__________________________________________

It took him a little under an hour to find his way back to the ship. He was a little lost for a while, being in a foreign country surrounded by people who didn't speak English. By the time he did, it was evening. Richard was nowhere to be found. He looked everywhere naturally, not wanting to get in trouble.

He had no idea what he was supposed to do with himself for a moment. He was hungry. Despite the delicious cinnamon bun he had earlier today his stomach was yet again growling at him and demanding substance. Thinking about that only made him think about Arthur for some reason, and that only made his thoughts swirl.

No. Not right now. Alfred was going to go get food now. Maybe Yao will be down there and he could get some extra beef.

His boots clacked silently as he walked down the dock. It was quiet. The only men on the deck where two men climbing up in the mast, tending to the sails. They shouted orders at each other and one would laugh at the other when they slipped up. Alfred couldn't imagine having to work so high up, his life in so much danger, every day.

Standing next to the door to the floors below was Allistor, his flaming red hair gleaming in the sunset. He seemed to be relaxing, his back leaning against the wood and a bottle in his hand. His eyes met Alfred immediately. His eyes resembled green fields and trees rather than jewels.

"Hey, lad. Wouldn't go in the mess hall right now if I were you." Allistor said, chuckling. Something seemed moderately funny to him. He took another swig of the bottle and grunted in the distaste of alcohol.

"Why?" Alfred asked, frowning at his already extended hand, reaching for the brass door handle.

"If you wanna see what a gangbang is like firs' hand then by all means, be my guest," Allistor said humorlessly. He smirked at the look of utter horror on Alfred's face. The poor American could feel his breakfast coming back up his throat.

They were doing what?? Oh God, he hated pirates. "
That's disgusting!" He blurted out, but it only made Allistor laugh harder as he pushed himself off the wall.

"Oh, but not all of us think so. There's some o' them men who do this every time we make port. They usually do this in someone's room, but I think they've attracted a bigger crowd tonight." Allistor said. Alfred had to stop himself from subconsciously lifting a hand to his mouth to stop oncoming vomit. Just picturing it made his insides curl. It was worse once Alfred remembered he had been threatened with the very same thing a week ago. That could've been him down there screaming for mercy in the midst of a humiliating and slow death.

"Blimey, yer reaction makes me wager ya might' be a virgin." Allistor jokes. Alfred squeaked at the word and wondered whether or not he should retreat to his room. Then again, Allistor didn't tell him where in the ship that was taking place.

"Shut up!" Alfred yelled, turning bright pink. It was ultimately embarrassing how close to the truth it was. It was the truth. He was a virgin. He'd only ever kissed girls and stuff. That was it. His sexual activities were only just a big list of snogging, but he didn't want Allistor to know that! Or worse. Arthur.

"Okay! Okay! I understand yer need for space." Allistor said, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. He only chuckled in good humor and patted Alfred on the pack. "Fine. What say you and I split another bottle o' whiskey? It's brand new, just bought up in the town."

Alfred swallowed. He didn't trust Allistor. Not at all. He was the first mate, right in the league with Kirkland. He wouldn't hesitate to....well, he supposed he had been friendly before. He wasn't the one who put him in this mess anyway. Slowly, Alfred nodded.

"Aye, that's the spirit," Allistor said. He smiled and gave Alfred a reassuring pat. "I promise I won't get ya drunk. I'll be right back. Just a mo'."

______________________________

It turns out, Alfred was not too fond of whiskey either. The drink left a weird taste in his mouth. It wasn't too terrible, but he supposed alcohol's first intended purpose wasn't always to taste good.

"How often do they do this?" Alfred asked in distaste, his stomach not liking the increase of alcohol or the thoughts about.....that.

"Often. Sometimes Kirkland will order them not to when he invites someone else on the ship. Captains and all that." Allistor answered. He didn't mind the bitter taste of alcohol at all as he took a huge swig and handed it back to Alfred. It was a medium-sized bottle made of some sort of brown glass, and it had French writing on it, probably listing things about a price.

"What kind of Captains?" Alfred asked, thinking of the Francis guy he had met earlier. Would Allistor actually tell him that if Arthur refused to?

