WOW. -blushes- What a response guys! So many lovely reviews. I honestly did not expect to update so soon but I couldn't help myself. This fic has everything I've ever wanted to write. And it helps that people seem to enjoy it. So, hopefully, this next update is good enough.

I plan to finish this out. So, no worries. This will be completed. And, since I'm fairly inspired, it might be finished even faster!

Also...someone mentioned fanart? :D -shot-

Warnings: previous warnings apply, AU, slash, inappropriate mood whiplash, language, OOCness, stupidity, me having way too much fun with this entire AU

Pairings: You guys know~

Disclaimer: Thankfully, I don't own Hetalia.


"Was that really necessary?" Matthew asked, a note of hysteria in his voice, as he hurried attempted to staunch the fallen pirate's wound with his handkerchief. But the blood continued to spill out, dripping from the sodden kerchief and spilling down his thin fingers.

Arthur stared down, mouth twisted in distaste, as the blond cradled the fallen man in his arms, pressing hard against the bleeding wound. Then, purposefully, he raised his pistol again, silently chastising himself for not giving the crewmember a swift death. "Get back, girl."

"Why?" Matthew asked, voice shrill, blood warm between his fingers. The man gurgled, blood spilling out from his open mouth. "Oh, he's still alive—" He was cut off by Arthur grabbing his upper arm and dragging him up and away, dropping him roughly against a barrel and snarling for him to stay there.

And then Arthur, deadly calm and precise, walked over and shot the man directly between the eyes, face stoic. Matthew, kneeling behind the captain, stared in horror.

This wasn't the first time Arthur had killed a man in the time Matthew was on the ship.

But…this was George. George who was the longest lived navigator on Queen Elizabeth's Revenge since Matthew's arrival. George who had caught Matthew when he tripped over a loose coil of rope because he didn't see it. George who pulled him out of the water the second time he jumped overboard because Arthur called him a self-centered brat.

"You killed George!" Matthew snapped, rising to his feet and holding his skirts so he didn't fall over. His violet eyes sparked dangerously. "You despicable waste of life!"

The crew, who had barely batted an eye and were already busy washing blood off the deck, stilled and stared at the wench who just blatantly insulted their captain.

Arthur gave him an incredulous look. "Now listen here, you miserable shrew." He hissed, taking a step forward. "I have had enough of your constant whimpering and whining and nagging." His green eyes were bright and sharp. "I have been nothing short of generous and patient and rather than showing some grace and civility, you stand here and berate me?" His accent sharpened, all traces of coarseness gone and replaced with sophistication and ice. Arthur closed the distance between them, gloved hand reaching out and grabbing Matthew by the yellow ribbons on the front of his gown and shoved him against the wall of the ship, bending the blond uncomfortably over the portside wall. "I have had it, boy." He whispered, bending down, his lips at Matthew's ear. "Get in the blasted room or so help me, I will do much worse than what George attempted."

"What?" Matthew stopped struggling, his grip on the other's wrist loosening.

"Did I stammer?" Arthur snarled, grasping Matthew's face with his other hand, squeezing the pale skin.

The nobleman's eyes widened in panic, for a moment, and swallowing heavily, he whispered, "George didn't attempt anything."

Arthur stared at him. "I saw it with me own eye. He was molesting your person."

"I tripped." Matthew raised a slender brow. "He was helping me up."

The dread pirate's face smoothed out, rage vanishing slowly. Then he leaned away, loosening his grip on Matthew, letting the boy straighten slightly. Matthew, however, had just let out a shaky breath when an unexpected blow to his cheek caused him to stagger to the left, raising his hand to gingerly soothe the sting, the smack of metal from the rings leaving pain, and giving the pirate a hurt, stunned look. But the older man merely returned it with a dark glare.

"Now we lack a navigator thanks to you. Again!" Arthur whirled on his heel and looked murderous.

"Well, perhaps if you hadn't shot him." One pirate pointed out.

Arthur turned on him, pistol raised and eye glinting. Thankfully, James stepped forward and said, "That's the doctor!" And Arthur reluctantly lowered the firearm and made a dismissive grunt, glancing at Matthew from the corner of his eye, still cradling his cheek.


"You think the wench cast a spell on Cap'n?" A pirate said nervously to his crewmate, fixing the rigging. "He's more mad than usual."

The other pirate just shook his head. "Shut yer mouth before he comes out here and shoots us too."


"You could at least apologize." Matthew said stiffly, giving Arthur a frown, lashes lowered as he glowered at the other.

Arthur, working at his desk, his overcoat and hat abandoned, just responded blithely, "Whatever for, love?"

When he was met with silence, he looked up and saw the other's bruised face. Then he sighed loudly. "I'll buy ye some powder at the next port. Maybe some nice baubles. Would that please you?"

"You're horrid." Matthew retorted evenly, rising to his feet and striding across the room and stopping at the desk. "How could you just kill him?"

