Merry Christmas to purplemockingjayeyes! I know that you don't know me and this might be weird, but here you go! (You do a wonderful job editing MEP Parts, and when I swung by and saw your Christmas Wish List on YouTube, I went and looked back at your work as it had been a while since I last watched it, and I adored it! You do a wonderful job which my refresher reminded me of, and this idea struck for a giftfic for you for Christmas, so I hope that you enjoy it!) Keep being amazing at what you do! (I hope that this isn't too sad or depressing/angsty. I couldn't resist when the idea struck me. I hope that you enjoy this! I just realized that I'd posted this on your birthday! Happy birthday too!

It seemed unfair that England still held this power over him; it was a breathless and dizzying feeling, and Antonio hated the weakening state of its nature.

His green eyes flicked away as if to focus either on Francis and Gilbert who were still partying with Gilbert being the drunker of the two as France still held a certain charm to his flirting while being a little on the tipsy side.

Antonio's eyes sought out Lovino who was talking to Veneziano about something or other; it seemed to be a fairly interesting conversation yet it didn't stir Antonio's mind away from the one that he was currently not trying to look at.

It seemed obvious enough to all that Arthur didn't really seem eager to engage Antonio in a conversation or he may have not noticed him yet.

The Spaniard felt nervous all of a sudden like he had all those years ago on his ship when he encountered Arthur's crew; it was a deathly terrifying feeling as if he were going to be slaughtered by many harsh blows though he knew that it was more of an inner fear over the potential of being harmed by his heart and emotions rather than anything else.

Arthur made him feel vulnerable; Antonio did not want to be made anymore vulnerable by his feelings as it harmed and maimed him enough as it did.

Finally in a manner that Antonio wished that he could hate or regret, Arthur came towards him with the self assured movement of a once victorious pirate.

Antonio held his breath as if his anticipation meant more in this moment than any other feelings would or could do to him.

"Arthur." His tone came out cold yet it was almost welcoming in its strangely abrupt and heavy manner as if the other's being was stamped all over the Spaniard's heart and made unforgettable by all of this: their shared history, their pasts, and these almost taboo feelings.

"Antonio." The simplicity held by the name seemed to tell so much of Arthur's feelings and character while simultaneously hiding them from further discovery.

"Why do you bother speaking to me?" Words had never existed in a pleasing banter between them as harsh tongues put to more physically passionate uses, and the painful clashing of swords and anger were their old ways of communication and societal norms of said communication seemed to flee from the two pirates as they stood face to face as if they were left behind to all of this: their old days when being a civilized nation made no sense and had no purpose when they could attempt to slaughter each other with unheard of aggression fueled by two different kinds of passion: the passion of blood lust, an all consuming passion that did not fade well initially, and the passion of a lustful love fueled by such a deep hatred that in time would become more of a love than a lust.

"I could ask you the same." There were no curse words, no anger infused words, just an almost melancholy seriousness.

"You came up to me." Antonio answered as if his heart hadn't leapt to his throat at the thought of Arthur coming up to talk to him.

"You haven't left yet. You stayed as if you wanted to talk to me." It was simple in its almost pleading remark as if for Arthur.

"I don't." The lie fell falsely in its obvious nature to the point that the other ex-pirate knew of the lie's obviousness with a certain kind of ease.

Arthur left no response to that verbally though his eyes held the prideful look of one who had won at battle all those years ago yet this wasn't in defeating each others' crews, this was in a certain desire that Antonio gulped and ignored.

The Spaniard gave up then his tendency to attempt superiority, and finally dragged the other close for a kiss.

Arthur kissed back though the kiss was sad and broken in its heat as neither had reached out to finally secure the love that they felt undeserving of; they found that this torturous love felt lost to themselves.

No words were spoken on behalf of these feelings as both were too stubborn to admit to such feelings towards each other after they'd continuously tried to murder each other at sea several years back.

Those unspoken words were to be hidden for however long was possible even if they were to be hidden in plain sight.