A fire crackled nearby and the smell of burning wood and smoked filled Arthur's nostrils. Pain ebbed through his shoulder, his skin stinging fiercely. A small groan escaped from between his parched lips, barely audible as he forced his eyelids to open. He was lying down on something soft and he felt cold, but alive. The room was dark except for the glow from the dying fire that stretched its light towards him.
His shoulder was movable, but his teeth gritted in pain as the muscles protested his movement. It felt as if the bullet had been removed from his shoulder, which was in itself a good sign. The boy wasn't half bad. Craning his neck, Arthur could make out that his shirt had been removed and he had a mound of blood-soaked bandages wrapped about his shoulder. Speaking of the boy, Arthur turned his head as well as he could to see a figure slumped into a nearby chair. A nub of candle had long burned out and was resting at the sleeping figure's feet, a large leather-bound book left open on his lap.
The flames flickered as they caught onto an unburned piece of wood and lit up the boy's face. He looked peaceful as he slept, blanket loosely wrapped around his shoulders. His face showed so much youth and life although his cheeks were beginning to shallow, but who wasn't hungry in the winter? A few flecks of something dark clung to the ends of his honey-colored hair, what Arthur presumed to be his blood. His lips twitched into a smile in his sleep before relaxing yet again, his head slipping farther onto his chest. Arthur used to sleep in such peace when he was younger, but alas, he could no longer afford to sleep with both of his eyes closed.
A sleepy grumble brought Arthur's attention towards the softening flames. Curled up on a makeshift cot was the Frenchman, who was turning his body so that his back faced the flames. Francis looked troubled in his sleep as he grumbled some more, his tongue curling around the French words in a purr. Damn frog.
A shift in a shadowy corner brought the emerald-colored eyes to gaze sharply, narrowing at the dark figure that was slumped in the corner on the floor. The dying flames made it hard to discern who it was, but the Captain could guess that it was none other than Kiku. Who else could possibly sleep sitting up on a dirt floor? The blurry sight of the Asian man triggered the image of the young girl from earlier in his mind. The poor creature had nearly been raped, and would've probably been killed had Arthur not shown up at that moment. She had seemed shaken at the incident, as any sane woman would be, but she held herself strong despite the situation. Turning his head again to the sleeping American, Arthur allowed himself to gaze upon the young man and truly take him in.
The boy was strikingly handsome and obviously young. Younger than Arthur at least and yet, he still showed incredible kindness and strength given the situation. The girl, possibly a fiancée, was practically raped and he was nearly killed in the matter. And then to have three strange men show up and slaughter the soldier's mercilessly, only to bring them back to his home and patch up their leader? These Americans are a strange bunch.
His face twitched and the heavily lidded eyes slowly fluttered open, the azure eyes staring hazily in the direction of the fire before roving towards the bed. Sapphire irises locked with emerald in a half-asleep manner, a warm smile curving into Alfred's lips as his eyes drifted closed again. His eyelids stayed shut for only a moment before opening again, the sleep beginning to fade as he shifted in his chair to sit upright. The smile stayed on his face as he moved the book from his lap, leaning over to set it gently on the dirt floor, his blanket slipping slightly from his shoulders. Once the binding met the floor, the young man leaned completely out of the chair to crouch at the bedside, eyes glancing to the bloodied bandages momentarily before he turned his head to look over the Captain's face.
"How are you feeling?" He questioned with a voice deep and husky with sleep as he looked over the older man's face for any indications of pain. Arthur's face was turned away from the firelight as he watched the young man move to his side, masking his facial expressions in soft shadows. He took a moment to study the boy's face before he glanced away again at his shoulder. The smile slipped from his face as he looked over the bloodied mass of cloth once more before standing and slowly making his way to the table on the far end of the room.
It wasn't that Arthur couldn't speak, but his energy was drained and he felt as if the question had no need to be answered due to the obvious nature of his condition. The other man shuffled through the large black bag and a quiet snipping sound filled the silent home. Returning his items to the bag, the American strolled back over to the bedside and dropped down onto his knees, a broad hand coming up to steady Arthur's arm while the other slowly unwrapped the soiled cloth.
The Captain watched with wide green eyes as the man went through his ministrations of replenishing his bandages with a practiced hand. At least the blood had stopped flowing freely and instead, trickled through the stitches in his skin. They itched like hell and his wound was inflamed, and judging by the hardly concerned expression on the American's face, it was perfectly normal. Arthur had been shot multiple times and the scars on his body attested to that – something the other must have seen when he undressed him, so he had become dull to the process that went through with treating such wounds; though it didn't make them hurt any less.
A hiss escaped the Englishman's lips as a careful finger prodded at the wound, checking for any sign of infection but seeing none, at least not yet. Blue eyes darted up to the pale face as the sound, a grimace setting into his features. "Can you sit up?"
Arthur turned his head to look back up at the thatched roof as he willing his body to rise. A warm hand slid under his back, making his body go rigid as it applied a gentle pressure to guide him upwards. Groaning, Arthur managed to sit upright in the bed, blood draining from his face at the movements. Deft fingers quickly wrapped the fresh cloth around the injured shoulder and tied it quickly below, the warm smile returning as the American's hands guiding Arthur back down into a resting position on the bed, taking a moment to hover over him before settling back into his chair. Blue eyes reflected the firelight as they drifted over the two other sleeping masses in the room, only to return to the rigid figure on the bed.
"My name is Alfred, by the way." He mused, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his growing smile.