"Listen close, pet." Arthur said lightly, lifting up the quill and brushing the soft black plume against Matthew's bruised cheek. The blond jerked his face away. "No one on this pirate ship is guaranteed the chance of seeing the sun rise. Not even me. The crew could vote me off, mutiny maybe. It's been done." His expression turned dark at the memory. "Peter could fall overboard and the sea could claim him before we could pull him out. Each of those men know I can and will kill at random, as a warning." He grinned, cruel and malicious. "Even Alistair—my dear brother—is not safe."

Matthew's face twisted in worry. "You wouldn't." He fretted, fingers twisting together.

Arthur scowled, jealousy pricking in his gut at the concern Matthew so easily displayed for the Scotsman. He was a pirate too. He drank and fucked and cursed and yet the prim and proper brat had no problem with him. And, with a sneer, he added, "I would." And, rising, he became eye level with the blond, putting down his quill.

Matthew was about to pull away when Arthur touched his bruised cheek, gently, thumb brushing over the swollen curve, the mottled dark coloring blending in with his gloves. And, leaning closer, Arthur whispered, rum-sweet breath smoothing over Matthew's lips, "Unless there be a reason to impel me to leave him be."

Matthew trembled under his touch, fighting the urge to push the other off. And it bothered Arthur.

"Six months, pet." The green-eyed man whispered. "Six months and not a single, sweet word. And yet, I see ye tell Peter stories in storage. I see ye with James and Alistair. There's even a kind smile for the swabs. And yet, the man who has secured your life receives such coldness. You're in me debt, love."

"If you would just take me home, I'd be more than happy to pay the debt." Matthew said lowly.

"I don't want your money." Arthur gave him a lazy smile. "Got more than enough and there's even more out there for the taking." His hand drifted down, catching in the open neckline of Matthew's butter-yellow gown, dragging down the delicate lace lining and revealing more of the sharp line of the other's collar. Arthur leaned down, lips pressing softly against the revealed skin. When Matthew moved to push him, the dread pirate slammed down the other's hands onto the oak and pressed warningly, almost crushing the other's bones under the heels of his hand. Matthew turned his hand, longer hair brushing against Arthur's cheeks and the pirate groaned, feeling the rush of the other's pulse under his lips.

"Stop." Matthew warned, voice surprisingly stead despite his fluttering, racing pulse.

"Why don't ye beg?" Arthur suggested airily. "Cry, even?"

"…Fine." Matthew spat out after a moment of tense silence, voice thick. "I'm already indebted to you. Just do it. I don't care anymore." And Arthur could feel the slump of the other's shoulders, sloping downwards and the fleeing of fight.

And Arthur could've been a good man and backed away. But he hadn't been a good man in a long time. So, instead, he raised his hands and pulled Matthew closer, almost tugging the blond onto the desk, his fingers digging into the bodice. Matthew muffled a swear, sore hands scrabbling at the desk when the pirate stopped giving a damn and just pulled him up, Matthew's knees knocking painfully against the wood, papers crumpling under him. He might have gasped but Arthur took the opportunity to claw at the front of the dress's bodice, ribbons and lace giving way under his harsh ministrations, trying to get at warm flesh. Open-mouthed and teeth dragging down pale skin tasted the staccato of Matthew's heart and the blond closed his eyes tightly, blocking out the other's downturned sandy hair and the feel of leather against his skin.

When the other pulled away, admiring the scarlet blossoms of his ministrations, Matthew hesitantly opened his eyes and refused to meet the other's gaze. But Arthur took is chin between his thumb and forefinger and dragged his face towards him. And, with surprising delicacy, the dread pirate pressed a firm kiss against his lips.

"Was that so bad?"


"Has she been up there the entire day?" Arthur asked coldly, glancing up at the crow's nest.

"Yes." James answered, glancing at his younger brother from the corner of his eye. The captain was standing tall, staring upwards with narrowed eyes, his scarlet waistcoat whipping in the wind.

"Never going to have cute nephews to spoil." Alistair said moodily, feeding the parrot a bit of hardtack.

James sputtered. "A ship is no place for women! Let alone children!" He sounded scandalized.

"As though you don't want a babe to rock and spoil." The redhead sniped, stroking the parrot's plumage with a calloused fingertip. "Arthur's already hideous. He needs a woman with beauty in spades to make up for his ugly."

"Do you want to dine with the fish?" The dread captain asked icily, now using his spyglass to try and catch sight of Matthew. "And you're not getting nephews anytime soon." Or ever, really.

"Of course not." Alistair snapped. "Because you did something to upset the lass. She's more skittish around you than normal. And you bruised her pretty face."

"Because she's an insufferable nag who is convinced I will force myself on her. Again."

"…And yet you cannot fathom why she'd believe such a thing?"

"The wench is just complaining for the sake of ruining my good favor." Arthur muttered, snapping the spyglass shut and shoving it into his pocket. "Brat." He added, for good measure.


