Chapter 3 : An Absence of Walls
It had been one full day since the 'incident' in the galley, which had been cleaned up and hidden away as quickly as possible. No open talk was made of the old woman who had suddenly vanished from the ship, and she was quickly forgotten as each pirate came to his own conclusions on the matter—rumors, short-lived, would only spread for a time. But it was difficult to rid such memories from the minds of three men: one who had witnessed it, one who had ended it, and one who was probably fighting for his life at this very moment.
Presently, the aforementioned witness was sitting outside the galley, drained and sleepless after a night spent beautifying the kitchen floors, and also from nearly constant thoughts of the third man. He had learned he would be forced to work whether he liked it or not; but one would think they might actually allow him to see the captain just once, since they mattered to each other now.
At least that was what Lovino wanted to think. It was probably one-sided anyway.
The sound of loud boots hitting the newly cleaned floor caught his attention and he glanced up wearily. Then he hurriedly jumped to his feet. It was true that he was none too fond of Eduardo, and the feeling might possibly be mutual, but he was the only one who had any sort of information right now.
The words tumbled out of Lovino's mouth before he could stop them.
"Is... is he going to be all right?"
Eduardo paused and looked at him.
"They gave the antidote."
Lovino took a heavy breath.
"And? ...Did it work?"
Eduardo shrugged.
"Maybe, maybe not."
The Italian narrowed his eyes defiantly at the Spanish quartermaster.
He was not worried, damn it. There was absolutely nothing to dwell on, nothing at all. The pirate captain was going to recover and it was no concern of Lovino's, or so he told himself.
But of course it was his concern. It mattered very much, for reasons he would rather not think about.
"What the fuck do you mean by that?"
"I mean what I mean."
Eduardo whistled a strange tune and glanced off in the opposite direction, so that Lovino's scathing glare went virtually unnoticed. The Italian redoubled his efforts to catch the large pirate's attention but ended up venting his anger instead.
"Well, you know what, bastardo, that doesn't count for shit. Why can't you even give me a straight fucking answer!? Not even a damn 'yes' or 'no'. And he's your fucking captain. What are you even trying to—ow!"
He yelped in pain as Eduardo grabbed his arm and roughly hauled him forward.
"Ye care about him, go see him."
Lovino spluttered, face turning red as he rubbed his aching arm.
"The fuck—I-I don't even fucking c-ca—"
He was silenced by a stern look from the expressionless pirate.
"I'll not have a scurvy little prisoner foulin' the air with his smart mouth. I been kind to ye already. An' don't lie to me, ye do care. So ye find him, or I send ye below decks. There be lots o' space down there..."
Lovino couldn't even tell him he wasn't allowed at all near the captain's quarters—he had already gotten up and run, with a none-too-friendly push from Eduardo. He could no longer ignore that inner voice screaming for him to visit Carriedo. And it didn't help that his heart was racing—why the fuck was it racing?—as he pondered what exactly to do when he saw the captain.
Should he throw himself into the man's arms and thank him over and over for saving him? Well fuck, that might sound nice—cough, what prisoners were probably expected to do—but Carriedo was hurt and—fuck it, there had to be another way. Brush him off and act like he didn't care? No, not even Lovino in his most hard-hearted state would do that, and at the moment he was feeling perfectly sane and unwilling to accept an early death.
Unwanted thoughts still plagued him, however.
Why the fuck had Carriedo saved him, anyway? He could have just stood back and watched Lovino meet his end by a poisoned dagger, but instead he had pushed him away and taken the hit. That was not something pirate captains were supposed to do! Heartless scoundrels never moved their asses to save their own, let alone a lowly, unimportant prisoner. Those pirates might claim they needed him to help them find treasure, and Lovino might know he was worth much more than any of them would dare to believe, but the bitter truth was that, all things considered, his life really didn't matter much on this ship.
And yet Carriedo had done the unthinkable. In that one moment, driven by some unknown motive, he had thrown all semblance of status quo out the window. There was only one reason for this that Lovino could think of, and that was the one reason he could not fucking accept.
Pirates never fucking cared about anyone.
Never. No fucking way in hell.
And prisoners did not give a single crap about their captors either.
Except Lovino Vargas.
... Fucking Spanish bastard, already messing with his damn mind.
Lovino allowed himself a large sigh as he neared the captain's quarters, and tried in vain to convince himself he was not nervous. Sure, this sort of thing didn't happen on a daily basis, but Lovino was Lovino and he found he really had no other choice. It was just his luck after all, he thought woefully to himself as he walked along.
