#i NEED beckman to make fun of shanks’ crush

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

about twenty minutes later, on the ship sailed by shanks’ crew prior to the red force:

strapping down the last of their crates of fresh supplies, beckman considers whether he should be worried. the marines who tried to arrest them and seize their ship earlier were a joke, barely even worth the effort yasopp put into scaring them off with trick shots… but there are rumors vice-admiral garp has taken an interest in this archipelago, and if they’re true, shanks’ continued absence takes on a sinister light.

it’s just as he’s about to voice this concern to roux that he hears a cheerful little whistle echoing across the water. a glance towards the docks reveals a cloaked redhead casually strolling their way, not a care in the world.

beckman sighs. it figures.

“ahoy, crew!” shanks calls from the dock. “how’ve you been?”

“just waiting on you, captain,” beckman says.

“we’ve been bored!” yasopp shouts. “you promised me excitement, shanks, but i’ve had nothing to do but terrorize children all day!”

lucky roux nods. “little babies in their white-and-blue onesies,” he agrees. “the closest thing to trouble was when one of them threatened to tell on us to their daddy.”

“ah,” shanks says, pulling the gangplank up behind him as they go through the motions of setting sail. “that might explain a bit of trouble i found myself in.” at the looks on their faces, he laughs. “nothing serious! just a little chase through town. it worked out in my favor, though!”

“did it?”

“another man—a pirate in disguise, i think—thought the marines were after him, and we made our escape together.” shanks half-feigns a swoon. “and i fell for him instantly.”

“oh?” this does actually get beckman to pay attention. “that’s unusual.” normally shanks falls for women instantly. his feelings for men have tended to happen slower, or at least based on a more substantive interaction. “what drew you to this one?”

“mm, i don’t know,” shanks muses. “a lot of things. he was really clever. and funny! and his eyes were—” shanks stops talking, his eyes wide.

“his eyes were?”

shanks covers his face with one hand. “you’re going to laugh at me,” he says, suddenly mournful.

“am i?” beckman says, starting to grin. “go on then. his eyes were…”

holding up a finger, shanks says, “keep in mind, i didn’t know this at the time. i only just realized.”

“mm-hm?”

shanks sighs. “his eyes reminded me of buggy’s.”

beckman and roux crack up. yasopp hasn’t been around long enough to be in on this particular joke, but they’re quick to fill him in.

“every time! every time you fall for someone and can’t place why, and then five minutes later it’s all ‘ah, their laugh sounded like buggy’s,’ or ‘in that light, her hair looked the same color as buggy’s,’ or…”

shanks, bright red, huffs like a toddler about to have a tantrum. “it’s not every time!” he insists.

“it really is, boss.”

shanks fumes, and the laughter starts back up anew.

“so, who is this buggy person?” yasopp asks.

“shanks’ childhood sweetheart,” roux says, hands clasped, voice at its most saccharine.

shanks laughs, waving away the very notion. “oh, no! no, no… god, he’d stab me for letting that idea get out.” with a conceding gesture, he says, “my childhood crush, maybe.”

“definitely.”

“oh hush, beck, you menace.” yasopp keeps watching shanks, waiting for more information. shanks shrugs. “we grew up together. haven’t seen each other in years. that’s all there is to it, really.”

there’s no way that’s all there is to it, but that’s the most any of them have gotten out of shanks. it’s just about all they’ve ever gotten out of shanks about his past at all, actually. for seeming so open and honest, he keeps things close to the chest.

“so what’s buggy like, then?”

before shanks can answer—or change the subject, more likely—roux grins and says, “ooh, how about we tell you what we think he’s like, based on the people shanks has fallen for?”

nervously, shanks says, “i don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“i think it sounds like a wonderful bonding activity with our new crewman,” beckman says, and when shanks’ face falls in resignation, he gets things kicked off. “first of all, we know he has blue hair. but not just any kind of blue.”

“oh no,” shanks moans, recognizing his own words.

“oh no,” roux says, “his hair is a very specific shade of blue.”

“please stop.”

yasopp smirks, getting in on the joke. “a very specific shade of blue, you say?”

burying his head in his hands, shanks says, “you’re all fired. i’m making monster my first mate.”