"Land ho!" Matthew suddenly called out.

"Who let her play lookout?" Arthur shouted. The boy wasn't supposed to be having a good time!

"Nathan is up there with her."

"This isn't a bloody nursery!" the sandy-haired man bellowed. "Get her down now!"

"I'm sure she'll come down once we dock in Tortuga." Alistair said. Then he looked thoughtful. "Think the lass would like some hair combs?" He addressed James, but gave Arthur a dirty look. "Since someone threw her ribbons into the sea for the mermaids to have."

"The mermaids could sink our ship and still deserve those blasted ribbons more than that pain in the arse." Arthur said under his breath, frustrated with Matthew's stony silence and the glimmer of fear that remained in his eyes.

"You should talk to her if you intend to keep her." James sighed, placing a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder and squeezing gently. "It might do you both good."

"As long as she doesn't cover her ears and pretend I'm not talking." Arthur said snidely.

Alistair laughed, loud and booming. He slapped the captain on the shoulder cheerfully. "Like you did that morning she followed you around and scolded you for bullying Peter? Say what you will, but the lass has more spine than some men."

Arthur's scowl deepened and his brows twitched.


Arthur was grateful the rest of his crew had disembarked and it was just he and Matthew.

Because Matthew was acting like a child and Arthur was about to slap him again and he didn't need Alistair's disapproving glare.

So he took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, and exhaled noisily. "Why are you being so difficult?"

Matthew looked away, nervously fiddling with the frayed lace at his cuffs. "I just don't want to go into town right now."

"Why?"

The blond blushed and Arthur hated that the light caught the other just the right way and made the other's cheeks look rosy and soft. "Can't I go in the evening?"

"You go now or you rot in the cabin until we leave." Arthur said sternly.

Matthew frowned and continued to play with the frayed edge of the cuff. The bruise on his face had faded to a sickly green with a shading of yellow and it clashed terribly with the pink of his cheeks. Arthur didn't like looking continuously at the proof of his slip in self-control.

Then, Matthew reached up and self-consciously hid the splotching with one hand and looked down. "I'm tired of those women staring at me and twittering behind their hands about how I look."

Arthur stared at him in disbelief. "How does it matter? You're not even a woman." He stressed.

Matthew's head snapped up and his expression was a mix of anger and humiliation. "I know!" He hissed. "And don't you think I hate it? Woman or not, how dare they mock my state." His lips trembled. "I don't want to keep hearing about how frail I look or that my complexion is pallid or that my dress doesn't fit. And they're going to see the bruise and my hair is a mess and they're going to laugh and I shouldn't care but I never used to go out in public without looking my best and now I look like a pirate's whore and I don't like it." He finished, looking pitiful.

Arthur laughed.

Matthew punched him. Hard.


"Still sulking?" Arthur hummed, shutting the door behind him and giving the other a crooked smile.

Matthew glared at him and looked away, arms crossed.

"Don't be so cross, love." Arthur chided, still smiling. "Brought you some things that might cheer ye up." He tossed a wrapped package at Matthew who caught it easily.

"Is it stolen?" He asked, giving the poorly wrapped package a distrustful look.

Arthur snorted. "'Course it is. Only the best for my high-functioning whore."

Matthew looked like he was going to throw the bag at his head but thought better of it and instead settled for giving the other a tight-lipped smile and then ripped open the thin paper.

It was a fan. A soft purple one with white lace edging and smooth black wood.

Matthew opened it, the purple matching his eyes, and ran reverent fingers across the soft fabric.

"And what is the price for this?" Matthew asked quietly, haltingly.

Something in Arthur twisted and dropped and he turned away. "Just come into town and take a bath. You smell."


Matthew was clinging to his arm, fan open and hiding most of his face, just his eyes and lashes peering over the lace. Arthur nodded to anyone who glanced their way, feeling Matthew stiffen when a gaggle of women passed by, giving him cursory glances.

"They're judging me." The blond whispered.

"To think you killed Thomas." Arthur sighed. "They're just women." When Matthew looked away ashamed, he added, voice hard and quiet, "Stand up straight and have some pride, boy. Will you let them continue thinking that they're better than you or will you remind them that they must be jealous?"

Matthew was quiet for a moment before he straightened slowly and gave the fan a soft flick, eyes resolutely ahead.

"That's a good whore."

Matthew discretely elbowed him. Arthur just laughed.


"What the bloody fuck is wrong with you?" Arthur shouted, dragging Matthew through town, the distant sound of shouts following them.

"He groped me!" Matthew shot back.

"So you hit him with the fan? That is not why I bought it for you!" The pirate snapped, giving Matthew a deliberately hard tug, causing the blond to stumble. Though, secretly, he was impressed by the way the other had managed to turn a fairly flimsy fan into a weapon of destruction.

"Well, everyone else—including you—was too busy drinking to defend my honor." Matthew said snidely. "Even Alistair defended the woman entertaining him and she would go to the highest bidder anyways."

