Sorry for the late update, my wonderful readers! . I've actually had this chapter written for quite a while now, but I hadn't had time to post it! Anyway, onto the second chapter! I hope you enjoy. :D

Second Plank – Chef

'Wake up.'

Francis groaned. 'Non, mon cherie.'

'Wake up!'

Francis had been dreaming of his home, France. He was seeing the beautiful fields, beautiful architecture, and beautiful ladies when suddenly, he was seeing stars. He bleary blinked open his eyes and rubbed his sore head, finding Yao's round face very close to his and a metal spoon gripped in his pale hands.

'Ah!' Francis scrambled up, wincing as cramps jolted through his back and the previous day's events rushing through his head. 'Y-Yao, what is the matter?'

'You're late for work!' the Chinaman scowled, tossing some clothes at Francis. 'Get dressed. I'll meet you in the kitchens.' Francis stared at Yao's back as he slammed the door closed.

He sighed, looking around him. The room they had given him wasn't half bad – it had a round window that let in the sea breeze, a hammock just big enough to fit him comfortably and a cupboard built into the opposite wall, complete with a lock so the contents wouldn't fall out when the ship moved. They were pirates, but certainly very hospitable ones.

He made to get out of his small hammock, which was quite a feat. He had never slept in a hammock before, but it wasn't as uncomfortable as he thought it would have been. Francis had read about pirates before, when he was a child. Apparently they slept in hammocks because then the tilting of the ship wouldn't roll them off their beds or cause sickness. He managed to get to his feet and dress himself.

Clad in baggy brown pants and a white shirt, his leather belt tied tightly around his waist, Francis stumbled out of the room and looked around. Now where are the kitchens? A familiar head of dark blonde hair passed him and he grabbed the boy by the shoulder. 'Matthew, my boy, can you tell me the way to the kitchens?'

The boy jumped at the sudden contact, but round eyes rolled to meet his. 'Uh, sure,' he said, his face confused. Francis gave a small bow in thanks as Matthew pointed down the hallway. 'Just at the end there.'

The Frenchman smiled as he arrived at the door to the kitchens. Smell of fish, vegetables and oil drifted into his nose and he scowled. He looked around for Yao but his eyes stopped at a petit figure at the end of the room. She had her back to Francis and was wearing pants and a blue shirt, slender fingers raking through long black hair. Francis slipped behind her, placing his hands on the counter in front and on either side of her, and smiled.

'What brings a belle lady like you to a stinky ship like this?' he purred. The body under his tensed and his eyes widened when he saw who he was really flirting with.

With a stream of Chinese curses, Yao's elbow found Francis' stomach and his foot landed between his legs. With a feeble moan, Francis sunk to the floor. Yao retied his hair in a ponytail, his face red. 'I am not a lady! I'm manly!'

'Whatever you say, of course!' Francis raised his hands defencelessly.

'Get to work,' Yao spat, pointing to a counter. 'Start making stew for lunch. I have to make Captain's breakfast. He is still asleep and I have to wake him. I always serve him breakfast at six, but today I am letting him sleep two hours more. The poor man needs to sleep off all that alcohol.'

'What does he have for breakfast?'

'Tea. And some bread. Now get to work!' Yao snapped his fingers. 'Actually, wait. Today, you make the breakfast. And serve it to him. I am not in the mood for dealing with a captain that has a hangover.'

Francis took a step back. 'Wait! He hates the French. Wouldn't he try to kill me again?'

'He'll be too sleepy to realise,' Yao snapped, thrusting a plate and a cup into Francis' hands. 'Wake him and put this on his side table. He will eat it. His quarters are on the top deck.'

Francis looked down at the tray. 'Is he always like that?'

'Like what?' Yao raised an eyebrow.

'Well…your Captain seemed a little rowdy, non? A little…immature?' he said slowly, not wanting to upset. 'To me, your First Mate seems more like he's in charge.'

To his surprise, Yao's face softened. 'Captain can't hold his liquor. That's the only problem. Meet him when he's sober, and maybe your impression will change,' was all he said.

Francis licked his lips, hesitantly following orders, Yao's last words ringing in his head. My impression will change? Like that stupid Englishman can impress me. He walked up onto the deck and climbed the stairs to the Captain's room. The door was unlocked, as Yao had said, and Francis stepped into the room. It was a beautiful room. Sunlight streamed in through the two round windows and danced over a wooden desk, brown chairs, a large chest, a tall cupboard and glinted off the gun on the floor. Francis instinctively kicked the firearm away and it skidded across the floor, hitting the sword on the ground with a clang. He flinched and saw movement in the corner of his eye.

The bed…well, it wasn't a bed, of course. It was a rather big, light green hammock piled with white sheets. It wasn't very large, but it was larger than Francis'. The lump in the white sheets moved again as Francis gingerly approached it. A head was resting on the pillow and Francis couldn't believe that the peaceful face before him belonged to the wild Captain from yesterday. Bushy eyebrows were scrunched in irritation. Long gold lashes cast shadows on the pale cheeks and pink lips were slightly open as the man breathed in and out. Francis placed the plate and cup on the table beside the hammock and shook the man awake. The Captain's face scrunched up and he turned away.

'Captain,' Francis said. 'Wake up. Breakfast is here.' When he got no reply, he said it louder and shook more. But there was no response. Francis decided to be more familiar. 'Arthur,' he muttered. 'Wake up now! Arthur!' The Captain – Arthur – groaned, and his eyes blinked open. They landed on Francis and before Francis could shout, he felt cold metal against his chest and a half-awake Briton very close to his face.

'Who're you?' he mumbled, his gaze hazy.

