A Pirate's Life (Not) For Me

[tommykaine]

Questa storia partecipa all'AU Fest del forum Piume d'Ottone


 

Captain Crowley was in his cabin, studying a map and planning a new course when he heard a loud knocking on the door.

"Come in!", he ordered, putting his instruments down.

A short lad with blond hair and freckles by the name of Nathaniel entered through the door and stared at him, clearly hesitating.

Crowley waited patiently for all of five seconds before barking at him.

"Well? What is it?".

"Captain, it's about, uhm... the prisoner".

"Did something happen to him?". Crowley stood up and walked up to Nathaniel, scowling at him. "I told you lot not to injure him needlessly, if we want the ransom we need him in one piece!"

"No, no, not at all! It's just...". Nathaniel scratched his head nervously. "He's demanding to speak with you".

That answer surprised the captain.

"What for?".

"Well... he's been complaining a lot and we mostly just ignored him, so he asked 'who was in charge of the place' and we said 'Captain Crowley, of course', and then he said 'well then I demand to speak with Mister Crowley himself'. We laughed of course, but he's been very insistent, and... well, I had to stop Thomas from getting in there and kicking his teeth in. I mean, all the lads are getting tired of his whining. Captain, I know you're busy but if you could maybe talk to him for a moment maybe he would finally shut up?".

Crowley sighed. Well, there went his plans to spend the afternoon by himself.

"Alright, alright, I'll talk to the bloody prisoner", he said, raising his hands in defeat. "Let's go".

 

Aziraphale was pacing in his cell, the chains of his shackles clinking as they dragged on the ground.

It had been a dreadful day for him, perhaps the most dreadful so far in his life. Well, except for that one time when the library caught on fire. That had most definitely been worse. All those poor books he would never get to read, burned to ashes. Still, second most dreadful was still pretty far up there. Then again, there was the day on which his favorite bakery got closed. That had been pretty bad too...

Anyway, the point was that when, that morning, he had gotten up early and had a nice scrumptious breakfast, he certainly had not imagined that a crew of pirates would raid the city and capture him.

He hadn't tried to struggle too much, he did try to escape but when they found him he gave up and followed them on their ship. He'd never been much of a fighter. He loved peace, he liked to stick to himself and spend his time in calm and tranquility, surrounded by nice people and nice things.

Those... those ruffians, instead, they were violent and vile and overall quite rude. Not only had they beaten up the guards and manhandled him, they tossed all of his things in disarray to look for gold and treasures, with no regards for his personal items. Of course they were pirates, they were going to steal and kill and kidnap, and many other heinous things for sure, but did they have to be so uncivil on top of that?

Just look at the state of this place, he thought. Rats scurrying about, stains of dubious nature on the floor that he feared were either vomit or urine, or perhaps both, it was disgusting! And those shackles they put on him were uncomfortable and too tight. It wasn't like he could escape, locked in there like that, but when he tried to kindly ask if they could maybe take them off, even for a little, the villains just laughed at him.

Then there was the food. Well, frankly it was insult to call it that. Inedible sludge, more like. No way he was going to eat that. He'd rather starve to death than subject his palate and tongue to such torment.

Of course he had tried to voice his complaints, many times in fact. At first the ruffians had laughed at him, then they had started yelling at him to shut up, then they threatened him with bodily harm, which made him desist for a while but only up to the point when he needed to relieve certain urgent needs and was handed a bucket to do so.

Finally, after enough prompting in his part it seemed he had managed to get through to them and convince them to let him talk to their captain. Aziraphale had not seen the man yet but he knew of his fame, or rather infamy.

Captain Anthony J. Crowley, the notorious pirate captain who terrorized the coast. There were many frightful stories regarding the man. Some people said he was born on a ship whose crew was slaughtered by pirates and raised by those very same pirates until he became the most ruthless and bloodthirsty of them all. Some said that once he'd been shipwrecked on an island and killed and ate every single man of his crew to stay alive, using the remaining bodies to make a raft and get away. Some even said that, rather than sinking the ships he assaulted, he would hang the entrails of the unfortunate crew to the ropes and stick their heads on pikes, leaving the macabre display to drift away wherever the wind decided to bring it to incite terror in the heart of whoever was unfortunate enough to catch sight of it.

Of course, Aziraphale was scared to face such a barbaric individual, especially as he was currently his prisoner. However, he liked to believe that everyone had something good inside of him. Surely if he was courteous and polite he would be able to make even a man like that see the light of reason.

Finally, after a long while the man who went to talk with the captain came back, and together with him was a tall man with long, fiery red hair and a plaited beard of the same color. Aziraphale swallowed hard, trying not to think about the rumour according to which his hair was so red because he dyed it with the blood of his enemies.

The captain was wearing a tricorne hat with a long colorful feather and a golden brooch, a shiny gold earring on his left ear, and a shirt with some suspicious stains on it - once again Aziraphale tried not to let his mind dwell on such details for too long - underneath a fancy-looking vest and suit, no doubt stolen from some nobleman. Around his waist was a silken sash and a leather belt in which he carried two pistols and a cutlass. One of his eyes was covered with an eye-patch, while the other was a striking yellow color.

The captain's boots made the floorboards creak as he approached the cell, crossing his arms and scoffing at his prisoner.

"Ahoy, I hear that ye wanted t' speak t' me. Well, speak, ye scurvy dog!", the man growled in a deep, throaty voice, staring down at him as if to dare him to actually do so.