Oh God, he hoped that dratted captain was still alive, because he, Lovino Vargas, couldn't possibly live without Carriedo.
No, that was not a fucking declaration of love.
It was the goddamn truth.
Surprisingly, the men standing guard in front now moved aside to let him pass, grudgingly but almost respectfully. He must have risen in status since the incident, or maybe he was now assumed to be in Carriedo's favor, or both—although judging by the unfriendly aura radiating from those pirates, it was not something he should be proud of. Lovino could hear voices from inside, one of them a familiar Spanish accent. Carriedo was all right, then.
Tentatively, Lovino took a step inside and was immediately greeted by a cheerful set of green eyes, belonging to a certain man sitting up in bed. Oh hell, the Spaniard most definitely was better. It was clear he had been in the middle of a merry argument with the ship's doctor—over whether he should further rest, no less!—but it ended the moment Lovino entered the room. That was when Carriedo brightened, shooed the doctor away like some unwanted fly, and turned his full attention to the Italian. He actually looked quite himself aside from a little paleness and a bandaged arm. Lovino tried desperately not to note his lack of upper-body covering, and failed miserably.
"So you finally came to visit!" Carriedo exclaimed, favoring him with a smile. His brow furrowed the slightest bit, however. "I was thinking about you," he said rather suddenly.
Lovino choked.
"But, you're all right, so that's a good thing," the pirate rambled on, as if nothing was the matter at all. He flashed a most uncaptainly grin and beckoned Lovino closer. "Have a seat! I know you came to tell me something... important, sí?" That was not a playful eyebrow raise, because Lovino wasn't looking; he was doing as he was told, sitting his ass down in a hard wooden chair.
"I... I guess," he said, not very convincingly. Dear Lord, how the fuck did one go about expressing thanks? The last time he had done so was... oh, about thirteen years ago. Give or take ten more.
Carriedo was peering closely at him with those unavoidable, inquisitive emerald eyes.
"Sí?"
Just a simple thank-you. It shouldn't be that hard at all, unless one was a grumpy Italian named Lovino Vargas.
He took a deep breath and the words came out in a rush.
"I... UhthankyouforsavingmeI'mreallyfuckinggrateful."
Fuck yes, that was the way to do it. Short and simple and to the point. Someone would have to award him a chest of gold for this later, even if he already had hundreds back home. Or freedom, that sounded rather appealing too.
Without a certain pirate giving him a wonderfully confused look, as though none of Lovino's thanks had even made it halfway to his ears.
"... Lo siento, I didn't hear that... Say it slower, por favor?"
Lovino suddenly felt like falling off the edge of the earth and never appearing again.
Slowly.
Say it slowly.
S-l-o-w-l-y.
"I... I th-thank you for fucking saving me, it means a whole fucking lot, okay!? There! You fucking heard it now!"
He glanced up to find Carriedo laughing.
Laughing.
Loudly.
And at him, Lovino Vargas.
"Ahahahah—lo siento, mi amigo, but your face, it was muy lindo and I just had to! And you said it twice, so that makes it doubly special~! Don't worry about it, Lovi, it was my duty after all!"
Ugh.
Just when he'd actually begun to start to kind of like that asshole of a captain...
No! Pirates were never meant to be liked, damn it.
"Sh-shut the fuck up!" Lovino shouted indignantly, quite forgetting for a moment who he was talking to. "And don't fucking call me Lovi or—or I'll—"
"Or you'll what~?" Carriedo asked sweetly, making full use of his—cough—alluring Spanish accent. This was not the sort of conversation that normally took place between captain and prisoner. In fact, conversations were not supposed to exist at all! And if things came to that Lovino wouldn't even be here—he'd be resting at home in his beautiful Italian villa, making small talk with his family and planning more getaways... Nevertheless the Italian felt his face warm again, followed by alarm bells clanging in his head.
"...N-nothing, asshole."
"All right then, Lovi~!"
"Fuck you."
"Hopefully soon, hm?"
Damn him to hell, Carriedo really was having fun with this, wasn't he? And oh God, oh God there was that damned wink again, that ridiculously attractive self-assured smile and that fucking... body...
A part of Lovino's mind screamed and died.
Oh hell no.
Hell. No.
That was the captain and he... he was still the prisoner here.
No.
"I-I'm leaving now," he announced in a not-shaky voice as he stood up, determined to be the more mature man and leave before things could get any worse. "I... still need to make the damn paella." Forgetting what had happened in the kitchen a few hours prior still required effort, however.