Francis swallowed and gently pushed the small man back into the sheets, eyes on the gun. This man keeps a gun under his pillow! 'Um, I am the new chef,' he replied, trying not to make his accent evident. Arthur gazed at the food, then back at Francis. He shrugged and began drinking is tea.

'I've got such a bloody headache,' he groaned. 'Very well then,' he mumbled, pulling at his nightshirt. 'Thank you. Now off with you; I need to change.'

Francis was shocked. Not only had that man completely forgotten about Francis and his nationality, but his manners and speech were suddenly polished. Maybe Yao had been right in part, but that didn't make that man a good Captain. Francis would have to see him in action.

'The Captain wants to see the Frenchman.'

Francis looked up from chopping fish to see Matthew at the door. Yao turned to him expectantly. 'Well, go. Don't keep Captain waiting.'

Francis wiped his hands on a rag and followed Matthew. Instead of going to the Captain's room, they went to the front of the deck. A familiar figure was standing by the wheel, both hands on a spyglass looking out into the sea. Matthew cleared his throat and Arthur looked at them, retracting the device. His jade eyes had a shine that hadn't been there yesterday and his skin was no longer red. His clothes seemed brighter as well – white ruffles gently cascaded down his shirt, stopping short of a gleaming, jewelled belt buckle (probably stolen) and dark pants that swept down to polished leather boots. His crimson coat rustled and the variety of rings (also probably stolen) on his fingers shone as he pushed his hat up. He gazed at Francis.

'I would apologise for my atrocious behaviour yesterday,' he began with a scowl. 'But considering the circumstances, I believe you need to apologise to me.'

Francis bowed, surprised at the pleasant, crisp accent and elegant way of speech. This man didn't seem like his drunk self, nor did he seem like a pirate. 'I am deeply sorry. I did not realise this was the ship Britannia Angel. The sign I saw said L'Ange de Mer.'

Arthur couldn't help but laugh, his demeanour taking a turn. 'Yes! Oh dear lord, don't you find that amusing? Good think our boy Matthew knows a little French. He painted that for us. A British pirate ship hiding under a French name? That way, if we do anything, the French are to blame!' he guffawed. Matthew cleared his throat again.

'Captain, this man is French.'

'I know,' Arthur glowered. 'Francis Bonnefoy, you're lucky Alfred was in charge when he assigned you to work in the kitchens. If I was able back then, I would have sent you off the plank.'

'Did somebody say plank?' Ivan's soft voice flowed. Francis shivered.

'But he wasn't in charge!' Arthur jumped as the ebullient voice shouted near his ear. Alfred winked at him. 'You're really hard to handle when you're drunk, Captain.'

'Bloody hell Alfred,' Arthur sniffed, adjusting his collar. 'Stop doing that. And you're the one to blame. You got me drunk in the first place.'

'Hey, I just leave the rum in front of you and I look back to see it empty! So I refill the mug, but it happens again! And again, and again…'

'You tempted me, you git!' Arthur whacked his First Mate on the head.

Francis watched the exchange with amusement. '…are you lovers?'

The whole deck fell silent. Arthur and Alfred stared at the Frenchman.

'Excuse me?' Arthur asked.

'Lovers. Are you lovers? You know, two people who-'

'I bloody well know what lover means!' he squealed while everyone erupted in laughter.

'Oh man,' Alfred slapped his knee, eyes streaming. 'Captain and me? Are you kidding? I would rather drown myself in acid than see him without- '

Arthur punched him in the stomach, face red. 'You don't have to drown yourself, I'll drown you instead!' He turned to Francis. 'Is there even a brain in that thick skull of yours? What aspect of Alfred could remotely attract me?! You'll walk the plank if you keep acting this way!'

Ivan's towering figure came into view. 'Did somebody say plank?'

'Get lost, all of you!' Arthur huffed, extending his spyglass once more and placing an eye against it. On closer inspection, it was a magnificent piece: black metal rimmed with gold and lightly studded with small gems. Most likely stolen. 'If Francis Bonnefoy wants to get to France, we have to have enough goods to sell on the coast. Now excuse me as I try to look for ships to pillage!'

Francis laughed nervously. 'W-we're going to pillage?'

'We're pirates,' Arthur frowned. 'Of course we pillage.' His face brightened and he looked back at his crew, giving them a curt nod and pointing west. Everybody dispersed, some went below deck and others got the sails ready. He glared at Francis. 'Follow me.'

The two climbed down into the ship and Arthur walked them to Francis' room. 'In there.'

'What's going on?'

'I'm going to lock you inside. I don't want you coming in the way.' He jerked his head. 'Found a ship. Good size. Trading ship, I think. It's time to do our job.'

'I…I can help! I can use a sword and pistols. They seem pretty easy to use.'

Arthur shook his head, smiling dryly. 'Yeah you can help. Help the trading ship. I know what you're planning – you think you can help the trading crew fight us, then they'll be grateful and provide a free ride home, huh?' he shoved Francis inside the room. 'Well, tough luck. You're staying here until it's all over.'

And with that, he slammed the door closed and Francis heard the lock turn. He clicked his tongue in annoyance as the footsteps resided, pulling at his long golden hair. Arthur had been partly right. Francis only wanted to warn the trading ship from a distance, hoping that he could save it without anyone finding out it was him who did the warning. If it came down to traders versus pirates, he knew who would win. It would be suicide to try and help the losing side. But maybe he could do at least something on the top deck, rather than sitting here being useless. He would think of the next step once he was on the deck. But how do I get there…?

His eyes landed on the open window. He grinned.

That's how.

I hope you enjoyed this instalment! The next chapter will include a little bit of action and the introduction of another group of lovely Hetalia characters! Please, if you have the time, review to help me improve, or just to tell me your thoughts! ^^