Aziraphale cleared his throat,

"Well, yes, hello Mr. Crowley, my name is Aziraphale", he said, introducing himself while bowing his head slightly before looking up at him again. "I would like to converse about, uhm, for starters the state of this cell. It really is quite indecent. When is the last time it has been mopped?". He gestured towards the unsightly, sticky stains that he'd rather not know the nature of. "Even worse, that horrible slop your men tried to feed me, it is positively revolting. I would rather eat my own socks than torture my mouth with it. I would appreciate if you could have a word with your chef, I understand that resources at seas are quite limited but surely this cannot be the best he can do. And these shackles, they are rather uncomfortable, not to mention superfluous. I cannot escape, and even if I did, where exactly would I go? Also, I would really need to, ahem, relieve certain urgent needs but I cannot be expected to do so in a bucket! While I am being watched, no less, and-"

"Arr! Enough wit' yer bilge, ye sorry, black-spotted, nattering wretch!", the captain interrupted him, slamming one of his boots down on the floor and pointing his finger at him, growling in a menacing tone. "Ye will stop complainin' now or ye'll walk th' plank! Now, wha' will it be?"

"Excuse you, is that sort of language really necessary?", Aziraphale asked. He was not entirely sure of what the other was saying, what with that dreadful mangling of words and with what he could only assume were pirate terms, but he was pretty sure it was nothing polite.

The captain stared at him for a long moment, then sighed and lowered his hand.

"Alright, alright, my bad. It hurts my throat to speak like that anyway", he said, his voice shifting to a much more normal and not-so-menacing timbre. "So let me clear things up, Mr. Fell. You are here as a prisoner. My prisoner. You will stay here until your family pays the ransom, and in the meanwhile I do not want to hear any useless complains! Especially not about poor James's cooking, he's doing his best, alright? How do you think he would feel if he heard you?". The pirate put his hands on his hips, glaring at him, then he frowned. "Wait, that is insensitive. He cannot actually hear. Bloody bastard kept staying too close to the cannons when he was shooting. I told him not to do that, but did he listen? Of course not! Anyway, poor James has it rough already. I will not refer your most unkind words to him. You will eat the soup like everyone else here and keep your mouth shout about it".

The sudden change of demeanour confused Aziraphale at first, as it clashed with the image of the captain he had formed in his mind. He was actually... not all that intimidating, now, was he? And even if he had been, it wouldn't have changed the fact that he would not eat that horrible thing they had the nerve to call 'soup'.

"I will not eat that, I'd rather starve, thank you very much", he retorted, crossing his arms and scowling at the pirate. He could hear the other men in the room groaning, but he didn't care. He was not going to back down.

The captain seemed flabbergasted by his response, as if he was at loss of words.

"Well then... then... starve! What do I care?", he finally spat out. He was already turning around when Aziraphale grasped at the bars of the cell and yelled:

"Wait!".

"What? What is it now?".

"I still need to... well". Aziraphale looked away, feeling rather awkward. "You know".

"Francis, give him the bucket".

"No! I will not pee in a bucket!", he replied, horrified. "Absolutely not".

"Then what do you plan to do? Do it on the floor?", the captain mocked him, spreading his arms. "Where do you think we all piss?".

"But that's... that's so...". Aziraphale looked up at him in disgust. "Undignified".

"Well, welcome to life on the sea", Crowley replied, shrugging and lowering his arms again. "You'll get used to it", he then added, losing his sarcastic tone. "No one's trying to humiliate you on purpose, this is just how things work here. You're not getting special treatment just because you come from a posh family".

Aziraphale sighed. The calm, reasonable tone was making him lose his will to protest more than any threats or jeering he got from the other pirates. He did believe the captain's words, it had just not occurred to him that someone would actually voluntarily live like that.

He still wasn't going to eat the slop, though.

"May I... may I at least be alone while I do it?", he requested, his tone now less haughty and indignant. "And could you at least take off the shackles? It would be much easier to move around. I won't escape, really, I'm terrible at escaping. I can't even run fast. I'm always exhausted just getting up the stairs back at my place, and-"

"Alright, alright, God, just- just shut up, alright? Stop driving my men insane! I had to come here to stop them from lynching you. Will you shut up if we take the shackles off?".

Aziraphale hesitated, then nodded. "I will, I promise... I'll do my best, at least".

The captain groaned, closing his eyes and rubbing them with his fingers.

"Martin, take the shackles off of him", he said to one of the pirates that was currently guarding him. "You'll If he does not shut up, you can gag him". Then he turned to the one named Francis. "You, bring him the bucket. Leave him alone when he's pissing, but keep the door open so you can hear if he tries something funny".

Finally, he turned back to Aziraphale and narrowed his eye.

"I swear to God if you try to escape, I'll-". He interrupted himself, as if he was trying to find the right words. "I'll... do things... that would be very, very unpleasant and painful to your person. So... you better not!".

And with that he turned around and left his men to deal with him.

 

A couple days passed. Crowley was in his cabin, polishing the leaves of one of his plants when Nathaniel came to him again.

He sighed loudly. "What has the prisoner done now?".

"He refuses to eat, captain", Nathaniel replied. "Again".

Crowley let out a low frustrated noise. He couldn't let the prisoner starve. They would not get their money if he starved to death. Well, given his generous forms that probably wouldn't happen too soon, but still. He wouldn't let a prisoner go without food. That was just cruel, and needlessly so. And it wasn't like he could entirely blame him, James's cooking was not exactly the best. But everyone else seemed to perfectly capable to adapt to it, so why, why would that damn prissy bastard not give up already?

They'd tried threatening him, they'd tried leaving the bowl in his cell for the whole day in hope he would be driven to eat it by sheer desperation, they'd even tried bribing him and making him feel guilty for poor James who was slaving in the kitchen to feed every lad on the ship, but nothing worked.

With a loud sigh, Crowley tossed the damp handkerchief on his desk and turned towards Nathaniel.

"Tell Martin to cast a net and catch some fish. I'll go talk with the prisoner".

