A/N: I'm dedicating this chapter to aintyoufunny, because she was the one who told me I should do this. Also, I am no where near half-done with my part of our story-trade and she just posted this amazing first part to hers and--yeah. She's awesome, and I'll get on with the story now.

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He hadn’t seen Wookie in over a year, not since the last time he’d set foot in Taranto. His mind, now given hours upon hours of idle time that he hadn’t previously had, kept wandering back to his sunny home in that country and the adorable little cooking-obsessed man who was still waiting for him there. With his military duties, Yesung’s visits had been far and few in between, and every time he left the town, he felt miserable.

He’d made up for their time apart by sending letters back whenever he could. Ryeowook wasn’t able to reply to any of them since Yesung never stayed in one place, but for Yesung, it was enough just to know that his own letters were received and read.

Most of his time on the ship was spent writing letters with the stationary he’d been provided with. The chances that he’d be able to send them were slim, he knew, but old habits die hard…

Dearest Wookie-bear,he scripted, spelling out the other’s name with care and endearment. He couldn’t help himself. Ryeowook never failed to bring out his inner sap.

I’m sorry for not writing for so long. Have you been worrying about me? You probably have, but please don’t; I never want to think that you’re crying. I’ve been thinking about you as well, every day. And don’t believe anyone if they tell you I’m dead. I’m not, obviously. Did you think I’d let the sea take me away from you?

It wasn’t a military report. His writing didn’t have to make any sense whatsoever, and he took advantage of the fact by writing sentences in the same stream that his consciousness went in. Ryeowook always understood his jumble of words, anyway. Somehow…

Captain Lee treats me kindly, even if you wouldn’t be able to tell by the expressions he always wears. But sometimes, when he smiles every once in a blue moon, it’s really cute.

Though you’re cuter.

He felt his lips stretch into a smile as he pictured his Wookie’s face, all red and flustered, like it would become every time Yesung said those words. Though, how could anyone expect him to not say them? They were true.

I miss you.

But you know that.

He placed the quill back on the table and smiled wistfully. It was funny how the pirate captain visited him every day with his meals, almost as if he couldn’t help himself, and they always ended up talking (even if only a few barbs were exchanged). Yesung would tease or smile or laugh at him every time but he swore Sungmin saw someone else whenever he did, and he’d always leave soon after.

Still, the pirate wasn’t as toxic as he seemed. Yesung thought that, maybe, they could become friends if he tried hard enough.

There came three short knocks on the door. Oh, speak of the devil.

(And he shall appear?)

“Kim,” the pirate captain’s voice sounded, and Yesung turned in his chair just as the other man crossed the room to place a tray of food on his table.

“Lee,” he responded just to piss him off, because he knew the other preferred to have a pretentious “Captain” tacked on his name. Just as Ryeowook brought out his inner, cheesy romantic, the pirate seemed to bring out a more…mischievous side of him.

Sure enough, he saw the man’s slim eyebrows furrow into a frown. He didn’t say anything, however, and Yesung did a silent, absolutely pointless victory dance in his head.

“You are the worst prisoner I have ever seen.”

Yesung chuckled. “Well, to be perfectly fair, you guys aren’t exactly the most pirate-like pirates I’ve seen either.”

“…What.”

“I mean, you’ve never even taken prisoners before! The stories I’ve heard all tell of terrifying pirates who pillage towns, slaughter enemies, women—“

Sungmin leveled him with a very, very offended glare.

“—ahh, yeah, you get the point! But, uh, that’s not to say that I expected you to be like that. You know. Ha ha...”

“I don’t know how you’ve survived up until this point.”

He grinned, looking for all the world like a self-satisfied cat who’d just been given free milk. “Maybe I keep getting lucky, meeting people like you.”

“You don’t even know me,” Sungmin said, and did his eye just twitch?

“I know you well enough to know that you’re not planning on killing me, O Pirate-Who-Values-the-Life-of-Their-Peons.”

“I might be inclined to change my mind. Just for that.”

“But you won’t!”

“How do you even know that?”

“I don’t!”

The pirate whose eye may or may not have twitched again gave an exasperated sigh and started to walk out the door. “Hell if I know why I even bother with you.”

Still, the conversations gave both of them a warm and fuzzy feeling, and both of them knew it.

***

It had been days since Sungmin had taken the prisoner aboard. While he wasn’t his first prisoner, for some reason he couldn’t help but treat this one differently. What had started out as semi-serious banter had become something much more genuine; they had turned into something akin to conversations between friends.

How it had happened, he didn’t know and hardly gave a damn.