“if monster could talk, he’d make fun of you too, boss.”

i know the easiest way to resolve my two wolves dilemma about the near miss notfic is for buggy to be the one in disguise, okay? i know. i just haven’t been able to figure out why he’s in disg—okay, no, i’ve got it now.

(another self-indulgent “shanks/buggy post-roguetown, pre-luffy” encounter below the cut)

buggy, lately called “the clown,” is not usually a pirate given to subtlety or discretion. he wants word of his wicked deeds to spread far and wide! if people are afraid of him, they’ll give in faster, so he won’t have to work as hard to get what he wants!

but usually, there aren’t rumors of monkey d. garp in the area.

buggy’ll thumb his nose at most any marine, but garp is an exception. that guy has a monstrous strength on his old captain’s level, plus he’s equally famous for his incorruptibility and his bullheadedness. all in all somebody buggy absolutely does not want to deal with.

and sure, his bounty as it is probably doesn’t warrant a vice-admiral’s involvement, but garp’s been around a long time. he might recognize buggy as “one of roger’s brats.” and while they never had bounties of their own back then, surely the marine still want their heads. they went after tom, for fuck’s sake, there’s no way buggy is safe.

so until he hears from a reliable source that garp has left this particular corner of east blue behind, buggy is not leaving the sanctuary of his ship without a thorough disguise.

he’s gone without his distinctive makeup, of course. his hair he’s tied up and tucked away under an old knit cap, which he’s sewn an ink-black wig to the lining of to better conceal his identity. he even rubbed a bit of ink into his eyebrows to be doubly sure. and, last but hardly least, he’s chop-chopped his nose off, sticking an ordinary-looking prosthetic in its place with spirit gum that will be very annoying to remove later—but better a little adhesive rash than prison.

looking in his mirror at a stranger, buggy sighs, clapping his hands together. “right!” his ship needs a resupply, and buggy sailed his favorite little skiff here to take care of it so he doesn’t have to explain this disguise to his crew. “rope, sailcloth, gunpowder, food,” he mutters as he heads out. just a few essentials for any sailing vessel, nothing obviously piratical about it. a perfectly safe supply run.

a squad of marines go thumping past, and buggy can’t hold back a flinch at the sight.

he breaths in deep. this will be fine. all he has to do is not draw attention to himself, and…

“hey, you!”

buggy freezes, and fights the urge to turn around. freezing is bad enough, that would make him look super guilty. and anyway, with a call like that how could anyone possibly know who the marines are after?

“you in the hat!”

ah, fuck. buggy can’t lose the hat, that’s half his disguise gone right there. he glances back, curses under his breath when it sure looks like that squad of marines is coming for him, and makes a break for it.

“this is navy business!”

“stop!”

“like hell,” buggy mutters, rounding a corner into an alleyway. he blinks when he hears his own words doubled, and realizes there’s been someone else running from the marines the whole time. ah, shit, was he even their target after all? has he been running for his life for no reason? he turns to give the guy what for and just about chokes on his tongue, because—

well, because it’s shanks.

same stupid, distinctive hair, same stupid, distinctive hat. a cape, which is more style than buggy would have expected shanks to develop, but which is also stupid and distinctive. a pretty nasty scar over one eye. buggy takes his first reaction to that—i wouldn’t have let that happen!—and violently shoves it down into the bottom of his soul, where stupid thoughts go to die. what-ifs don’t matter, what matters is this entire guy is stupid and distinctive.

shanks gives him one of those soft-hearted, empathetic looks buggy always hated. “ah, sorry, i think i got you tangled up in my business.”

