SpainxEngland

England blushes hard, "W-well... I just never had to learn... and I... suppose I might... have a slight fear..." He coughs, feeling embarrassed, "So... you'll... really teach me?" He tries to keep himself from looking too hopeful. He shifts from foot to foot for a moment, "I just... I mean... no one's ever bothered." England looked away, a mixture of excitement, hopefulness and nervousness. He'd never swam before and to be perfectly honest, the thought of being in water deeper than a both was scary to him.

Arthur listens to his new captain's history and feels an odd sense of happiness for the other man before explaining, "I'm glad you enjoy it... It suits you." He looks upwards, trying to think of how to put it, "I'm just not meant for this kind of life I think... I'm not the kind of person that can be a good captain. I'm irrational and I don't get along with people well. I can be... rather heartless at times because of how I was trained. I don't understand things like mercy-- even when it's extended to me." He pauses.

"I think a big part of it has to do with my past, honestly." He admits softly. I wish I had no heart sometimes... Life would be so much easier... I wouldn't have to hurt or worry about hurting others because then I wouldn't even care. If only things could be as simple as that... Why are people so complicated? He wondered to himself after he'd finished speaking. He couldn't understand the way people felt and why he felt the things he did.

"What do you think Captain Carriedo?" He asked softly.

Spain started laughing upon hearing England's honesty. Never in his life would he have thought that the feared Captain Kirkland would be afraid of the one thing he spent the most time with. It seemed unbelievable. "If you're so afraid of the water, how do you manage to be on a ship all the time, then? If I were in your place, I'd be having nightmares every night." he looked to the ceiling, and began to ponder just how England would've been able to manage something like that. "Yes, of course I would teach you. Maybe... maybe when all of this... is done." Spain smiled sadly as thought of the previous conversation resurfaced in his mind. Before anything, there was a war he had to face.

"Thanks, amigo. Although I guess, a part of the things I do are also because of my king. I don't like everything he asks of me, but I have no right to complain. So I just do what I have to do to the best of my ability, without sacrificing my morals." He was surprised that he could speak so honestly with this man he just met. If it were just his crew, there was no way he could let them see him falter... even for a little bit. "You know what Arthur, I don't think you give yourself credit. Everyone has good in them, you know? And I don't know if you've realized it, but you could have killed me anytime you wanted during our walk today." Spain laughed and moves his face closer to Arthur's, trying to show his sincerity. "I believe you have a good heart, Arthur. You probably haven't met the right person to make you realize that yet."

Spain patted England on the shoulder and ushered him to continue walking. "You want to know what I really think, Arturo?" he continued, using England's Spanish name. "You make a good captain. After we took over your ship, most of your crew wouldn't surrender--they told us they'd rather die than serve anyone else. If you are so heartless, and so tainted by your past, do you really think your men would stand by your side... even up to the death?"

"Well they..." England pauses, "My trainers... would make me face my fear of water." He murmured, a pang of fear going through him at the resurfacing memory, "So rather, I'm used to being afraid of it. Though it doesn't ease my fear any..." England shudders, "They drowned me and brought me back several times. I suppose I got used to the idea of drowning, even if it still scared me..." He trailed off, remembering the training he went through to become a captain.

He laughs bitterly, "A good heart, hmm? You don't know me... the things I've done." He paused, "And as for not killing you... sure, I could have. But what would my odds have been then? Your crew would only kill me. I can't possibly fight them all at once and still hope to win. Those aren't good odds. Especially for someone who can't swim." He sighed, "It would do no good to kill you. You're giving me too much credit, Captain."

"As for my crew... I have no idea how that happened. I don't know why they did it." He said, "I was strict and probably intolerable. Whatever they did was for their own honor; it had nothing to do with me, I assure you." He says, "I'm quite heartless because of my upbringing captain. I can't simply love someone or feel loyaltyso easily." He knew it wasn't impossible; he already felt a sense of loyalty for this new captain, but it usually wasn't so easy.

"I don't let people in. I probably never will." He admitted, "The last time I did, it didn't end well. They may as well have ripped my heart out and killed me right there." He said softly, "I will not trust again so easily." His expression goes from one of bitterness to outright sadness. He feels a throbbing in his chest and unconsciously clutches a hand to it. He closes his eyes and wills back tears, unable to think about it any longer. He didn't want to cry in front of the Spaniard.

He knew tears meant weakness and he didn't want the other to think him weak. It was bad enough he knew his fears and disabilities. He didn't need to see his tears as well, surely? He bit his lips hard, trying to gain some form of control over himself. He couldn't understand why it was so hard to control his emotions around this man.

Spain couldn't help but grimace at what England said. To force anyone to face their fears like that was just cruel. But somehow, he didn't find himself too surprised--they were talking about the British after all.
"Ai ai ai~ They should've taught you how to swim not to drown." Spain shook his head and looked down at the floor. He himself didn't know how it felt like to drown because he had always grown up learning how to swim. Even when he was in situations that required him to swim through rough waters, somehow he would get through them without a hitch. To see how England was reacting to the thought however, must mean it was something really horrible.

"You're right, I don't know you." Spain said. Despite all the information he had gathered on the captain, he knew nothing about his inability to swim, nor the past he dealt with regarding his family. He didn't know is green eyes could be so devoid of emotion one moment, and then burning with passion the next. He did know however, that England was known to be ruthless all over the seven seas. He hardly took prisoners, and had a bad reputation among other pirates he had encountered. He led with an iron fist, and always meant what he said. None of that was news. Spain had known all that, already.