"Other captains of pirate crews," Allistor said merrily. They watched the sea from where they sat near the railing of the deck. The smell of sea salt and wood was pungent in the air, and the water crashed on the stationary vessel. "We sometimes trade and negotiate with other crews ta help build a better profit. I heard word Bonnefoy is in town, so there is him."

"Bonnefoy?" Alfred asked, frowning in confusion. He had heard that before. His Navy higher-ups, or well, his old higher-ups discussed him too when sailing near Europe. His bounty was significantly less than Kirkland's though.

"Francis Bonnefoy." Allistor corrected. He scrunched his face a little. "Don't like him that much. He regards sex as an art form. Weird bloke." The bottle was empty. Allistor grunted and chucked it at the open ocean. It soon fell with a small splash and disappeared into the waters.

Alfred felt hungry now. He didn't get to drink much of the whiskey, seeing as he immediately didn't like it, but he still hadn't had dinner yet either. So he was wrong then. He had heard of Francis at some point. He shivered when he remembered the Frenchman trying to grab him pervertedly. And then he thought of Matthew. Well, he'd really rather not right now actually. Shit.

"Tell me about more." Alfred blurted, plopping down a barrel. Ow. That was too hard. Alfred felt his insides crawling again.

"Hm. Kirkland ain't a very friendly fellow. He doesn't have many allies. Actually, it's more like Franny insists upon being Kirkland's ally." Allistor thought for a moment. The white shirt he wore billowed in the wind with his hair. "There was Beilschmidt."

He knew that one. "You mean that German guy?" Alfred said, trying to remember who exactly that was. There was something that happened to him.

"Nah. He's Prussian." Allistor said. He furrowed his brow as if he were trying to remember something. "His ship got burned down by Europeans and then he disappeared. Some say he's either still in Germanic land or he's hiding on someone else's ship. Shame, really. He's been one of the only people to have more money over his head than Kirkland."

"I heard about that," Alfred said absentmindedly. He had forgotten now that he was talking to Arthur's first mate and felt more like he was talking to a friend. A friend that just so happened to be a pirate who had killed dozens in that last for years, but still. Allistor teased him from time to time, but it was all in friendly humorous reasons. It would be a stretch to say he cared about him, but it wouldn't be to say that he wouldn't hurt him either.

"I had the pleasure of meetin' him. He and Kirkland go way back. I think they got along better than Franny does." Allistor chuckled, and folded his arms, leaning against the railing. He seemed to care little about the moderate possibility of him falling overboard. "And then there's Carriedo."

"Who?" Alfred blurted out. Truth be told, that one was very familiar. His old general had started to talk about him more and more recently.

"Antonio Carriedo. Bloody bastard. He and Arthur are basically what you call rivals amongs' the sea." Allistor said. He had distaste on his face as he spoke of him. "You can't tell me ya haven't heard of him?"

Alfred thought for a moment. "Uh, yeah. There was a navy mate who disappeared and people say he became part of his crew. I think his name was Carlos or something. He has a lot of money on his head right?"

"Yeah, a whole lot. Only comes in second, right short of Kirkland" Allistor said, laughing a little at this. "He and Kirkland had a row recently. We're in bad waters with him."

"Really?" Alfred said. Pirate rivalries sounded interesting. Stories about such things were traded amongst his old Navel peers. Great pirate captains rising in fame only to fall in a heap of flames and sea at the hands of someone who wanted his fortune and fame.
Tales of ghost captains haunting the seas and stealing the souls of the living sailors. He didn't like those. He hated ghost stories.

"Right. See, we were plannin' a raid in a town with a lot o' riches. A huge port town in Spain had just brought back a shipment from Africa and it had lots of money in gemstones and gold on it. Kirkland made a deal with Carriedo to help it make easier to steal it. The only problem was, we made off with all of it. Carriedo now thinks we owe him."

"How much?"

"Oh, about sixty thousand."

Alfred widened his eyes. That was more than his family had ever owned in generations. "Wow. No wonder he's mad."

"More than mad from what I've heard," Allistor commented. He gave a quiet smile at the now fading sunset and pushed himself off the railing. "It's time I oughta tell the men down there to let the poor lass go. I'm sure some of us actually want some sleep."

Alfred simply nodded, not trusting himself to speak with the mention of sex being brought up again. For a while, Alfred thought he would end up vomiting over the railing next to him. Anything was pretty much too much of a foreign concept for his virgin mind.