…he doesn’t recognize buggy.

good! this is good, this is—salvageable, anyway! buggy clears his throat, tries to throw his voice a little higher, speak a little more politely. anything to avoid that soft look becoming one of recognition, or that awful heartbroken look from all those years ago. “that’s okay! anything to inconvenience the marines.”

as the rhythmic sound of boots thumping gets closer, an idea occurs to buggy. “speaking of…” he grabs hold of shanks’ cape, pausing only when shanks puts a hand on his wrist and gives him a wary look. right, shanks doesn’t know him from adam like this. “sometimes it’s better to fight smarter, not harder.”

shanks considers him for a moment. he lets go of buggy’s wrist.

permission granted, buggy moves quickly. goodbye, stupid hat! flip the cape around, the lining’s a different color so that will do nicely. adjust the closure so the fabric that’s supposed to be the top hem instead functions as a hood, all the better to hide that hair and scar… sure, it probably won’t hold up to a close inspection, but who needs it to? low-level marines are idiots.

buggy leans back against the alley wall and spreads his legs wide to make himself shorter and easier to hide. when shanks doesn’t seem to get the memo, buggy rolls his eyes and tugs him closer, until shanks is standing almost too close for propriety, his cape hiding both of them from view.

hands pressed to the wall above buggy’s shoulders, shanks stares at him intently, an eyebrow going up as they hear the marines run past without giving their hiding spot so much as a first glance, let alone a second. “impressive,” he says.

buggy snorts. “naturally.”

something about this response amuses shanks, who smiles, drops one hand on buggy’s shoulder, and squeezes. “thanks for the save, gorgeous.”

buggy’s mind goes blank.

well, mostly. “gorgeous?!”

shanks frowns, though his eyes are still smiling. “don’t tell me nobody’s ever called you ‘gorgeous’ before.” buggy doesn’t react—has no idea what shanks is doing—as that hand slides up his shoulder, his neck, to cup his cheek. shanks leans just that little bit closer, taking the lack of space between them from the appearance of improper to actually improper. buggy still has no idea what shanks is doing until his thumb starts to rub small circles near the corner of buggy’s eye. “that’s just not possible. i mean, your eyes alone are stunning…”

he knows that move. shanks told him about that move, about the barmaid who’d used it on him the first time, using a compliment about shanks’ eyes as an excuse to touch his face, right before she—

it’s a very sweet kiss. probably the kind of kiss buggy would have expected of shanks, if he’d ever let himself think of things like “shanks” and “kissing” at the same time before. (face hot, it occurs to him that maybe the way he’d always violently shut down such thoughts might mean something. he violently shuts down this line of thinking.) shanks pulls back after a brief moment, a curious look in his eye that buggy takes to mean ‘more?’

whatever look happens to be on buggy’s face must say ‘no’ for him—though probably not in as insistent a tone as he’d like, his mind is still pretty fuzzy—because shanks steps back, casually giving buggy space. like of course after… that… all he wants is to fix his cape and retrieve his hat.

“wh…?” is all buggy can manage.

an eyebrow goes up, and shanks smiles a little smugly as he slides that stupid hat back into place. “like i said. thanks for the save.” and with that, he’s gone.

buggy’s knees give out.

he spends ten minutes sitting in that alleyway, definitely not remembering anything that just happened in particular detail, or wishing he’d answered an unspoken question in a different way. eventually he remembers that he has duties to attend to, and he’d better attend to them soon if he want to get off this island today.

which he does.

he certainly doesn’t have any reason to want to stick around here.

no sir.

“rope, sailcloth… limes?” suddenly buggy can’t remember the last thing on his list. well, it can’t be that important if it was the last one, right? right. surely they can go without… whatever… until after garp’s gotten tired of this part of east blue.

because buggy is never going out in disguise ever again.

[kbstories]

Diachronic

dia·chron·ic (adj.)

Occurring over time; historical.

Kidd is torn apart and Killer is (almost) too late.

(Or: Remember that nebulous Kidd vs. Shanks fight? Yeah, that.)

Tags: Angst, Blood and Violence, Mild Gore, Kidd Is Straight Up Not Having A Good Time, Shanks Is A Bit Of A Bastard

Post-Summit War setting, during the Timeskip. Content warning for lots of blood and some gore. Read Chapter 2 here.

***

“Fight me!”

A shout like a gun going off, sparks flying, black powder catching fire. Two words, bang bang, and the world stops spinning in the silence that follows.

