A/N: This is a giftfic for a friend of mine; she graduated, so I wanted to make her something. She asked for a continuation of a comic by Otoshigo on livejournal. It was a space pirate AU; Otoshigo agreed to let me continue the concept, and here is that fic. The comic, if you want to read it, can be found here: (just remove the spaces) shigo-stack. livejournal 37140. html

The papers slapped hard against the desk next to his elbow; Arthur frowned and turned to glare upward at his first mate. "This needs to stop," Ludwig growled.

"And what," Arthur said, remaining firmly in his seat (it would do no good to try and stand to assert his presence; Ludwig towered over most of the crew, captain included), "may I ask 'must stop'?"

"We are nearly three thousand credits in debt because of your 'engine repair' or 'part replacement' schemes." Ludwig flipped the page over to show a long column of numbers and part names.

Looking down at it, Arthur had to fight the urge to shift nervously—captains didn't squirm, let alone space pirate captains. It just wasn't good for their image.

The tall blond sighed and crossed his arms. "I can't believe that I am the one saying this, but can't you just take him to bed like the others and save us a fortune? Our finances can't take much more of this."

Arthur resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. "I am not having this conversation with you." He allowed himself the small indulgence of rubbing his temples once Ludwig pressed his palm to his brow. "Besides, don't you think I've tried?"

At first, Arthur spent a considerably long time trying to decide what to do with his chief engineer. For the longest time, Alfred hadn't even been a blip on his radar; his presence only drew Arthur's attention when one of the engines began to act up. Once or twice the lad had been useful in a dogfight when a pilot got incapacitated, although Arthur doubted Alfred's claim of being his best pilot. While the boy could be obnoxiously loud when he chose, Arthur was a captain on a fugitive—or rather, if he was being honest, pirate—vessel, and he had far too much on his plate to be distracted by some grease monkey.

The trouble was, however, that he was distracted. Very distracted; it wasn't just that one happenstance meeting where Alfred hadn't covered up his toned body with that shapeless engineering uniform, or that time he actually got a chance to look at those very bright eyes. Arthur had principles, had control—you didn't live as long as he had in his line of work if you didn't learned a little discretion—but Alfred just kept showing up.

After that first meeting where he was hit with that inkling that he had one hellaciously attractive chief engineer, he tried to pretend that perhaps if he didn't see Alfred anymore, time would squelch any random feelings of lust he might have had. No good there; not a week passed before one of the three pilots came down with a terrible case of death—awful really, but he should have known better than hitting on the gunner's little sister—and his first mate temporarily reassigned Alfred to take his place. At that point it became a matter of either avoiding his own bridge or just dealing with it. Rather than hide like a coward, Arthur decided that he was enough of a grown up to get over it.

That plan lasted all of an hour, during which Arthur tormented himself with fantasies of just bending his source of frustration over a control panel and pounding those feelings out. Obviously, there had to be a better way. So, plan B; he was just going to have to seduce his subordinate and get it out of his system. At worst, he'd be rejected and then he would have to fire and/or stuff Alfred's body somewhere. Of course, there was always the chance that his idiot may not be as stupid as he acted and would demand hush money. In which case, depending on how good of a lay Alfred was, he would either pay or Arthur would find a place to stuff Alfred's body.

At least plan B was simple: get the lad alone, appeal to that ridiculous ego enough to get him interested, drag him back to his bunk or to wherever was most convenient, and then screw him until he would be satisfied enough to get over this stupidity.

One would think that by now Captain Arthur Kirkland would have realized how useless a "fool proof plan" can really be.

The finding and getting Alfred alone part was easy; all he had to do was slip Lovino a few credits to bang up one of the engines. Strutting into the engine room, Arthur smirked at the lovely sight of his chief engineer bent over into the heart of the engine. Oh yes, he decided, he could definitely get used to that sight.

Walking over, he paused for a moment to admire the fact that Alfred had once again stripped his uniform half off, leaving Arthur to admire the way the sweat ran down his back. Well, at least this proved that Arthur's tastes hadn't completely gone to pot. Leaning up against the cool metal of the engine's metal frame, he cleared his throat.

No reaction.

