England stretched as the sun shone bright through the window. He sat up and looked next to him to see an empty bed. He frowned, worried for a moment that the entire night had been a dream. Then he spotted Alfred's sword on the dresser and smiled. So it had happened. It had been true. The magical night that he had spent with the boy he loved had really happened. He leaned on his arms smiling. He was extremely pleased by the outcome of the night.
So where had Alfred gone? Shrugging, he groggily got up and pulled on his boots. His head hurt from the hangover and he had to sit for a minute, rubbing his temples. What would he say to Alfred this morning? What could happen now? As he moved to the door to head downstairs for breakfast, he failed to notice the piece of paper on top of Alfred's sword, addressed to him.
Smiling, England walked out of the room and down the stairs to the dining room. Most of the pirates from the night before were drunk and still asleep, so only a few were in the huge room, making it seem even bigger than it was. The only people from his crew were Finn and George, which surprised him as he vaguely remembered Finn being more than drunk than him last night. Then again, most of the details before his encounter with Alfred were blurry. Those memories came through so strongly that most of the rest of the night didn't really come through, but he was almost positive Finn had been almost unconscious when he had talked to him.
Walking over to his crew members, Captain Arthur Kirkland tried to keep a straight face. He wanted to seem nonchalant and secretive about the previous night. Too bad the only two pirates that knew what had happened were the ones he was trying to fool. When they saw him approach, they quickly focused on their breakfast, trying not to catch his attention, but the room was so big and empty, they knew there was no way that would happen. What if they hadn't made up? What if their plan had just made everything worse? The look on the pirate's face gave nothing away, so they held their breath as he sat down next to them, motioning for a servant girl to bring breakfast.
England put his elbows on the table, watching his first mate and best swordsman ignore him. What was with these two? His memory was starting to come back some more and now he remembered that Finn had indeed been horribly drunk, almost comically so. He began piecing the puzzle together. The awkward side glances, the over-the-top drunken attitude, the strange advice to patch things up with Alfred… it was their doing! They had devised a plan to get them together! Those idiots, how could they do that without permission? His eyebrows furrowed, causing his crew members to shudder. So he figured it out. What was he going to do? Finn and George caught each others glance and nodded solemnly. See ya buddy.
Suddenly he laughed loudly, causing Finn and George to jump. England dropped his head and he started to laugh. Finn and George caught each others eyes, blankly. They did not know how to respond. Was he still drunk? Or had he not figured out what they had done? Looking up, they saw his eyes glint with absolute joy, an expression they hadn't seen in a long time. Finn smiled weakly, nudging George to join in. Chuckling England said, "Clever. That was very clever." Turning pale, the men again realized that he knew exactly what they had done, smiles falling off their faces. Oh God, was this like the calm before the storm? He reached across the table, and they men immediately pulled back in fear. He simply patted them on the backs saying, "Thank you."
After staring up at England for a while, they realized that the smile on his face was genuine. He really was grateful. Well then, it must have gone really well the night before! They couldn't help but be curious just how heated it had gotten that the pirate captain was this happy. They smiled back wholeheartedly entirely pleased with themselves now that they knew England wasn't going to run them through with his sword. Sitting back down, Arthur asked, "Have you seen Alfred lately? He wasn't there when I woke up." Both men's eyebrows flew up and Finn chocked on a piece of beef, George gave a strangled laugh. Woke up? Did that mean…Finn caught Georges eyes, understanding the hidden meaning. Just how far did their little plan take the two men? Shifting in his seat, George shook his head trying to hide his smile. "Sorry, not seen him." England seemed surprised. "How long have you been down here?" "About an hour. Not really used to sleeping in if I'm not stone cold drunk." England scratched his head, looking around. Where could Alfred have gotten off to?
Standing up, Arthur went to talk to Amira. "Good morning there, lover boy. How did you...ah... sleep?" Amira winked and smiled. Well of course she knew what had happened. She knew everything. Instead of getting upset, England smiled slightly. "Have you seen him by any chance?" Amira shook her head and turned to Tobias who was behind her counting gold and silver. "OY Tobias, have you seen that boy from last night? Big blue eyes, dirty blonde hair and these silly glasses?" Arthur frowned. He thought the glasses were cute on the tough blonde man. It added a little vulnerability. Unfortunately Tobias shook his head as well. Now England was worried. Those two never left the dining room empty, so one of them should have seen Alfred if he had left. So where was he?
Walking back up the stairs, England pondered where he could be. The dining room was really the only room anyone could get into, and if neither Tobias nor Amira had seen him leave, he must still be somewhere in the building. He pushed open the door to his room and entered, still focused on his predicament. If he had planned to leave, he should have left a note explaining where he had gone. This caused Arthur to glance over at Alfred's sword, noticing the paper with his name written on it for the first time. He breathed a sigh of relief. I was worried about nothing. Tobias and Amira probably just missed him. Smiling again, he strutted over to the sword and picked up the note, opening it and begging to read. Right away he knew something was wrong. The writing was familiar, and not friendly. This was not what he had been hoping for.