Spain just chuckled and digested England's words. He was right, it was dangerous to trust anyone--and he didn't understand why he felt the compulsion to trust this man who was already known not to be trusted. He made a mental note to be more careful, but with Spain, there was really no way he could help going with his gut.

"Don't worry, I won't ask you to trust me. There are a lot of times I don't trust myself either." he said, before stopping by a door. They were near the dining hall. "As for your crew, maybe we should ask them once we get to England. Or at least, when they return." Spain turned the doorknob, and revealed a small dining hall with a large oak table in the middle. There were golden ornamental candlesticks in the middle, and a bowl of fruits. One of his men went up to Spain and spoke to him in Spanish--probably asking him whether or not they were already going to eat. "They didn't really put up a fight, so I didn't find the need to kill them. You might actually meet them again, Arthur."

"They may as well have ripped my heart out and killed me right there." He took in Arthur's last words, trying to comprehend what they meant. Was it possible that someone had betrayed him so much that he felt that way? Had some previous lover broken his heart? He looked at England's eyes once again, and noticed they were starting to pool with water, up until he shut them close. An ache stirred in Spain's own heart, and before he realized it, he pulled the other aside and held him by the shoulders. "Arthur, look at me." he commanded, looking at England's closed eyes. "As long as you are on this ship I promise you, you will not have to deal with something like that again."

"Drowning... it's like... you're underwater--I'm sure you've been before-- but when you need to come up for air, you can't. You open you mouth to breathe and there's nothing but water. You start choking and coughing and you feel heavy. Like your lungs are burning--dying." He pauses and says softly, "And then it goes black. Then they bring you back from the brink of death and you're choking and gasping. Then they do it all over again."

Arthur was surprised to hear they were still alive, then his face grew dark again, "Well, if you've sent them to Britain then they're dead already." He sighs, "Torture may be excruciating and seem like forever to the person experiencing it, but I assure you it actually happens quite quickly." He turns to the green-eyed man and says softly, "I should warn you since this kind of talk seems to make your stomach turn: When we arrive in England, as you're going through the streets, a lot of these tortures are public. They enjoy humiliating people. And the English think of it as entertainment. The crowds will cheer and get excited as though it's a sport. It's going to be everywhere." He gave the captain a concerned look, "I... I'm sure you'll be able to handle yourself, but don't be caught by surprise. Those tortures I told you about are quite common-- used on petty thieves and those of much lower crimes. What pirates face are much worse."

After admitting far more than he'd have liked to about his love life, he bowed his head and closed his eyes to hide the tears. He felt Captain Carriedo's gentle hand under his chin and his voice was firm as he commanded Arthur look at him. He let his eyes flutter open and a few tears fell, escaping his eyes despite his best effort. His eyes grew wide at the Spaniard's promise and he could help but gulp a little. And overwhelming urge to be held--touched-- overwhelmed him and he threw his arms around the captain's neck, crying softly. He buried his face into it's crook and let his hands fall down onto the man's back. He didn't know why he was acting on such an urge, or why he was letting this strange man see such weakness inside him. This had never happened but once before. And it ended terribly. He couldn't let it happen again.

He stayed there for a long moment, not wanting to pull away because he was embarrassed. He decided to wait for Spain's response instead, and continued clinging to the man as though he were some sort of a lifeline.

"Dios mio." Spain murmured, as England's words came to life in his mind's eye. He could imagine himself in the same situation-- helpless and held down beneath the surface of the water, his body desperately searching something so basic and vital as air to no avail.He didn't--no, couldn't believe that someone would subject England to such horrible mental and physical torture. Just the thought of England gasping, and clinging to life, sent a pain in his chest, making it hard to breathe himself. The thought of it all made Spain realize that as much as he loved the water, as much as it can be a beautiful thing, it also had the ability to be the coldest, most ruthless and deadly killer.

"Are you telling me that despite letting them go, they would be killed by their fellow men?" Spain hung his head, and thought about what England said about his crew. Though he didn't really have any emotional attachment to the British sailors, he knew what it must be like for Arthur to lose them. Spain's crewmen were the very blood of his ship, and without them he wouldn't even be a captain. He would be lost. "Don't worry, they're grown men. I have faith they will know what to do. Besides, you've disciplined them well, no~? They must've picked out a thing or two about survival from your guidance." Spain however was less confident than he wanted to sound. Just the mention of the tortures made his expression go dark, as he imagined human beings being treated less than dogs.

Spain's eyes widened as he watched England's slowly open, the first tears rolling down his face. Before he could react, England pulled close into him, burying his head in his shoulder. "A-arthur I--" Spain felt England's hands travel south, resting on his lower back. He felt the fingertips grip into him, the warmth penetrating his clothes. He didn't understand. What was it that made England so upset?
Spain moved his hands up and down England's back, trying to calm him down. "Shh... calmanse, calmanse. Estoy aqui *, I'm right here..." Spain murmured softly, feeling England quivering underneath him. One of his men entered the room as he held England in his arms, and he dismissed him using arm gestures, putting his index finger over his own lips. Spain continued to hold onto England, eventually bringing his hand behind England's head, entangling his fingers with the feathery hair.

