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"A Pirate's Trade"Written By: The Plotting Housewife Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sotsu
and associated Parties. This work is written for pleasure not profit. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Alternate Universe - Pirates, yes I
went there, Yaoi, Smut, Questionable Pirate Morality, Arrrrg Pairings: 2x1, 3x4 Summary: Captain Maxwell of the Shinigami, second most feared pirate to sail the Seven Seas, unwittingly stole precious booty from the one man who is more feared than he is. Oops. Notes: Ahoy, Mateys! So, this started out as a three paragraph drabble that grew into a drabble that has grown into a fic. The first chapter contains the two drabbles combined and are separately featured in my Thirty One Days collection and my The Potentials collection. There will be some OOCness, but I tried to keep them as IC as I could. Warnings for implied/past non/dubcon.
"A Pirate's Trade" The maps were strewn around on top of the round, wooden table, their haphazard disarray an inclination that the captain was not pleased. In fact, the whole inside of the cabin was a mess. The few possessions the captain currently owned were either broken, or rolling around on the floor, back and forth with the sway of the stolen ship. The navigator stood inside the main room of the cabin where the table and chairs took up half the space, a few of the chairs knocked over. He righted them as quietly as he could. Within the cabin, another smaller room provided privacy for the sleeping quarters. The navigator rubbed his hands together nervously as he listened to the hoarse cries and groans and the rhythmic thump of the bed against the wall. He was hard-pressed to interrupt the mercurial captain while he was…occupied with his catamite. Men who’d done so in the past were often met with a face full of lead. Unfortunately, it was a risk the navigator would have to take. He lifted a trembling hand and gently rapped on the door, listening as the groaning and thumping abruptly stopped. There was a silent pause, then the captain’s voice barked, “What!” The navigator cleared his throat. “My apologies, Captain. The Catherine has arrived. Captain Barton wishes to meet with you to discuss the terms of your agreement.” The man’s voice grumbled on the other side of the door. There was a shuffling sound and then the door swung open, revealing the captain, clad only in a pair of leather breeches. His long braid had unraveled in the struggle with his catamite. Scratches adorned his bare chest and upper arms. A quick glance over his shoulder and the navigator caught sight of the captain’s bed warmer, still naked as a jay bird and sprawled across the bed. His dark brown hair was tousled, locks of chocolate hanging down over half-lidded blue eyes. He jerked his attention back to his captain when he heard the soft growl and quickly moved out of the way as he pushed through the door. The captain’s face was sour as he slid on a linen shirt. “Damn Barton. That scurvy son of a bitch best not have buggered up me ship.” * * * When Captain Maxwell stepped into the pub, he was met with a room full of rowdy pirates partaking in steins of ale, legs of pheasant, and an abundance of whores, male and female, in various shades of undress. He glanced to his left as a scuffle broke out, in the midst of a dishonest game, and watched as revolvers were yanked from the waistbands of their breeches. He rubbed his ear at the crack of gunfire and stepped further inside, his nose wrinkling at the smell of sulfur. He propped his fists on his hips and glanced around for the distinctive form of the pirate who had taken possession of his beloved Shinigami. He wasn’t hard to find. Maxwell’s status as a feared, bloodthirsty pirate was second only to one. The most feared pirate in the region sat in a dark corner of the pub, his men armed and flanking him on either side. The rest of the pub’s occupants kept a wide space between themselves and Barton, terrified of invoking his wrath. Maxwell approached, cautiously, his empty hands raised in front of him. He stood before Barton who sat with his typical infuriating calmness, while his men patted him down. Barton’s First Mate stood like a statue at his right shoulder. He was nearly as deadly as Barton himself. Maxwell’s eyes were drawn to Chang’s sword, slung from a sheath attached to his hip. He never moved, never blinked, but the inky blackness of his eyes glittered in the torchlight with a keenness as sharp as his blade. Maxwell knew, as a personal witness, that that weapon could be unsheathed and slicing through a man’s