 

Aziraphale was sitting in a corner of his cell, scratching on the wooden side with the sharp part of a brooch that hadn't been stolen. Rather than just counting the days since he'd been captured, he'd been etching snippets of his favourite poems in the wall. It gave him something to do to combat his boredom, which was reaching extraordinary levels given the fact that he was locked up in a small cell with nothing to distract himself with and the men who were there to guard him were not exactly the best conversationalists. One of them was currently snoring loudly, sitting on a chair, while the other was trimming his beard with the help of a small mirror.

Aziraphale wished he had the means to take care of himself. He felt most unclean, he was reeking, and if he touched his face he could feel that his normally clean-shaven chin and cheeks were starting to get prickly.

When the captain walked down the stairs, the guard put away his tools and punched his sleeping companion on the shoulder to wake him up, both of them pretending to be alert and vigil.

Aziraphale sneaked his brooch back inside a pocket of his vest and got up, wondering what had earned him the dubious pleasure of that visit. It wasn't like the captain had been especially vile to him. In fact, given his reputation, Aziraphale was surprised he hadn't threatened him with torture and bodily harm or had him lashed for his insubordination since he still refused to eat the disgusting slop they had the nerve to call 'food'. However he was still a pirate, and he did capture and keep him there against his will, so he couldn't exactly say that he was fond of him.

Still, if nothing else, at least talking to him wasn't boring. And in that moment Aziraphale would have... well, not killed, but perhaps minorly injured to have a break from that insufferable monotony.

"Captain Crowley", he said. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?".

"You can't possibly not be hungry. It's been almost a week". The man didn't even bother with pleasantries. His irritation was written all over his face.

"Oh, I am. But one look or one whiff of that revolting mixture your men call 'food' is enough to make my appetite disappear".

The captain groaned loudly, rubbing both eyes with his fingers and accidentally sliding the eye-patch up and off of his eye. Once he realized it, the man tried to close it before Aziraphale could see it but it was too late.

"Your... your eye. It's not wounded?". Aziraphale asked, surprised. "But why do you wear-"

"It's just, it's for decoration", the captain grumbled, crossing his arms. He glanced to his guards, then moved in closer to the bars of the cell and whispered. "Don't tell anyone. It's just, my men did not think I looked threatening enough". He sighed. "Do you not think I look threatening?".

"Oh, oh yes, positively threatening", Aziraphale was quick to reassure him, although really he did not feel very scared in his presence. He had been more fearful of him before he actually got to be in his presence, as the man in front of him did not seem like the bloodthirsty pirate from those dreadful stories. "You know, the first time I saw you, I felt shivers down my spine. Thought to myself, 'man that is a scary guy, very scary. And dangerous'. "

"You really think so?". The captain smirked. "It's the beard, right? A beard makes anyone looks scarier. I knew growing it was a good idea". He slid his eye-patch back on and then cleared his throat. "Anyway, I need you to eat. I cannot let you starve. That would be barbar- I mean, that would mean we can't claim our ransom. So, well, I would really appreciate if you ceased to be stubborn and at the very least tried to eat it."

Aziraphale frowned, crossing his arms as well.

"Well, I am sorry but I have no intention to eat that horrible abomination".

The captain narrowed his visible eye at him. Aziraphale faced him without looking away, if there was a hill he was willing to die on that was it. He could tolerate the boredom, the lack of company, the fact that if he was thirsty there was only a choice between beer and rancid water - and even that was on the borderline of acceptable things for him - but bad-tasting food was where he crossed the line.

"So, given the means, you think you could do better than James?", the captain asked.

"Absolutely".

"Fine". the captain turned to one of the guards. "Edward, the keys".

Aziraphale's eyes widened and a cold shiver really did run down his spine. So that was it, was he going to get lashed? Thrown overboard? Maybe both?

All sort of terrifying scenarios were materializing in his mind as the captain opened the door, so he couldn't help but scoot away until his back was pressed against the wall.

"Come out here, Mr. Fell", the captain said. "Let's put your words to the test".

"Uh? What test?". Aziraphale blinked, feeling confused on top of worried.

"You said you could do better. Well, let's see it. I'll put you in charge of the cooking", the captain said. "If that's the only way to make you eat something, then so be it".

Aziraphale hesitated, wondering if that was some sort of bizarre trick to get him to come out only to then be punished or killed. Then again, he did not feel like the other man wanted to harm him. He didn't know why he had this feeling, after all that man was a pirate and a criminal... but somehow, Aziraphale didn't feel like he was a bad person.

The captain waited for a few moments before reaching in, offering him his hand.

"I promise, on my honour, this is not a trick. I'm truly willing to let you cook". He smirked. "You can hardly be worse than James. Oh, but don't tell him I said that".

Despite his situation, Aziraphale couldn't help but smirk at those words.

"I won't", he said, and he finally grasped the hand that was offered to him.

 

 

Crowley's decision to let the prisoner cook was met with confusion and skepticism by his crew, particularly by James, but as soon as they tasted his first meal everyone was immediately on board with the change.

Even James changed his mind when Aziraphale courteously shared his expertise with him and asked him to help out rather than completely taking over the task.

"I don't know how he did it, but this actually tastes nice", Nathaniel remarked as they all ate together. "It's like a miracle".

The prisoner was allowed to eat with them, but he still was escorted back to his cell when he was done, something he did not seem to like.

"Could I at least have a book to read?", the lad asked to Crowley one of those days, as he was about to be escorted by Henry and Horace.

"A book to read?", Henry scoffed. "Listen to this damn fop! As if we'd have such a thing on our ship".

"I'm afraid almost nobody here knows how to read", Crowley explained. "So that's not really the sort of thing we'd steal. But I do have a couple books in my cabin".

"Splendid! Could I borrow them?".

Crowley shrugged, figuring there was no harm in it.

"I don't see why not".