At that moment, all Spain wanted to do was protect this man in his arms. To hide him and to nurture him from all that would cause him pain--the people, the weapons, and even the water beneath the ship. He wanted them all gone. For a moment, he wanted time to stop-- he wanted to keep him in his arms, and forget about the war, forget about the siege, forget about everything that had led up to this.
He held up England's face again, and stared into the green abyss. Captain Carriedo didn't know what stole the tears and the gleam from those eyes, but what he did know was that he was going to do all he could to bring them back.

------------------
*Calm down, I'm here.

Deciding o drop the subject of water and torture-- in his case both at the same time, he stared up at the man holding him, gaze half lidded and eyes still clouded with tears not yet shed. He couldn't understand how someone as respectable as this Captain Carriedo could want anything do with him, much less want to make him his first mate or comfort him when he was feeling upset. He sniffed quietly, not wanting to break the moment. The Spaniard's fingers playing with his hair felt amazing. It had been months since he'd last had any affection similar to something like this. He couldn't help himself from wanting to take advantage of the moment.

Screw his pride; ta had already been taken when he was defeated in battle and been made to sleep in the cell of another captain's ship. Right now he wanted to be held and touched and caressed--cared for. His captain was giving him that and more; promising him his safety, reassuring him and guiding him gently. He moved his hands from the Spanish man's back to his chest and softly clutched the front of his shirt. He searched the other's eyes, trying to find an ulterior motive in his actions. He found nothing. A few more tears fell and he realized how weak he must look, crying like this. H swallowed and tried to calm himself down, unable to breathe well.

Not moving from his position he whispered, voice quiet though ragged from tears, "Only one person has ever said something like that to me before." He was referring to the captain's previous promise, As long as you are on this ship I promise you, you will not have to deal with something like that again. He gave a bitter laugh and a sad, heartbroken smile, "He... He didn't keep his promise. In fact, he's the one who broke my heart. I'm sure you've suspected that I had a lover before this because of my inability to shut my mouth." He sighed and looked down before meeting those beautiful green eyes again. They were so dark, but light with hope and trust. He sighed again and ran a hand through his hair, keeping the other on the man's chest, and felt a few more tears slide down his cheek.

He let his hand fall back and cling to the Spaniard's coat again. He could almost feel his world crashing down around him; he was falling through the cracks and this man in front of him was catching the Englishman. He couldn't believe his luck.

Spain moved his hand from the back of England's head to his face, lightly brushing his thumb underneath England's eye. "Don't cry." He wiped a teardrop away as he rubbed England's back with his other hand, trying to comfort him. Seeing England like this was heart-wrenching for the captain. He felt helpless and at a loss as to what else he could do to make England feel better. If only... if only he could fix it. If only he could take it away. Take away all that hurt and pain that the other kept buried inside, as easily he had dug up treasures in adventures past. If only it were that easy.

He...? Spain's eyes opened wide, as England started to open up about his heartache. Though he did have suspicions that England was heartbroken by a lover, he was still a bit surprised with its confirmation. The way England had acted and the way he spoke was indeed that of a heart-broken man's, and Spain knew that much. But was it possible... was it possible that the man England had mentioned the previous night--the man he'd sworn not to harm was in fact... the lover that left England like this?

"He didn't keep his promise..." Spain murmured, as he tried to process everything that England had just told him. "Tell me if you don't mind, but what promise was this?" he asked, still holding England in his arms. As he waited for England to answer, he picked up one of his hands and brought it to his lips. He kissed his fingers and lightly brushed his lips over them, blowing softly on the skin. "No man is worth your tears." He whispered, as he continued to gaze into the other's tearful eyes.

England swallowed, trying to mentally prepare himself for thinking about the very thing he'd been working hardest to bury within himself. He had been numb until this Spanish captain had come and turned him upside down, "He promised he's never let anyone hurt me." He whispered the words softly, able to remember the tone of his ex lover to the smallest minute detail. He closed his eyes and gulped, trying to hold back the tears, "He and I met at a meeting. He was new and had risen through the English ranks at a startling pace." Arthur began trying to explain their twisted, screwed up story as best he could.

"I was still a high official in the English military back then, put in charge of our conquests and tortures." He paused, hoping against hope the Spaniard wouldn't figure out that the reason he knew so much about such torture was because he was the one forced to perform them. He continued, "He was an irritating, insufferable man; always so loud and obnoxious. I told him so and to my surprise he asked me for drinks."

"We hit it off at the bar and got a little too drunk. One thing led to another and the next morning I was thinking I'd just had one hell of a one night stand... But it wasn't just a one night stand. It repeated until finally he asked me to be his lover." England averted is eyes, face flushed, "He knew how to be quite charming to get his way." He said bitterly, "One night I'd had a rough time with a prisoner. He was to be tortured and I could hardly take it because he was obviously innocent. He was so young too..." He shook his head, realizing he'd trailed off, "That's when this man made the promise to never let anything hurt me again."

He laughed bitterly, not looking at his captain, "I'm sure you're smart enough to figure out that things didn't end well between he and I." He took a deep, shaky breath, "Even though he'd risen through the ranks, he was a gambler. He wasted all his money-- and most of mine too-- on his card games." He sighed, knowing this was where he would start to lose it, "As a high official and a pirate, I was always allowed more time off than most. When I started dating him, I nearly stopped pirating altogether."

