Hey, so if you have any questions of course feel free to comment! Speaking of, in the comments last chapter I answered a few questions that you might want to look at if you want extra details regarding backstory, ages, etc. to clear up any confusion in the fic.

With that said, I apologize beforehand for the dialogue in this one, it is loooooong, and I am just dreadfully sorry. I hope you guys like the chapter!

Francis rubbed Romano's back in wide, gentle circles. "Breathe, mon petit chou, just—"

Romano dry heaved once again, clutching the railing.

Antonio strolled by, leaning around Francis to peer at Romano. "Hmmm…maybe I should not have let you eat so much?" He grinned enigmatically, fiddling with the small golden ring in his left earlobe. "Well, now you have learned your lesson. I suppose you never knew what hunger was before, did you?

Romano ignored him persistently, more focused on the rebellion of his stomach.

Antonio mused on, leaning with his back to the ocean, elbows propped on the railing smooth from years of use. "Never known what it was like to go to bed hungry, because your whore mother was dead and your shit father had abandoned you…never seen the filth of the streets, full of beggars and whores and littered with orphans just like you, all fighting with every breath for a pitiful coin tossed to the dirt." He tilted his head and leaned farther back to catch in the corner of Romano's vision. "Never been left behind by the world…"

Romano was breathing raggedly, staring at the oscillating waves below with an unreadable expression.

Francis winced and gave Antonio a long suffering look. "He is playing you for a fool. His father was a fisherman, he has a brother who is in far a more respectable profession, and his childhood was just fine. The only reason he became a pirate is because he wanted to get rich quick."

Antonio chuckled and twirled a lock of Romano's dark chestnut hair around his index finger. "Well, I was but a fool. Here I am, still trying to get rich."

Romano jerked away from Antonio's hand and growled weakly from over the side of the ship, "Well, fuck you, stupid." before loudly retching again. Antonio slunk back and retorted with a smirk. "Aw…Roma, don't say that. You might give me ideas." To this, Romano groaned and resumed dry heaving.

Francis resumed comforting Romano with a sigh of exasperation as Antonio strode away jauntily, whistling a cheerful tune.

Romano woke with a start to an incessant pounding on the door of the captain's quarters, intensifying his headache. He groaned and tried to cover his ears with a pillow, curling in on himself to combat the nausea, to no avail. Finally the door slammed open and the midday light flooded in, blinding him. Romano growled in discomfort. "Gah! For God's sake, close the door!"

Gilbert snickered. "Pretty boy needs his beauty sleep?"

Romano let out a strained hiss and pulled the blanket over his head. Gilbert smirked. "I don't think so!" And he ripped he blanket off, rolling Romano onto the floor with a heavy thunk. "Ugh…"

"Wake up, sleeping stupid! You gotta learn how to stab people!"

"Urgh, bastard! Why today?" Romano moaned in pain as he clutched his stomach with one arm and his head with the other. Gilbert sighed and unceremoniously threw Romano over his shoulder and marched out onto the main deck. Gilbert scoffed and bobbled his head from side to side pretentiously, executing a surprisingly good imitation of Antonio's thick Spanish accent. "Because my puta can't handle a knife, and we must be good neighbors, so as to prevent being damned to Hell."

At this Romano's spine went rigid, and he spoke slowly, as if to a child. "You're already going to Hell. You are pirates."

Gilbert, ever oblivious, carried on loudly. "That's exactly what I told him! I'm glad someone's seeing sense other than me!" He shrugged, suddenly allowing Romano to slide off of his shoulder and onto the deck with a crash. "You fucking bastard!" Romano scrambled to his feet, cradling his jaw. "I'm gonna fucking kill you!"

Gilbert replied dryly as he tossed Romano a stiletto. "That's kind of the point." Romano fumbled for it before catching it without incident, and silently thanking God that he had, for Gilbert was suddenly lunging at him with a knife.

With a shriek, he dove out of the way, crashing into the side of the quarterdeck. He tried to stand, only for Gilbert to drag him to his feet and toss him against the wall again, kicking the stiletto out of his hand. Gilbert tsked. "Alright, so we've established you've never held a knife before in your life. Anything else you wanna tell me?" Romano scowled up at the albino, "I did learn to duel, I'm not completely—"

Gilbert cut him off. "Really? Figures, coming from money."

Romano glowered.

Gilbert huffed. "Alright then, let's see how you do with a sword." He offered a hand to Romano, who took it reluctantly. Gilbert heaved him to his feet and remarked bluntly, "Wow, you're a lightweight. How did you think you were going to survive out here?"

"I didn't! I was kidnapped!" Romano snapped, rolling up his sleeves.

