A/N: This is the start of my new Pirate story. :D I've always loved Captain Kirkland and now I'm writing one for him. This is, of course, USUKUS. Yes. Both. There will be both. Because honestly I don't think Captain Kirkland just takes it. He would fight to top. England as his normal self would, though.
Ignore my bad attempts at pirate talk.

Review! I want feedback AND ideas! I'd love some ideas for what happens on the ship!

It was a fair day on the seas of the Atlantic as Captain Kirkland stood at the wheel of his ship. His crew either ran about doing their jobs or slacking in the late day sun. Kirkland looked out over the glittering waters and gazed at the sun with a smirk that was somewhere between happy and taunting. Yet another day upon the seas had gone by while on the Bloody Mary, Captain Kirkland's beautiful ship. In his hand he rolled a light blue sapphire –one that he held onto for luck. It had a circumference of about eleven centimeters and was roughly the shape of a heart. Captain Kirkland brought the jewel to his lips and kissed if softly with glee in the back of his throat threatening to bubble out in chuckles as they always did when he thought a bit about his jewel. It was a… "gift" from a certain Spaniard.

"Ahoy, captain." A voice taunted in greeting from behind Captain Kirkland. The captain scowled and pocketed his jewel stealthily within the carefully hidden pocket of his coat. He didn't want many to know of his treasure for fear they would steal it. He trusted his crew with his life, but he wouldn't put it past the dogs to steal from him –especially as beautiful a jewel as the heart sapphire was.

"You had better hope you have come to tell me supper is ready or I'll murder ye for fouling up my air." Captain Kirkland growled, not turning to his intruder on his day.

He felt hands slither around his waist and a body press close to him. "Fouling, you say, well-" He didn't finish as the captain spun around to knock the hands away and in the same move pull his flintlock to point in his assaulter's face. The blonde man held up his hands in a slightly mocking surrender. "Now, now, cheri, no need to point."

"Keep your filthy hands off of me, Francis." Kirkland growled.

"Arthur, you wound me. I can't give my friend a hug?"

"I'm not your friend, frog."

Francis dropped his hands. "You're right, of course, on that one fact." He shrugged and walked to join the captain at the railing of the ship to gaze out upon the ocean. "We 'ate each other."

Arthur put his weapon away. "Of course. Now why are you here?"

Francis sighed. "I've been in the kitchen or in my quarters all day. Can I not have a little bit of fresh air?"

Arthur scoffed. "You're my prisoner. I don't have to treat you fairly at all."

"So cruel! What 'appened to that little boy that looked like a caterpillar?"

Arthur scowled and bit back the heat rising to his cheeks. "That was a long time ago. I am not that child anymore!"

"Really now, England, you should relax once in a while. You'll develop wrinkles if you keep frowning like that."

"Don't call me that around the crew. You know that, France." Arthur's eyes narrowed. Francis shrugged and turned to leave.

"Your dinner is in your quarters, my captain." He gave a flick of his wrist and left.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier, bastard?" Arthur growled under his breath and walked down the stairs to the main deck before entering his quarters. It was a large and ordinary room for one such as the captain. The windows held red curtains with gold trim with a matching bed. A large table upon which to chart courses was in the middle of the room. Off to the right were a closet and the left held Arthur's personal table that held his food for the evening. A chest of treasure and a second chest of books were by his bed. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief and closed his door before removing his coat and hanging it on his bedpost. He was starving.

It was late at night –perhaps midnight or so. The moon floated high in the sky and Arthur contemplated going to sleep. He sat reading a map and making sure they were on the right course as he drank some rum. He didn't feel like becoming drunk but he was thirsty and so he sipped. His head was buzzed, but it was nothing that would affect him.

Arthur felt a chill run up his spine and he spun around swiftly. He looked around but saw nobody. He frowned feeling the fine hairs throughout his body standing up. There was something strange in the air but he couldn't see anything out of place. And his bedroom was thoroughly locked. Still frowning he approached his bed and stripped off his belt, vest, and pants to deposit them in a bin. He was getting ready to remove his shirt when there was an electric charge –like one would feel when lightning strikes nearby- and Arthur watched as a bright flash enveloped the room. In that instance he dove towards his gun that sat nearby and aimed as a figure's outline became apparent through the light.