Later that day, he went to visit him and brought three books with him. A copy of A Midsummer Night's Dream and of Twelfth Night by Shakespeare, and one of Paradise Lost by John Milton.

"Oh, Shakespeare! I've read these two already, but I'll gladly read them again", the prisoner said, looking elated.

"I had another one too, but it was eaten by rats", Crowley said in an almost apologetic tone. Something about the glint in those hazel eyes, about the joy that radiated from his face made his heart beat faster.

He looked at him as he sat down and immediately started reading Twelfth Night, looked at the sorry state of the cell which contrasted with the refined clothes the nobleman was wearing. Something about it didn't sit right to him. Was it really necessary to keep him there? After all he doubted that the poor lad would harm a fly, let alone attempt to fight anyone in his crew.

"You can't be comfortable like that, can you?", he asked before he could stop himself. "Say... I wouldn't normally do this but... you could share my cabin, if you'd like. Just so that I can keep an eye on you. Make sure you don't escape, you know".

"Captain?!", Horace remarked, surprised.

"But... he is a prisoner", Henry protested.

"Oh come on, lads, look at him. He's hardly going to swim back to his manor, now, is he? I'll keep an eye on him". Crowley cleared his throat and drew one of his pistols, turning towards the prisoner. "Don't try to play tricks on me, Mr. Fell, or I'll make sure you're sorry". He vaguely waved the weapon towards him in a threatening manner before putting it back in his belt. "Open the cell, and then you can get back to your normal duties. Come on lads, chop chop!"

The two pirates grunted but obeyed his order. Crowley was pretty sure their protests were more due to the fact that guarding the prisoner gave them an excuse to laze about rather than any real concern, given how little of an actual threat the nobleman actually posed to any of them.

The prisoner had raised his eyes from the book and was looking at him in a mixture of shock and surprise as the door was opened.

"Are you... are you sure?", the lad said. "I mean, I would be happy to leave this place, but... well, it's not going to be a bother to you, is it?".

Crowley looked at him in disbelief, then erupted in laughter. Was that guy really worried about inconveniencing him in that situation?

"Not at all, good sir, not at all. You can keep me company".

The two pirates gave him a look but Crowley ignored them. Hopefully they would not remark on the fact that normally the last thing he wanted when he was in his cabin was to have company. In fact, he quite liked to mind his own business and not to be disturbed. Yet, somehow the idea of spending more time with the nobleman was appealing to him. He wasn't sure why. He normally wasn't fond of nobles, but that Mr. Fell seemed like an alright lad. He didn't really know him enough to assess that, it was just a feeling he had, and Crowley normally trusted his gut about that sort of thing.

 

Aziraphale had been quite surprised when Captain Crowley had decided to graciously share his living quarters with him rather than leaving him to rot in his cell, but also quite grateful. The man had even insisted for him to use the bed. Had he not been taken there against his will, he would have felt like he was a welcome guest on that ship rather than a prisoner.

The rest of the crew also seemed to have grown less hostile towards him after tasting his cooking. Of course the ingredients he had at his disposal were not the best, but he put his all into turning them into something edible. It was not great but it was decent, which he was willing to settle for given the circumstances.

Little by little, he managed to talk Captain Crowley into indulging in some of his pressing needs, such as new clothes and some means to clean himself. His request to have something to shave with was of course refused, but the captain had tasked one of the members of his crew to shave him and harshly reprimanded him when he nicked him by accident before taking over the task himself.

Aziraphale had felt a little bit uncomfortable about letting him so close to his throat with the razor, what with all the tales he had heard about him. Even if his attitude was very much in contrast with what one would expect from such a cruel and sadistic pirate. The more time Aziraphale spent with him the more he couldn't help but wonder how much truth there had been to them.

One of those days, Captain Crowley was tending to his plants while Aziraphale was sitting on the berth, feeling incredibly bored. He had already read all three of the books that the captain had lent him and it was not time to cook yet. He would have tried to involve the man in a conversation but the captain was busy talking to the plants.

Aziraphale had been surprised by his habit at first, but the man had explained to him that he'd heard if you talk to plants they'd grow up healthier. Although, in the captain's case, it was not so much talking as attempting to scare the living Hell out of them.

"What's with this spot? Huh? What did I tell you? This is the last chance, next time I see one I'll show you the black spot, you bilge rat!", the man was currently growling at one of them, cutting off one leaf.

Aziraphale tried to be patient as the captain went on with his task, sighing to himself. However, he eventually could not take it any longer.

"Uhm, excuse me, captain".

"I see you're finally shaping up, you scurvy- what?". Captain Crowley's demeanour immediately changed as he turned towards him, both eyes fixed on him. He did not wear the eye-patch while he was alone, or rather it was kept upturned in case someone walked in and he had to readjust it. In general, Aziraphale had noticed that he was a lot more indulgent towards him when the crew wasn't around to hear. He couldn't help but think it had to be hard to maintain his authority among a crew of scoundrels like those.

"I don't mean to interrupt your task but the thing is... there isn't much to do here, and I'm dreadfully bored. Do you think there's something I could do, besides cooking?".

Captain Crowley scratched his head, looking thoughtful.

"What else can you do?".

The question caught Aziraphale off-guard. To be fair, he wasn't sure there was much he could do besides maybe mop the floors, which he'd rather avoid. The thought of climbing the rope or attempting his luck with any of the more, well, athletic tasks did not appeal to him either, as he was sure he would fall off and break his neck.

"I'm... I'm not entirely sure", he admitted, lowering his gaze.

The captain kept looking at him, turning around to rest his weight against his desk. Finally, after a while he seemed to get an idea.

"You like books. You must have read a lot of them, right?".

Aziraphale lifted his gaze again and nodded.

"I'm struggling to find the space to put them. I've got some I've read so much that they're falling apart but... well, I can't quite bring myself to throw them away. I had some new books I ordered... I hope someone's taking care of them". He sighed.

