Chapter Text
Bakugou never remembered much from battles. He would draw his sword and his mind would go numb until he resheathed it again. It was always a haze, with bits and pieces of memory emerging like a fog light. The feeling of a sword tip driving through someone’s chest, the smell of gunpowder and an endless pulsing of cannons and screaming. The sound would haunt his nightmares for weeks afterwards, not that he’d ever admit it out loud.
There was no room for dreams sailing under the flag of the Queen’s Navy.
He had learned how to hide away any feeling that didn’t push him forward. He was a sailor, one of the best, handpicked by the Queen herself to protect the seas.
The battle that occurred on the 6th of November, though, he could remember every detail.
It had been cold that day, the first real signs of winter, and the men were restless.
“Commander Bakugou, permission to go below deck.” One of the sailors, Shindo, called out.
“Permission denied.” Bakugou bit back, he adjusted his jacket, still getting used to the weight of the epaulettes on his shoulders. He stared at the ropes hanging down from the masts. “If you’re cold, climb the ratlines.” The wind was even, sails billowing and the sky cloudy. He could let them rest, but Bakugou preferred to keep his sailors busy. A lazy sailor was a dangerous one.
A weighted silence descended on the deck. The sailors of the Royal Navy were too well trained to complain, but Bakugou could sense their displeasure.
It had only been a few months aboard, but it had taken him longer to make his way to a position of command. Years spent spilling blood under the Queen’s banner while he watched others rise through the ranks with ease. They were mostly veteran sailors, decorated in their own right, some connected to Parliament, most with a family lineage. They were the ones who were quickly ushered on the path to Captain with a good ship and a hundred soldiers under their command.
Bakugou had none of that, born in the slums and enlisted at age 7. He clawed his way up from cabin boy on sheer talent and determination alone. He wasn’t supposed to make it past a regular old seaman - content to wipe the decks and die as cannon fodder.
No, he climbed and climbed - from cabin boy to seaman to warrant officer to Lieutenant.
And when the news spread that the Queen was adamant to eradicate the threat of pirates during her reign, a new fleet of ships was commissioned.
Bakugou knew, as well as he knew the grains of worn wood on the handle of his gun, that he would be Commander of one. And then it was just one more push. One more battle, one more pirate brought back to the palace to be hung from the square, and he would have a ship to his name.
He would be the first commoner to be given the title of “Captain”, he swore it even as he glared back down at the men. He didn’t need to earn their approval, or any of that bullshit, he just needed to fight.
I’ll show them, he thought, the rough wood of the railing digging into his palms. I’ll kill every pirate that crosses my path.
And to do that, he needed his men to be in the best form of their lives. He was about to issue the command to begin drills, but a voice chimed up.
“Commander said race, right? Winner is first in line at dinner!”
Bakugou looked down, but he recognized the voice immediately. A smiling face in a sea of hostile glares, Eijirou Kirishima. Bakugou fought against returning the smile as he yelled.
“You heard your lieutenant. Get to it.”
The deck broke out in a small frenzy, as men hopped onto the checkerboard of ropes leading to the lookout.
Jackets were soon stripped off, jeering filled the air as one by one the men lost.
Bakugou was never surprised when the same hand touched the weathered wood of the outlook again, and again. And yet he couldn’t drop his gaze as Kirishima hopped back down onto the deck, shoes and jacket already discarded in a pile on the deck. Bakugou should yell at him about it, as he always did.
Your uniform was a gift from Her Majesty, treat it as such.
The words were first uttered to them, as the clothes were dropped into their scrawny young arms. Eyes wide, stomachs empty. They absorbed every direction given to them like it would save them.
Now though, he felt the words stick on his tongue as he watched the muscles of Kirishima’s shoulders bunch. He moved like cannon fire, shooting up the web of ropes with powerful swings. Even the strongest sailor couldn’t keep pace with him.
Bakugou swallowed down a cheer as he watched Kirishima’s hands touch the wood one last time.