Kidd is grinning, teeth sharp and eyes alight, near-feral with bloodlust. “Did ya hear me, Red-Haired Shanks?”, he calls across the beach, the Victoria Punk behind and an Emperor’s lair ahead. They’re outnumbered, surrounded already, blood seeping into the sand that shifts beneath their boots.

“I want a duel. Just you and me.”

At Kidd’s back, Killer stares at Benn Beckman, watches him raise an eyebrow and continue to smoke. They haven't moved, him and Shanks’ other officers, content to stand by at the very edge of the jungle where the sun struggles to breach its gloom. Something about how casual it is makes Killer lock his jaw, raise his scythes like fangs.

A glance is all he’s worth, an amused uptilt to thin lips. Beckman exhales, breath hazy with smoke, and nods at his captain. Watch and learn.

Next to him, Shanks takes a swig of whatever swill is in that dusty old bottle of his. Eyes, black as obsidian glass and just as sharp, fall on Kidd, track lazily over the fur draped across his shoulders and how his fingers curl around the thrum of magnetism they command.

Shanks sighs.

“My, my, a duel… Listen, kiddo, it’s not even noon. It’s too early for this stuff, don’t ya think?”

Around Killer, the crew bristles. Underestimated, disrespected, dismissed at every turn: It’s more of the same, a mistake the mighty make before they inevitably fall at their hands. Kidd sneers.

“You Emperors are so fucking pathetic. Letting those Government dogs do whatever they want while you hoard the scraps left behind. The world doesn’t need your kind anymore, Shanks! It’s our turn now.”

Shanks’ mouth shapes itself around a low ohhh. “So harsh! I can’t let a speech like that go to waste now, can I, Benn?”

Beckman replies, “Guess not, Captain”, flicking his cigarette to places unknown. Just as bored, he reaches for the bottle in the same instant Shanks pushes it into his waiting hand.

This is it.

“Kidd”, says Killer, little more than a breath between them. Kidd looks over his shoulder, meets Killer’s eyes despite the mask, the grin softening to a smile, no less deadly. This is the moment they carve their names into the sky, the very fabric of the world; the moment they become infamous enough to reach even the junkyard that gave them a beginning and nothing else.

Broad-shouldered, head held high, Kidd is every bit the man Killer knew he would become as he walks into the space their enemies open up for him. A flame chasing away wolves, ready to blaze a path through whatever obstacles remain.

One step, two – Kidd is out of reach and Killer lets him go. This is the moment they’ve been waiting for. 

*

Killer watches it all unfold in snapshots, blink-and-you-miss-it glimpses he will remember to the end of his days:

A ring of surprised looks as weapons of all kind tug free, drawn to Kidd’s outstretched hands;

Red-Haired Shanks, drawing his sword, cloak fluttering where an arm should be but isn’t;

The audible crackling of Haki clashing against Haki, Kidd’s cackling laughter in the air–

There Killer stands, arms crossed and all his senses trained on every move his captain makes. Strike, counterstrike, an engine roaring to life in streaks of red and gunmetal grey, firing from all cylinders. Action, reaction, the indulgent curl of a smile on Shanks’ lips that is the antithesis to that razor-edge gaze.

Shanks lets Kidd come and Kidd does so hard. Over and over, snarling, “Fight me!”, metal claws hooked and closer to drawing blood with every swipe.

Then fabric tears, one long gash from shoulder to wrist if Shanks were whole. “Ah, hell”, the Emperor mutters. Taking the time to pout at his ripped cloak as if Kidd isn’t right there, lunging for his throat without hesitation–

Shanks side-steps it without a single look in Kidd’s direction. “Y’know what? Fine. Make it worth my time, welp.”

And Shanks’ presence, already heavy, already suffocating, drops like a mountain on them all.

Killer grunts out a breath his lungs struggle to take back in, even at a distance. Vertigo paints his vision in smeared black and fading colors within seconds. Shanks moves, and that pressure moves with him – the Kid Pirates breathe as one, a hitched inhale as Kidd staggers mid-step and pulls up his arm just in time.

Metal clangs against metal, and blood splatters the ground.