Gilbert shook his head as they headed below deck. "No, I mean, why did you think you could make it in Porto Bello? Did you even know what the West Indies were like? Did you think it would be so easy to survive on your own?"

Romano resisted the urge to shove him down the stairs and retorted forcefully. "Why did you think you could make it as a pirate?"

Gilbert grinned. "I didn't. I was kidnapped."

Romano balked, and Gilbert had to tug on his thin, wiry arm to get him moving again as they descended lower below deck. "Well, not exactly, I just said that for effect. I was on my first voyage, on a merchant ship, looking to work in America. And, well, obviously you can guess what must've happened."

Romano grimaced. "How can you sail under his flag?!"

"How can you eat off his table?"

Romano hung his head and didn't speak, and Gilbert pulled him along again. "Sorry, I'm not trying to be a dick. Anyway, here we are. Find one you like, I guess." Romano entered the gunroom wordlessly. Gilbert began to speak again, but suddenly, the pounding of dozens of footsteps drowned out his voice and rained dust down from the floorboards above. Romano coughed, hiding his face in his sleeve.

"What the fuck is going on?" He yelled.

"They'll have spotted a ship!" Gilbert yelled back. "We're going to follow it and see if we can take it! C'mon!" He grabbed Romano's hand and yanked him away from the weapons. Romano protested, but his voice was lost in the scuffle. He pulled back, surprised, when he realized Gilbert was leading him to the captain's quarters.

He hollered over the din, "Why are you bringing me here?"

Gilbert guffawed. "We're not going to let you run around on deck and get in everyone's way! Besides, if it turns out to be the Italian Navy, we don't want them to see you!"

"I want them to see me!"

Gilbert rolled his eyes and shouted out in reply as he shoved Romano into the cabin. "Well that's where we have a difference of interest, isn't it?" He slammed the heavy wooden door in Romano's face, and Romano screamed silently in frustration at the unresponsive door as he heard the heavy thunk of the lock.

Romano sat quietly by the window of the great cabin, staring out at the ocean and listening to the crew work above him and the water crash against the hull below. Romano sat quietly by the window of the great cabin, staring out at the ocean and listening to the crew work above him and the water crash against the hull below for roughly five hours, after which the sounds of cannon fire and gunshots rang through the ship. Then Romano listened to those for approximately two hours. His stomach growled quietly, and he rose suddenly, as if a bolt of electricity had hit him. He walked briskly to the large, wooden table in the center of the cabin that boasted Antonio's ostentatious, full color map, neatly penned with bold black and gold lettering. On the edge of the table bolted firmly to the floor, a clay bowl of fruit balanced precariously, hosting several peaches, a bunch of bananas, and a solitary black fly. Romano shooed the fly away and poked at a banana lightly spotted with brown before selecting a slightly bruised peach. Then he ate it. Then he tossed the pit in the cast iron chamber pot under the bed, humming to himself. Then he yawned and tripped sleepily to Antonio's bed, clasping his hands behind his back and stretching languidly. Then he plopped down onto the mattress and stared at the ceiling blankly.

For a second, he considered halfheartedly masturbating to pass the time.

A particularly loud combatant screamed as he (presumably) died in some horrific, violent manner, and Romano shook his head, quickly deciding against it. He sighed as he grasped at covers that weren't there, and rolled out of bed to trudge across the rough floorboards. Having retrieved the thick red blanket and thin cotton sheet, Romano collapsed back onto the bed and burrowed underneath them, despite the heat of the late afternoon.

Antonio raised his pistol in one hand and a torch in the other, roaring over the din as he stood victoriously over the corpse of the young enemy captain. It was clothed in an old, rumpled linen shirt under a new silk waistcoat, its own bright blood soaking the two garments as it lay with Antonio's bullet embedded in its broad chest, dark, chocolate colored eyes still clear, and short, curly black hair spilled across the rough wooden planks.

"All tobacco and foodstuffs to the hold! Should you uncover any fine cloth, spices, or other precious cargo, you know to keep to the articles! We cut lashes in one and one half hour!"

A deafening cheer erupted in assent, and Antonio stepped over the body and down from the quarterdeck in satisfaction, holstering his pistol as he strode off to hear the accounts from his right hand men.

Antonio shrugged off his overcoat and stooped to grasp the corner of the heavy red blanket that was hanging off of the bed, half on the floor. Rubbing his eyes, he tossed the runaway blanket over the foot of the bed as he gracelessly kicked off his boots to join his hat and coat, abandoned on the floorboards. Romano stirred as Antonio disentangled the sheets from his ankles and climbed into bed beside him, yawning. Antonio exhaled, and Romano shifted away from Antonio to face the wall, shoulders tensing. For a moment they lay quietly, but Antonio broke the thick silence.

