7:15AM, Bretheren Court.
Bretheren Court is usually used for a meeting of nine pirate lords, a pirate king, and a pirate code keeper. This is the place where every pirate all around the Seven Seas would gather and discuss something they all have to fix. But, in United Kingdom’s situation, Bretheren Court is temporarily used for their dining room, since life the in seas is quite hard.
When their captain had entered the court, a lot of his crews were having fun. Some of them were raising the bottle of rum they have with them and shouting like there was no tomorrow, some were already drunk, some were eating a gorgeous food, some were throwing crumpled papers to the other, some were chatting at the side of the ship, and some were just not in the mood of working today.
What the hell is happeni—
His thoughts were stopped when he saw France turned around as he brought a tray of food he prepared and his long blue tunic danced with him in the wind created by the waves. England’s jaw partially dropped, seeing how beautiful he was in that suit, temporarily forgetting that he was actually a man. That pink ribbon tied in pony-styled hair matched his dress perfectly. What...? An angel still exist—
The same person who had pressed France to make the food approached the captain for the second time. “Captain, sire!” saluted the other, fully respecting the other one in a higher position than him. “Grab a bite, captain! Forgive me for my utmost demeanour but I can hear your stomach grumble for food, sire.”
Who did this? Don’t tell me, it’s—?
England slightly and unconsciously sprayed pink tints in his face. The crew went towards France, asked for a complete plate of food, put it in a tray and delivered it to the hungry captain. “Here, captain. Please, eat this.” He was about to return to the place where he was standing before England came in but he was immediately pulled by their commander.
“Ah, what could be it, captain?”
“Who did this?”
The crew pointed his pointer finger to the person England has been eying for a few minutes now. “That blonde person over there, sire. Why, if I may ask?”
His hues blinked in surprise, for he didn’t know that France could actually do something like that. “No, nothing. Go back to your post.” Their leader ordered ruggedly.
“Aye, captain!”
England took precedence and sat on a vacant seat somewhat near to the French cook. The sallow chef could feel that dark olive hues were onto him for a long of five minutes already, but he refused to look given that he knew who those orbs belong to. The flaxen chap continued spending time with them, as his way of ignoring the captain.
The blonde-haired obstinate captain of the ship found him cute. France could actually smile and even laugh, but those smiles and laughs weren’t exactly for him. He could give it to anyone else but not to him. Those made England stare at the stunning image of this Frenchman. If he would be a woman, I could definitely....
France, who was busy taking pleasure in, accidentally glanced at the seemingly Briton in silence. He was sitting there, alone and smiling. That smile irked him off, yet there’s this urge of curiousness ran in his veins. He was there, looking at the smiling, creepy British and blinked questionably. What’s his problem this time? That smile’s giving me the creeps. They both mull over in deep thought, while England’s people were having fun and enjoying themselves.
For some instances, the British male shuttered off from contemplating things and saw France looking at him. Where in return, France tilted his head in bewilderment. “Ah—” Covered in shyness; the British glimpsed away and continued taking a shot of his rum. The blonde-haired Frenchman blinked once again, thinking what has gotten into his mind all of a sudden.
There’s this thought which keeps infuriating him off. He knew that France is a guy, but the Frenchman refuses to act like one and he rebuffs to believe it. Did his father raise him like that? More importantly, why does he have a father? He’s a nation, right? And, why doesn’t he know me? We’ve spent fighting in the ‘Hundred Years’ War’ for more than one hundred years, he was also a pirate back then. What had happened to his height, age, also, his memories? England placed his palm on his forehead, getting problematic about something he shouldn’t be worrying about.
Numbers of thoughts began running on England’s mind as to why France was completely acting different.He took being that girlish too far, that git. And why am I worrying about that ass?
An hour or two, the sudden party had ended. It wasn’t a party France had set up; it was an abrupt celebration where a certain crew had started all of it. He didn’t plan all of these, but he indeed had fun in it. It would be better to take a break from every stress and have fun, right?