Evidently Carriedo was having a similar problem. His face had disappointingly lost some of its luster, but as Lovino turned to leave he grabbed hold of the Italian's hand.
"Lovino."
Cue small heart attack.
"You'll... be coming back, sí?"
The pirate actually had the gall to look hopeful. But not only that... there was something else in his eyes, something almost quiet and pleading, hidden in the very back of that forest-green gaze.
Carriedo really did mean what he was saying, then.
Lovino quickly looked away and gave a long, loud sigh, knowing he had absolutely no choice in the matter after all.
"Well of-fucking-course I'm coming back." Dear Lord, he had to clean his mouth, or one day he might meet his end by colorful language. "...I'm making you food, aren't I?"
Carriedo's face immediately lit up again and he squeezed Lovino's hand warmly (no, that did not feel good). "Then I'll be waiting~! You'll make it delicioso, just for me?"
Oh, this man. Lovino couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes.
"Sì, sì, I will. J-just... let go of me. I'll be back."
And with that he pulled away his hand, turned swiftly and made his way back out the door. He was just quick enough to be out of earshot of the Captain's next words.
"Tú eres extraño... pero me caes bien."
An open book, that was it. This Lovino Vargas was an open book and Antonio could read almost every single emotion that flitted across his face—perhaps, he dared say, even his thoughts. The moment the Italian had entered the room Antonio had discerned his fear and nervousness—those two were the easiest to sense, as he had learned from years of hard experience. And then there was the Italian's obvious fascination with Antonio's body, which was flattering, to say the least. He was a most interesting creature, indeed.
And Antonio had to admit he rather liked him, in a purely pirate-captain sort of way. What a refreshing change from the cruel, hardened, scheming faces of those he called his mates. Here was someone who actually knew how to feel, someone whom he could tease and laugh at... genuinely. Those were human instincts, to be sure, but they were instincts Antonio had laid to rest many years ago. And along came this little Italian, bringing them all back in one fell swoop.
What a strangely welcome feeling, he mused to himself as the door to his cabin swung open.
In walked the Italian with a hot, steaming plate on a wooden tray. The expression on his face was one of carefully arranged displeasure, but it was easy to see through anyway. He averted his eyes as soon as he caught Antonio staring at him.
"... I'm back... Capitano."
Oh, he had not just addressed Antonio as his captain... in Italian! The way he said it was irresistible, simply irresistible. The Capitano rewarded Lovino with his brightest grin and bade him come forward.
"About time, mi amigo!" Even if Lovino wasn't one to make small talk, Antonio could always compensate for his silence. "You don't know how starving I am right now... must have been the medicine... but that smells fantástico, I can't wait to eat it!"
He thought he caught an eye roll at his enthusiasm. "Like hell it doesn't. We Italians are always the best cooks, hands down."
Well, it was nice to know he had garnered some sort of reaction from Lovino. Antonio made sure to wink at him before taking a bite of the paella. And—yes, there was the blush he had been waiting for!
"Muy delicioso," the Spaniard said appreciatively, and meant it.
Lovino still scowled at him, however, as though Antonio's happy eating vexed him terribly. With a jolt the pirate realized his little prisoner must be hungry, and did the most logical thing under the circumstances. He handed over the spoon.
"Here, have some too!"
The look Lovino gave him was an are-you-fucking-crazy kind of look, as to why he would even suggest the idea of sharing food, but all the Spaniard saw was a man gaping at him. Antonio sighed—some people just couldn't recognize a blessing when they saw one—and took the opportunity to insert a spoonful of paella into the Italian's still-open mouth. The reaction was instantaneous: Lovino made a loud noise and nearly choked on his food, unbalancing himself in his chair.
"Wh-what the fuck was that!?" he shouted indignantly after he had (thankfully) swallowed the paella. Antonio gave him a questioning look.
"Did you not like it? You made it, after all!"
"F-fuck you—c-could have—gotten—another damn spoon—"
Oh, so it was only that!
Antonio laughed merrily. "Why, is it a problem? It saves time though."
Lovino glared at him, red-faced and dangerous-looking.
"Y-you fucking b-bastard, the hell are you planning!?"
"Nothing! We eat like this all the time—"
"No fucking way."
"—And consider this a privilege, your capitán is actually sharing food with you!"
"Sh-shut up. I don't fucking want it."
"... Really? All right then, I'll eat it all myself~!"
And Antonio proceeded to do so with the utmost relish, eyeing the irked Italian the whole while. Two could play at this game of being difficult, after all, and Antonio always won at his games. Always.
He had plowed halfway through the food when he heard a loud grumble from a nearby stomach.