He settled for just watching the waves then. Once his stomach settled down, it began to resume complaining about the lack of food. He wondered how long he should wait until he could deem it safe to go down to the mess hall for supper. Wouldn't they have to clean up first? Oh dear God, now he was thinking about all of the fluids everywhere. Oh shit. Shit.

"Oi! You!" Came a very slurred voice.

Alfred turned around in confusion. The second he did, the owner of the voice and a companion shoved a body towards him. Alfred staggered and struggled to regain his balance as a heavyweight pressed on him. He blinked rapidly at the sudden smell of alcohol.

His mind imploded as he looked down to see Arthur in his arms, very clearly drunk. Really drunk.

The two pirates lapsed into drunken laughter. "Look at the poor boy! Guess who's going to take his drunk captain to bed?!" They erupted into drunken laughter as they jeered at Alfred.

"What!? No! I'm not- Wha- What the fuck??" Alfred yelled, struggling to keep the drunk captain in his arms. Arthur moaned incoherent words. His hat hung lopsided on his head, and all of his earrings were missing. His usually bright glittering green orbs had a hazy look to them.
He was very warm and it made Alfred somewhat happy to have the British Captain in his arms, even if he was drunk. Wait no! Bad idea! Bad idea!

"Your old Captain is drunk. We ain't cleaning up his mess. Have fun slutty boy." The other Pirate shouted. Alfred's face morphed into more panic and fear as the two men were walking away. No! There was no way he could take a drunk Arthur to his room! It was Arthur!!!

"Wait, what?!" Alfred shouted, blushing at the very notion of Arthur being so close to him. There was no way he could survive taking the Captain to his cabin! That was insane! What kind of sick game were these two random guys playing at?! This was too cruel!! Too cruel!!

They only laughed harder before the door slammed shut behind them. He heard their laughter die down as they descended further into the vessel. It grew quiet, minus the surroundings and the faint chuckling of the sails men from above.

Alfred's mind scrambled for something that still made sense as he bit his lip and stared down at Arthur. The captain didn't seem to even care where he was, he only stayed where he was in Alfred's arms, mumbling incoherent words about rum and utter nonsense.

"God... How much did you drink?" Alfred asked, wrinkling his nose at the strong smell of alcohol. Wasn't there a limit to how much you could drink before one would just pass out? Or die even? Could you actually die from alcohol? Alfred was completely clueless in this situation.

"S'fine. Drank much less than the' dammed frog." Arthur frowned at Alfred. "When did you get here?" Alfred's face morphed into pure confusion amongst the panic as he stared at Arthur. That had not helped him at all. "Alfie, where's Franny?"

Alfie? Franny? Oh, wait. That Francis guy. "He's not here. Arthur, do you remember how much you drank?" He tried again, hoping Arthur would recognize the question and give some sort of answer. His hope was only in vain though.

"I'm fine. I've drunk a lot worse." He smiled faintly into Alfred's chest. "You smell like cinnamon." Alfred wanted to hope Arthur's intense drunkenness had caused that comment, just for the sake of his sanity.

He should just get this over with. It was only a short walk to the cabin. No one would see him. He could just dump Arthur off and then escape. Maybe once the Brit was sober he wouldn't remember this. Yes. He would be fine.

With new encouragement, he gathered Arthur up in his arms and swung his other arm around his shoulders. "I-I'm taking you to your room now sir. You need to sleep this off."

Arthur didn't seem to like that. "Wha? No! Why are you here?" He slurred drunkenly. However, he was not equipped enough to fight Alfred as the American tried his best to lead him in the direction of the Captain's quarters.

"Your crew is full of jerks," Alfred answered bluntly. They were at the stairs now. Shit. He had to hope Arthur didn't weigh much. Not to mention that coat that probably hid what only God knew. And the weapons strapped to his belt. "Can you walk at all?"

"Can't you?" Arthur replied in such damaged pronunciation Alfred could barely separate words from broken gibberish. Dear God, was Arthur always like this when drunk?

"Never mind. I'm taking you up the stairs now." Alfred said. His mind buzzed with stupid excitement and utter chaos as he helped his drunk captain up the stairs. The butterflies were having some stupid party in his stomach now, flying around and not giving a shit about the poor American and his thoughts.