Yet the grin on Kidd’s face goes nowhere; when Shanks pulls, his sword is slow to follow. The call of Kidd’s powers is strongest at close proximity, even for the blade of an Emperor, and for an instant their eyes lock, at a standstill.

(C’mon, Killer thinks. Kidd strains, and Killer’s arms tighten across his chest to stop his hands from shaking. Hold on, c’mon–)

Shanks smirks. “Huh. Not bad.”

The tension breaks, and Shanks– He lets go. Kidd blinks, draws back, sure on his feet again if cautious. From afar, Killer can see the gears turn in Kidd’s head, sweat trailing down his temples and breath labored while Shanks looks virtually unchanged. The glare of a sun at its zenith is reflected by Shanks’ sword; it shifts, is fully encased in the fist that rises against its master once more.

It cannot last, this tentative lull. They’re in the eye of a hurricane, a realization that finally registers in Killer’s mind, waiting for the storm to hit. They’re mice scuttling straight into the maw of a beast and Killer gasps, jolts forward.

“Captain–!”

A fraction of a second, and Shanks is upon Kidd. Haki sizzles where they meet, metal against bare skin: It’s brutal, it’s vicious, it doesn’t fucking matter that Shanks is missing an arm and a sword, not when his hand bursts Kidd’s fists into their individual pieces and keeps reaching.

Kidd’s eyes go wide; he grabs for Shanks, the red of his nails leaving bloody lines on the Emperor’s arm. Nothing moves in Shanks’ face, nothing as he digs fingers gone black with Haki into Kidd’s skin and watches it split apart.

Killer’s world narrows down to that, a sight that freezes the blood in his veins while Kidd’s spills from his neck and chest and soaks into the sand. “Kidd”, Killer whispers, “No, no”, and he’s tearing away from his crew and towards his captain. Not like this, not like this, until his arm catches on something and he can’t– He’s stuck–

“Kidd!!”

Shanks looks up at that, eyes dark, and it’s all it takes for Kidd to dislodge that grasp. To lurch away and back on his feet, throat working around a groan, a hand on his face. His fingers are drenched in blood.

“Stand back!”

And Killer stops, heart beating up his throat so hard it’s choking him. Kidd doesn’t look away from Shanks, the one eye left uncovered in full focus despite it all. “Knew you’d get serious eventually”, he spits, voice raw from the pain. He wipes his cheek against his shoulder, spreading the mess around.

Shanks merely raises an eyebrow. “Come on, then. Let’s finish this.”

“That kid is done for”, mumbles someone next to Killer, and only then does he realize he’s being held back by someone. Straight blond hair, a bandana, sunglasses – it doesn’t really matter who it is, just that they’re in the way.

Killer growls, scythes snapping out and starting to spin. The guy sighs, “Man, you have bigger problems than me right now”, mildly annoyed at most. “Look.”

Only his captain is allowed to give him orders but– Killer looks, the split-second he wasn’t lingering as Kidd recovers from a hit Killer didn’t see, and Shanks’ torn cloak billows behind him as he approaches in measured steps.

“This is why fighting you rookies is no fun. Got lucky with a fruit and then what? It’s so boring.”

Kidd’s hand goes for the dagger strapped to his chest; goes for it and doesn’t make it, Shanks’ fingers already there around his wrist, crushing. “Fuck you”, Kidd hisses, teeth painted crimson by the blood dripping into his mouth.

Even before the second word is out he’s knocked to the ground, sinking inches into the sand with the force of the boot pinning him there. “It’s not your turn just yet”, Shanks tells Kidd, mournful, almost.

Then he pulls. Kidd’s shoulder snaps out of its socket with a sickening noise, and Shanks keeps pulling, and Killer can only watch as muscle and skin and sinews go taut, are stretched to their limits and beyond. As, fiber by fiber, they give way to the white of bone underneath–

Kidd screams.

No!

Pain radiates up Killer’s side and his arm burns but he doesn’t care. Killer doesn’t care about the yell of “Hey, what the hell!” and the desperate calls of his name – his crew, his friends, so far away now –, doesn’t care it’s his captain who called for a duel and told him to stay away.