“Enough,” Bakugou finally yelled. “1st crew on watch, the rest of you, take a break.” Cheers mixed with a grumble as the men divided, but it was good natured. The men picked up their discarded uniforms, faces red as they clapped Kirishima on the back.
He waved their praise off, laughing and turned towards Bakugou. Their gaze met and held for just a moment. Kirishima gave him a brisk salute before heading into the hull.
And Bakugou waited 100 heartbeats before following after him.
They were desperate and rough, hands grabbing at shirts, pants.The epaulettes clunked forgotten on the ground as Kirishima buried his hands in Bakugou’s hair. Bakugou’s fingers finally found skin, and the weight that he had been carrying on his shoulders for weeks evaporated.
“It’s been so long,” Kirishima whispered in his ear, and Bakugou stifled the small moan in his chest. “How are you?”
“Don’t waste time on… talking.” Bakugou hissed, too frustrated to do more than drop his trousers. He was desperate to relieve the desire pulsing in his stomach.
“It’s not a waste, Bakugou. I want to hear about the ceremony. Was it full of knights? Is the Queen as old as they say? Did she pin the epaulettes to your jacket herself?” Kirishima leaned in as Bakugou turned his head. Soft lips pressed against his cheek and Bakugou stifled another small groan.
He could barely follow Kirishima’s stream of conscious questions. “Just get on with it, idiot,” was all he could muster, his vision clouded red with desire.
“You gotta tell me sometime,” Kirishima sighed, but obliged, reaching down in the negative space between them, and wrapping his hand around them both.
And Bakugou allowed himself to fall into the feeling of Kirishima’s fingers, calloused and rough and the sound of breathless panting in his ear.
Kirishima always took too long getting dressed.
“Someone’s going to be looking for me soon.” Bakugou huffed, bending down to pick up Kirishima’s belt. He was already dressed, sash in place.
Kirishima grabbed the belt with a roll of his eyes. His fingers lingered, just a second longer over Bakugou's. “Who cares?”
“I didn’t realize you were so interested in being hung,” Bakugou’s words were dry, but he didn’t miss the way Kirishima’s shoulder’s tightened. He snatched his hand back, crossing them over his chest.
“We’re not doing anything illegal, remember. Illegal would be if we, ya know…put it in…” He waved a hand and Bakugou felt the blood rush to his face.
“I don’t really want to explain the difference on a witness stand, do you?” He muttered, turning away to stare out the window. His quarters were small, just enough room for a desk and two bookshelves, but the windows showed a view of the sea. He watched a seagull dive into the ocean and tried to ignore the insistent anxiety creeping back.
“No.” Kirishima finally said, voice quiet in a way that ate at Bakugou.
“Kirishima…” Bakugou turned back, but the man was already at the door, uniform pristine once again.
Bakugou wondered if he looked as uncomfortable as Kirishima, collar starched, hair smoothed down. They were wild once, kids running through the street, wearing nothing but the tattered scraps they were given by the church.
“See you up top, Commander.” And Kirishima gave a little salute. There was a fraction of a second, an elongated moment where Bakugou could have closed the distance. Could have wrapped his hands around Kirishima’s face and kissed him hard enough to bruise.
But he didn’t.
Before he could blink, Kirishima was gone, the door closing softly behind him. And Bakugou was left alone with his desk covered in maps and his boundless ambition.
He was in his study when he heard the first warning.
“Ship sighted!”
The call rang through the halls, and Bakugou was up and out of his chair in seconds. He burst onto deck, panting slightly and turned towards the crows nest.
“What do you see, sailor?”
“A ship. It’s fast and it has - Commander.” He turned a panicked face to Bakugou. “It has black sails.”
“Pirates.” Bakugou cursed, though he could feel the blood start humming in his veins. “All hands on deck.”
“All hands on deck!” He heard Kirishima echo behind him, voice booming. The sound of shoes clattering on wood filled the air.
Bakugou pulled out his own spyglass, training the sleek metal tube on the horizon. A ship was coming towards them and fast. He couldn’t distinguish the markings on the flag, but it didn’t matter. Black sails meant pirates. They sailed straight, the wind at their back, and they’d overtake the Midnight within the hour.
