theatrevicki asked:

I know youre busy with H&HW and Tumblin, but I just want to toss this idea your way: Pirate Captain!Kurt and Prisoner!Blaine. Do with that what you will!

The merchant vessel was easy takings for the crew of the Blackbird.  The crew didn't even fight when the black flag came into view, and wisely so.  The Blackbird was a much speedier vessel than their own and one that was rigged with two rows of six-pounders on both starboard and port.  Their reputation was known all along the coasts, as was that of their Captain, known to his men simply as Kurt, but known to the knaves that feared him as Keelhaul Hummel for his preferred method of punishment and torture.

Because the merchant crew had honorably surrendered to his men, they would be given quarter and allowed to live once the goods from their ship had been stowed on the Blackbird.  The merchant crew even helped, glad for the mercy afforded to them.  That is, except for one man.

“Stop that!  Why are you helping them!  Fight them!” The well-dressed man yelled at the merchant crew who ignored his demands.  His long clothes and fine linens told Kurt well enough that this was no sailor.  Either he was a nobleman in transport or the owner of whatever vessel they had taken who had more gold than sense.  In either case, Kurt's mind flashed the word bounty before his eyes.

“Quartermaster!”  Kurt bellowed, his second in command coming quickly to his side at the call.  “See that landlubber?  Have him brought below desk.  He will be given no quarter.”

His quartermaster nodded obediently and rushed towards the man, still absently trying to get the merchant crew to listen to him with no effect.  Cutlass drawn, the quartermaster rounded around the man and told him to climb aboard the Blackbird.

“Under whose authority?!  I will not stand for this!”  The man yelled at the cutlass directed at his face.  No, Kurt decided to himself, the man had no sense at all to talk back to a blade.

“Under the captain's authority knave.  Now get ye' aboard!”

The merchant sailors paused their unloading of goods to watch the scene, some even chuckling and nudging each other in the side.  Clearly this man had not made the voyage easy on any of them and they were glad to see him get his comeuppance.

Kurt stepped up at this point, nudging his hat back a bit and taking a good look over the man who defied his quartermaster.  Any doubts about whether the man had come from money were extinguished when he got closer, seeing the gold necklace, the well trimmed black curly hair pulled back into a tie, the layers upon layers of colored clothed that had no doubt been only worn a handful of times with a maid tending to it between wears.  This man would pull a nice ransom indeed.

“I refuse!  This is piracy!”

Laughter went up not only from Kurt's own crew, but that of the merchants.  As if what had not already been occurring didn't qualify for that particular definition. A smile tugged at Kurt's lips and he stepped fully aside his quartermaster then to address the man.

“It is piracy indeed.  Now you'll get on my ship or face the rope's end.”

The man's brow furrowed as he regarded Kurt in turn, but he didn't move.  “You have no right to apprehend me!”

More chortled laugher and Kurt took a step forward, forcing the slightly shorter man to look him right in the eyes, “I have all the right on the sea.  This is my region.”

The closeness had the effect Kurt wanted, namely to startle the man so that he didn't see the two hands coming up on either side of him which grabbed him on either side and began pulling him away.  

“Wait!  Wait!  Please!  My bird!”

Kurt cocked up an eyebrow and held a hand up, “Your bird?”

“In my quarters.  If he's left with these scoundrels…”  he shot a scathing look at the merchant sailors, “... I'm sure they'll eat him!  Please!”

Kurt was sure, based on the laugher among both crews, that the story of the uppity nobleman who demanded his bird would be told over and over again for ages to come.  In the meantime though, he decided to humor the request.  “Fine.  Get the damned bird and have it brought to my quarters.”

“Captain?  He's demanding to see you again sir.”  

Kurt sighed and tried to resume his reading despite his provost standing in the doorway.  Since taking on the man who had been kept in the hold, all he had heard was complaint from his hands who worked there.  Apparently the man was demanding, insistent on special treatment, and consistently demanding to talk to his captor.

“And what, precisely, would you like me to do about that?”  Kurt didn't look up, merely flipped the page and tried to recall what he had just read so he didn't have to read back.

“Do what you said you would!  Give him the rope's end! Threaten him with the halter or the plank! Do something captain!  When he's not yellin' at us he's making a mess of the boards with his bile!  He has no sea legs to speak of and it's stinkin' up the hold!”

Once again Kurt sighed and shut his book.  Leadership was a tricky thing.  He had to instill enough fear in others to make them want to follow him, yet respect his crew enough to avoid mutiny.  “Send him up to my quarters.  Bound.”

The provost acted quickly enough, Kurt only having time to send for a second supper in his room before the man, now looking much worse for wear, was escorted in with a shove.  “‘ere's the captain for ye!”

“You can leave us.” Kurt noted to the hand who gave him a quick nod and closed the door.  