"You can be a cruel little bastard." Arthur said. "Also, perhaps if you were entertaining me, I'd be more inclined to protect your womanly virtue. …And did you ever stop to think that that poor woman has to make due with what she has and not everyone is as blessed as you, young master?"

Matthew realized what he implied (correctly, though, but still) and gasped in shame. "I am horrible." He bemoaned as Arthur dragged him down another alley. "God forgive me…"

"Hang all. You're religious, too?" Arthur swore, shoving the blond into another alley and shoving him against the grimy wall and dragging him deeper into the darkness lest their chasers see them.

A rat scurried by and something crawled up Matthew's leg. He grimaced. "I'm filthy."

"Perhaps if you just smiled and walked away instead of beating that man around the head, you could have a nice warm bath." Arthur snapped, still looking out for their pursuers.

"It's bad enough that you molest me." Matthew said quietly. "I won't have other filthy stranger doing as he pleases as well."

Arthur paused, glancing at the blond who was staring at his emerald brooch. "Need I remind you, pet, that I have earned the privilege to touch your sacred skin?"

"So you say. However, the Navy won't even care if I signed a contract with you." Matthew said lightly, a vaguely mocking smile on his lips. "You will hang regardless."

"So ye see why I can't simply stop." The pirate grinned at him, leaning close and bumping their noses together. "I have to get my jollies somehow before my final days."

Matthew's nostrils flared and Arthur neatly dodged the punch that followed. He was about to start taunting the younger man again, when loud cursing drew his attention out of the alley. Then, hushing the other violently, he threw off his coat and attempted to grab Matthew's leg and hoist it up.

"What are you doing?" Matthew yelped, shoving Arthur but the pirate merely ignored him and shoved the blond up the wall, forcing him to wrap his legs around his hips.

"Making sure neither of us gets killed." The sandy-haired man snapped. "Now do not throw a fit or lest you wish to lack a tongue."


Matthew, arms crossed and a furious blush on his face, waited at the mouth of the empty alley way as the pirate captain came up behind him.

"It's a perfectly natural reaction." Arthur reasoned. "Why ye be so offended—"

"You were aroused." Matthew said curtly, not looking at the other. "I am mortified."

"Ye should be flattered. I am rarely attracted to infuriating brats." The pirate put on his coat and adjusted his hat. "What I can't understand is how you could sit there like a bloody statue."

"Some of us have self control."

"'Tis a little hard to have control when one finds oneself in such pleasant company." Arthur leered. "I be referring to your welcoming thighs of course. The rest of you isn't as hospitable."

"This is exactly why I can't stand you!" Matthew whirled around, uncharacteristic anger in the twist of his mouth and the glimmer of his eyes. "You're foul and arrogant with an inflated sense of entitlement."

"Forgive me if I'm not inclined to courtesy." Arthur bowed mockingly with a flourish of his arm. "Particularly towards you."

Matthew bit his lip, a little unwilling to acknowledge that the pirate was right. He had been acting, in particular, recently, terribly. But that didn't excuse the pirate's actions.

And he said as much. "And don't even use the 'I am a pirate' excuse." The blond added.


The walk back to the cheap inn was silent with Matthew refusing to speak to Arthur after the other had used the 'But I am a pirate' excuse. When Matthew tripped on an uneven edge of stone, Arthur grabbed him and pulled him upright.

"Watch it." He said gruffly.

If anything, the thoughtful frown on the other's face deepened and the silence between them thickened.

Arriving in the inn, they were greeted by a raucous of laughter and men waving their tankards at them, cheering Matthew's earlier moment of self-defense. Matthew merely rolled his eyes, a little pleased that maybe now the crew would give him a little more respect and think twice before flipping his skirt when he happened to smile politely at them and also a little annoyed because all those drunken bastards just sat there and kept making merry when that crook grabbed him.

Arthur led him up the creaky stairs, their path lit only by a few torches. He locked the door behind them and ushered Matthew towards the bed.

"Can bathe in the morning." He said, voice allowing no argument. "Too exhausted to bother."

Matthew just shrugged, crawling into bed and turning outwards, curling into a ball as the bed dipped and creaked when Arthur got in next to him and blew out the lamp.

And, after a few minutes of staring out the window at the inky sky speckled with stars, Matthew rolled over and tugged lightly on Arthur's sleeve.

"Oh bugger all." The pirate groaned, looking over at him, eye patch off and single green eye impatient.

"I'm sorry." Matthew whispered. "For my behavior. Even though you are a terrible person—actually, sometimes I think you're not even a person, just a monster—but that is no excuse for my behavior."

Arthur just looked at him.

Matthew looked back, expectantly.

"Apology accepted."

"…and?"

"I am not apologizing for wanting to fuck you. There is nothing wrong with it."

Matthew sighed, tiredly. "That's not it. Just…never mind." He was about to roll over when Arthur grabbed his arm. And then he violently flinched before forcing himself to relax.