"Monsieur Angleterre. My sincerest apologies that it has come to this. But you know how it goes; you so rudely steal from me and I must simply return the favor. You stole a lot of gold from a Spanish merchant ship a few weeks ago. I want it. Your little amoureux is now in my care. Don't worry, he won't be harmed. He's too pretty for that. But you won't be seeing him again until you hand over the gold. I'll be on my ship, waiting to meet up with you. Remember, no gold, no sweet, gorgeous boy. He is very beau… I might have to have a little fun while he's staying with me. I'll be sad to see him go. But I want that gold. So return what you stole, and I shall return what I stole. Au revoir pour l'instant! –Francis Bonnefoy."
England read the letter. Then re-read it. Then read it again. And again. He couldn't believe what was right in front of his eyes. How could this be happening all of a sudden? Everything had been perfect not moments before. And then France... FRANCE. How dare he? He dares to use the man he loved against him? That was low even for the French bastard. Crumpling the note in his hand, England's eyes grew cold and heartless. There was no forgiving now. He had crossed a line, a line that England had just drawn. He had just fallen in love, allowed himself to feel for this man… and he had been taken from him. He wouldn't get to feel his lips or warm skin. He wouldn't see his goofy smile or his huge blue eyes that stared at the sky looking ready to fly off into the sunset. He would never be able to discover all of his lover's secrets or make new ones of their own…
No. He wouldn't think like that. He would give up every piece of gold they had taken to get back the stowaway that had stolen his heart. He would fight to the death to save Alfred F. Jones. It didn't matter if the rest of the crew cared the way he did. They would never leave a man behind. They would help to save him. Grabbing his coat and Alfred's sword, Arthur blindly rushed out the door and down the stairs, bellowing for Finn and George to wake the rest of the crew up. Once they were all assembled, he would explain the situation. He wouldn't be able to go through it more than once. His eyes shone with fury and determination. He was going to get Alfred back, no matter the cost.
Alfred woke inside a ship's hull. How many times was this going to happen? He tried to move, but found that his arms were chained behind him, and then attached to the wall. Twisting slightly, he realized his legs were also chained so they were spread open in a horribly uncomfortable version of the splits. What the hell was going on here? The last thing Alfred remembered was leaving the room he had shared with Arthur to thank George and Finn for their help. Then his head had been slammed against the wall and everything went black. Looking around, the room was dimly lit and smelled like sea salt. The boat was rocking, so they were out in the sea. Crap. Nowhere to run. The interior of the room was very impressive, obviously the captain's quarters. Ornate decorations adorned the walls, and tapestries of gold and bright colors covered the wood.
Alfred felt fairly certain he knew who was the captain of this ship, but he still shuddered as he heard the man's voice from the desk in the corner. He had really hoped to have been wrong, but unfortunately his guess had been spot on. "Ah, you are awake mon ami! Welcome to my ship, the lovely 'The Valentine'. So much better than the old bastard England's eh?" France smiled at him from his seat, getting a silent glare from his prisoner in response. Frowning slightly, France placed his glass of wine down on the table and stood. "Oh come now. It's nothing personal. If you didn't know Angleterre, we wouldn't even be here! Unfortunately, you managed to fall in love with a very dangereux man, one that will get you into trouble."
Walking over to Alfred, he grabbed his chin forcing him to look at France straight in the eye. He was a perverted ass even back in this time? How had England dealt with his all this time? Sure, when he was being helpful and not a jerk, he was an ok guy. But he had a feeling that past France was never likeable. This idea was supported as Francis began running his thumb across Alfred's cheek and down to his lips. "You are a pretty boy, you know? I can see why Angleterre likes you so much." He stood suddenly, and walked back to his chair, dragging it over to sit in front of Alfred, who continued to stay silent while glaring daggers at the man who had kidnapped him.
France simply stared at England's lover boy. He didn't seem to be particularly special at first glance, but now that he was right in front of him, he could understand Kirkland's interest. He was well built and seemed to bleed energy. His chest was well toned and tan, with the tail tell tattoo of the British man's crew. Damn, that would be hard to get rid of. If England didn't come to rescue this boy. But he would come because there was something about him that had stolen Arthur's heart, which wasn't an easy task. He would come, and France was sure about it.
Francis Bonnefoy was a jealous man when it came to love, and at the moment he was jealous of Arthur Kirkland. How come that little merde was lucky enough for a beautiful man like Alfred to just appear on his ship? France reached over to stroke Alfred's cheek again, enjoying the soft blush that rushed to redden his face. He really was adorable, the way he seemed utterly shy when France touched him. How interesting. Smiling, France got down on the floor in front of Alfred, his hand never leaving his prisoner's face.
Smiling reassuringly, France said "You may speak you know. I'm not strict and cranky like old Angleterre. I promise, you can say anything mon ami." Alfred scowled at the man's nonchalant words. He stared coolly back at the Frenchman saying, "Arthur Kirkland is not a bad man. As a matter of fact, he is one of the greatest gentlemen I have ever had the pleasure to meet, and he is certainly a hundred times better than you." His voice never wavered as he spoke these words, enjoying the slight surprise on France's face. Every word Alfred had just said was the absolute truth, and it cut the other pirate captain deeply to know that this beautiful boy thought so highly of his worst enemy.