"One night he asked me if I could do something for him." England gulped again and continued, "He asked me to sleep with someone for money. Promised it would only be this once. Just this once."

"So I agreed. And it carried through. Everything was fine for a while. It seemed like he wasn't gambling anymore. But then he came and asked again. And it happened over again until I found myself being whored out to anyone who would pay. I wanted to quit but he started to get violent... I loved him. I didn't want to hurt him, so I did nothing and just kept hoping that maybe this time would be enough. Then I caught him cheating on me." England broke down, "And you know, I still didn't break up with him! He broke up with me because he'd found someone else. Someone 'prettier' he'd said." Arthur wiped furiously at his tears, "So there you have it. My story."

"Ese cabron se va al infierno.*" Spain murmured to himself, trying to keep his composure as England told him his story. He clenched one of his fists into a ball while he eagerly listened in silence, wanting not to believe what was being told him. He fought the urge to shake England and tell him that everything was a joke-- some idea for a story he had in mind, but no. Spain watched England choke on his words, saw the pain in his eyes and heard the unmistakable honesty and unmasked sorrow in his voice. Everything was real.

"Why... why would you do this to yourself?" Spain put both of his hands on both of England's shoulders, and tried to look him in the eye. "Is this... is this the same man you told me not to harm? That.... General?" Spain felt a lump in his throat, making it painful to talk. He hadn't let himself get close enough to anyone to understand what exactly England was feeling, but being able to piece it together made him feel like he was experiencing it first hand. Back in his country, love had a totally different meaning. Love was special--no, sacred. If you loved somebody, you'd rather let yourself get hurt, than to bring harm to the one that you loved. If you loved somebody, you would bring them carnations everyday, ask them to dance the flamenco with you, and sing them Spanish ballads. You would wake up next to them, and be the one to kiss them good night.

To Spain, none of the things that England made sense and he frantically searched England's eyes for an explanation.

"You also told me you are now a wanted man... why... why is this?" Spain continued, as he stroked England's shoulders. "Was it also because of him? Was he the one who asked you to rob the port? Why is he not wanted, instead? That... that.... hijo de puta**" Spain trailed off, and slowly shook his head as he waited for England to reply. An unexplainable heat rose up in his chest, manifesting into an ache he hadn't felt since his father died all those years ago.

------
* That bastard should go to hell.
* Son of a bitch

England winced and simply nodded, "Y-yes. It's the man I asked you to spare. General Alfred Jones..." He whispered softly, "Why would I do that to myself?" He repeated, "It's not like I'm worth anything anyways. I never was. I'm just an orphan good for nothing but killing and cruelty." His voice sounded robotic; as though it were something he'd repeated to himself many times before. He wouldn't meet the captain's eyes, "And now, on top of it I'm a slut and a criminal."

He slowly nodded, "Yes... I robbed them for him." He answered slowly, "And... he's not wanted because I never told them he was the one who told me to do it." Arthur admitted softly, "I still love him." He whimpered and broke down all over again, "I don't know what to do. I can't get over him. I just want to die. I feel like I'm drowning." He rambles about what he's feeling with noticeable reoccurring thoughts of death and pain. He couldn't bear it.

"I'm worthless." He whispered as he cried, rocking himself slowly, "No one will ever want someone as screwed up as me...."

He really does love him. Spain thought, as England told him the rest of the story. For someone to treat him so cruelly, and for him to still care about what happens to that person, there was no denying that his heart was still with the man.

"Shh... querido*, don't say that." Spain pulled England close again, and stroked his hair. Now he understood why just the previous night, England was so quick to assume that he wanted to take him. That fear in his eyes, and then the total emptiness... now, he understood. To England, every man who ever tried to touch him probably seemed like a threat. He probably looked like just another man that would ravage his body and then be done with it afterwards, leaving him with the fragments of his own shattered dignity. It must be so hard for a man such as England to have to go through that. And he did go through all of that. All for the sake of what he called love.

"Tell me one thing, though. You told me that your lover, that... bastard, left you for someone prettier?" Spain asked, stroking England's cheek. "The guy must be wearing an eyepatch. I have sailed the seven seas, and I tell you-- I have yet to see something more beautiful than what is right here before me. " He pushed England agianst the wall behind him, and pulled his face close to his-- close enough for the tips of their noses to be slightly brushing against each other. "And would I be considered a fool, if I admitted to you now... that if I admitted in the face of God that I do in fact want this something... this someone that isn't mine?" Spain lightly brushed his lips over England's cheeks, and hovered over his parted mouth.

---------
*dear/darling

England rested his head against the man's shoulder as he was pulled close. He inhaled the Spaniard's scent and found that it calmed him a great deal; some mix of fruits and wild flowers tinged with the salty sea breeze. He was sturdy and strong, ebbing away the pain that had filled inside England for the past few months with only a series of gentle touches and soft words whispered to him. With only a couple promises and such a sweet disposition, he'd turned the ex sea captain's world upside down.

"It was an old... client-" England started to answer, feeling tears swell in his throat again, but was cut off by his captain pressing him back against a wall. Under normal circumstances, Arthur would have panicked at being pushed up against a wall by a bigger, dominant man, but Captain Carriedo was different; he felt oddly at ease with this tall man's strong arms surrounding him. He blushed at the captain's words and it took him a few breaths to realize that the man was confessing to having feelings for him.