The light faded to expose a man –barely, if his age was anything to go by- wearing strange clothing. His trousers were made of a blue material Arthur had never seen before and his shirt was red, loose, and covered his torso to a little below his neck and over his shoulders was a brown jacket with black –wool?- material around the collar. On his wheat-field coloured hair he wore a strange black cap with a bill only in the front of it and had the letters 'U', 'S', and 'A' printed on the front of it. Arthur was confused by this man –who was on his hands and knees and appearing startled as Arthur pointed his gun directly in the man's face.

"Who are ye and how did ye get in here?" He demanded angrily. No doubt this was a type of magic.

The man fell onto his back and away from the barrel shouting, "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Don't shoot me, dude!" He blinked sky blue eyes at him through eyeglasses. He opened his mouth to speak when Arthur slammed his foot onto the man's chest and forced him to the ground pointing his flintlock straight between the man's eyes.

"Speak, boy! Who are you?" He growled, not accepting anything but an answer and conveying it with his eyes.

"A-Alfred F. Jones!" He had a strange accent that Arthur had never heard before. He didn't look Asian but he didn't appear to be quite European –especially with those clothes.

"How did you get onto my ship, dog? Tell me before I blow your brain outside of your skull!"

"It was an accident, I swear!" Alfred cried. "Put the gun down!"

Arthur stepped off of Alfred and commanded, "Get up! Now!" Alfred scrambled to his feet, still holding his hands up. Arthur stepped forward and flipped through the intruder's clothing checking for weapons. He made small notes in his mind as he patted the man down. Well-muscled, although there's some fat, handsome, tight arse, well-built. He found a strange item of leather and opened it. Inside he found what he could tell was paper currency but not from any country he knew of. He tossed it.

"Hey! I need that!" Alfred complained. Arthur shoved his gun underneath the man's chin.

"I think you're not in the position to complain." He told him but he pulled back. He found no weapon of any sort. "Now tell me how you got here."

"Okay, I was just trying to go to my friend's house when somehow I was transported here! Magic, I think!" Alfred looked baffled but not so much scared anymore. Arthur contemplated before lowering his gun but stayed on guard.

"Magic is a tricky thing…" He murmured. Alfred dropped his hands. "Where are you from?"

"Um…" Arthur's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I don't remember." Alfred gave a disarming grin that effectively did just that to the captain. He felt that the stranger was familiar somehow. Nevertheless he knew that the familiar stranger was lying. He wasn't dazed or disoriented at all. Arthur promised himself to get the truth out of him.

"I should throw you into the Atlantic, but if this is indeed a product of magic, I'll let you go…for now." He put away the weapon to see if Alfred would react. Alfred did nothing but pick up what appeared to be a rucksack and walk over to a chair with a sigh. Arthur scowled. "Get out of my chair! Ye're not staying here!" He walked to the door and unlocked it.

"What!" Alfred asked, shocked.

Arthur threw open his door. "Men!" A pair of pirates rushed forward and into the room. Arthur pointed at Alfred. "To the brig with ye!"

"What! No!" Alfred jumped up as the two men rushed him and slammed him to the ground. The teen struggled against them and appeared to be winning until his hands were tied with rope. "Let me go! I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Ye're on my ship, dog, so you'll spend the night in the brig."

"Aw come on, Artie! Don't do this! You asshole!" It was the final word he got in before he was dragged from the room. Arthur closed his door and wondered who this 'Artie' was.

"Could he have been saying my name?" He murmured as he lay down in his bed. But how?

The next morning Arthur was awoken by his cook bursting into his room with the captain's breakfast. Arthur's eyes were open instantly upon the intrusion and he scowled as he was forced from his good dream. Already the threads of the dream eluded his grasp. He couldn't recall what his dream was about.

"What did I tell you about coming into my quarters unannounced, frog?" He growled.

"Here I am!" Francis said. "I'm announcing myself! Get your beautiful self out of bed and eat my exquisite food!"

"Go the bloody fuck away." Arthur said and climbed out of bed to go over to his breakfast.

Francis sat down across from him, much to his displeasure. "So you seem to have captured someone in the middle of the night."

Arthur paused in his meal. He had thought that the stranger had shown up on his ship early in the morning may have been a fantasy. But according to Francis he was real. "Oh? And how did you discover this?"