"Hmm... well then, you must know a lot of stories", the captain noted. "How about you write one down, and you tell it to the rest of the crew before it's time to sleep? You know, they could use some entertainment as well after a long day of work".

Aziraphale was surprised by his proposal, but it did sound like something he could do and might even enjoy it.

"That is a splendid idea! I'll just need something to write on, and a pen and ink".

"You can use mine". Captain Crowley moved away from his desk and patted on his seat. "I can't wait to see what you come up with".

Aziraphale got up from the berth and went to sit down on the desk, brushing past the captain in the process.

"Oh, sorry".

"No, no, my bad".

Aziraphale tried collect his ideas, thinking of what sort of stories might interest a crew of pirates. Maybe something fantastical with sea monsters and mermaids and adventures, and-

He glanced up at the captain, who was just... standing there and looking at him.

"Uhm, do you mind? I can't focus like this".

"Oh... oh, right, sorry. I've got to- I'm busy anyway. You... do your thing".

The captain seemed oddly flustered, leaving him alone in the cabin right after that.

Aziraphale shrugged. What an odd fellow.

"Well, time to get to work..."

 

The idea of letting the prisoner come up with stories was an instant success.

There were only so much one could do to amuse himself on the ship, besides getting drunk and gambling or gossiping. The first time Crowley gathered his crew around to let the prisoner do his thing, they'd been confused and a bit skeptical.

At first they'd jeer and interrupt the lad, but the more he continued with his story the more invested they became. It was an elaborate tale about the adventures of a pirate crew sailing the Seven Seans while following a mysterious treasure map, which started with a sighting of mermaids who lured them astray with the intent to drown and devour them.

The beautiful mermaids had hypnotized the crew with their melodious songs and even the captain had been mesmerized by them, leading their ship further and further away from their route.

It was only thanks to the quick thinking of one deaf pirate, who had been immune to the spell, if the captain managed to save them all – a detail which James clearly appreciated as Henry signed to translate the tale so that he could also follow the plot along.

The deaf pirate had the idea to cover the captain's ears so that he would be unable to hear the singing, at which point the lad came back to his senses and fought the rest of the crew together with him, knocking some of them unconscious and covering the ears of the other ones so that they would also be free from the spell, before veering away from the dangerous threat before their ship could hit a coral reef and sink.

The mermaids had been furious and transformed from beautiful women into hideous monsters, trying to climb onto the ship and devour the whole crew with their sharp teeth and clawed hands. The pirates had fought them off, forcing them back into the sea and earning a prize as the heroic captain managed to steal a marvelous coral trident from their queen before defeating her.

Thus, they had sailed away and continued on their course, eager to get their hands on the treasure that awaited them.

“Wait, but what about the treasure?!”, Horace asked as soon as the story was over, and many other lads joined him.

“Yeah! I wanna hear about the treasure!”

“Did they get to the island?”

“How big of a treasure was it?”

“Gentlemen, please, that is a tale for another day”, the prisoner said, winking at Crowley, who couldn't help but smirk in response. Of course, One Thousand and One Nights, a classic. What a way to make sure to have everyone's interest piqued for next time.

“Alright, it's time we all head to our berths”, Crowley ordered when the lads tried to complain and insist they wanted more. “You'll hear the rest tomorrow”.

Reluctantly, his crew followed his orders and scattered, while Crowley approached the prisoner.

"So you're now our Scheherazade”, he told him in an amused tone.

“Oh dear, I hope that does not mean you'll cut off my head if I do finish the tale”, the lad replied with a small chuckle.

“What sort of barbarian to you take me as, Mr. Fell?”.

“Oh, you may call me Aziraphale, Captain”, the other replied with a small wave of his hand. “I mean, we are sleeping under the same roof, might as well, you know, do away with these formalities”, he nervously added.

“Alright, Aziraphale”. Crowley liked the sound of it. “Then you may call me Crowley”.

“Not Anthony?”.

Crowley scoffed. “Nobody calls me Anthony. Except my father”. He frowned at the memory.

“What sort of man was he? Was he also a pirate?”.

“No... he was a nobleman. I was his second son, and I was to be a priest. Didn't fancy that, never been a big fan of the Church”.

“You don't believe in God?”.

“I don't believe in his followers. Clergymen, they all follow their own interests more than the word of God”. Crowley shrugged. “If there truly is a God, and those truly are the men he speaks through... well, I want nothing to do with them”.

He felt a hand touch his shoulder, which surprised him. Aziraphale was smiling at him in an encouraging manner and it was kind of unnerving.

“Crowley. I like it”, he said. “Well, let's go back inside, Crowley”.

The captain smirked again.

“After you, Aziraphale”.

 

 

Another week passed before they came close to a port and Crowley told Aziraphale he would finally be allowed to get down from the ship, albeit under strict supervision.

Not that he would have tried to escape given how that town was swarming with pirates. Apparently it was a safe haven for those of their kind, where they could dock and then drink, gamble, trade and of course stock up for their next travel.

The whole crew was more than enthusiastic to get down on shore and Aziraphale had to admit he too was looking forward to it. Supplies were running low and there was only so much he could do with what little was left.

Aziraphale wasn't sure of when his prisony would end, but he was not as anguished about it as he used to be. Sure, he missed the comforts of his home but the company had been... surprisingly pleasant, given the circumstances. Especially that of Crowley.

He had to admit he had grown rather fond of the other man, even if he couldn't forget the horrible tales he had heard about him. It was just, it didn't seem to fit what he now knew of Crowley. Could he really be such a frighteningly cruel person as those stories made him out to be? Aziraphale had his doubts, yet it still weighted on him as he realized that Crowley was, well, the closest thing he could call a friend. He never really had a friend before, not counting the polite correspondence he exchanged with some of his favorite writers. That wasn't really the same thing.