"I will try not to arbitrarily kill people of whom you are fond in front of you from now on. I will also, henceforth, give you greater warning when I plan to force myself upon you."

"Or you could not do that at all."

"Fine. But I cannot held be accountable for my actions under the influence of rum."

"…You're usually under the influence of rum."

"Take it or leave it, love." Arthur shrugged wryly.

Matthew frowned. "You must also stop hitting me."

"As long as ye promise to stop making attempts on my life."

"Unless you deserve it." Matthew protested.

"Then I reserve the right to keep you in line any way I see fit, including, but not limited to, hitting you."

"Including what else?" the younger man asked sharply.

"Whatever it takes to get you to stop being a pain in the arse."

There was a moment of tense, hostile silence before Matthew laughed faintly, the sound easing the growing tension. "This is ridiculous."

Arthur's scowl flickered, something softer in his face. "Aye. But if it'll get ye to go to leave me be and sleep."

Matthew gave him a helpless little smile and rolled over. "Good night, pirate."

"At least preface that with captain, git." Arthur huffed. He didn't say anything else, but Matthew felt the thin sheet being dragged over his shoulder.

Matthew's smile didn't fade.


Matthew awoke to the sun burning onto his face. Grumbling, he rolled over to the cooler side of the bed, face buried in the flimsy pillows. Unwilling to give in to full consciousness, the blond wavered on the edge of sleep. It wasn't until he heard the sound of water, he sat up, groggily, and blinked.

Arthur, pouring a jug of water onto his head, paid him no attention as he scrubbed the soap out of his hair. Lean muscles flexing and scars stretched grotesque across his arms and chest, the pirate was all sun-darkened skin and sharp lines and ruin. Then, shoving dark, soaked spikes of hair out of his face, he stilled, catching sight of Matthew over the curve of his bicep.

"Don't stare." He chided, a tilted, roguish smirk playing on his lips. "Aren't ye the one going on and on about how rude it is."

Matthew frowned at him, scrubbing at his eyes and flopped back onto the bed. "Not staring." He said primly, voice thick with sleep. "Nothing to stare at."

Arthur rolled his eyes and went back to smoothing back his hair, water sluicing down his neck and the curve of his back. And Matthew fell back into a light sleep, interrupted only by the pirate rejoining him in bed and dodging the half-hearted swat Matthew gave him when he leaned over the blond.

"Leave me alone." Matthew demanded. "You're hovering."

"Give us a kiss and I might." Arthur teased, still finding endless pleasure in unnerving the younger man. He pulled at Matthew's collar and leaned down to kiss the topmost knob of his spine.

"What did we agree last night?" Matthew warned, scooting away.

"I said I wouldn't force me self on you. There's no force now, is there?" Arthur said flippantly, continuing to litter kisses down the bumps of the other's spine. When Matthew jerked away and gave him a hateful glare as he climbed out of bed, the pirate, shirtless and lounging only in his black trousers, just shrugged. "Pirate."

"Bastard." Matthew corrected coldly.

"Mm, prefer the term scallywag." Arthur grinned. He reached up and grabbed Matthew. "Come back, love. The innkeeper will be up to change the water. Come and play my blushing whore."


"Am I interrupting something?" the pretty brunette asked, eyebrow raised, when she opened the door and saw Matthew, sheets wrapped around him and shoulders bare, pressing the pillow down on Arthur's face.

"Not at all, Belle." Arthur grinned, grabbing Matthew's wrists and rolling the two of them over. Then, dropping a firm kiss onto the sharp tip of the enraged blond's nose, he rolled out of bed. "Just a bit of morning delight." Shrugging fluidly, the pirate grabbed his shirt and began to put it on, buttoning the pearl buttons as he left, winking at the unimpressed woman.

Matthew, on the other hand, hair mussed and downright furious, just glared at the man the entire way out. Even after Arthur left, the captive was still narrow-eyed and sulky.

"He has that effect on most people." Belle said gently, green eyes soft. Then, eyes scrutinizing, she glanced over the other's features. "Good heavens." She exclaimed, one hand on her hip. "You poor boy."

Matthew looked at her slowly, a look of horror dawning on his face.


"You do make a lovely girl." Belle comforted, stroking his still damp hair as she bustled around the kitchen. "But why do you put up with it?" She looked furious as she set a place of fresh waffles in front of him. "That cur. I'll give him a piece of my mind." She waved the wooden spoon threateningly and Matthew smirked, more than ready to see the petite blond go after the pirate.

"Well, I have done my fair share of ruining his days." Matthew said off-handedly, digging into the golden-brown waffles. "These are amazing."

"Of course they are." Belle smiled. "I made them, darling. But how dare he treat you like this?" She was outraged and storming around the kitchen.

