Romano thought he would never get used to boat life. He hated the way that the ground was constantly moving, bobbing in the water. He hated the dizzy feeling he got every time he had to climb those stupid ladders up the sails. He hated the dark little cabin that was his room. He hated the disgusting, dry food. But most of all, he hated the stupid Spanish Captain, Antonio.

The first few weeks had been terrible. Romano refused to talk to anyone, turned down any food, and all the time he couldn't get used to being at sea. He threw up three times on the first night alone, and it took almost a whole week for his fever to wear off.

Once he was back to normal health, there wad the problem of the other people on the ship. There were about 17 on the ship in total, but Romano only took notice of a few. There was the chatty, pretty woman, Bella, who told him she was from Belgium. There was her intimidating older brother, Abel, who was Dutch and spoke in only short sentences and grunts. Along with them, there was a large, ginger haired woman who cooked the food, an obese, toothless man who spent most of his time polishing the canons, and an elderly man with wrinkles everywhere who sat in a corner most of the time, talking to himself about ' the good old days'.

But the new thing most horrifying to Romano was work. Romano hated anything which involved effort or skill, both of which he felt he lacked a lot. For the first few days, he ignored any request for him to work completely. Then, Antonio forced him into working by threatening, rather kindly, to throw the already terrifyingly small amount pasta overboard. So Romano worked, but only if he had to. Sometimes he would clean the ship, other times he helped lookout in the crows nest with Bella, (Romano liked this one a lot, as not much ever came along to look out for, and he usually ended up napping). Occasionally, he would help out in the kitchen, even though the large cook scared him. Romano enjoyed making fresh food, with vegetables and meats and spices, and especially pasta, although he was barely cooked with any of his precious supplies.

Over time, Romano warmed up to the others members of the ship, as he began to accept that he was stuck with then for two years. Although he often ached for his home, he couldn't deny that he did like the ocean, the smell of salty waves...

But then their was that man, the captain. Romano couldn't get his head around that stupid man; at first he came across as an airheaded Spaniard with a strange obsession with tomatoes. But then, after getting to know him better, Romano observed a more teasing side, causing for Romano to take him as a pervert. However, it also seemed he was fierce as well. One time, Bella told him how Antonio had beaten this English pirate in a battle over a jewel our something. She had mentioned how the Spanish man had cut off the other ship captain's ear and set fire to his ship, getting himself horribly burnt in the process. Romano wasn't all to sure if he believed her, as he had never seen any burn scars on Antonio's body. He did try to talk to the man as little as possible though, as he was sure that something would happen to him with that man... something bad that he couldn't quite imagine yet.

Romano sighed, leaning over the side of the ship and gazing at the waves. Had he really been away for a month now? Surely that wasn't right. His home was a long way away, so was his brother, and his grandpa. They seemed like a dream to him, like something that happened in another world...

"The waves really are beautiful, aren't they?"

Romano nearly fell off the boat. He spun around, hand flying to attack the owner of the voice-

"Easy, mi amigo!" Antonio caught Romano's hand in his, grinning as the smaller man struggled furiously. "No use attacking someone when you don't really know how to fight."

"I do know how to fight, bastard!" Romano fumed, snatching his hand out of Antonio's grip. He glared angrily at the pirate captain.

"Oh really? Wait a moment here for me, Romano..." suddenly Antonio hurried off in the direction of his cabin, leaving Romano muttering angrily to himself. He returned shortly with two swords, a bigger one and a smaller one.

"Here," he handed Romano the smaller sword with a smirk. Romano examined the weapon in his hands; about the length of his arm, it looked old, but in good condition. He gave it an experimental swing towards Antonio.

"Ah, sí, I think that is good enough for you," Antonio said. He raised his own sword. "Let us test it out."

He dived at Romano, sword aimed gracefully towards the younger man's chest. Years of stealing things had given Romano quick reflexes, so he dodged it almost instantly. He held the blade in his hand nervously, before running at Antonio.

"Eat shit, bastard!"

Their swords clashed with a loud clang , shards of sunlight flying off the
opposing blades like tiny explosions. Antonio spun elegantly around, his sword streaming through the air towards Romano's head. The Italian ducked just in time to feel it graze his hair, then turned to avoid the captain's next move.

Romano had to admit, he had a hard time keeping up with the Spaniard. The way he hopped, span and twirled through the air, the way his sword glided perfectly in all the right places, it reminded Romano of a dance. Yes, it looked a lot to him like the pirate was dancing.