He wasn't going to give in without a fight though. He laughed as he said, "I guarantee you that I will be a much better host than him. Then again, I understand that I will have to go pretty far to top Monsieur Angleterre this time…" As he said this, his hand moved down to Alfred's neck, making his eyes narrow and his face flush. Just what did this man think he was doing? If he got any lower, Alfred would have to take action. His arms and legs were thoroughly chained to the wall, but his head and mouth were free, leaving his attack options to biting and head butting. He really hoped it just wouldn't be a problem.
He hopes were dashed as France got closer, breathing in slowly. He liked the smell of this boy, like the woods or a smoldering fire. It was very… intoxicating. He planted a soft kiss on Alfred's neck, loving the heat and rage that showed on the boy's face. "I understand why he likes you so much. Too bad he's going to lose you over as silly of a thing as some gold." Alfred's eyes widened in horror. "GOLD? THAT'S WHY I'M HERE? YOU WANT YOUR GOLD BACK? WHAT AM I A PROSTITUTE?!" He shouted this, causing France to back up a bit. The fury in his beautiful blue eyes was breathtaking and his muscles tightened as he strained against the chains.
"But of course! Argent makes the world go round! It's what keeps everything running smoothly. All I want is the gold he stole returned to me." Alfred was still seething with fury as he spoke. "Then why not attack him and TAKE it back? Isn't that what pirates do? How could you crush a man's heart like this? That's low, even for you France." His head hit the wall hard as France came close to his face. "Low? You speak as though there is a code of conduct to piracy. Anything goes really. Including lies. I promised to return you if he brought the gold, "France grabbed Alfred's chin with one hand and began running his other down the captive's chest, "but I don't think I will. I trust you will find me so much better than Captain Kirkland."
France then pushed his lips up to Alfred's, his fingers tracing the man's stomach muscles and quickly moving lower. Alfred couldn't react for a moment. This kiss was nothing like England's. It was rough and full of passion and lust. He was very fiery, almost scary. The Frenchman's hand on his skin burned, mapping out his chest and abdomen, leaving nothing untouched. He shuddered with every contact. Francis was rather good at this, and it shocked Alfred that he couldn't bring himself to pull away immediately. But it wasn't England here; it wasn't the man he loved.
This got more apparent very quickly as France became a bit more… intimate. With every inch downward, Alfred's face got redder and redder. Eventually he started sliding his pants off his hips, never breaking the rough, passionate kiss. Alfred made a confused sound in the back of his throat as France began to feel around his lower regions. Woah. He felt very conflicted emotions, his body telling him one thing and his heart saying another. I am not enjoying this, Alfred thought, trying to remove his lips from Frances.
Francis's tongue edged around his lips, instinctively Alfred moaned.
SHIT.
No!
Alfred was forcing himself to think of England. Picture his face. He couldn't go back on his lover, no matter how insanely good the Frenchman was.
No way was he going to let France get away with this. He finally brought himself back to his senses and attacked. He first brought his head back, breaking France's lips from his own. Then he brought his skull back towards France's forehead and crashed into his kidnapper. As Francis fell backwards, Alfred reached his neck down to bite the hand that was inching farther down, causing the captain to cry out. Finally, he turned to bite the other hand that was still pulling his hair.
France flew backwards, running into the chair he had place in front of Alfred. Where did he get all this fight from? He scowled as he rubbed his head. Alfred seemed unfazed besides the look of total disgust in his eyes as he glared at France. "Well, you do put up a fight. I will let it slide if you promise never to do that again," he said as he slid back over to the hostage, replacing his hand on Alfred's abdomen, "and don't speak about that English merde. Have we got a deal?" He tilted Alfred's chin down to look at him, which ended up being a huge mistake.
Alfred hit him in the head again, and bit his nose causing it to bleed. This sent France retreating again, crying out and holding his nose. Smiling with cold rage in his eyes, Alfred said, "Just so you know, England is better at this than you as well." This sent France over the edge. His face flushed with anger and he grabbed his prisoner by the neck, pushing him against the wall. "You want to be difficult then? Oui. Then I will have to punish you until you comply." He released Alfred, who gulped air into his lungs. He returned quickly and tied a piece of cloth around Alfred's head, covering his eyes. Blindfolded, Alfred scowled. "What the hell do you think you ar-" His words were cut off as another cloth came around to gag him. He began protesting, though they all sounded like mumbles now.
Smiling France stood. There. A peaceful, quiet, non-violent prisoner. If he wouldn't comply then so be it. He would stay there until he decided to do as he, Captain Bonnefoy of the Valentine, demanded. "Until you do as you're told, you will remain there, gagged and blindfolded. I would think about my next move if I were you, Monsieur Alfred F. Jones." Alfred heard his footsteps retreat, and then a door close and lock. He sighed and hung his head. What had he gotten into this time? He missed England, both from this time and his own time. Given the opportunity, would I go back to my time? Or stay with Captain Kirkland? Would he ever even have to make that decision? Resting his head against the wall, Alfred thought, 'France said I would be here until I complied. No. I will be here until I can escape. Or England comes to save me. And I know he will.