Pirates sailing towards a navy ship? Bakugou frowned. What the hell were they doing?
A split moment of indecision crossed his mind. Whatever they were planning, didn’t matter.
Bakugou would sink them in minutes. No one outmaneuvered him. Especially not some jury rigged pirate junk.
“Prepare for battle,” he screamed, and the call was taken up. He stayed glued to the rail, one hand resting on his hip, as he watched the pirate flag fluttering in the wind.
A half hour passed and he could just make out the figures aboard the pirate deck, the stern cutting through the water like scissors on silk. It was a schooner, and a fast one at that. It would overtake them in no time.
Bakugou finally tore his gaze from the horizon to look at the mast. The royal flag blew towards the west.
East wind . He frowned. Storm brewing, and fast. He turned to see the skies darkening to a color he knew well.
The wind would become unreliable soon, he had to act as soon as it switched in their favor.
He stole another glance at the sail, it remained steady. If he shot the cannons now, they’d barely hit the schooner.
He dug his fingers into the wood, thoughts racing. The pirates were moving too fast, they’d manage maybe one round in before the ship was upon them.
Well if it was only one shot, he was going to make the most of it.
The navy ship was quiet, a taut anticipation in the air. A wave of nerves raced up his spine. This would be his first battle with a ship of his own. They had run through plenty of drills, and though the ship was smaller, it ran beautifully. The sailors were well trained, the weapons meticulously kept. It was all within Bakugou’s control.
And yet.
Bakugou found himself glancing around at his sailors. A shock of red caught his eye. Kirishima was staring at him, a wild smile on his face. That’s right. This is what he lived for, wasn’t it? Why he stayed on the seas, year after year. The thrill of battle.
“Broadside,” he shouted.
“Broadside!” Kirishima repeated over the gust of wind that rippled through the sails.
The boatswain turned the helm, and the ship began to turn. In a few minutes the row of cannons would be pointed at the pirates, and that would be the end.
Wind rippled along the ocean, kicking up water and bringing with it the first drops of rain.
Rain meant ineffective guns on deck. Bakugou cursed. Just a few more knots.
The pirate ship cut towards them. Bakugou could see figures scurrying around the deck. If the pirates went broadside they were dead, no one dared go head to head with a naval ship.
“Ready the cannons!” He screamed. Pirate ships were just stolen merchant vessels, with a few ramshackled cannons. They could never match the power of the navy armory, at least in theory. Bakugou found though that real life rarely matched theory, especially where the wind was concerned.
He’d fill them with holes before they could try anything.
“Hold!” he screamed, eyes on the flag. It rippled limply for an agonizing minute before flying taut.
“Fire!” he screamed.
“Fire!” The command resounded through the ship. A barrage of cannon balls rained onto the pirate ship. Half fell into the sea, but one slammed into the bow, knocking a crater into the deck. Another snapped at the rigging, sending sails and pirates flying. Smoke billowed, obscuring the ship from view for a moment.
The pirates would have no choice but to meet him broadside now, and then it was over for them. Bakugou smelled victory in the thick cloud of gunpowder.
“Ready the cannons,” he called, but was met with a low rumble of noise. He turned to see the men trying to peer through the smoke. “You heard me!” He shouted again, but the men began to shuffle on deck.
“Commander.” Kirishima’s voice rose above the chatter. “They aren’t turning.”
Bakugou whipped around to see the broken nose of the ship, flames pouring off it, hurtling towards them.
A cry came from behind the wall of smoke. Another cry echoed, words he couldn’t understand. Before he could respond, a figure came flying out of the air and landed in front of Bakugou.
“To the Commander!”
He heard Kirishima’s voice screaming as he pulled out his sword.
The pirate was easily double Bakugou’s size, with a thick curved blade. He had a mask over his face, but his eyes blazed with excitement.
“Fine by me.” Bakugou lunged at the pirate, but he feinted wide to the left, Bakugou’s sword puncturing nothing but air.