Francis frowned, annoyed which pleased Arthur. "Not only because he was screaming through the night but also because I had to feed him –to which he also moaned about."

"I see." Arthur finished his small breakfast –they were running out of supplies and would have to stop at the next marked island under British control- and stood up to go pull on his pants and long coat. "I suppose I'll go see him, then."

"Whip him if you have to. If I get woken up again I'll kill the kid myself." Francis sniffed. "I need my beauty sleep."

Arthur ignored him. "Clean up my food and get back to work, frog."

"Yes, my lord." Francis bowed mockingly and did as he was told. Arthur thought about whipping the French man but he left for the brig instead. His room was on the main deck and travelled under the upper deck where the ship's wheel was and on the opposite side of the ship were the stairs that led down to the crew's quarters, kitchen, and brig. The Bloody Mary was a fine vessel and was the best made ship in the British fleet (and really it shouldn't be a pirate ship, but it cried out for the adventure of the sea).

Arthur walked past various members of the crew until he arrived at the brig. He spotted some trash in another cell and ignored that man as he approached Alfred. Alfred was frowning looking generally like he currently hated his life. It was a look very familiar to Arthur.

"Enjoying yourself, dog?" Alfred's head shot up at Arthur's voice and he jumped to his feet, but he was chained down.

"Why the hell am I in here? I didn't do anything bad! I'm just someone who accidentally showed up because of To –magic and now I'm in this hellhole! It freaking stinks in here, dude! Let me out!" Alfred yelled.

"My Lord, you're loud. Bloody hell." Arthur was disgusted with how talkative he was.

"Well maybe if you let me out, I'll shut up!"

"You'll close your mouth whether or not I release you."

"Bullshit! Don't be an ass!"

Arthur twirled the keys to the brig around his finger mockingly. As annoying as Alfred was, he amused Arthur. He was fascinated by Alfred's curious accent (actually it was quite arousing) and his mannerisms were completely unique. "Let us partake in a wager, then."

Alfred quieted. "What kind of wager?"

"Ye'll answer to me and I'll release you."

"Your questions?"


"Deal!" Alfred held out his hand and Arthur shook it.

"First question, then." Arthur leaned against the bars. Alfred gazed back at him through his spectacles. "Where are you really from? And don't say you don't remember because I know you're lying." He added as he unlocked the cell and opened the door.

Alfred closed his mouth, about to have said just that, and then said, "I'm from Africa." Arthur instantly had his scabbard out and at Alfred's neck the next second, scowling.

"You lie." He hissed. "Your skin is dark but tis merely the colour of a worker and not a negro. Do not lie to me again or your neck will be spewing your blood, dog!"

Alfred swallowed and gazed defiantly back at Arthur. His courage impressed the captain but his stupidity didn't allow Arthur to treat him kindly. "Fine, I'm from America."

Arthur froze. "The New World?"


"Your accent is nothing like any European country's I've heard."

"I moved West and I guess I developed this way of talking." Arthur wanted to deny it, but he sensed no lie in his words. "Can you put that thing away? I don't like my neck being threatened."

Arthur scoffed but lowered his weapon. "If you're from the West, what country are you loyal to?" He didn't need any Spanish on his ship.

"I'm loyal to my own country." Alfred stated. "If you want more I can tell you I don't hate the English, French, Spanish or any of them. I'm not here to start a war."

Arthur barked a laugh. "So ye be a nationalist! How amusing!"

Alfred grinned too. "So you'll release me, then?"

"Nay. Unless you answer to my next question."

"Shoot, then!" Arthur was puzzled by the figure of speech but ignored it.

"Ye mentioned the name 'Artie'. Were ye referring to me?"

Alfred hesitated this time. "Um…" Arthur pointed his sword at his throat. "Alright, alright! Don't stab me! I'd heard of a pirate and I knew the name was Art or Artie or something! That's not it?"

Arthur stepped back and with a flourish of his sword he put it away. "That's Captain Arthur Kirkland to you, dog." He unlocked Alfred and said, "Ye'll call me Captain or Captain Kirkland."

"Yeah, yeah." Alfred muttered, rubbing his wrist. Arthur grabbed the boy's collar and yanked him so that they were face-to-face, smirking.

"And ye'll be working as my cabin boy."