The Castilian’s personality reminded Sungmin too much of him for his liking. And he didn’t need this, didn’t need a constant reminder of what he’d left behind in that provincial town so many years ago.

And dammit, he was drinking again.

“Hey,” a voice prodded him as he sat slumped over a chair on the deck.

“Go ‘way, Eunhyuk,” he ground out. Eunhyuk didn’t go away.

“Is that alcohol? Again, Minnie?”

“You gon’ tell me to prohibit alcohol on this ship, Hyukkie? Why, I thought I’d never see the day.”

“I meant it when I said you should stop drinking so much.”

“So the kettle calls the pot black.” Pfffffft. They were pirates. He knew of a few crews who were all inebriated day in and day out, pillaging and sailing under the influence 24-7.

His first mate threw his hands in the air with an irritated groan. “At least I don’t drink until I can’t feel anything anymore! You’re just running away!”

Eunhyuk had been the one person he had told, though the reason why he’d done so escaped him.

“Shut up.” Any other man would have flinched from the dangerous tone in Sungmin’s voice. Eunhyuk knew he was treading on mines and kept walking anyway.

“Please don’t treat me like that, Minnie,” he said in voice softer and more serious than he’d used in a long time. “You wouldn’t have told me about anything if you were fine about it like you always say you are.”

Sungmin remained silent.

“And Donghae wouldn’t say it if you asked, but he’s worried about you too! We all are! You’ve been drinking yourself to sleep every day since that Castilian guy came aboard, and it’s just so obvious that you’re thinking about him.”

“Just…leave me alone, Eunhyuk.”

“No, Minnie. I’m you’re first mate. And yeah I probably don’t take that position seriously enough for you, but I’m also your friend! Aren’t I your friend, Minnie?”

“Go check on how dinner’s coming along, Eunhyuk.” For all the times he’d chastised him for his crazed antics, Sungmin found he much preferred normal, obnoxious, impish Eunhyuk over this one. This Eunhyuk was too prying, too…knowing…no. He just knew Sungmin too well.

His first mate (best friend?) stared at him for a few fleeting moments with an expression Sungmin couldn’t see, for he had turned his own face away to stare at rolling waves, and he eventually heard the other man’s footsteps walking away and off the deck. He didn’t take his eyes off the water.

At this time of day, the waves—which reflected the sky—were a dark and inky blue: safe.

There was one thing that Sungmin would never forgive himself for, and it was the fact that that person constantly plagued both his waking hours and his dreams, even now, no matter how hard he tried to suppress it. Because every time he gazed at a clear, bright sky and calm sea, he was reminded of a pair of eyes that sparkled just so, someone with a laugh that looked like sunshine and smiles and hugs just as warm.

He was still quite sober, really he was, but his vision had started to get blurry—and it must have been raining because—those could not be tears wetting his face.

The Castilian’s dinner was delivered by Donghae that night.

***

“You’ve been ignoring me,” was the first thing Yesung said when the pirate captain finally graced his room with his presence once more.

Sungmin sniffed and sat down on the chair. “I didn’t know I was obligated to pay visits to my prisoners.

“Well, Sungmin, you and I both know how much like a prisoner you’ve been treating me so far.” He wasn’t sure when the pirate had ceased to be “Captain Lee” and become “Sungmin” to him. But when the other man didn’t raise a riot at being called by his first name, Yesung decided to take it as a go-ahead from there.

“What would you do if I released you?” Sungmin inquired rather suddenly.

He laughed, although he knew that he probably should have taken the matter a little more seriously. “Well, the Castilian navy probably thinks I’m dead by now, and I don’t think I’d be able to keep my position after such a failure anyway.”

“Serves them right for sending only one ship against us.”

Yesung laughed. “I think I would just like to sail down to Taranto again and stay there instead. I have a nice house and a tomato garden, and Ryeowook’s still waiting for me there.”

“Ryeowook?”

“He’s my…special person.”

Sungmin gave a slight smile. “Special person, huh…”

Yesung decided that he much preferred this facial expression to Sungmin’s many others of eternal irritation. “Do you have someone on land waiting for you, too?” he prodded, hoping to lighten the mood and almost regretting it immediately.

The smile disappeared as quickly as it came, replaced by a frown, and the pirate shook his head. “No one’s waiting for me on the land. Not anymore, I’m sure.” When Yesung looked into the man’s eyes, he thought he could see devastation as a ghost swimming behind them. He wondered when he had learned to read the man so well.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Truly.

Sungmin gave a huff and looked away. “Don’t worry your little Castilian head about it. ‘S got nothing to do with you.”

Now, he had to argue with that. “I disagree, Mr. Independent. You should tell me about it.”