He countered to the right, avoiding the blade coming towards him as another shout rang through the air. This time from his own men. He risked a glance to the side to see the pirate ship slamming into the side of the vessel.
A sickening crunch resounded and before Bakugou knew it, he was being hurled through the air.
“Oh.” The words released themselves on a huff as thick arms surrounded him, pushing the breath from his lungs.
Then he was falling, the pirate dragging him over the side and down into the sea.
The last thing he saw was blackish blue skies, thick with clouds and a figure leaning over the side, red hair gleaming.
“Blow them to hell!” He thought he shouted, but he wasn’t sure. His back hit the surface of the water, and everything went black.
He awoke to pain shooting up his side. Sunlight pressed against his eyes and he blinked away the fuzzy outline of a room.
Was he in his stateroom? Last he remembered, he was hurtling off the side of the ship dragged down by a pirate and shit–
“Shit.” He tried to sit up, but something tugged at his wrists. He turned to see thick ropes binding him to ornate wooden bed posts.
“You’re awake.” A dry voice sounded to his left. Bakugou turned to see a man sitting next to him. He looked half asleep, slumped over in the high backed chair, but there was something about his gaze. An intensity that made the hair on the back of Bakugou’s neck stand up.
“Who are you?” His voice felt like sandpaper, he had to clear his throat a few times just to get the words out. He must have swallowed half the sea.
“I think the more interesting thing is who you are,” the man’s voice was low, almost lazy. “I’ve never had the honor of meeting a Commander before.”
“I’ll be the last one you meet.” Bakugou tugged against the binds on his wrist, but the rope was tight.
“Bold words. I’d rather you tell me how many naval ships are patrolling these seas and how I can avoid them.”
“HA. You should just kill me.” Bakugou felt the acid churn in his stomach. “I’m not telling you a thing.”
“I was planning on it. I still might.” The man ran a hand over the stubble on his face. “Though there’s something I want to see,” he said, almost as an afterthought. He adjusted the cuff of his black jacket, a white scarf was thrown casually around his neck.
Fine clothing, a refined speech pattern, Bakugou took in the man's appearance and frowned. This was not the sort of pirate he was expecting. Though they never survived long enough for Bakugou to speak with them. “Kill me now, or I’ll make sure you regret it.”
“I’ll probably regret it, it’s true.” The man shrugged before standing up. “Capturing a naval Commander and his Lieutenant. What a mess I’ve found myself in.”
Lieutenant…The word sank into the pit of Bakugou’s stomach. Kirishima .
“Where the hell is he? If you've hurt him, I’ll–” Bakugou’s words trailed off as the pirate’s lips curled into a smile.
“Ah. I was right.” Something bright gleamed in the man’s eyes, and Bakugou felt like he’d somehow made a deadly mistake. “He’s fine. Better than you. That’s all you need to know for now.”
The man gave him one last look before opening the door. “Rest while you can.”
The door slammed shut, followed by a lock clicking into place. Bakugou’s head hit the pillow with a thud.
“Shit.” He cursed, “Shit, shit, SHIT.” The last word came out as a strangled yell. Kirishima was here, of course he was. That's how the pirates knew who he was. Idiot must have jumped after Bakugou and…
Something lodged thick in Bakugou’s throat, but he pressed it down. He had to figure a way out. There was no other option now. The rope stung against his wrists but he kept turning until he saw what he was looking for.
It was a well constructed bed, fine wood cut into the very wall of the ship. But there was always a corner or two where two slats of wood connected. If he extended his arm all the way, he could just reach the sharp edge.
Pain raced up his arm as he moved the rope over the board, again and again until the first fibers frayed and broke.
Sweat was already gathering on his forehead, but he smiled. First get free, then find Kirishima. Then he’d burn the pirate ship down to the bottom of the ocean.
He kept his eyes closed as the door cracked open.
It slid closed quietly, and he could barely hear the shuffle of feet against the wooden boards. A creak sounded near his ear and he fought the urge to jump.