He felt a sense of fear, excitement, longing and joy well up within him. Arthur shifted, pausing to think rationally on this. I'm happy... I suppose. Happy he feels this way for me... But he must be expecting an answer... And... I don't want to hurt him. If I accept his feeling and let him fall farther for me only to figure out that he was a rebound... I could never live with myself... But... He stopped short in his reasoning, one last thought flitting through his head, The pain is gone; completely eased. I like him. A lot. He wasn't sure enough to call what he was feeling 'love' just yet-- thought he was almost certain-- so he settled on a step below.

He looked into the beautiful green eyes now level with his, heart speeding up at the feeling of the Spaniard's nose rubbing against his. He gently leaned forward and nuzzled back before whispering, "Did you know... that a British scientist did an experiment where he wore glasses that turned his vision upside down?" He paused, knowing this might sound a little random, "The interesting thing about the experiment was: after three days of wearing the glasses, he began seeing everything right side up. And when he took them off after, everything looked upside down all over again. Until three days later."

Arthur found it important to tell the captain, hoping he would understand the meaning behind his words. He felt a lot like the man wearing the glasses... Alfred had turned his world upside down when he made England fall in love with him. And everything turned right side up later. Then he ripped the glasses off, and everything felt upside down again. But now, with this new man in the picture, he felt things shift out from underneath him all over again.

What are you doing, Espana? Spain thought, as he looked at England's face through his half-lidded eyes. He had allowed his mouth to get carried away with his words, and now his body was moving along with it. He couldn't help it. England looked so fragile, so broken and so beautiful that he had to consider whether or not the slightest touch would fix him, or break him further instead. Spain ached to put his hands all over him, burn his fingerprints on every inch of skin and kiss him with all the passion in the world. However, he stopped himself and realized that just looking at him, just being with him and hearing him speak brought Spain more happiness, more satisfaction than anything physical could. It sent a pang in his heart and a flutter in his chest just to feel and see the other breathing.

He pulled England close to him and kissed him lightly on the forehead, chuckling at England's story. "It amazes me, what can be done in three days." He held on the back of England's head, resting his chin against the other's temple and murmuring in his ear. "Let me tell you another story. Do you know of our Lord, Jesus Christ? He was unjustly treated--tortured and ridiculed for more than an entire day by people he loved with all his heart. And at the end of that day, he was crucified and he died. However--" Spain then pulled away, and looked at England in the eyes once again. "After three days, he rose from the dead, full of forgiveness for those who had wronged him."

Spain smiled, and rubbed England's cheek with his thumb. Though he knew England probably wasn't a believer, he wished that he understood what he meant-- anything that had died, could be brought back to life again.

"But don't worry querido, love is not like eyesight, and neither of us are the Lord. If I must wait, I will wait for eternity." he held England's hand and put it over his chest. "Or at least, as long as this Spanish heart still manages to beat. It will always beat, for you."

England's heart fluttered and even though all the stories he'd heard of being around the person you love involved nervousness, he'd never felt more at ease than he did at this moment, being held close by this man. He closed his eyes and buried his face into the other's chest, feeling the Spaniard rest his chin on his blonde hair. He didn't mind; in fact, he enjoyed the feeling. He loved the way they fit together. It wasn't perfect. England was a little too short and had to stand on his toes to draw his arms up around the Spanish man's neck, but it felt honest and sweet. It felt good.

He pulled back slightly as he listened intently to the scenario set before him and marveled at how accurate it felt for their situation. He murmured to the green-eyed man in front of him, "I've never much believed in things like God... but... D'you... d'you think that it really happened that way? That it was that easy?" His eyes were wide with curiosity swimming through the green depths. He paused as he listened to his captain's voice, once again speaking.

He felt his heart pound so hard it ached; this man's words were simply too sweet. He felt his captain's heart beating underneath his fingertips and in a moment of thoughtlessness and pure passion, he brought his lips up to meet those of the brunette. The kiss wasn't particularly deep. It was more like a series of soft, fluttery touches of lips against lips; but it was also passionate and made his chest swell with excitement. He lips lightly skimmed the other's and the kisses were fleeting, but perfect for the moment. There was no lust; just pure, raw emotion and he drew himself in closer. He pulled away, opening his eyes to meet the Spaniard's.

He was still on his toes, arms wrapped around the man's neck, fingers playing with his hair. The bottom of his torso along with most his thighs were pressed tight against the other man's own body, who's arms were wrapped around his waist and playing with his own hair as well. He nuzzled his face under the Spaniard's chin, blushing profusely once he'd realized how forward he'd been. "S-sorry." He managed out softly.

Spain couldn't help but think how wonderful it felt to have England so close to him. He wasn't entirely soft like a woman--there was no denying that it was a full-grown man that he was holding in his arms, but somehow, everything about it felt right. Nothing about the way they were in contact felt sinful or out of place, and he wanted nothing more than to have England nestled into him like that, for as long as he would be allowed.

Spain chuckled a bit at England's question, as he noticed the honest curiosity in his eyes. "I never said it was easy." he said, brushing some of England's hair away from his face. "The Lord... even after he had risen, his wounds were still present. The holes in his hands and feet, and his pierced side were all still there, remnants of his suffering. But the important thing is, he was alive. And he had shown all those who wronged him and ridiculed him, what he was truly capable of." Spain started caressing England's cheek with his thumb, as he smiled softly watching England's eyes lost in thought. "Also with what you've mentioned. Walking around for three days with your world upside-down is anything but easy, don't you think?" Spain laughed, and that was when he held onto England's hand, putting it over his heart.