"I suppose I'm used to it. I don't enjoy it but I suppose it's flattering. Though I wish women paid as much attention to me as he does." Matthew sighed. He was rather invisible back in Port Royal. "I can deal with him being attracted to me and at least he's stopped threatening to…" He trailed off, realizing he was talking to a woman.

Belle shook her head, understanding the unspoken term. Honestly, Arthur could be such a child. Coveting and bullying. That's all the pirate could do well. It was pathetic.

"And every time I try to escape, he has me pulled from the ocean or locks me in the cabin or ties me to the mast. The crew doesn't even laugh anymore. They don't even watch when we fight."

Belle rolled her eyes.

Men.


"At least take some pride in your appearance." Belle scolded, smoothing the rouge across Matthew's cheeks. "A little oil in your hair…some powder…maybe even lip coloring."

Matthew shook his head and tried to lean away. Belle glared.

"Hold still. If you must keep up this charade, at least try to be more convincing. Women will be able to identify you as male if you do not be careful and not all of them will be as understanding." She put both hands on her hips and gave him a stern look. When the boy looked appropriately contrite, she smiled sweetly. "You have beautiful hair."

"What did you do?" Arthur asked, stunned, when he walked in the kitchen, searching for his wayward captive when he didn't find Matthew in the room.

Matthew gave him a miserable look. His sun-bleached hair was pulled back with a white ribbon that matched the lace on the powder blue gown Arthur picked up in town yesterday.

Belle, on the other hand, smiled proudly. "Doesn't he look nice?" She gave Arthur a meaningful look.

"I suppose he looks like an expensive wh—" Arthur cut himself off when Belle's eyes widened and she shook her head warningly.


"…She's a tough woman to say no to, isn't she?"

Matthew sighed and limply looped his arm with Arthur's offered one as they moved through town. "I miss wearing trousers."


"What are you doing?"

"Making the most of a bad situation." Matthew said lightly, turning the whalebone comb over in his hands. It was delicately carved with intricate swirls making up the teeth. "I feel terrible deceiving everyone, especially Alistair. He'll probably hate me if he finds out I'm male." He said wistfully. "He keeps giving me such nice presents. I hate accepting them but I don't want to offend."

"I give you presents." Arthur said under his breath. "He'd probably still adore you." He added, louder.

Matthew looked disbelieving but held the comb up to his hair and, pulling a few strands back, slid it in the back and looked at himself in the polished silver. He stared at himself for a moment, expression cracking just so before he steeled himself, hands curling into fists at his side.


The boat rocked dangerously, the sound of cannon fire and men yelling fading into a dreadful cacophony as wood splintered and Peter yelped, clinging to his waist.

"There, there." Matthew said soothingly, patting the boy's sandy hair and not at all phased by the naval battle occurring outside. Arthur had banished both him and Peter to the cabin and locked them in and told them to wait and if, on the slight possibility they lose, to shoot their selves with the pistol he so kindly left behind.

Peter had been kicking and screaming, red-faced and bitter that the pirate had refused to let him fight. But, the moment that the canon fire started, he took refuge in Matthew's arms, shaking and claiming to only be comforting the blond, you know, just in case she was afraid.

Matthew had sighed and just calmed the boy down, trying to get him to tell him about his self.

"I'm going to be a great pirate lord!" The boy had proclaimed, green eyes sparkling. "As soon as that jerk Captain Kirkland lets me have my own sword, I'll take over this ship!"

"That sounds like mutiny." Matthew had smiled at the boy's enthusiasm.

He preened. "I know." Peter had smiled smugly before he looked cross. "The Captain just laughed when I told him. But I'll do it! I swear! And I'll make my papa proud. He was a famous pirate captain too!"

Matthew tilted his head thoughtfully, examining the other's thick eyebrows and coarse hair. "Oh?" he had said curiously. "Is that why you joined this crew? To find him?"

Peter had just nodded proudly.

Now Matthew was regaling the cabin boy with a made-up story, pulling out details about mermaids and krakens and a fountain of youth and a dashing Caribbean pirate with a compass that led one to his or her heart's desire. It was enough to distract the child from the battle raging outside and eventually, as the sun set and the explosions ceased and the boat calmed, Peter fell into a light slumber and Matthew was left to quietly fret.

When the door opened, he couldn't keep the relief off his face when Arthur, haggard but smirking, leaned in the open doorway, face smudged with sweat and soot and blood, missing his hat but looking to be in one piece.

"He alright?" He nodded at the child resting his head on Matthew's lap.

"As brave as his father." Matthew said softly, indigo eyes knowing.

Arthur opened his mouth before thinking better of it and shaking his head. "Good for him." He said nonchalantly, stepping into the room. To be honest, he had been surprised to see the blond still there, serene and unperturbed. He half expected Matthew to make a run for it. And to see him there, pistol at his side and Peter calmly snoring on the opposite side and the setting sun casting gold and red and violet across the room and getting lost in his hair, well, Arthur found himself gravitating closer to the pair, kneeling at Matthew's side.