In fact, sometimes he wondered if he didn't feel something that went beyond friendship towards the pirate captain... but those were dangerous thoughts that he should not be allowing himself to entertain. Not only was Crowley a man, he was a wanted criminal. It was bad enough that he was fraternizing with him. He shouldn't even let his mind linger for an instant on thoughts of most inappropriate nature.

 

That evening, once the ship was docked, Crowley allowed his crew full freedom as long as they didn't cause too much trouble, watching as the lads scattered to trade or to enjoy their temporary freedom. He too decided to have some fun, dragging Aziraphale with him to his all-time favorite tavern.

The nobleman had tried to refuse at first, but Crowley insisted that it was his treat.

“I'm not letting you leave my sights, might as well enjoy yourself while you're at it”, he told him, and eventually Aziraphale gave up.

As soon as they reached the tavern, Crowley pushed their way through the noisy crowd and ordered a whole bottle of rum and two glasses, handing one to Aziraphale before pouring some of the golden liquor for both of them.

“Cheers”, Aziraphale said, rising his glass for a toast. Crowley had already brought the glass to his lips and stopped to clink it against the other's.

“Cheers”.

He downed it all in one go, while Aziraphale attempted to sip it only to turn red and cough, wincing at the taste. Crowley couldn't help but laugh at that.

“This is terrible!”

“You don't drink it for the taste”, Crowley replied, shrugging and refilling his own glass, then he looked around. “Oh, look, there's a table over there. Let's get it before someone else does”.

He practically dragged Aziraphale through the crowd, offering the only available chair to him before nicking one for himself by pulling a very drunken pirate down and letting him rest against the wall. The pirate only snored louder, not even noticing the difference.

As he sat down in front of the other lad, he noticed that he was looking around and seemed quite intimidated.

“Don't worry. No one will start trouble with you while you're with me”, Crowley reassured him. “Besides, you're dressed the part. You'll blend right in”. Well, that was kind of a lie. His polite and fastidious demeanour would certainly made him stand out, but he didn't need to know that.

Aziraphale smiled, which made Crowley's heart beat faster for some reason. He hurried to down his second glass of rum, telling himself that was the only reason why his face was heating up.

“So am I supposed to... just drink it all at once?”, Aziraphale asked, sounding dubious. “I'd much rather have some wine”.

“No you wouldn't. The wine here tastes even worse, trust me. C'mon, all in one go!”.

Aziraphale grimaced before the glass even touched his lips, forcing himself to drink the whole thing and letting out a loud gasp before coughing again, two small tears running down his reddened cheeks.

“Oh my goodness”, he said, fanning himself with his hands. “This is... whew, this is some strong stuff”.

“Yup”. Crowley promptly refilled both of their glasses.

“What, again?”, Aziraphale asked, sounding incredulous. “Absolutely not”.

“Come on...”

“No, thank you, I'd rather not”.

“Just another glass. Come on, keep me company”.

After enough pleading, finally Aziraphale was convinced to drink 'just another one'.

“Phew! It's like swallowing fire”, he said, making a face and flapping his hands, making Crowley laugh out loud.

“Wait till it comes out the other way”.

“What?!”

 

Many more glasses later, both men were laughing and chatting loudly, slapping their hands on the table and gesturing wildly, pouring more rum on the table than inside their glasses.

“So tell- tell me, Crowley”, Aziraphale said, grasping on the pirate's arm to attract his attention. “Who- who is the greatest... the greatest chicken-killer in Shakespeare?”

“Please, please don't”, Crowley replied, already snickering. “It's not fucking funny”.

“Macbeth!”, Aziraphale continued, exploding into a fit of giggling before he could even finish. “Because... because he did... ahahah... murder most foul!”.

They both roared in laughed, with Crowley folding up on himself and hitting his head against the table, causing the almost-empty bottle to roll down and crash on the floor.

“Whoops”, he said raising his hands in defeat. “My bad”.

“Don't worry, Crowley, everything's tickety-boo”, Aziraphale reassured him, beaming a smile at him.

The pirate captain stared at him for several seconds before laughing so hard he almost fell off his chair.

“It's- it's tickety... oh Lord, oh Satan”.

“What?”

“Not-nothing”, Crowley replied, his body still shaken by fits of laughter and his eyes watering.

“Say... there's something, something I've been meaning to ask”, Aziraphale said, staring straight at him.

“What?”, Crowley asked, then grinned widely. “Why is the devil riding a mouse like one and the same thing?”

“Wha- No!”. Aziraphale snickered and shook his head. “Stop... stop it, don't you dare, I'm, I'm serious”.

“Oh, so very serious”, Crowley replied, then leaned in to whisper: “because it is synonymous”.

Aziraphale couldn't help but laugh again, hammering his fist on the table until he managed to calm down.

“No, no but... really”, he said, his lips quivering as he tried to stay serious. “I want- want to ask, uh, is it true that your... your hair's red because- because it is dyed with blood?”.

“What?!”. Crowley's visible eye widened in shock. “No! Why would- who, who told you that?”.

“So you... you didn't end up on... on an island and ate all your crew to stay alive?”.

“What the fuck? Ew”.

“And- and you did not... disembowel an enemy crew and hung their intestines on the ropes?”

“Why would- who would- Holy Fuck no, that would be disgusting”. Crowley stared at him as if he'd grown a third head. “Why would I ever... wow. What the Hell?”.

“That's- that's what people say”, Aziraphale replied, lifting his glass and drinking the tiny bit of rum left in it. “The fearsome Captain Anthony J. Crowley, terror of the Seven Seas”.

“Man, some people are sick”, Crowley said, grimacing and dismissively waving his hand in front of himself. “I don't- I never did any of that. No way.”