Hm-? The sensation of England's lips against his sent a shiver down his spine, catching him off guard. Spain was taken fully by surprise, and his eyes were wide open for the first few moments. He started kissing England back--albeit lightly--gently brushing his lips against the other's, still partly in shock as to what was happening. Before he had time to process everything, England pulled away and nestled himself under his chin.

Did he just...? Spain thought, in complete disbelief of what just happened. He blinked twice, and slowly brought his fingers to his own lips. He stood there holding onto England, wondering what was really on the other's mind mind. Just a moment ago England said he was still in love with that other man. So why did he... why did he kiss him on the lips just like that?

"Arthur..." Spain murmured, swiftly pushing England forward into a dip, supporting his back with one of his arms. He stared at England's flushed face and wide eyes for a moment, and thought that whatever his reason was, it didn't matter. None of it mattered anymore. "Don't be." He brought his lips to England and pulled him into a deep kiss--one that was filled with passion and the emotions that hung in the air, with words that remained unspoken.

England was blushing profusely and couldn't help but feel a little bit of fear that he'd misread his captain's signals-- that maybe the man in front of him wasn't actually declaring feelings for him but just trying to make him feel better. I'm... such and idiot. He thought to himself, burying himself into the Spaniard's heat, Why would he want you anyway? Why did I kiss him?! I still have feelings for Alfred... He nearly choked over the name, even if he was only thinking it, Be that as it may... I feel so happy with this man. He makes me feel good about myself and I feel warm when I'm with him. He's honest, sincere and kind... I... would like to love him. Of course, had he not been over thinking it, he would have realized that he had already fallen (though they were still at the beginning of their feelings for each other...) and Captain Carriedo had already caught him. Where Alfred had failed, this new captain was succeeding; but Arthur wasn't quite ready to admit this to himself yet.

All of the sudden, he heard the Spanish man speak. He blushed as the taller man dipped him and he couldn't help but feel that fluttering in his chest again as he found himself staring into those gorgeous emerald green eyes. He searched them in the few seconds the Spaniard was quiet, finding nothing that could even mirror doubt or distrust. He felt all his disillusionment slip away as the man finished speaking, "Don't be."

His heart leaped when the captain's lips touched his, gentle at first, but quickly turning into a deep, passionate kiss. It carried all the emotions that he was feeling along with several he was unable to identify. Hope, happiness, contentment, passion, a little sadness, a tinge of lust and a lot of one emotion Arthur couldn't put his finger on: love. He tangled his fingers into the brunette's hair, kissing back with equal passion. He felt thought whirl around his head, leaving him feeling somewhat dizzy. He let himself lean into the Spaniard's touch, wanting to be closer to him in any way he could.

Their kisses slowly slowed, becoming less frenzied. They were still deep and full of emotion, but now they were sweet and slow. They slowed further, turning into soft pecks the each other's lips, then to fluttery brushes until they finally pulled away. Arthur's face was flushed and he gave the man still holding him a content look, eyes lit with a happiness and hope they'd previously been devoid of. He tightened his arms around Captain Carriedo's neck, not bothering to untangle his fingers and nuzzled his face back into the crook of his neck. He whispered softly, "Captain?" He paused, "I... I can't be sure. And I don't want to rush you or I, but... I really... I really like you." He stopped again and then asked softly, "Do you think... you could turn my world right side up?" His voice was soft and sweet.

Spain dipped England into a long gentle kiss, and slowly started to get more passionate as their exchanges picked up speed. He felt England's lower lip in between his, and then the upper--feeling every corner and outline of the other's mouth. Their kisses became deep and heated as Spain tightened his grip; moving his hands up and down England's back and rubbing along his waist. At that moment, there was nothing Spain that wanted more than what was right in front of him. He wanted it all--the softness of England's lips, the gasping sounds he made when he went up for air, the way he felt under his grip... Everything about him made Spain weak in the knees, and got his mind clouded in a haze of emotion. He wanted to look into those green eyes--get lost and get pulled into that deep abyss forever, and he would never attempt to resurface. He would let himself be drowned in them without resistance, surrendering his fate to what lay in the bottom of those deep green pools. And although Spain was the captain of the ship and he had captured England, at that moment he was almost certain that it was really the other way around.

El prisionero capturado mi corazón.*

As their kisses slowed down, Spain gradually brought England up while still holding him in his arms. He was breathing hard, trying to recover the breaths that were stolen from his lungs during the passionate exchange. He looked into England's eyes, and he smiled... The spark that was missing in them just the previous day was there, illuminating his eyes the way the gem Spain had in his hands all those years ago lit up under the sunlight. He kissed him softly on the forehead, and once again on the cheek, right before England started to speak.

"I--" Spain started, and a wide smile crept upon his face upon hearing England's words. He likes me. He thought, as he continued to caress England underneath his arms. Despite all Spain did-- ransacking his ship, and keeping him captive, England still mustered the honestly and the courage to tell him that he felt that way. Spain pulled England away slowly, and brushed his thumb across England's lower lip. "I know, querido. I would tell you the same but..." Spain said, as he chuckled a bit, trying to compose what he wanted to say. "I wouldn't want to lie. There are simply no words to describe how I feel about you.... right now."