Arthur found himself returning the warm smile as the other introduced himself, the man was intoxicating in the firelight. It was a rare moment of peace for the Captain, one where there was no worry of bloodshed or danger. But he would still have to guard himself, especially since he didn't know this man - he could still easily turn him in. The smile faded slightly as he pulled himself out of those azure eyes and looked over Alfred's face. It was trusting, but once again - Arthur trusted no one. But the least he could do was give the man his name and possibly answer a few questions if asked.
"Arthur." His voice croaked with lack of use, and he scowled at the fact which only increased the American's smile.
"Pleasure to meet you Arthur… excuse my boldness, but just who are you? I mean, you're obviously British and those soldiers knew you… but who are you?" Damn, he's straight to the point. There was no point in hiding the obvious. He had killed three British soldiers in front of the boy and they had even acknowledged who he was. Arthur's eyebrows knitted together in a scowl, in an attempt to give a menacing glare, but his current state lessened the effect.
"They know me because I was a former Captain in the King's Navy."
"And now?" The blue eyes darkened with a vague realization, searching over the pale face that had turned to look fully upon him. There were few wanted posters in the colonies of pirates as their Golden Age had passed some thirty years ago, but the knowledge that a few still sailed the seas was prevalent. He had known a few pirate Captain's names from tales and stories told by his father when he was younger, namely the fiercer of pirates such as Black Bart and even Mary Read. And a good majority of pirates were former naval captains turned rouge…
"Captain Kirkland of the Black Rose." Recognition flashed through the American's face as his blue eyes widened at the name. Yes, Arthur's ship was notorious for its ruthlessness. A feared name among sailors and merchants alike, the ship had been mentioned among the tavern's patrons but Alfred could have never suspected that such a ruthless and bloodthirsty pirate could be so… young.
"N-no, that's not possible. Captain Kirkland is supposed to be old and ugly and mean, and-and terrifying! And you're …not."
"What am I?" The Captain sneered, green eyes glinting dangerously in the shadows. Given the circumstances, Alfred had complete power over the Captain but the young man seemed entirely oblivious to that concept as he stared at the pale face before him, mouth slightly agape.
"You're so - so young. And you're beautiful… and you saved me and Amelia!" The man cried out in a quiet voice, glancing over at the two sleeping men by the fire. God help him if either of them woke up. Then he would truly be in a mess.
Raising a massive eyebrow, Arthur's thin mouth curved into a lopsided grin, "Oh?" He asked, turning his head slightly as he gazed at the man before him.
"You're supposed to be ruthless! You kill people without mercy on the seas! So why save two colonists?"
"Call it a twisted sense of justice. And I am ruthless boy." The pirate sneered, green eyes narrowing at the frozen American before him, "but I'm only loyal to myself. I saw fit to save you and your lovely fiancée and you saw fit to save my life."
"Wha-? Amelia's not my fiancée!"
"No?"
"No. And you're welcome, but still!"
A low chuckle escaped the Englishman as he studied the other man beside him. No fiancée and no family that he could see… He could always use someone on board his ship who could patch him and the crew up.
"Where's your family?" He shot out, a stir near the fire catching his ear but Arthur chose to ignore it. The room was beginning to lighten as the dark sky outside of the window began to lose its blackness. A magenta color was beginning to break in the horizon, flecked with gold and blues. The darkened expression crossed Alfred's features and his eyes narrowed towards the pirate.
"Dead." He growled out, a mixture of pain and anger flashing in his dark eyes. Despite the dark direction that their conversation had turned, Arthur's smirk grew slightly as he regarded the young man in front of him.
"Well then, a young man with no ties and a hatred for the English." He mused, groaning slightly as he tried to prop himself up onto the pillows on the small bed. The dark expression disappeared suddenly from Alfred's face as the Brit tried to move himself up, pain painting across his face at the feeble movements. Quickly leaning out of his chair, a warm hand braced Arthur's back once again and helped him to position himself comfortably against the pillows. A satisfied sigh broke through his thin lips, eyes closing for a moment as the pain throbbed through his shoulder before stealing a glance at the blonde at his side.
Alfred's expression was of sheer concern for his comfort, which Arthur found odd since he had practically dropped a pallet of bricks on their conversation. The hand lingered on his back, the other hand resting lightly against Arthur's exposed stomach as he settled himself. Green eyes locked with blue in a dangerous dance of willpower, Alfred's hands slowly retracting themselves as he watched the so-called-ruthless pirate before him. Arthur could play seducer as easily as that damn frog could and maybe it could grant him a skilled crew member.
Steeling his gaze, his other hand darted out, his lips setting into a thin line at the pain that it caused him to twist his body to do so as he grabbed the receding hand, fingers wrapping tightly around the bony wrist. Alfred's cheeks began to burn in a pink that rivaled the dawning sky outside as the injured Captain pulled him towards himself, Alfred's body following willingly.
The green eyes softened to smolder (Arthur did learn some things from his damned first mate) as the American leaned towards him, eyes wide enough for Arthur to see the entire white of his eyes. He tilted his head gently to the side and stopped his pulling as he felt the other's warm and haggard breath on his face. There was nothing Alfred could do but comply as his body betrayed him, lips barely parting in a silent protest as the Englishman's breath skimmed over them, moistening them in the dry air.
"Join me."
A/N: Short chapter is short. I had Amelia in here, but I decided to cut her out. Leave the poor girl to deal with herself. Anyway, thanks for all of the follows and favorites! I know this kind of went fast, but it's a one-shot (maybe two), so I kind of wanted it a bit short. Review, review! Next chapter will be a time skip of sorts and you might get to see how ruthless pirate!Arthur can really be. ;)