neck before the poor sap even realized what was happening. Chang’s hand was loosely curled around the hilt, his other hand remained behind his back. Any wrong move on Maxwell’s part would no doubt result in the lightning quick removal of his head in the blink of an eye. But he was here for Barton, and his ship. The tall pirate lounged in his chair, one long leg crossed over the other. The jeweled fingers of his hand lightly traced the rim of his stein. His silence was unnerving and Maxwell fidgeted uncharacteristically before the placid gaze. “Where is she?” A brown brow arched over a sea green eye and then Barton shrugged a broad shoulder, lifting his stein to his lips. “Drink?” Before Maxwell could even decline, Barton was ticking a finger towards a passing wench. Maxwell clenched his fists. “Where is me ship?” “Your ship is fine. Where is my boy?” “He’s here. With me men.” “You will not have your ship until I have my boy and know he is safe and unharmed.” Maxwell hesitated, heart freezing like ice when the green eyes darkened. “He is unharmed, is he not?” “Erm…aye - yes. He is whole.” Barton’s brows lowered dangerously. “What has become of him?” Maxwell really didn’t want to get into the nuts and bolts of informing Barton that his catamite had been used as sport for his men. He valued his life far too much. If the little blond whore decided to spill the beans later on, he would cross that bridge when he came to it. He schooled his features in a way reminiscent of that when he gambled, praying Barton would buy the bluff. “Nothing. He is well. How is me ship?” Barton’s soft voice was smooth and deceptive, but laced with the threat of bloodshed. “I am not in the habit of repeating myself. Consider yourself lucky this time. Stealing your ship was a small price for stealing my boy. The next time you cross me, I will not be inclined to be so generous.” Maxwell lifted his chin, defiant, but not too defiant. “Fine. I will refrain from touching anything that belongs to you.” Barton drained his stein and set it down onto the table with deceitful gentleness. Maxwell knew better. He’d seen those hands snap necks like toothpicks. “See to it that your men do as well.” “Of course.” “We will meet tonight at the docks. Sundown. Do not be late. I will return your ship provided my boy’s condition is to my satisfaction.” “Right.” He turned away, his face flaming in humiliation and rage. He made it two steps away from the table before - “Maxwell.” He tried not to glare as he looked over his shoulder. There was an amused twinkle in Barton’s eyes that pissed him off. “I think you forgot something.” He blushed harder as one of Barton’s men stepped forward, Maxwell’s pearl handled pistol in his palm. He swiped it with more force than was necessary and turned to leave. “Maxwell.” He had to bite down on his tongue to keep from snapping as the soft voice called to him again. He had no idea how Barton managed to sound so loud and authoritative even over the din of a pub brimming with loud, inebriated pirates. “What?” The twinkle and all traces of amusement were gone, replaced with icy promise. “The only reason you are not dead is because you’re a damn good pirate. You’ve always come through on our business deals before. Consider this your only warning. I’d hate to lose good competition, but I will not show mercy should you decide to cross me again.” Barton leaned forward, his palms resting on his knees and his eyes vowing endless painful deaths. “If I see my boy is harmed, I will sink your ship right in front of your eyes and then I will kill you.” Maxwell gulped and nodded. “As you wish.” He left then, stomping through the door and slamming it behind him. He sucked in the cool Irish air, trying to calm his nerves and his temper. His men approached, their faces wrought with worry. “Captain. Are you -” He waved them off irritably. “I’m fine,” he snapped. He kicked a glass bottle that laid on the ground, watching in pleasure as it shattered on impact. “Damn that Barton. I hate pirates!” It didn’t matter that he was one himself. He hated pirates. Loathed them. They were nothing but a bunch of thieving, murdering criminals. He grumbled as he stormed back towards the ship he’d stolen after Barton had taken his. “Get the boy ready. We trade at dusk.” “Aye, Sir.” He was just damn relieved that he’d threatened his men with the plank if they so much as left a single scratch, or bruise on that blond catamite’s skin. It could just be the one thing that saved his ass and got him his Shinigami back. “I knew I should have gone to law school like me mum told me to.”
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