---------
*The captive has captured my heart.

England froze hearing the captain's words, taking them the wrong way. He.... He doesn't return... Arthur broke off his thought there-- it was too painful to finish. The light that had been re lit quickly died as this false realization swept over him, stealing his breath and crushing his chest. His lips quivered and before he knew it, tears were streaming down his face. He swallowed. Why would he kiss me if he doesn't want me....? Another wrong thought crept into his head, Oh God.... He only wants my body. DAMMIT! He could have collapsed right there from the explosion of pain in his chest.

"W-why would you lead me on that way?!" England asked, trying to be angry, but only coming across as hurt and broken, "I knew you only wanted me for my body! You bloody liar!" He gulped down his tears and took off, not paying attention to which direction he went. He rattled on all the door's handles--most were locked-- and twisted hard to see if they would open. Finally, he found an open storage room. He shut the door quickly behind him, then tucked himself away into a corner, hidden behind some large crates; he didn't want the captain finding him after all this. I'll go hungry if I wait here too long... Part of him tried to reason but a larger part of himself answered, Then let yourself starve. It's not as though you have any reason to live. He brought his knees up to his chest, rocking back and forth gently.

He sniffed quietly to himself, trying to think, but not succeeding. He sighed softly and ran a hand through his hair, replaying the last few minutes in his mind over and over again. He sighed again, feeling the tears come spilling out until he was sobbing. I... I don't think I can handle this... His heart was stuttering in his chest and wave after wave of aching pains washed over him, spreading throughout his chest. He continued rocking, unable to calm down. He scratched unconsciously at his hands, leaving bloody half-crescent marks all over them. He sighed again, trying to breathe deeply. First Alfred... now this... I can't... He gasped as the emotional pain became so bad that it physically hurt. He breathing became frantic and panicky as he gasped for air, laying down on his side as he's now unable to sit up.

He closed his eyes, willing the pain away.

"Lead you on? What are you--" before Spain could finish though, England cut him off angrily--accusing him of only wanting him for his body. A cold chill ran through Spain as he stood frozen, helplessly watching England pull away from his grip and run out of the room.

What have I done? Spain ran after England as fast as he could, trying to organize his thoughts. He first looked all around the deck--bumping into some of his men and asking if they had seen where England went. Only a few mentioned seeing him, and those that did see him didn't know where he went. Spain cursed his luck as he tried to scour his ship, testing out all the doors and shouting out England's name; hoping against hope that he would come out and tell him what exactly was going on.

Spain found himself in one of the lower floors of the ship--panting and tired from trying to find England. He refused any of his men's help, thinking that England might get the wrong idea if he ordered his men to get him. He wanted to find England, by himself.
Spain rested against a wall, and pulled out the cross from under his shirt.

Dios mio... he started, as he rubbed the cross with his thumb. Please help me.

Spain sank to the floor and rested his arms on his knees, thinking about the previous events. He didn't understand. What had made England react that way? Did he... did he say something wrong? Maybe England had found his actions too forward... or were it his words? He was just being honest... the feelings he had for England, he didn't just merely like him. It was something else... something indescribable... something more--

Spain's eyes opened wide, as the word crossed his mind. Was it possible that he, Captain Carriedo... loved him?

Spain shook his head and fixated his vision on the cross, and furrowed his brow, trying to recall what if felt like with England in his arms. It was something so new, and different, and amazing that took him completely by surprise. The mere thought of what happened, and the way he just let him slip away made his heart ache in ways he never knew it could. If he did in fact... love... England, then he knew he was done for.

He loves someone else, estupido. He sighed, and knocked his head onto the wall behind him lightly. I had just met him but why does it feel as if I've known him all along...? Why do I yearn to look into his eyes, and to hear his voice... to feel his heartbeat against mine? It didn't seem to make sense how everything can happen so suddenly. In the past, Spain never felt the same compulsion to do things and to feel things for any other person. He liked the idea of love itself, but he never thought he needed it in his life, as not once has he come across a woman who made him fall head over heels. And then comes this man... and love suddenly becomes the air he breathes, itself.

Spain forced himself up, and resumed his search filled with a new resolve. He swung open the door to the storage room, thinking it would be a good place to hide. "Arthur...?" he called out, as he looked around the room, trying not to leave any corner unsearched. He looked to the floor and saw footprints imprinted on a layer of dust. Arthur had to be around there, somewhere. And if he did find England, he knew what he was supposed to do.

If I really loved him... he thought, as slight movement among some of the boxes had caught his eye. I'd have to set him free.

England was sobbing but tried to calm himself when he heard the door open and the captain's voice--that voice--call out for him. He glanced down at his hands, realizing they were aching. All his nervous scratching had left the bloody and shredded. He looked up when he heard footsteps draw near and he looked up to see the captain's face--that face--before swallowing a thick lump that had formed in his throat.

He felt everything he wanted to say leave with a Whoosh as his mouth moved on its own accord, "I'm sorry! I know you don't want me like that and it's only physical but I really think I might love you and I don't know what to do because it hurts so badly and I can't control it and it feels like something it tearing me open from the inside out and I can't do this!" He sobbed again, "I love you! Please, please love me..." He rocked back and forth,
"J-just love me, please!" He rubs his eyes, getting blood from his hands on his face. He starts scratching at his face, a nervous habit he'd developed while he was a child after watching his father be brutally sawed in half.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry....!" He can't seem to stop babbling, "I know I'm no good. I'm too broken to be fixed. Nothing can bring me back to life. My world will always be upside down and I will never get to be with you the way I want to." He whimpered and clawed down his neck, leaving long, bloody trails.