Being younger and having less experience meant Romano found himself struggling to keep up with Antonio's moves, and eventually he stumbled, crashing to his knees on the deck. As he sat up, he felt a blade press against his neck, and a warm breath down the back of his neck. Antonio leaned closer, so that his lips were touching Romano's ear lightly.

"Not bad, not bad at all mi corazón~" he muttered, smiling slightly. Romano flushed an unattractive shade of tomato red.

"Don't talk your language to me, you filthy bastard." he said, pushing Antonio's sword away from his throat and standing up.

"Do you speak any Spanish, Romano? Would you like me to teach you?" Antonio asked, almost too innocently.

"I only know a little Spanish, just from the town and stuff... and I don't want to learn any more, stupid bastard..." Romano replied. He rubbed his neck impatiently.

"Did I hurt you, Romano? I've got to say, you did very well."

"I'm fine." Romano grumbled, diverting his eyes. "I'll go... do something... now... bastard..." he went to walk away.

"Um... Romano?" the Italian turned, eyebrows raised.

"What is it now?"

"Would you like me to teach you to use that sword properly?" Romano hadn't even noticed that he still had the sword in his hand. He blinked at it dubiously, before staring at Antonio for a while.

"...yes..."

The sword clattered to the floor, and Romano was gone, leaving Antonio with a triumphant smile on his face.

It was a boiling hot day when Antonio docked his ship in the small coastal French village. The sun was glaring down mercilessly, reminding the Spanish pirate of his home country in summer, and also of two friends who he met here several years ago. The summer was hot that year as well, and they were young and wild (wilder than they were now) and he had brief, happy memories of drinking, laughing and messing around.

Antonio sighed to himself, quietly, but still loud enough that Romano, who was standing behind him, heard.

"What're you sighing about, bastard?" he asked grumpily, approaching Antonio with his arms folded.

"Ah, nothing. I was just thinking about two good friends of mine whom I may here many, many years ago, now." he offered Romano his hand. "Would you like help getting off the ship?"

"I can do it fucking fine myself." Romano spat, turning his back on Antonio. Together with Bella, they walked into the French town, in search of shops where they could stock up on supplies. The streets were crowded with people, noisy people, most of them speaking French. On fact, it was very busy, so much that eventually they lost Bella in the crowds.

"It's ok," Antonio shrugged it off when Romano pointed out her absence. "She'll be fine. But keep close to me Romano, I don't want to loose you as well..." The Italian grumbled as Antonio put a have on his shoulder and dragged him through the mass of people into a narrower, less crowded street, with smaller shops and a pretty cobbled road.

"Ooh!"

There was a glint in Antonio's eyes as he approached the shop, pure awe glowing on his face. Like a child, he pressed his face against the window of the tiny, antique weaponry store, just to get closer to the weapons inside that he loved so. Romano had seen the collection that he kept in his cabin a few times, and it was a mass of gleaming blades, highly polished guns and lethal killing machines. In fact, Antonio had told him never to touch anything in there without him around unless it was an emergency. Romano liked to imagine breaking in there and using the one of the crazy guns to blast off someone's head in a fight whilst protecting Antonio, although he always told himself that he wasn't protecting Antonio, just punishing the other person.

Shaking his head slightly, Romano turned and looked around. Not much was going on down this street, but it was better than the pushing, shoving crowds from before. Just a few tiny shops, a bakery, a bookstore and the antique weapons shop, and the rest of the road was houses with big windows and open doors. A smell caught on Romano's nose... he knew that smell. Since he was younger, ever since he was born, that smell had been there, although often accompanied by tomatoes, or herbs and spices, the basic scent was still there. Romano's eyes glinted.

Pasta.

He swivelled round on the balls of his feet, nose to the sky, and stumbled blindly in the direction of the food. Oh, how he'd missed pasta! Months at sea, without even his favourite food to remind him of home.

And there it was! He spied it, though an open door, sitting perfectly on a beautiful table. Romano's mouth watered as he gazed into the house, longing to taste the dish... Surely no one would notice? And if they did, they'd never find him, he'd be our at sea. Besides, what were you to expect, leaving pasta out all by itself...

He inched forward a few steps, hands outstretched to snatch up the delicate bowl of food.

So close.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, mi corazón."

The voice was so close to his ear, at first Romano thought it was in his head. He swivelled at the feeling of a warm hand on his shoulder, coming eye to eye with Antonio.

"I wasn't going to- bastard, what did you call me?" the Spanish man winked slightly before replying.

"Do you speak any Spanish, Romano?" he said, leading the Italian away from the open door away from his pasta.

"No..." Romano grumped, slouching after him slowly.

"Ah, I should teach you..."