He sees Kidd on the ground, and he sees Shanks picking up his sword again, and Killer breaks through all lines drawn in the sand.

The killing blow is struck and Killer is there. Scythes crossed, sparks spraying where blade meets blade: Killer’s arms shake and his knees threaten to buckle yet he preservers through that infinite moment, feels the pressure double down before it lifts and time ticks on, heartbeat for frantic heartbeat.

“Enough!”

His voice rings out despite how rough it is, how every inhale aches all the way to his core. “Enough”, Killer repeats, standing between his captain and certain death. “You made your point.”

(Behind him, Kidd wheezes his name, “Kil”, garbled, weak. It sounds like No, like Get the fuck out of here, and Killer never imagined himself breaking the loyalty he swore to his dying breath and yet there is one imperative that stands above even that.)

Shanks’ head is tilted to the side, a twist to his mouth Killer would call petulant if it weren’t a fucking Emperor he’s talking to. There’s blood on his face, dotted in an abstract pattern up to the scars across his eye. Arterial spray, still wet.

“I don’t think your captain is very happy with you right now.”

“That’s for my captain to decide”, says Killer, coldly. Barely turns his head to call, “Heat! Wire!”, and with familiar steps shuffling closer and Kidd’s agonized gasps of “No, n-no, Killer” growing fainter, Killer takes a stance, scythes ready and lithe body poised to strike.

“You’re fighting me now, Red-Haired Shanks.”

Shanks just sighs, rubs at his brow with stained fingers. “So you know you don’t stand a chance and yet, here we are. What a mess.”

Surrounded by enemies on all sides, Killer doesn’t cower. “Eustass Kidd will be the man to become Pirate King”, he tells Shanks, tells the world, boots firmly planted on the ground thoroughly steeped in Kidd’s blood. It’s the fundamental truth they sail by, the dream they came up with, together.

“He will be King, and I’m the man who will get him there. My life’s as good a price as any to pay for that.”

It’s then that Shanks looks at him, fixes him with that stare like he’s only now bothering to take note of Killer’s existence. “One Piece, huh? Haven’t heard that dream in a while”, he muses, a certain softness there that seems– out of place, somehow.

“Listen. Just ‘cause Whitebeard’s gone now doesn’t mean you kids can waltz in here and start shit you’re not ready to finish. Got it? Playtime’s over. If it's a new era you want, stay alive long enough to carry it.”

There’s an out there, Killer can see it. A line of flight he doesn’t deserve, not after breaking every code of honor their kind adheres to. Shanks sheathes his sword, gestures over his shoulder for the bottle that lands in his palm an instant later. A messy gulp, and Shanks chuckles, all smiles now.

“Your captain’s got some potential, I’ll give him that. The arm’s a goner but it’s not the end of the world. Builds character, and all that.”

Killer should say something about that, about the chatty tone the Emperor strikes as if he wasn’t ripping Kidd apart bare-handed just minutes ago. Beyond the beach Benn Beckman lights another cigarette and he nods at Killer, a pointed gesture. Get out of here.

Nothing. There’s nothing left to say, and so Killer turns his back. Leaves his pride right there in the sand where his captain almost lost his life, and follows the trail of blood through the parting crowd of Shanks’ crew and into the sea’s uncaring arms.

>>Chapter 2.

[thepirateparlour]

Could I have an hc with Benn Beckman falling in love with a girl who’s a bit younger than him? Like early to mid 20’s? Thankies 💖

-It crept on him like a shadow, look at him having a crush on a newbie. He is very cold and direct with all the new pirates that joins with Shanks. He always help them in the first week, getting them mentors within the crew.

-Her mentor is Lucky Roo after challenging him to a all eating cake contest. Roo won, but she won the respects of the higher ups. She is always smiling and laughing, she is so young. Maybe around twenty-three or twenty-four. It starts to get annoying for him. Ben didn’t know why.

-Hell, even she gets some sparing lesson with Rockstar, which turns into a show, because Rockstar has to be the dramatic one. Shanks likes to make bets on who would win. Ben just watches and then joins in. Somehow, it turns into the monthly tournament, which everyone is involved somehow.