“Still asleep, hm?” The voice sounded younger than the other pirates, there was laughter in his words. “Captain doesn’t trust you, sorry.”
Captain , Bakugou cataloged the word even as something grabbed onto his shoulder. He willed himself to remain still as hands shook him.
“Wake up and take some med–”
Bakugou opened his eyes and reached up in one smooth motion. His hands wrapped around a thinner neck and the pirate gave a shuttered gasp.
Something clanked to the floor as Bakugou leaned up as far as he could. One arm and both ankles were still tied to the bed, but he could figure that out as he went.
“That was dumb,” the pirate croaked out, one eye glaring down at Bakugou. Blonde hair fell unruly in the boy's face, one streak of black framing his forehead.
“Cut me free,” Bakugous said.
“It’s not going to mean anything,” he retorted, though his hands floundered to the sash around his waist. He pulled out a thin blade and held it between them.
“You do it.” Bakugou tightened his grip on the boy's neck, but he just gave a snort. It was awkward, the boy leaned over Bakugou’s chest to cut his right wrist free. The knife slipped a few times, digging grooves into the soft wood.
“Captains’ going to be so pissed.” The boy winced, but gave one final slash. Bakugou’s wrist sprung free, and he immediately snatched the knife out of the boy's hand. “Ouch, shit!” He yelped and jumped back, but Bakugou kept his grip firm.
“Stay right here while I cut my ankles free.” Bakugou dragged the boy with him as he leaned forward.
“Your Lieutenant’s a lot nicer than you.”
“Shut up,” Bakugou cursed, one ankle free. He ignored the purplish bruises that circled his left ankle. It was either broken or sprained. Another problem to deal with. One thing at a time though. “He better be in one piece when I get out of here.” The second ankle was free.
“You know if I shout, they’ll slit his throat before you can step a foot out of this cabin.” The boy's voice was calm, but Bakugou felt the pulse race against his throat.
“I guess I'll just have to slit your throat before you scream.” He tore the remaining rope from around his ankles.
“I wouldn’t recommend that.”
Another voice rose in the room and Bakugou froze. A boy stood by the door, posture relaxed, the pistol in his hand trailing Bakugou’s moves.
Bakugou hadn’t heard the door open…unless the pirate had been there the entire time.
“Shit,” he cursed. He had gotten careless. He kept the knife in his hands, but fell back on the bed.
“You could have helped me sooner, Shinsou,” the other boy said, massaging his now free neck.
“You looked like you were doing fine on your own, Kaminari,” the boy, Shinsou, smirked, though he replaced his pistol back into the sash along his stomach. “Though you’ve lost your knife.”
“He surprised me!” Kaminari argued.
“You’re a shit pirate.”
“Where is Kirishima?” Bakugou had a headache, the adrenaline was fading, replaced by a dull nausea.
The two boys exchanged a surprised look.
“Is that the red head?” Shinsou asked.
“Yes.” Bakugou took a shuttered breath. Pain began lacing back into his body. His side, his ankle. He tried to catalogue all the possible injuries. He wouldn’t have gotten far if he ran. “My Lieutenant. Where is he?”
“Ah,” Shinsou exchanged another glance with Kaminari. A dull flush rose on Kaminari’s cheeks and he gave a nervous laugh.
“What?” Bakugou didn’t like that look. It made something ugly curl in his stomach. “What happened?”
“Nothing, nothing!” Kaminari gave another laugh. “I think we just surprised him, is all. He’s been a help actually.”
“Help?” Bakugou parroted the words.
“Yea, your damn cannons ripped up half our ship. If the Captain hadn’t cut behind stern and picked up the east wind, we would have been dead in the water. Shoji barely grabbed on the rope we let down for ya, and Red was right on his tail – climbed up the ladder in the blink of an eye. He almost got you too, but there were more of us.”
Bakugou had stopped listening. The pirates maneuvered behind. Bakugou let out a frustrated sigh. With the Commander and Lieutenant gone, the Midnight must have been thrown into chaos. He could just see it – veteran sailors vying for command, no one to take the helm, and the pirate ship easily outpaced them. Damn it. The small hope he had for a rescue was snuffed out.