He opens his eyes and looks up at the Spaniard, but his eyes are distant and it's obvious he's stuck in his inner turmoil.

"Shh--shh-- calm down, calm down..." Spain quickly sank to his knees beside England, the moment he saw him. It seemed as if England was having a fit, spewing words so quickly that he was barely able to follow the train of thought.
Did he say love? Spain turned pensive as he heard the word come from England's mouth. He heard it repeatedly--I love you.... love me... just love me, please... he didn't know if he was hearing the words from England right, and it sent a flutter in his chest. However, his main concern now was to get him to calm down and talk to him straight.
"It's okay... shh... querido, I'm right here, what's wrong?" Spain held up England's hands that were now covered in blood, and brushed his fingers over his wounded face. "A-arthur... who did this to you? Did you do this?" Worry overcame Spain and he held England's hands down, and pulled him into an embrace. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I won't leave you, I'm right here." Spain waited until England could calm down, and he rubbed his shoulders hoping it would make him feel better. "I... I really didn't understand what you're trying to say. But Arthur..." he leaned over, just barely touching his lips on the others. "Te Amo." Spain said, without breaking his gaze. "I love you so much and I can't... explain it. I don't care if you tell me you're broken, or dead or upside down... or whatever. I love you despite all of that and if I had to, I would dedicate my life just to fix you... just to revive you and turn you right side up." He brushed through England's hair with his fingers, and smiled faintly. "But I doubt I'd have the need to because to me, you're already perfect the way you are. Nothing-- not even the knowledge that your heart may belong to someone else will change how I feel."

England's sobbing ceased almost the instant the Spaniard's arms came around him and he leaned into him. He still had tears falling from his cheeks, but his crying was softer and more controlled; a result of not being able to calm down instantaneously. He closed his eyes and slowly, slowly, his tears stopped falling as well. His ragged and forced breathing, fueled by constant swallowing and tears calmed down and became more even. He sniffed quietly.

He was sure he looked a mess and his mind wasn't much better. The only thing he knew was that this man had him in his arms and for now, that was good enough despite whatever he might think the man's ulterior motive might be. He tried to organize his thoughts and grasp the words the captain was whispering to him, He... loves me? He wondered at this, thinking to himself, How can that be? And he wants me... no matter my condition. Even if I'm broken and dead and upside down all at once. The thought made him happy, but there was still something nagging at him. Something he couldn't explain to himself, let alone the Spanish man holding him.

If I love Alfred still... how can I love this man too? How can that be possible? He tried to reason, Perhaps... I'm not really in love with Alfred anymore... Maybe... maybe I was just holding on to him because I was afraid of letting go... The minute it occurred to him, he realized that it was true; He might have loved Alfred once--and that would never change-- but it didn't mean he loved him still. He paused at the thought before beginning to talk.

He whispered to the Spaniard, "C... Captain... I... I love you. A-and.. I think--I'm fairly certain that is--that perhaps I've just been afraid of letting Alfred go. I... I don't love him. But I was afraid that if I let go, I would be alone forever and my love might run out. So I held on and in the end, it's killed me inside. I don't know how to fix it but... I... I really believe I love you..." He paused before mimicking the Spanish words he'd heard the captain use just minutes before, "Te amo."

He decided it was also best to explain his injuries as he became fully aware of the attack he'd just had, "I... I have these... attacks I suppose you could call them. They started after I watched my father being killed. It's a repercussion of seeing something so gruesome." He grimaced, "I don't even know I'm doing it. It starts as scratching and turns into my nails peeling my skin from me..." He looks away, "I can't help it when I get this way."

Spain smiled softly as England began calming down in his arms. He rubbed his back and ran his fingers through the other's hair, pulling him away to meet his gaze. He kissed cheeks, tasting the warm and wet saltiness of the tears upon his lips. The sea must be really in his blood. Spain thought, as he ran his lips all the way down to meet the other's. He even smells... and tastes like the sea.

It was a slight kiss on the lips, a slow and sweet one--gradually stopping England's sobs. Spain wanted to be there for him and prove to him that everything he said, was real. He wanted England for who he was; no precursors and no motives. He admired the man called Captain Kirkland long before they've met, but who he saw now-- the man who admitted he was broken, the man who went through all that pain with the guise of being someone fearsome was the man he truly cared for. He knew that once he had been pulled in, there was no coming out. Despite all that was coming their way-- the war, the siege, and the possible confrontation with England's past love... Spain knew that he was going to stand by his side, and he be with him until the very end.

There was no doubt in Spain's heart that this man, was whom he truly loved.

"I love you. I love you so much, tresoro.*" Spain said, smiling at the way England used his language. He'd always found his own language beautiful, but hearing it from England's mouth had made it even more so. He held up England's hands to his mouth, and kissed it--tasting some of the dried up blood across the wounds. "Please, don't do this anymore. If you must hurt someone--if you really cannot help it... you can hurt me, instead." he brought England's hand to his own arm, and lightly dragged his fingernail across his skin. "It will just hurt me more if I see you hurting yourself."

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*Treasure/Beloved

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