“Oh”, Aziraphale said, visibly relieved. “I thought so. You're... you're nice, Crowley”.

“I'm not nice!”, Crowley hissed, looking away.

“But- but you are”.

“No I'm not”.

Aziraphale smiled in such a disarming way that Crowley felt like his heart was going to explode if he kept looking at him like that.

“I think you're nice”.

“Listen!”, he yelled, reaching forward to grab on the edge of his shirt and pulling him closer, his nose brushing against Aziraphale's. “I'm not nice at all, and I'll prove it”.

“How so?”, Aziraphale asked him, as if to dare him to try it.

That's it, Crowley thought, and he smashed his mouth against Aziraphale's.

 

Aziraphale woke up the next morning with a massive headache and his throat so parched it felt as if he'd swallowed dust.

“Goodness gracious”, he grunted, rolling around to the side and hitting his arm on something bony and warm with a soft thud. Someone else groaned next to him. Very close to him.

Aziraphale jumped up, sitting on the bed and looking around in confusion, his eyes widening as he took in every detail in a rapid crescendo of realizations.

He was naked. He was naked in an unknown bed. He was naked, in an unknown bed, and Crowley was laying next to him. Also naked and on the same bed. They were both naked, on the same bed, and the previous night...

“Oh... oh my God”, Aziraphale gasped, covering his mouth and staring down at the other man.

He remembered-

Crowley's clumsy hands unbuttoning his shirt, ripping off a few buttons in the process, firm and slightly chapped lips against his, the taste of rum on that tongue and the laughter as their noses accidentally bumped together...

- even if it came back to him in confused flashes.

He'd just slept with Crowley. He slept with another man, a criminal man.

That was beyond fraternizing, that was...

Incredible, he thought, blushing as he remembered the way Crowley had panted underneath him, wrapping his thin legs around his waist and cursing at him before pleading him to go harder.

“Crowley?”, he called out, gently shaking his shoulders. “Crowley?”.

“Unghhh”, the man complained, turning around and slowly opening his eyes. “Blimey, it's too fucking bright”.

“Wait, I'll pull the curtains”.

Once the window was covered up, Crowley forced himself to sit up and looked around, confused, before looking at Aziraphale and blinking a few times.

“Oh...”, he said, sounding surprised. “Ooh”.

“Yeah”. Aziraphale scratched his head nervously, suddenly feeling too exposed. He looked around, trying to find his trousers and hurrying to put them back up so that at least he wouldn't be fully naked. Not that the other hadn't had the chance to see that from up close at that point. Very up close. Very, very up close. Aziraphale's face turned a bright red at the memory.

“Do you... do you remember...?”, Crowley asked.

“Yup”. Aziraphale curtly nodded.

“And... we did...?”.

“Yup”.

“Oh. Bollocks”. Crowley frowned, looking quite annoyed. Aziraphale felt his heart sink, at least until the other man spoke again. “I don't remember shit. That's not fair”.

“Well I suppose...”. Aziraphale hesitated, what the hell was he doing? But he couldn't help himself from continuing. “I suppose we could... do it again?”.

“What? Oh... no.”. Crowley must have seen the disappointment on his face as he quickly added. “I mean, I'd love to but my head is killing me. Too much rum”.

“Oh!”. Aziraphale immediately perked up. “So... well, yeah, I should... would you like some... water?”.

“Yes, please”.

“Alright I'll go... get some. It's... I'll be... I'll be right back”.

“Aziraphale wait! Your clothes!”

“Oh! Right”. Aziraphale immediately came back to finish dressing himself. “Thank you”.

 

As time went on, neither of them was brave enough to bring up the incident again.

Crowley had been hoping Aziraphale would be the one to propose it, as he felt like an absolute fool for having blacked out the whole thing. Damn rum! He would never touch that vile substance again!

How come he could command a whole crew of pirates and fight off armed sailors, but he was too much of a coward to seduce a single lad?

Maybe it was the fact that Aziraphale was still his prisoner, so it just didn't feel quite right.

Sure, he was pretty much free to go wherever on the ship and do whatever he pleased, but technically he was not allowed to leave until the ransom was paid.

Speaking of which, they had sent the request to his family but hadn't heard any news. It was really weird. Maybe the message got lost on the way.

When he tried to bring that up with Aziraphale, the lad sighed and turned to him with a sad smile.

“Oh, they must have received it alright, but I don't think they'll ever pay it”.

“What? Why not?”.

“Because of my half-brother, Gabriel. He's the one who manages the family finances. I'm sure he's going to be more than glad to be able to inherit my possessions if I am killed”.

Crowley was absolutely shocked to hear that, for more than one reason.

“Oh. That's... why did you never say anything?”.

Aziraphale looked away.

“I was worried of... well, you wouldn't need me anymore if you weren't going to get the money, so...”.

Crowley clenched his fists.

“So what? You think I'd just, what, kill you?”

“Well... you are still a pirate”.

Crowley opened his mouth to retort, but he couldn't deny that. Aziraphale wasn't entirely wrong. He was not going to kill him of course, but how would he explain to his crew that they weren't going to get the money? And what should they do with Aziraphale?

“What if you joined us?”, Crowley blurted out before he could even think it through, shocking himself as much as Aziraphale, but it was too late to regret it. “I mean, the lads here seem to love your stories and your cooking, so, you could just... stick around”.

“And what? Help you rape and pillage the towns you come across?”, Aziraphale asked, frowning.

“First of all, there's a strict no raping rule on my ship. We're outlaws but we're not beasts. As for the pillaging, well... that is true... but you could always stay behind”.

Aziraphale shook his head, smiling sadly again.

“I'm sorry, this isn't the life for me. I mean, you've been nice and all but I'm not... I'm too soft. This... I mean, it's a fun adventure but I'd love to read it in a book, in the comfort of my own home”, he explained. “I'm just not cut out for this sort of thing”.