Flashback:
5:30AM, The Ship’s Kitchen.
Because of the crew pushing him inside the kitchen, France was left with no choice but to cook something for everyone instead of a certain ‘someone’ do that for them. Although he was puzzled and all, he just followed the flow and cooked anything he knows, as they had commanded. Since someone had ‘trusted’ France, other crews didn’t hesitate to believe that he’s a part of the ship’s members.
There were more than one hundred crews in this ship—two hundred, maybe. Or, even more from what he expected. Since the Frenchman didn’t exactly know how many people were here, he calculated the food that he needed to cook. Two hundred or more? I guess, three courses with different kinds will be alright. After all, most of those two hundred or more people will eat at their hearts’ content. French cuisine is the best in the world! And I need to prove that to them. Here I come, kitchen!
That determination had him. He cooked more than three courses with different genres (desserts, vegetables, meat, fishes, etc). One of the crews noticed that there was a wonderful smell maddening his nose, and made him head to the kitchen. He saw the ‘woman’ one of his friends dragged into the kitchen. Could it be that she’s the one who’s going to make food for us? The male thought, and enjoyed the soothing aroma.
First mate had called every crew’s attention and told them that it was time to eat, so all of them headed to the Bretheren Court and had the food already served on the table. One plate consisted of a perfect meal where all nutrients had gathered. If a certain crew is actually a dietician, he is free to choose what fits his stomach. The foods were arranged like those of what ordinary people would see in a Buffet style of eating.
All of them had their jaws dropped after seeing how the plates were set.
“Are we in a fine-dining restaurant or something?”
“No. This is our ship.”
“Am I dreaming? What’s the meaning of this?”
“Why are there foods almost all around the table?”
“There’s something on your feet too.”
“Shut up. I’m being serious here.”
Trays of questions were thrown immediately at the person who did all of these. Since France was still in the middle of cooking more, he turned away from the stove with the mittens on his hands and glanced at the drooling crews. “Everyone can have a bite~!” And then, he smiled at them, encouraging them to, at least, get a taste of what he cooked for them.
With hesitations, a valiant one reached for the table and grabbed a shot of it. The French cook’s astonishing cerulean frames looked at him and waited for his reaction, if ever he liked it or not. A line of drool dripped from his lips and looked at their new cook. “It tastes...like those clouds in heaven.... It’s fluffy and....” He was even powerless to talk more. “...it’s delicious. IT’S DELICIOUS!!!”
France’s smiles grew in happiness and contentment when he heard that from him. On the contrary, his co-crews’ eyes widened in excitement as some of the simultaneously grabbed their seats and filled their hungry stomachs—stomachs which weren’t treated ‘badly’ and were unable to eat something as delicious as this in their whole pirate lives. “Fill yourselves, guys!!~” jaunty said the French troop.
6:00AM, The Ship’s Kitchen.
The crews began to act erratic, throwing crumpled papers to another random co-worker of the place. Some of them pulled out a bit of meringue from their stock box and threw it to someone’s face. And then, the ‘childish war’ started to linger around the place. Other crews stayed away from the argument they were having. Hollers of the loud pirates echoed around the court.
For some instances, that person, who pushed France in the kitchen awhile ago, approached him again.
“This is very delicious! I’ve never tasted something like this before! Who are you, if it’s alright?”
“A-Ah, I am France. Thank you very much for appreciating what I can do...”
“It’s not only for ‘appreciating what I can do’, silly! You really cooked great!”
“Thank you very much, sire...”
S-She called me ‘sire’! That makes me so happy! “I-I’m not actually fit to be called ‘sire’, though. I’m only a pirate crew here...”
“Does it matter?~” France chortled. “Nonetheless, why are you all so excited when you found out that my food was delicious?”
“Well... It’s hard to explain... Uhh...” The crew gazed away. “...Captain’s cooking is just—” To his bombshell, their captain suddenly entered the room with such a confused expression drawn all over his place. With that event, France didn’t have the chance to get the answer about their excitement.
End of Flashback.