“Red’s been helping clear the debris.” Kaminari continued.
“Red?” Bakugou asked, confused.
“That’s what we call him ’cause, ya know,” Kaminari pulled at his own blonde locks. “He’s a good one, ya know. Glad the Captain didn’t decide to throw him back overboard. Captain only needed one of you, he said. But Red was begging for us to save you, on his hands and knees and everything. Kinda cute–”
Before Kaminari could finish the sentence, Bakugou wrapped his hand in the boy's shirt and threw him onto the bed, knife at his throat.
“Be careful what you say.” Anger momentarily blinded Bakugou and he watched as blood began pooling under the tip of his knife. The thought of Kirishima on the ground begging for his life brought up a fresh wave of rage.
“Sorry,” Kaminari gave a soft whimper, swallowing hard.
“We were going to let him come in,” Shinsou finally said, “Captain just thought you’d still be recovering.”
“Bring him in. Now. Unless you want to see which is faster – my hand or yours.” Bakugou moved the knife so the handle pointed upwards. One shove and it’d be through Kaminari’s throat.
The blood drained from Shinsou’s face and he was out the door in a heartbeat.
“Sorry,” Kaminari repeated, softer though. “Captain says I don’t know when to shut up.”
“Your Captain is correct.” Bakugou muttered but kept his eyes glued to the door. Too many conversations raced through his head. Why would a pirate captain need a Commander? He had to know there would be a bounty on his head, the navy would be after him, if they weren’t already.
Kaminari gave a soft cough and Bakugou pressed the blade down harder. The single drop of blood had turned into a steady line, falling down Kaminari’s neck.
A knock cracked on the door.
“Commander.” A dry voice called through the door. “I’m coming in.” The door opened slowly, revealing the pirate captain. He looked between Bakugou and Kaminari with mild interest. “Release my sailor if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Not until I see Kirishima.”
“Red.” Kaminari supplied, grimacing at his captain.
“I know Lieutenant Kirishima’s name, Kaminari. We had a good chat this afternoon. I’d be happy to let him in as soon as you release my sailor.”
“Then I guess we’re at an impasse.” Bakugou said.
“I’ve given you the illusion of choice, Commander,” the Pirate Captain sighed, taking up the same languid pose as Shinsou. “But I think you forget this is my ship and my rules.”
“And your sailor under my knife.” Bakugou punctuated the sentence with a lean forward.
“Captain Aizawa!” Kaminari let out a yelp.
“Are you willing to play this game, Commander, really?” The man continued, ignoring Kaminari. He stared at Bakugou with black eyes flaked with red and Bakugou felt a moment of indecision.
No . He shook his head. He was a Commander of the Royal Navy, decorated by the Queen herself. No shitty pirate was above him.
“Captain Aizawa, was it?” he started. “I–”
“Commander?” A voice called from behind the door. “You awake?” Bakugou kept the knife steady though his pulse raced. Kirishima .
He cleared his throat once, willing his voice to remain even. “Yes. Are you well, Lieutenant?” He met Captain Aizawa’s gaze again, but the man’s face was carefully blank.
“Fine! Are you…are you alright?” Kirishima’s voice softened. Bakugou saw the outline of him, pressed flush against the curtained window of the door. He could imagine his face, eyebrows bunched with worry, lip caught between too sharp teeth.
Fuck this. Bakugou shoved Kaminari to the side as he pushed off the bed. The room was small and he was across the room in a few short strides. Captain Aizawa smoothly stepped out of the way as Bakugou threw open the door.
“Oh!” Kirishima laughed, worry disappearing in a blink. He took a step towards Bakugou, but Bakugou put a hand out. They weren’t alone, not yet, but he couldn’t stop his fingers from grazing Kirishima’s arm.
“I’m fine.” His words were clipped.