Frowning, Arthur paused and leaned closer; he could faintly hear some humming coming from inside. Perhaps Alfred was listening to music and couldn't hear. Well, that was easily fixed; Arthur promptly kicked his crewman right above the ankle. The humming stopped with a grunt. Alfred quickly pulled back, nearly bashing the back of his head against the exposed parts of the engine, but paused when he saw who was next to him, yanking a pair of ear buds out of his ears as well.

"Ah—well, hey, cap'n! What are you doing down here?"

"I heard there was a problem with one of the engines," he remarked smoothly, letting his hip rest once more against the engine's frame. "So I came down to find out if you discovered it yet."

Alfred paused for a moment, quirking his head to the side like a curious puppy, but then quickly broke out into a smile before Arthur could arch an eyebrow. "Nothing too serious—one of the cooling pipes got bent inward, so there was a build-up in the pipe while the engine ran hot." Alfred continued talking and Arthur was sure that there was probably something important in there, but he couldn't get himself to focus on much more than the cadence of Alfred's words. Reality nudged him when Alfred's voice began to peter out, the mechanic frequently glancing away towards the engine, nodding a few times to it, before darting back once more.

"Well," he began as smoothly as he could manage. "I trust you to do whatever you think is necessary."

The taller man's shoulder slumped a little, like some string that had knotted them up was suddenly snipped, and his smile turned up into a real smile, his eyes softening at the edges. "Don't worry, cap'n—I'll definitely take care of her. I'm the man for the job!"

Oh, you are definitely going to be my man tonight, a crude little voice in the back of his head catcalled; it was so ridiculous—and soon to be spot on—that he allowed himself a little smirk. Oh, yes, he was definitely going to have to make that a reality.

It was about that time it occurred to him that Alfred was starting to look at him a little funny. Clearing his throat, he rested his hand on Alfred's forearm. While his chief engineer glanced down at the hand, Arthur shifted closer. "Don't work yourself too hard, Alfred; I'd like to-"

Before he could finish, there was a loud banging behind him; sense electrified with adrenaline, Arthur had his plasma pistol out and pointed at the source of the noise before he even realized that it was only a metal pipe rolling slowly across the floor.

"Dude, I've been looking for that pipe for ages—how'd it get down there?" Alfred asked, befuddled as he pushed past his captain after a stilted moment of shared confusion.

They didn't have to wait long for an answer. "Cock sucking son of a whore," Tony greeted them as he poked his head over the railing to the catwalk above them. "Toss that piece of shit back up here so I can get into place."

Alfred beamed and waved the pipe overhead in greeting; Arthur contemplated his pistol with the knowledge that damn little Grey annoyance had spotted him flirting with a crewmember. The rest of the crew would find out soon, no doubt, and he would be screwed. Not in an enjoyable way either.

Retreat, his brain announced. Arthur glanced up to find Alfred still babbling away to his coworker as he tossed the pipe upward. "Yes, hmm," he began, and then promptly lost his train of thought once Alfred turned back and smiled at him. "I'll leave you to the repairs, good work and all that!"

Alfred's smile faltered and he cocked his head to the side. "Uh. Gotcha, cap'n. If you need me, I'll be down here."

Oh, I'm sure I can make do with my hand tonight. Fucking hell. "Yes, well," he said, paused, and then turned and left.

Thus his first "subtle" attempts to woo his underling failed.

"Are they still talking?" Feliciano whispered, poking Alfred. The blond shrugged and turned to the other Vargas twin.

"What's going on?" he asked.

The other engineer glared, but took his mirror and flashed it down at Tony once more. The Grey quickly flashed his mirror twice from his hiding spot next to the captain's room air vent. "Still talking about finding new ways to screw you," the brunet reported, resettling against the pipe he was wedged up against.

"Oh, I hope they don't think of anything yet," Feliciano confided in his brother and coworker. "We still need new replacement parts for the hyper drive!"

"The heating ducts need work in the med lab too," Alfred nodded. "Lovino, you should beat on those next so we have a good excuse!"

"Excuse me," the dark hair man snapped, "but I will ruin whatever I fucking please once your would-be lover ponies up the cash. Until then, shut the fuck up."

Feliciano patted the blond's shoulder. "Don't worry, that means yes!"

"Feli, shut the fuck up!"

Alfred shook his head. As long as he got new engine parts, he would keep the charade up a little longer—even if that meant some more time with only crumpled magazines and battery powered toys to keep him from jumping the captain.

Hopefully the wait wouldn't be too long.