Crowley sighed. He knew it was true. As much as he wanted him to stay beside him, he knew he'd make a terrible pirate.

“I... well, I can't let you go”, he said, looking away. “But... say we stopped by a port and you happened to, uhm, 'run away'”, he suggested, lifting his index and middle fingers and flexing them a few times as he mentioned that.

He glanced back towards Aziraphale, who looked at him in surprise.

“You mean you'd let me-”

“I mean I might get, uhm, distracted. Kind of embarrassing, but it can happen sometimes”. He shrugged. “And you might, well, slip away while I'm so very distracted and run off, so we'd have to leave before you call the guards and tell them you've been kidnapped by a terrible crew of pirates. Terribly frightening experience. You feared for your own life every day”.

“But I did not-”

“Especially their captain, my, what a scary guy! Very threatening and ruthless and devilishly handsome”.

Aziraphale smiled again, but this time it was genuine.

“Most certainly. Terrible, frightening experience. Too terrifying to even talk about it.”

Crowley nodded, smiling as well, even if deep in his heart he felt a pang at the thought of letting Aziraphale go. But it was the right thing to do.

 

 

~~ A few weeks later ~~

 

 

“What do you mean, the prisoner escaped?”

“I mean what I bloody said!”, Crowley growled, walking up to the lad that dared to question him and narrowing his eye at him. “Gone in a flash, the scoundrel! Turned my eye for a moment and he was gone”.

“I always said that eye-patch was a bad idea”, Edward noted in a low tone, which everyone promptly ignored, although everyone seemed to have some remark to make.

“Damn, that would have been a lot of money”.

“We should just go back to pillaging and forget ransoms, it's too much of a hassle anyway”.

“I wanted to get myself a nice new wooden leg”.

“Alright, alright, everyone shut up! We better get away from here before the guards arrive, then you can complain”, Crowley ordered, mostly because he was tired of hearing their whining.

They all rushed back on the ship, sailing away from there as fast as the wind would take them.

Still, rather than going back to his cabin, Crowley stood there on the poop and stared at the town, sighing loudly and lowering his hat to hide the single manly tear that fell on his face. Followed by many other still very manly and dignified tears as he was in no way going to bawl his eyes out because deep down a part of him had still hoped that Aziraphale would change his mind and decided to stay with him.

He wondered if Aziraphale would miss him at all, or if he too had been nothing but a fun adventure that he'd rater read about in one of his books.

Finally, when the town was too far away to distinguish it with the naked eye, Crowley turned around and headed to his quarters, back to his plants.

At least they would never leave his side.

 

 

Several years had passed since his frightening and yet strangely fun adventure, and sometimes Aziraphale felt as if it had all been a dream.

Sometimes he still missed Crowley.

He knew it was absurd, after all he had captured him against his will, but he'd never done anything bad to him and he had let him escape when he learned there was nothing to be gained from keeping him captive.

But what was even crazier was that sometimes he regretted having rejected his offer.

He knew he could never be a pirate, the mere thought was ridiculous, still he had enjoyed his company. He even had started to get along with his crew.

Alas, their worlds were just too different and would likely never cross again.

That was what he was thinking of as he sat in a pub, a cup of wine in front of him while he leaned over a journal, jotting down his memories as best as he could. Some of the details would probably not be entirely accurate and some other ones would eventually have to be edited out, but he was hoping to eventually send his manuscript to be published, like one of his favourite authors.

He heard the sound of a chair being moved next to him and frowned, not wanting to be disturbed.

“Excuse you-”.

He never finished the sentence, his eyes widening and his mouth gaping as he stared up at the man who sat down next to him, placing a pint of beer on the table.

“Care to share a drink with a friend?”.

“C-Crowley? What are you... how did you...”.

“Words travel, Aziraphale”, Crowley just said, shrugging. “Speaking of which, I hear you're writing a book”.

Aziraphale did not know what to say. Clearing his throat, he took a small sip of wine and glanced around, making sure no one could hear them before whispering.

“So are you, well, still a pirate?”.

“Of course I'm still a pirate”, Crowley replied, sounding almost offended. “But I'm a privateer now, so don't worry, I'm not a criminal”.

“Oh”. Aziraphale was relieved to hear that, if nothing else because that meant he wouldn't have to worry about him getting hanged if he was found there, nor of what would happen if he was caught fraternizing with him. “I've been wondering how you were doing”.

“Yeah, me too”, Crowley said. He was the one who glanced around next, before lowering his voice. “You know, back then, we never did... you know. Kind of a shame. Not that we have to but... well, I've got a free day so we can just share a drink, have a chat, you know, start from there and, uhm, see how things go?”

Aziraphale beamed at him. “I would love to”, he said, raising his cup of wine. “To old friends”.

Crowley grinned and lifted his pint, lightly hitting the cup with it.

“To more than friends”, he said with a small wink, which made Aziraphale chuckle and suddenly notice something.

“The eyepatch!”.

“Ah, yeah... I'm no longer wearing that. You know, too threatening”.

“It never was all that threatening, really”.

“What? Of course it was! You even said so yourself”.

“I was just being polite...”

“You rascal!”

They continued to bicker for a while, but in the end they both laughed, sharing a couple more drinks before they both decided to move things elsewhere.

“You know, I've got a room at an inn close by”.

“Crowley, I've got a whole mansion”.

“Well... if you put it that way”. Crowley shrugged and got up, waiting for Aziraphale to do the same.

“After you”

“How nice of you”.

“I told you already, I'm not nice”.

“You were really nice that time too. You even kept calling me 'angel'”.

“What?! I did no such thing!”

“You most certainly did”.

“Well, I'm never doing it again!”.

Aziraphale smirked.

“We'll see Crowley, we'll see”.