“You don’t look fine…” Kirishima’s words trailed off as he looked over Bakugou’s shoulder. “Captain Aizawa! Sorry for the trouble.”
“It was an edifying morning.”
Bakugou turned to see Aizawa staring back at him, a thoughtful look on his face.
“So you found your Lieutenant, what now?” Aizawa’s voice was lazy, his gaze flickered to Kirishima and it made the hair on Bakugou’s neck stand up.
“Now you tell us exactly why you’ve kept us both alive,” Bakugou muttered.
“I had hoped to have this conversation somewhere a little more comfortable.” Captain Aizawa sat down heavily in the leather arm chair. “But here it will be. Kaminari. Shinsou. Tea.” He threw a sharp look at the two boys before turning back to Bakugou. “I know how the navy loves their tea. Sit.”
Bakugou paused for a moment, indecision sweeping through him. The door was open, he could grab Kirishima and make a run for it. But he had no idea how long he’d been asleep. They could be in the middle of the ocean and then what?
His thoughts were sluggish, the only thing that seemed to matter was that Kirishima was here. He was alive and close enough to the perennial warmth radiating from his body.
Bakugou moved before he could change his mind.
There was nowhere else to sit in the small stateroom, so he returned to the bed. Kirishima followed him, a frown on his forehead as he took in the remains of rope along the bedpost. They both sat gingerly on the edge, Bakugou first, then Kirishima, hovering closer than Bakugou would like under the Captain’s watchful gaze.
“I thought you said the Commander was being cared for.” Kirishima turned an accusatory look towards the Captain.
“And you were generous when you said your Commander was reasonable,” The pirate captain retorted back quickly. “He almost took off my sailor’s head.”
“Hey–”
“As you would if you woke up tied to bedposts.” Kirishima responded, voice rising. Tension swept the room. Bakugou felt it like a static in the air, and he curled up his fists immediately. He missed his gun, but he could make due. In these close quarters, he could close the distance in a few short steps, then–
Fingers brushed against his fist.
“Don’t.” Kirishima’s words were a whisper, but he felt them roll down his spine. He relaxed his fist reflexively, fingers opening so his index just brushed Kirishima’s.
“Well, we are here now, so let’s talk.” Aizawa’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Reasonably.” A knock on the door followed.
“Tea, Captain, sir!”
“Come in.”
Kaminari entered quietly, tea in hand. A bandage already wrapped around his neck. He kept his eyes to the ground as he placed a tray on the small end table next to Aizawa’s chair. The cups clattered against themselves as he turned quickly back out the door.
“We’re working on manners.” Captain Aizawa sighed, staring at the droplets of water pooling along the lacquered wood. “Lieutenant Kirishima, would you mind?”
“A-ah.” Kirishima blinked once before turning to Bakugou.
Bakugou kept his gaze on the Captain but gave a short nod. It was a job that was below a Lieutenant, they all knew it. Serving tea was for cooks and cabin boys, not for decorated soldiers. Still, Kirishima moved seamlessly through the motions he had performed, regularly, years before. His wrists moved quickly, concentration on his face as he infused the powdered tea leaves and water.
“Did you know that tea leaves were originally eaten?” Aizawa’s voice was like a jolt. “They were crushed with ginger and scallions into a paste then made into a sauce of sorts.”
“Fascinating.” Bakugou grunted and Kirishima shot him a look.
“Until one day a young orphan named Lu Yu decided to write a treatise extolling the virtues of drinking just the ground up tea leaves in water. His friends laughed at him, they called him crazy, but look,” Aizawa waved towards the cups, now full and steaming with muddy green liquid. “Has anyone ever heard of tea soup now? No. Things change, Commander. Obscure becomes the norm, cardinal sins become…just another part of the human condition.” Aizawa leveled another look at Bakugou.
“Is there a point to this?” Bakugou accepted his cup from Kirishima.
“You see me as some evil pirate, yes?” Aizawa accepted his own cup with a nod. “I, however, see myself as a man in search of something.”