Matthew gave him a curious look but Arthur didn't speak, pulling the boy into a loose hug. The younger man froze but when the pirate didn't do anything else, he relaxed.

"I'm glad you didn't die." He admitted. And he was. He didn't know Spanish and didn't expect the same accommodating treatment from the terrifying Captain Carriedo. Also, after almost seven months, he was getting used to the detestable dread pirate Captain Kirkland.

"That's probably the kindest thing you or anyone has said to me." Arthur snorted. "Worry not, git, I won't mistake it for fondness."

Matthew worried his lower lip before, feeling rather bad of his earlier treatment of the pirate (though it was completely warranted, he maintained), cautiously, saying, "I doubt Captain Carriedo would bring me back such lovely dresses."

There was a moment of silence between them before Arthur laughed loudly and even Matthew smiled.


"You're not going to give a little something to Margaret?" James asked casually, raising a dark eyebrow.

"Why would I?" Arthur asked, more interested in sifting through the Spanish treasure. He compared a golden ring with a ruby imbedded in it to one with a pretty blue stone.

"This would like nice against the lass." Alistair said, holding up a dangling pendant with a polished red stone. "Shame she doesn't have much up top, otherwise it would look perfect between her—"

Arthur snatched the necklace from his brother. "She is not entitled to any of this." He tossed the necklace back onto the pile, choosing the ring with the ruby. "Put aside my share and take yours and divide the rest for the crew. Valiant men, all of them." His voice was gruff with pride.

"You say that. But…that ring is for her, isn't it?" James asked dryly. "Wouldn't she prefer something more…delicate?"

"The wench nearly took off my head this morning with a book. Delicate hardly describes her." Arthur answered dismissively, secretly ready to add 'delicate' to his teasing of Matthew.

"…You didn't deny it." Alistair grinned slyly.


Arthur didn't give the ring to Matthew, instead tossing it into the recesses of his desk.

Not like the blond would agree to wear it anyways.


"What are you doing?" Arthur asked, irritated and sweaty. The sea hadn't been kind to them recently. The wind had stalled and the ship had stayed in the same place for the past five days. The air had thickened and stagnated, hovering above the deck and trapping the sun's rays.

Everyone was short tempered, restless, stripped down to trousers and breeches, and skin burnt from the harsh sun.

Matthew, unable to do the same, stayed in the sweltering cabin. And Arthur found him, splayed out on the bed in only a chemise, the gown rumpled on the floor. The violet-eyed man looked sullen, cheeks flush with the unforgiving heat and head throbbing. He sat up, giving Arthur a questioning look.

"Nothing." He answered honestly.

"Oh, so basically the same as always." The dread pirate said snidely, striding to his desk and grabbing a map, more annoyed with the suffocating heat and lack of progress than with Matthew's slothfulness.

"Well, I'd be happy to help." Matthew retorted. "Oh wait, the entire crew thinks I'm a girl." Then deflating, he added, "I don't mind helping if you need another set of hands."

Arthur laughed coldly. "Yes, your dainty, soft hands will be well-suited to fixing rigging and pulling rope."

"So we are back to childish insults?" Matthew asked, stung and bristling. "Fine."


"You did what?" Alistair's mouth dropped open.

"You heard me." Arthur said defensively, still walking a little bow-legged, before yelling at some midshipmen to stop lazing around, no you do not have heatstroke you wankers, get back to work!

"But did you really have to drag her down to the bilge?" James asked, a little appalled at the way his younger brother had hauled the young woman, who shrieked the entire way in French (James knew some French and if Arthur knew some as well, he'd have shot the woman without question—infatuation or not), while Arthur, stone-faced, merely tightened his grip on her elbow. "Why not lash her to the mast?"

"And listen to that harpy scream at me for the rest of the day?" Arthur snorted. "I'd rather bow to a Frenchman."

"In the lassie's defense, you do act as though you're overcompensating for someth—" Alistair began before finding himself nose to nose with Arthur's pistol, gunpowder residue irritating his nose.

Though, to be honest, it had happened numerous times before so the redhead wasn't really terrified.


No one dared mention that the last time Arthur lashed Matthew to the mast in such heat, the blond had passed out and been almost unresponsive for an hour and that Arthur had almost skewered the doctor with his cutlass.


"And then he pushed me onto the bed and said he knew the perfect way to shut me up." Matthew ranted, pacing the tiny cell, kicking up water from old puddles as he stomped.

Alfred just looked sympathetic. "Artie's never been good with ladies. And the heat doesn't help." He said graciously and Matthew smiled at him, though he knew Alfred couldn't see it.

Alfred Jones was Arthur's first mate who, years and years ago led the mutiny against him and was a pirate captain in his own right before a shipwreck left him blind and half-dead.

Arthur had found him and, for reasons Matthew didn't quite understand, brought him back and kept him in the bilge. Alfred had just shrugged and gave Matthew a bright smile, saying it was Arthur's own brand of kindness.