They wondered slowly out into the main streets, Antonio keeping close to Romano so he didn't loose him. As the pair walked, Antonio taught Romano basic Spanish words. However, as usually expected from the captain, the lesson started up with basic phrases like hello (hola) and ended up with more 'useful' phrases like fuck me (cogeme duro). This continued for their whole shopping trip, in which they picked up the remaining supplies needed for the ship, plus some pasta and three bottles of a very strong looking alcohol that Antonio bought off a French man.

"You are old enough to drink, aren't you?" Asked the tall, Spanish man.

"Of course bastard..."

"Hmm... how old are you?"

"I'm nineteen, bastard!" Romano snapped. Antonio laughed.

"You shouldn't swear so much," he scolded the Italian playfully. "Come on, lets find a quiet place to drink this." he gestured at the bottles in his hands.

After about five minutes, they discover a quiet spot in the form of a stone staircase leading down to an empty beach. Antonio plonked himself down on the sun flooded steps that boasted a beautiful view of the twinkling waves in the glowing orange sunset. Romano sat, a little awkwardly, next to him, and Antonio passed him a bottle.

"Careful, this is strong stuff." he warns, removing the lid off of his bottle. Romano sighed.

"I'll be fine." they each took a swig from their bottles, Antonio with a grin on his face and Romano... Antonio had never seen such a cute, funny face in his life. It was like someone had kissed, slapped and stabbed Romano at the same time. The Italian spat violently onto the floor.

"Are you trying to fucking poison me, bastard?" he retched dramatically, and Antonio patted him on the back, smirking slightly.

"I thought you said you'd drunk before?"

"Well..." Romano scowled a little. "I've had wine a few times with my grandpa..."

"Did you never go out drinking with friends?" Antonio was teasing, but Romano looked down.

"I never really... had any friends..." Antonio looked shocked.

"But why?"

"I was always rude to everyone, so nobody really liked me." Romano took a swig from his bottle and cringed.

"Aww, it's ok, I'll be your friend." said Antonio, desperately trying to cheer him up. The Spanish pirate sighed slightly.

"I never really had any friends as a child either. I was nice to everyone, but none of them were true friends. But then... nearly ten years ago now, I met my two best friends. Both pirates too." he glanced at Romano to check he was still listening, then continued.

"One was this French perv, Francis. We met somewhere up in Holland, and at first I planned to raid his ship. But there was this other guy in the area, a crazy English pirate. He got all mad at us, and shot down Francis' ship, so me and Francis made a truce and I let him on my ship. Then we met this mental German man, Gilbert, also a pirate. Actually, he tried to raid my ship, but then we had a swordfight, and drew, and it turned out that we had a common enemy: The English pirate. After this, we travelled together, all three of us, in my ship. We sailed for about a year, during which we picked up Bella and Abel, before that tough old Brit found us again. He... captured Francis, so me and Gil tried to save him. In the end, we..."

He trailed off, gazing out to sea with olive eyes stained red by the sunset. Add in fluttering dark eyelashes and it looked like his pupils burned as his blinked, glowing orange lava threatening to spill down his cheeks. He wiped away a single bead of burning, molten fire as it trailed from his fiery eye, and continued.

"I set fire... to the English man's ship. I... still have the burn scars. Francis and Gilbert escaped, but... we all went different ways, and I haven't heard of then since." he ran a hand gently up to his left shoulder, feeling, beneath the fabric, hidden scars.

Romano reminded himself to breath.

"Ah, well, I'm sure we'll meet again someday!" it was only now that Romano realised that Antonio had been drinking all through the story, and his bottle was almost empty.

"If not, I guess we'll meet I hell..." the Spaniard rambled, bottle slipping from his grasp and smashing to the floor in-between him and Romano.

"Careful, bastard!" the Italian snapped, shuffling away from the wreckage. Antonio picked up a shard of the glass and held it to the light curiously.

"So pretty..." Romano snatched it off him and chucked it into the sea.

"You'll cut yourself, idiota."

Antonio giggled. "I didn't know you cared so much, Romano!" he wrapped his arms clumsily around the smaller man, pulling him into an awkward hug.

"Get off me!" Romano cursed as his wriggled in Antonio's grip. Outstretching a leg, he kicked the Spanish man in the stomach, causing him to let go and Romano to fall to the ground, on top of the pile of glass. Antonio was, by now, bent over laughing.

"Ahaha, Romano, are you ok?" he asked hysterically.

"Oww..."

"Romano?"

"Ah... bastard...owwww..."

"Romano!"

AN: Well, this got serious quickly.

Thank you all who are reading. And I promise there will be more characters soon.

Reviews would be much appreciated :)