Finally, at the Captain's door, he shifted all of Arthur's weight on one shoulder in order to reach the handle. Thank God for his original peasantry upbringing and the labor that helped him build up strength. He would always win arm wrestles and things like that because of it back in the Navy.

"Nice arms," Arthur commented randomly, his face hanging lopsidedly into Alfred's chest. Alfred ignored that. He had to remember Arthur was drunk and probably meant nothing of what he said. Probably.

He quickly opened the door to find himself once again in Arthur's cabin. It looked the same as ever, lanterns and candles burning bright to give the room light. The heavy smell of roses still perfumed the room for some reason. Arthur continued to mumble unintelligible words as Alfred quickly looked around.

If memory served him correctly, there was another door that led to the sleeping quarters of the cabin. He grunted under Arthur's weight and walked slowly over to the door, tucked behind bookcases. He was careful not to knock anything over, especially the expensive-looking trinkets and artifacts sitting on the surfaces he passed.

It turns out he was right. A huge King-sized four-poster bed sat in the middle room, comfortable blankets and sheets and pillows folded neatly. Another lantern was the only light source in the room. A large dresser and wardrobe sat in the other corner, and a table and shelves sat filled with personal belongings. To Alfred's surprise, there was a large pot of English roses sitting on the windowsill to his right. So that was where the rose smell was coming from? A pirate captain owned roses? Super weird.

"Okay sir, I'm putting you down now." Alfred quickly muttered. He gently lowered his drunken captain on the bed. Arthur paid no heed that he heard Alfred and simply let the other drop him face-first into the bed. He moaned drunkenly and cuddled up there, seeming to finally stop with the gibberish mumblings. He was actually.....kind of cute like this.

"Mmmm. Hey Alfie?" Arthur slurred, closing his eyes as he lay there in the blankets, seemingly oblivious to how intensely awkward this was for Alfred.

"Y-yeah?" Alfred answered, trying to busy himself by looking around the room. It was almost as interesting as the main room. A huge portrait hung in front of the dresser, along with other paintings Arthur probably stole.

"Would you let me fuck you?"

Alfred yelped and nearly tripped over his feet, his left hand shooting out to grip the dresser. He didn't realize it was his injured arm, the burn still very painful, only that his stomach was screaming and his mind had just imploded. What the fuck??

"W-what!! Why- why would you ask that?!" Alfred yelled, his butterflies seeming to be as mindless as Arthur right now. Did Arthur seriously just ask him that? No. No, the Brit was drunk! Dear Jesus, he shouldn't let him affect him! This was insane! Why did it make Alfred's stomach flutter and clench at the same time?

"Because. Franny said I was lonely and I told him to bug off and he introduced me to his new friend. They snogged in front of me. Bloody twats." Whatever Arthur said made no sense. Alfred stared at the Brit, at a total loss for what to do. Why was luck such a jerk to him? Fucking shit.

"T-that..." No. He wanted to avoid answering that question at all costs. "Arthur you need to sleep. I'm going to let you get some sleep. You really need it, sir." Yeah. That sounded good enough. It was a well put together excuse. He really needed to get out of here. He started to back away towards the still-open door.

"W-wait... Don't leave..." Arthur murmured. His arm darted out and suddenly his eyes were open. Alfred blushed, his hand already reaching for the doorknob. Oh, come on! How ridiculous could this man be?!

"Sir, you need to sleep," Alfred said, worrying that Arthur was going to say something else stupid and perverted and mess up Alfred's day even more.

"I can't....sleep without you..." Arthur whined. His other arm had somehow found a pillow and started hugging it. Why did this fearsome pirate captain look so cute while drunk? Did he make it a habit to defy all logic that Alfred lived by?

Alfred hesitated. "C-cant you? I really need to go down and eat....." He tried, but it was in vain. Arthur only persisted.

"Please.....?" He asked, the end of his question slurring into more drunken nonsense.

Alfred hesitated. No, he really shouldn't. It was from Arthur. Then again, he just looked too cute like this and a part of Alfred wanted so badly to stay with Arthur for as long as he liked. Oh, he really, really shouldn't. This was wrong. Right? Alfred sucked