"He wouldn't know kindness if it sunk this stupid ship." Matthew had said bitterly, taking a seat on an old crate.

Alfred sitting in the hammock just shook his head. "Arthur complains about you too." He said, a secretive smile on his face. "Did you really stab him with a butter knife?"

"Twice." Matthew admitted.

The former pirate laughed loudly, head thrown back, his laughter filling the cramped room. "You are a brave, little lady." He said, once his chuckles died down, blue eyes twinkling.

Matthew blushed, grudgingly accepting the compliment.

"And don't worry." Alfred added consolingly. "Arthur will get over it. Whatever it is."

"I insulted his manhood." Matthew said delicately.

Alfred blinked.

Matthew clarified. "Literally."

Alfred burst into another fit of laughter.

Matthew didn't add that he also kicked the dread pirate in said manhood, to add injury to the insult.


Alfred reminded Matthew a lot of Amelia and the boy was struck by a sudden longing for his twin, wondering, not for the first time, if she was alright. Though, it had been a while since she filled his thoughts and, for that, Matthew felt guilt settling thickly in the back of his throat.

"I'm worried for my sister." He admitted to Alfred. "I don't know what's happened to her…what if she's…" He trailed off, fingers knotted in the overcoat he had thrown on before Arthur dragged him out of the cabin.

"If she is anything like you, then she must be fine." The other reassured. "Though, if you want to see her again, maybe you should let Arthur cool off for a few days?"

"I doubt I will see her again in this world." Matthew said glumly.

"Oh, you're religious too?" Alfred sniggered. "Bet Arthur loves that." Then, sobering, he scolded the younger man. "Have some faith, Maggie."


"I'm not going." Matthew said firmly.

Arthur glared at him. "Fine. You can stay here the entire night." He said with a note of finality.

"Fine with me!" Matthew glared back.

"She can share my hammock." Alfred said, beaming, a mischievous edge to his words.


"I hate you." Matthew sulked, arms crossed.

"Sticks and stones." Arthur said airily, patting Matthew's rump as he carried the blond up the stairs.

No sooner had Alfred spoken, the dread pirate had stomped across the tiny cell and lifted a shocked Matthew over his shoulder, not even flinching when the other began to struggle.

Arthur wasn't the strongest on the ship, but he could easily deal with a pampered noble who had never done true hard labor in his life.

Of course, Matthew did managed to kick the other in the stomach before Arthur pinned his swinging legs with both arms.

"It's so nice when lovers stop quarrelling." Alfred had chirped as the pair left, much to Matthew's consternation.


Arthur tossed the blond onto the bed and just stared down at him, looking imperial as ever. He had abandoned his ornate, crimson doublet and leather gloves in the heat and had settled on the loose white blouse tucked into his trousers that, in turn, were tucked into worn black boots. His fingers glimmered with rings and Matthew could even see the gold hoop the other had hanging from his pierced ear.

He wrapped his long overcoat around him tightly and looked away from the sandy-haired man. But Arthur took a seat next to him on the bed, placing an unwelcome hand on Matthew's thigh. Matthew moved away with a scowl but Arthur, patience running thin, grabbed his wrist tightly.

"Are we back to this now?"

"You are the one who started it." Matthew said icily. "I have been trying to be civil but your actions today have proved that you are incapable of keeping our truce. You think you can keep bullying me and I might have become complacent but I am merely trying to survive so do not even begin to think that I have accepted you and do not even assume that I am any less a man because I am in this ridiculous gown. And, realize, that tomorrow I shall go back to trying to kill you. I suggest you watch your back." Matthew finished.

"Is that all?" Arthur asked, one thick eyebrow quirked and tone bored.

"…And you are, without a doubt, the worst person I have ever had the misfortune of encountering." Matthew paused, before adding, "That's all."

Arthur hummed thoughtfully. "You know, pet. I didn't hear a 'I hate you' in there."

"It was implied." Came the harried response. "Why? Would you like a verbal reassurance of my complete and utter detestation of your person? Because I will gladly—"

"Forgot how damned eloquent you become." Arthur rolled his eyes. "Do us a favor, love, shut up." His voice lowered as he leaned forward, carding his fingers through blond waves, locks catching on his rings. "Just shut up."

And he kissed Matthew.


Belle is Belgium. Alfred was Arthur's first mate who mutinied. Matthew's 'girl' name is Margaret. Yes, I made Peter Arthur's son (Arthur is a number of years older than Matthew, at least 10 years) and no, Arthur's brothers don't know that they already have a nephew. Peter never knew his father and no one has connected the dots for the same reason no one has realized that Matthew is a boy. Arthur is a douche and yes, he has a little crush not that he'll be admitting it. Matthew is trying to accept the situation for what it is. Arthur is also trying to be nicer. Yes, no one is talking exactly like a stereotypical pirate or with an accent. It's too hard to keep typing out. OTL

It's really, really hard for these two. XD

Still worth reading?