and the white harbor where countless of merchant ships came and went did he see from the opened window of his room, at his home in the Lord Jones's mansion built on top of a small hill at the side of the town. Since he was but a child, he had but only stared from far away as ships of all kinds of shape and design harbored into the town and small people came from aboard and people on land approached the ship and cheered.

He had wondered about it a lot, as a curious boy he was, and asked his best friend and servant Toris, but the older boy only shook his head and said the ships brought a lot of food and stocks and that was all he knew. When he asked his mother and father, they instead forbid him from playing nearby the harbor, they said there were a lot of brutes and bad people lingered around the area.

It only made Alfred all the more curious.

His blood noble parents had never let him go farther than the market in the heart of the town, or even let him stray far from them when they went to the town to buy new dresses for his mother. They reminded him over and over again that he was a noble's son, the heir to the Jones family, and that he couldn't linger or befriend the servants or the low-breed townspeople. But Alfred, who couldn't understand that, instead became best friends with Toris, the cook's son, and both of them often sneaked into the town to play or fool around, though Toris was always unwilling at the beginning. Of course, they never told Alfred's parents about it.

Countless of times had Alfred and Toris sneaked into the harbor, playing and asking around about many things. And all the fascinated answers always stuck to his mind and the boy often found himself wondering and imagining things that were told to him and Toris. Was it true that the sea was so wide, even a thousand ships couldn't fill it up? Was it true there were other lands much, much bigger than their own? Was it true that there was a sea of sands in the east that stretched far and wide as much as the eyes could see? These questions often excited Alfred so much he couldn't sleep and stayed awake the whole night, dreamily thinking about it.

He wasn't a kid who'd read books, but after he found out that those boring books in his father's study may contain the answers to his questions, he dashed in when his father was out and started digging in. But he wasn't fond of the books that have too many words and chose the ones with many pictures, laying them open messily all across the floor as he lying on his stomach and reading. And he became even more fascinated.

His curiosity of the outside foreign world only increased as years went by. The idle curiosity and question slowly became the urges to see it with his own eyes, feel it with his own hands, smell it with his nose, taste the exotic food he had never eaten before, experience every living moment of his life in indulging into the new things he had yet to experience. And they grew stronger each day passed, especially when his nineteenth birthday rapidly approaching.

But he knew his parents wouldn't let him. They would confine him into the house and force him to study in order to succeed his father someday, even when Alfred had absolutely no interest of. He loved being an ordinary person more than being a noble. He loved the roughness and honest freedom in the townspeople. He hated that nobles weren't allowed to befriend with those of the lower class. Why wouldn't they? Toris was very kind and warm to him, and Alfred thought his parents were just stiff and boring and cold, unlike Toris's father. He wasn't going to be like his parents, whom the townspeople secretly scorned.

And the thought to get out of this prison struck him when Toris's father died a few days before his nineteenth birthday. He had felt rage towards his uncaring parents who just brushed him off when Toris came to tell the unfortunate news. They told them they were sorry when they sounded nonchalant, and it ended with his heartless mother told Toris to pack his and the cook's things so the new cook could get some space. Alfred was ashamed and angry and sad.

In the night of his birthday, as his parents were busying themselves with the upper class guests invited to his birthday party, Alfred and Toris sneaked out and went to the port.

It was very dark that night, the clouds hid away the moon and the stars behind the seemingly stormy sky. There were several ships docked at that moment. Both Alfred and Toris had no idea which one was whose, but they decided to go by a galleon at the east end. There was the usual patrol was striding along the ships, unknowing of the two young men who sneaked behind him and entered the ship.

At first, neither Alfred nor Toris knew who owned such a huge galleon, but the next day, when someone opened the wooden crate they hid themselves in…

…the two knew they were going to die.

When Alfred came around, waking up gasping and suddenly sitting up, his forehead hitting something hard and smelly with a dull thump. He yelped aloud, bringing his hands to rub the aching skull. And yet when he tried to move, his whole body started aching instead, stinging in the sharp, nasty pain that seemingly burning his skin with a hot iron. He cried out and panted hard, tears gathered at the back of his eyes. He curled up his back, labored breaths escaped his mouth and nostrils as he tried to bit back the screams.

"Alfred! Are you alright? Does it still hurt?" A kind voice came from nearby him.

Exhausted blue eyes turned and met worried mahogany-colored eyes. Toris was looking at him with worry laced his expression. Alfred threw his gaze around and realized he was in some kind of a really cramped room, dark and also stunk of rotten fish and booze. There were mosses grew on the many parts of the wooden ceilings and walls and floors. He himself was sitting on a dirty, narrow bunk with another one right above him, most likely the cause of the pain on his forehead.

"Where…? How?" He asked, unable to say more as he winced at his cut up lips.

"In a crew's quarter. The… captain lends us one." Toris eyed around, unsure. He looked like he thought the place was more like a dungeon prison than a sleeping quarter.