Bakugou waited a moment, taking a sip of the fragrant tea. The color was rich, the taste earthy and fresh. Probably looted from some poor merchant ship. He grimaced and put the cup down.
“I’m assuming you need the help of the navy somehow,” Bakugou said.
“A solid deduction,” a faint smile pulled at Aizawa’s mouth. “I do indeed find myself at a stone wall.”
“You targeted our ship specifically to kidnap an officer?” Bakugou said, the realization curled acid in his stomach. Of all the unlucky days.
Aizawa just shrugged.
“What do you need our help with then?” Kirishima came to sit down next to Bakugou.
“I am looking for a man who captains the Overhaul . He has something of mine.”
The pulse raced in Bakugou’s neck, but he stayed quiet. “What does he have?”
“That’s none of your concern.” Aizawa said, although he frowned into his cup of tea. “I would like to know what you know, that is all. His name? Birthplace? Anything.”
“And in return?”
“In return you keep your life, Commander.” Aizawa said the words simply, but there was something cold in his gaze. “I think that is generous enough compensation.”
“Commander, I–” Kirishima started, face a mask of worry but Bakugou held up a hand.
“We don’t negotiate with pirates.”
Aizawa let out a weary sigh, before standing up. “Then you are useless to me and will be treated as the prisoner you are.”
“Captain Aizawa–”
“That cut you gave Kaminari? The punishment for injuring a crewmate is 25 lashes, Commander. I don’t tolerate violence on my ship.”
Bakugou felt the blood drain from his face.
But Aizawa continued. “I know it’s common in the Royal Navy for Officers to let their subordinates take the punishment for them?”
Bakugou was off the bed in a second, body angled to shield Kirishima from view. “Over my dead body.” Hands came to grab at his shirt, pulling gently, but Bakugou ignored it.
“I figured as much.” The Captain gave a short nod. “Proud and honest. I’m surprised you rose as far as you did with that sort of martyrdom.”
“Shut up.”
“We’ll see if you’re feeling so brave after Shoji is done. Most men last five before spilling their life’s secrets. At about 10 they’d say anything to be freed. Usually they are too unconscious to speak at 15. But we’ll see how you fare, Commander Bakugou. I’ll inform the crew of your decision and we will begin when the sun sets.” Captain Aizawa stood, leveling Bakugou with a pleasant smile. “I’ll leave you to prepare yourself then.” He gave Kirishima a curt nod and was out the door.
The latch barely closed before Kirishima was pulling him down onto the bed.
“Watch it,” Bakugou muttered, but allowed himself to be crowded. Arms wrapped tight around his waist as Kirishima buried his face in Bakugou’s shoulder.
“I thought I lost you,” Kirishima murmured.
“I won’t die that easily.” Bakugou replied, but let his hands wander up and over Kirishima’s back. He returned the hug, somewhat hesitant. One eye was on the door as shadows brushed past its small window.
“You know the name of the man he was talking about, right?” Kirishima’s voice dropped in a whisper. “Is his one of the pirate crews the Queen employed to -” but Bakugou placed a furtive hand over his mouth.
“Enough. Won’t tell you even if I did,” Bakugou said. “You have a fucking big mouth.”
Kirishima answered with a press of lips against Bakugou’s palm. He let out a soft groan and fell back on the bed. Bakugou followed him, switching their positions so he could stare down at Kirishima, hair brilliant against the light slanting low through the small porthole.
It tugged at something deep and primal in Bakugou’s chest. He would survive this, and get them the hell off this ship. Then he would watch every single member of this cursed crew hang.
“He was serious about his threat, you could see it too.” Kirishima said.
“He wouldn’t dare.” Bakugou muttered. “He’ll have the wrath of the entire navy on his ass. They’ll be nowhere in this world he could hide.”
“I dunno, Katsuki.” Kirishima reached up and pressed a kiss, feather light on Bakugou’s neck. “Never underestimate a desperate man.”
A knock sounded on the door and they sprung apart.
“Are you ready, Commander?”
“Katsuki–” Kirishima pleaded. “Just tell him what he wants to know.”
“Never.”