A few seconds passed, and then Lovino let out a supremely irritated grunt.
"Ah, what wonderfully delicioso food, I could eat this forever!" Antonio sighed dramatically, with an expression of pure contentment on his face.
Lovino made an even louder displeased noise.
"It tastes so good, almost like heaven—"
"F-fucking stop it, you ass! I want my damn food!"
Antonio beamed at him. "Oh, but you must watch your mouth around your capitán—and don't forget to say 'please', Lovi~!"
"D-don't fucking call me—"
"Just one minute before I finish this up!" sang Antonio.
Lovino's murderous-looking glare was worth it all.
"... C-could I... have some of that fu-food?" He looked as pained as though he had lost a finger. "... P-please?"
Antonio laughed and patted him on the back with his good arm. "See, that wasn't too hard now, was it? Good boy~! You can have all the rest, Lovi!"
The Italian needed no other prompting, and Antonio watched in vicarious pleasure as the paella quickly vanished. Really, but it was so difficult not to like and trust this man, even if they had only just met and had yet to know each other. He was almost familiar, in a way. Rather like...
No.
That one was gone, long gone. There was no hope of ever seeing him again.
He had to stop it.
"What the fuck are you staring at...?" Lovino growled bad-temperedly out of nowhere. Antonio realized he'd been studying the other man's features a bit too long, and gave him a winning smile instead.
"Oh, nothing! I simply wanted to talk."
He thought his voice had been lighthearted enough, but Lovino gave him a look. It was one of those disbelieving glances that meant he had seen through the act. Antonio struggled to keep the façade for a while, tried to clear his thoughts, but felt his mind drift back to the events of the past day. And putting those aside was utterly impossible.
He sighed and gave up.
"... You remember that woman who... died, don't you?"
He half-regretted his suddenness; Lovino winced and looked as though he might lose his stomach's contents.
"Of... of course I fucking remember. What about her...?" The Italian's voice rang with caution.
"Well..." Antonio paused. "She was here because she had a son. He joined us. His name was Santiago, and he was the navigator on this ship."
Was.
The shift in Lovino's eyes meant he had picked up on the subtle hint.
"—But why the hell are you telling me this?"
Antonio shrugged.
"You're the only one who'll listen."
"Me!? But I'm just—I mean—even Eduardo—"
Antonio shook his head and the Italian fell silent.
"Eduardo, sí... there are many things I could trust him with, but not this. He is different from me, and he does not stand for weakness." Lovino nodded slowly. "You, though..."
He found he didn't know what to say. That was a first—Antonio, captain of the Trinidad, was always prepared, always knew what to do in the best or worst of times. But then again he had never encountered something like this, someone like this. Lovino Vargas was his prisoner and yet not his prisoner, his would-be friend and yet not his friend. Nothing was the way it seemed.
It was complicated.
"You..." Antonio trailed off and shrugged. "You'll listen, sí? I know you won't tell anyone."
After a long silence, the Italian nodded.
"Good." The pirate sighed. "Anyway... her son. Santiago. He betrayed me first, tried to kill me, and so I... punished him. He confessed, said it was his mother. I didn't believe it. Then they told me he... committed suicide, and he was replaced. And she..." He gritted his teeth, unwilling to repeat her name. "You saw what happened. It was her too, all along."
Lovino was still silent but his eyes were wide and shocked.
"... I didn't want things to be this way. I only became captain a few days ago and they're all turning against me now. But it wasn't—wasn't like that before. When I was still quartermaster... she would save me food, talk to me. She was almost like... a mother."
He took a deep breath to keep his voice steady.
"And you know what's strange—I'm the only one who remembers. She and everyone else, they treat it like nothing, and they move on and keep hurting people. But it meant something to me, and I..." He stopped short, realizing how many of his innermost thoughts he had spilled out. A little further, and he might even have gotten there, talked about him, that one man who...
Antonio summoned his willpower and pushed away the memories before they could resurface. It would not do for a pirate captain to lose it, not in front of his captive.
He smiled weakly at the Italian.
"I'm sorry."
Lovino reached out and took his hand.
x X x
Translations
Lo siento (Spanish) - Sorry
Mi amigo (Spanish) - My friend
Muy lindo (Spanish) - Very cute
Delicioso / Muy delicioso (Spanish) - Delicious / Very delicious
Tú eres extraño... pero me caes bien (Spanish) – You're strange… but I like you. (in a friendly way)
Capitano (Italian) – Captain
Fantástico (Spanish) - Fantastic
Capitán (Spanish) - Captain