"I hope you didn't find the battle too dull, amorcito. Did you find some way to amuse yourself?"

Romano ignored the question and retorted warily, though sleep still clung to his words. "You sound horrible. Did you manage to swallow a few stray bullets during the fighting?"

Antonio chucked huskily. "You couldn't be faulted for thinking so. I always sound like this after battles, on account of all the yelling I have to do. I suppose I've just become accustomed to it." Romano sat up at the foot of the bed, back to Antonio and cross-legged, resting his face in his palms.

"Is it easy to become accustomed to?"

"Yes. I hardly notice it anymore."

"How long have you been a pirate?"

Antonio laced his fingers behind his head and licked his lips, brow furrowed. "A little under twenty years now? Thereabouts." Antonio shrugged. "I was probably a bit too young when I started. I was a cabin boy, though, so it's not as if I was running men through on a regular basis." Romano shook his head slightly, expression hidden.

"Why couldn't you have just been a fisherman?"

Antonio stared wearily up at the ceiling. "I'm not sure, Roma."

"I thought it was because you wanted to get rich."

"Well, that partly. But also…I think I wanted to make a name for myself. Have grand adventures. I think everyone wants to do that when they're young. Didn't you want to do that when you struck out on your own?"

"No."

Antonio sat part of the way up, supporting his weight on his forearms. "Really? I don't believe you." Romano toed at the bed covers and shrunk further away. "How many innocent men did you kill today?" He dodged hollowly.

Antonio sank back down into his pillow, head hung back. "Ah, mi cielo…I think this is something you do not want to hear…" Romano remained still, sharp shoulder blades forming a valley in the crisp white linen that hung between them. Antonio groaned. "But if you are insistent, I will tell you."

He paused, collecting his thoughts. "I did not kill too many men today, even though I don't take prisoners, because the merchant ship we took today was not heavily crewed. The first man I killed today was a gunner who came at me with a dagger. You can tell he is a gunner because he has gunpowder on his hands and shirt, you see? And so he came at me with a dagger, and I cut him down. The next man I killed, I ran him through with my saber as he was running away from a member of my crew. He was young, and very scared, so I think this was his first voyage. And the last man I killed today was their captain."

"Was it quick?"

"The battle, or when I killed their captain?"

"Both."

"Yes on both counts. He was not a very good captain, because he didn't choose to flee or to surrender, even though it should have been clear that he was outgunned and outmatched. Because of that incompetence, he and all his men are dead, and his ship is sinking to the bottom of the ocean."

"Do you think it was his first voyage too?"

"Perhaps. He was very young."

"As young as me?"

"No, a bit older. In his early-twenties, I'd say."

"Do you think he had a wife and children who are waiting for him to come home?"

"I don't know."

Romano uncovered his face and lifted his head to stare out of the large, paneled windows at the dark waves below. "What did he look like? What was he wearing? How did you kill him?"

Antonio hummed, voice still slightly gravelly. "I don't quite remember what he looked like or what he was wearing, but when I shot him, he was dueling Gilbert on the quarterdeck." He paused, frowning up the ceiling in thought. "I believe he was holding his own, if somewhat clumsily. His footwork needed improvement, and his reaction time could've been better, but he made up for it with his strength."

Romano turned to face Antonio, expression neutral.

"How do think you'll die?"

Antonio sat up to meet Romano's questioning gaze. "I don't know. What do you think?" Romano scowled uncertainly. "I think you made a mistake by turning to piracy. I think it's too late for you to repent, and that you'll be brought to justice."

Antonio closed his eyes in acknowledgement, nodding. "I've had a few close calls before, and there are an enormous number of men who want me dead by now, no doubt. My own king, even. I think, yes, that I will meet my end at the end of a rope, or on the blade of a cutlass…maybe even with a bullet in my heart, although that would be somewhat anticlimactic."

Romano blinked lethargically, and Antonio pulled his thin frame to his chest and collapsed onto the pillows, ignoring the tensing of muscles and nearly inaudible sharp intake of breath. Antonio sighed, stroking Romano's hair and admiring its shine where the moonlight slanted across it.

"Relax, I just want to sleep. Go to sleep, Roma…"

Romano pretended to, trying to keep his breathing regular and slow as Antonio slept like an angel, cheek resting on the crown of Romano's head and murmuring incomprehensible nothings as he slumbered soundly.

Okay, so yeah, chapter three, what did you guys think? Also I have had it up to here with the research, but it drives me up the wall when I don't know how stuff should be in a different time period!

This chapter I wanted to show a little more interaction between the other members of the BTT, but I ended up spending a ridiculous amount of time with Toño and Roma again. Did you guys think it was too heavy in that respect? Thanks for your feedback!