"Oh." Was all Alfred said as he looked down at himself. His torso was covered in bandages, as well as his wrists. Toris probably treated him with the stuff they brought along with them for their runaway quest. It was all thanks to Toris's wisdom that Alfred would be able to recover. He wasn't sure if the pirates were generous enough to spare them some medicine. Even though they were hostages now.

"So this room is ours?"

"Um…" Toris looked away, obviously on purpose. "Actually…"

"Ahoy, mates! Yer friend's awake, eh?"

The two turned their heads and found the door was wide opened and a white-haired man with red eyes entered the room meanwhile grinning. An albino. And a pirate on top of that. Alfred threw a questioning gaze at the Lithuanian, but Toris only laughed nervously. The rude white-haired man helped himself with the bunk across of Alfred's, he peeled off the cutlass and the pistols and other things then threw them onto the narrow bunk, turning towards the two with hands akimbo.

"The name's Gilbert, mate. I'm the Cap'n's right hand. I cut necks like I cut chickens. Who're yas?" He grinned, munching at something they didn't know.

"T-Toris." The servant smiled, but his face paled.

But Alfred didn't answer.

A silver brow was raised. "Whatcha got there, lad? Shark got yer tongue?"

Toris threw a worried glance at the younger boy, the gave him a light squeeze on his hand. Alfred paused, averting his eyes. "…Alfred." He uttered unwillingly.

"So, Toris an' Alfred! Nice. Been long since Lud and I have roommates. He's m' lil' bro. His name's Ludwig. The Cap'n's first mate." He crossed his arms, looking very proud. Then he turned his crimson eyes at the blonde, grinning.

"Quite a show ya display up there, mate. Bit stupid thou'. But I'd do the same if it's Lud's in yer friend's shoes." He winked at Toris, who gave him a sincere smile. Though guilt spread on his face, Alfred furrowed his eyebrows and glanced at him. The older brunette lowered his head.

"Ya got guts. I think the Cap'n likes ya." Gilbert flopped onto the bunk, brusquely crossing his legs.

Alfred frowned. "I'm a hostage." He stated matter-of-factly.

"Arr, matey. But Cap'n likes fools who fight for his mates. We're a bunch of sea dogs with those bad habits here." He chuckled aloud. But both Toris and Alfred only fell silent. But the albino didn't seem to notice, as he bent his back to grab something laid beneath his bunk, pulling it out onto his lap. A jar. With light brown biscuits filling half of the space. "Yer hungry mates? Wan' some biscuits? They're good." He said as he opened the lid and drew some into his hand. He cracked one with his teeth, munching.

"A bit hard, thou'. Ya gotta have strong jaws like mine for this one." He uttered as he lightly threw the jar towards Toris, who clumsily caught it.

"Umm, thank you." Toris uttered, eying at the jar of biscuits. He was hungry. But he was a bit unsure of eating the potentially unsanitary food. Then he turned to Alfred. "Do you want some?" He asked.

Alfred was feeling hungry himself. With the wounds, he thought he needed some food to recover, no matter how disgusting they were. "I want some." He nodded. Toris nodded as well, drawing two for each of them. The he handed it towards Alfred, who accepted it, and he looked at the hardened, slightly smelly biscuit. He turned it around and his blue eyes stared hard, as if popping out of its sockets.

"Th-there are insects on the biscuits!" Toris half-shrieked, pulling away the biscuit and staring disgustedly at the little black weevils crawling along the brown surface.

"Yeah, there sure are." Gilbert uttered, Toris looked sickly pale when he saw him chomping down on a bug-ridden part of the biscuit. And he looked absolutely care free, open-mouthedly munching on the little abomination. Gilbert seemed to notice their paling faces and his own insensitivity.

"Oh, if ya wanna eat it, better in the dark where ya can't see the weevils." He advised, completely insensitive.

Toris felt sick.

Alfred threw up.

He got sea sick.

TBC

Pirate Glossary (from Prate-o-pedia)

Nimcha: A fine-crafted sword made in Arab. In 16th century, when Arab's metalworking was unrivaled, Nimchas were works of art as well as excellent weapons. They say chances are if you saw a Nimcha pulled up from its scabbard, you didn't have much longer to live, since their beautiful blades made short work of many necks.

Bug-ridden Biscuit: These dense, long-lasting biscuits are the most basic food at sea. Known as a hardtack due to their toughness, little black weevils still find them tasty. Like most pirates, you'll want to eat them in the dark, where you can't see the insects!

Kiss the Gunner's Daughter: A piratey term that means to be flogged aboard the ship.

A/N: This first chapter is short, I know. I have six assignments right now. x.x But I've promised her a birthday fic and I wrote it. I must finish some of the assignments first so I can update my stories. D: American Wife comes next!

Reviews, feedbacks, constructive criticisms are welcomed! Unreasonable flames really make you sound silly. :D