The man had not enjoyed the past few days if his clothing, now rags upon him, and his hair, now loose and stringy, was any indication.  He probably had not slept a wink given the black sags under his eyes.  Yet, he seemed to retain his will.  

“My provost tells me I should be stringin' you up and sending you to Davy Jones' locker.”  Kurt said plainly, stepping over to the birdcage where a simple yellow canary was held, the captive's own.

“With all due respect sir, I can not imagine my family would take too kindly to my death.  Whatever reputation you have earned on the sea will be for nothing if my family retaliates for my death.”

Kurt chuckled and looked back across the room at the man, trying his best to hold himself high with his chest puffed out to make himself look larger than he was.

“Perhaps.  However, I won't have to harm a hair on your head if you settle.”

“Settle?!  SETTLE?!  I am in a cage fit for a dog, not a human, being tossed back and forth with no hopes of staying still and being fed the worst hardtack imaginable!  How can I be expected to settle?!”

Again Kurt let out a small laugh and moved back from the cage and to his table, sitting himself down and waving a hand over to the other seat, “How about you start now.  Cook ensures me that this meal will be particularly delightful.”

The man hesitated for a moment, but the smell and sight of the food drew him in and he was across from Kurt and eagerly drinking down the wine provided to him before grabbing a potato and eating it as if he had been starved.

“A few days at sea and you forego all your noble breeding.”  Kurt said with a playful hum, watching the man devour the food in front of him.

“Let's just say I am not concerned about the company I'm keeping judging me.” The man grunted, mouth full of half chewed food.

“You should be more concerned.”  Kurt said, leaning back in his seat.  “I don't expect to be in port for at least another week.  I'd hate for this evening to be a one time event because I couldn't stomach watching you eat again.”

The chewing slowed, and more care was taken with each bite.  The man glanced nervously over to Kurt.  Apparently food motivated him well enough to listen.  “I am Kurt.  Known as -”

“Keelhaul Hummel.  Yeah.  Even before I was pulled below your decks I heard the sailors I was with talking.”

Kurt rapped his fingertips together thoughtfully, “And still you tried to argue?”

“I did.”

Kurt didn't bother to eat.  He just watched the man fill his belly, wondering if it would all be futile and he would be vomiting it up back in the hold later.  

“I'm Blaine.  Blaine Anderson.”

Kurt nodded slowly, committing the name to memory.  It wasn't what he had hoped for.  It wasn't a name from a monarch or any dignitaries he knew, but one associated with large scale trade.  Still, that meant gold.  Kurt could always do with more gold.

“Your family does a lot of trade…”

Blaine nodded quickly, sipping his wine with a satisfied hum.  Kurt watched the adam's apple of his throat bob as he drank and couldn't help but swallow himself.  How long had it been since he had been land-side in a house of ill repute?  Too long he decided quickly.

“My family deals largely in general goods but they wish to provide more luxury items from the new lands.”

“Which is why you were aboard that ship.”  Kurt concluded.

Blaine nodded.  “I was to try and initiate trade relations with the natives.”

“Excuse my forthrightness Blaine, but your skills at diplomacy seem lacking.”

An honest chuckle came from the man's mouth, a delightful sound that Kurt could not help but smile at the music of.  “I'm a second son.  I'm disposable if necessary.”

“Indeed.  Well hopefully not too disposable.  I'd hate to think my crew was swabbing the deck of your spew for no booty in return.”

Across from Kurt, Blaine shrugged as he picked up a napkin and wiped his mouth over, eyes locked upon Kurt.  “Thank you for taking care of my canary.”

“Odd to take a bird to sea.  Especially one that the miners use.”

“I've been called worse things than odd.”

Kurt leaned in, “Do tell then.”

Blaine smirked and gave his head a shake.  “Get me out of the hold and I'll tell you whatever you please.”

The man knew how to bargain with what little he had, Kurt had to give him that.

“It's not customary to upgrade a prisoner from the hold to a hammock.”

“I get the feeling you're not exactly a traditional pirate captain Kurt.”

“Aye.  I'm not.”

“I get the feeling you'd rather I stay in your quarters than a hammock, let alone the hold.”

Kurt blinked and quickly leaned back against his chair.  He had underestimated this man before him, who now smugly smirked to him.  He wasn't quite the idiot Kurt had thought him to be, at least, not when it came to reading people.  Had Kurt been so transparent?

“This meal is over.”

“Oh?” Blaine queried, licking his lips over in a not so subtle manner.

Kurt nodded, standing up quickly.  He couldn't afford to be seen as weak in front of his men.  After walking to and opening his door he called for a nearby hand to escort Blaine away before he lost his wits.

“So… dinner tomorrow?”  Blaine hummed as he was pulled away.

Kurt didn't respond as he leaned against his doorframe, just watched as the man was taken back to the hold and then retreated back into his room.  A week before port.  He could manage to go that long.  Hell, he'd gone longer…

But, just in case, maybe he would have a lunch for two tomorrow.