A/N - The incredibly sweet reviews that I found when I opened my email were amazing. Made my week, seriously! So massive thanks to reviewers, particularly Appledapple :3 Hope this lives up to expectations!

Antonio met him on the poop deck, green eyes wide and worried. "Francis, there's a storm approaching, and fast. It looks like a strong one - the wind's building up already."

Francis looked out at the horizon. In the distance, a black mass of clouds roiled threateningly. The high wind was blowing it steadily closer to them, and Francis could tell that the storm would hit in only a few short hours. They'd need to be ready when it struck.

"We can't run from that," Antonio said tersely.

"So we weather it, and hope for the best. We've come through worse, but the Achéron will take a battering. Could you warn the crew? They know what to do."

"Sure, Francis."

The ship quickly flurried into action. Romano, the helmsman, steered so the Achéron was facing into the already quickening wind. The cannons and anything else that wasn't secure was made fast, and the sails were taken down and stored below.*

Things were coming along quickly, and Francis nodded in satisfaction. When the storm arrived, they would be ready for it.

He caught sight of Arthur using complicated knots to tie down their precious water barrels. Francis smiled.

"Bonjour, mon cher," he said brightly.

Arthur spun round, scooting back quickly when he found himself scant inches from Francis. He scowled at him from a safe distance. Francis could almost see the flattened ears and lashing tail of a wary cat. "What?"

"I thought you would never help us, that you would go down with the ship rather than see us to safety."

Arthur turned away and began fiddling with the knots he'd finished tying. "You have my watch. Besides, there are some decent people on this ship, and I don't want to let them die."

Francis inched closer so that when Arthur turned to face him, there would be nowhere for him to go. "Or maybe I was right, and you have fallen in love with me."

Arthur whirled around, just as Francis had wanted him to. A dark blush dusked his cheeks as Arthur realised how close they were.

"What are you…?"

Francis smiled. "Testing a theory."

He bent down and kissed Arthur's collarbone once, softly, tongue flickering out to taste the mixture of salt and that flavour that was so indescribably Arthur. He looked up, and Arthur was glaring at him again - but this time his eyes held a more complicated emotion, and he hadn't pushed Francis away yet.

Encouraged, Francis went on, pressing a trail of kisses along and upwards. He bit down softly, and Arthur gasped but still hadn't forced him to stop. His lips ghosted over Arthur's jawline, closer and closer until finally only a breath-space parted their mouths. And there he stopped.

His whole being burned with longing, and Francis wanted nothing more than to kiss Arthur properly, unreservedly, rather than these phantom butterfly kisses. But Arthur, what did he want?

Those deep green eyes were filled with a mixture of defiance and desire - and something else, something that faltered indecipherably under the surface and sent a flicker of hope spiraling through Francis.

He sighed. Stepping back, he said, "Be careful when the storm comes."

He walked back to Antonio.

Not long after, the storm hit.

The breeze flurried into a gale, gnawing at the hull and making the wood hum and creak in complaint. Rain tore at the sky, lashing down to pound against the deck in a drumroll of noise. Lightning leapt down to kiss the horizon, pursued by the roll and rumble of the thunder.

Arthur stood and watched in awe. He'd been at sea for a while now, and this was hardly the first storm he'd experienced. Yet nothing he had ever seen could compare to this.

The pure unadulterated power of the wind and the waves was indescribable. Beautiful in its raw otherworldliness, perfect in its terrible majesty.

It was at that moment, as the rain needled his skin and the salt stung tears from his eyes, that Arthur realised he would never return to land.

The ship jerked suddenly, buffeted by a strong gust of wind. Caught by surprise, Arthur lost his footing on the wet deck and stumbled.

Warm arms caught him before he fell, and Arthur opened his mouth to thank whomever had helped him. Until a voice by his ear purred, "I told you to be careful, mon cher."

Arthur's face flamed. "I was!"

Bonnefoy raised an elegant eyebrow. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yes. I just got a bit distracted."

"Is this your first storm at sea?"

"Yes," Arthur said, trying not to sound defensive as he straightened up and turned back to look out at the ocean.

"Ah." Bonnefoy stepped up beside Arthur, and for a moment there was silence between them. When he spoke next, it was uncharacteristically quiet; Arthur barely heard him over the storm. "It's beautiful, non?"

Arthur glanced at Bonnefoy. His eyes were darkened by the storm, but Arthur could see he was earnest. "I haven't seen anything like it."

Bonnefoy's hand slipped into his. "In case you fall again," he said. Taken aback, Arthur nodded.

Side by side, they watched the storm.

The Achéron emerged from the storm relatively unscathed. However, it took several long hours of hard work to get things up and running, particularly the soaked-through sails which entirely refused to cooperate.

In terms of damage, they'd been extraordinarily lucky. But the gale had blown the ship miles off course, and the sky was covered by a stubborn layer of clouds that left no way to determine where they where. On top of that, the weather was utterly calm with hardly a breath of wind.

Suddenly, Francis heard the shout from the crow's nest that heralded an approaching ship. He let out a sigh of relief. Maybe they'd be able to learn their position. Squinting against the sun, he examined the ship.

She was a galleon, much larger than the Achéron. He snapped out his spyglass to look closer, and fear trailed ice down his spine. He knew that ship.

It belonged to the only pirate Francis feared. One of the most ruthless, most powerful pirates ever to have sailed the seven seas, legendary for his skill - and cruelty. The Russian captain, Ivan Braginski.

* I have no idea what ships do to prepare for a storm. This sounded like a plan though. If anyone has any experience with boats and storms and knows what you're supposed to do, please tell? Thanks! :)