-Benn vs Her. Her vs Benn. She lost, after getting a few hits in. She laughs about it, promising to getting stronger to get him back. Benn waits for that.

-Then it happens. They were on an island in the New World, the group that she went that morning came back with her shaken. It seems that her father found her, running around with filthy pirates and wanted her back to their island and to the fiancee she was promised to.

-No one had ever seen her silent before. She silently went by her day, and when Shanks decide to confront her father. Apparently, he went back to his island. Nowhere to be seen. That night Benn was up with the nightwatchers, and saw her by the back of the boat, watching the city in silence.

-They sat in silence and she starts to talk, about everything. How she was okay being used by her family so her father has connection with another family of merchants. She thought her father love her enough to cancel the engagement when she told him what her fiance did to her, making her eat a Devil Fruit! Now, she is cursed never to able to swim at all.

- “You know what that bastard told me. He said “A man can do whatever he wants with his wife,” Ha, we aren’t even married yet and he said that I’m not his daughter , but a a a a…..”

-Benn wraps his arm around her, and brings her in, letting her silently cry in his shoulders. He rubs her back, letting her get everything out. She never mention what devil fruit she has, but Benn really doesn’t need to know.

-After that, it seems that She is slowly getting better and is hanging out with Benn. Benn doesn’t mind it at all, but actually enjoys it, especially when it comes with inventory. She is a faster learner and gets on Shank’s ass on getting more alcohol versus actually food, like meat and cake.

- “But but but” Shanks would start, and Benn sighs, knowing he going to through this argument again. Here comes his partner? Assistant?

-”Captain~” She starts to whine. She would dramatically, drape herself onto him. She looks up with her big eyes, pouting with her soft lips “Captain, I’m so hungry and Cook said we might run out of meat again. Why isn’t there any meat, Captain….I’m so hungry,”

-God she can make Shank feel guilty about this for months. Benn smiles as he see his captain apologize a thousands times as she dramatically complain about the food or how Shanks being not fun anymore and maybe she needs to find a more manlier crew like the Whitebeard. A big blow to Shank’s ego. At that moment, everything seems to be in slow motion when Benn figures out that he is in love with her.

-He never voice his love for her, but the crew notice how nice he was with her, how his eyes follow her everywhere. Now, even during a battle with Marines, Benn keeps the enemy at bay, but always have an eye out looking for her.

-He never sees the hammer and he goes down.

- “Benn?” “Benn….” He struggles to get up, looking up he sees an Admiral ready to kill him, blood coming down his face.

- “Benn! Get away from him!” And a blurr figure launches itself at the admiral. The admiral cries out in pain as a giant lion clamps their jaw around their neck. They both fall down, but only the lion gets up. Benn sits up as the lion comes closer, to see that this Human- Lion hybrid is his girl. With her mouth cover with blood, and her worried look, he smiles.She is goddamn cute with those ears perched on her head, and a wild tail behind her.

-”God, I love you,”

- She blushes as well. Here she is, taking down an admiral and Benn telling him he loves her in the middle of a battlefield.

-She grins “I LOVE YOU TOO BENN!”

-What they didn’t know that Shanks saw the whole thing and is about to tell this little story once they get out of there and back to the ship.

[rei-the-rat]

Laughter - Day 1 - LawLu 2k18

Collab I did with @shishiswordsman for the first day of 10 Days of LawLu. They wrote it from Law’s POV, and I based mine around that. Thanks so much for being patient and working with me.

At some point, Luffy realized Law had snuck off and away from the party. And that was alright, he figured, Law was a quiet person. Maybe he just needed a moment. Sometimes Robin would do that too when they had celebrations. But it had been close to an hour and Law hadn’t come back yet.

“Then go see him.” Usopp rolled his eyes as Luffy groused about it to him again. “Never thought I’d see the day where you crushing this badly on someone.”

“I am not!” Luffy said reflexively, because that was what you did when someone made such a claim, as he flopped backwards off the railing beside Usopp. He left his feet hanging over, kicking in the air. That was dumb… Why would he deny something true? “I do, don’t I?”

“Yup.” Usopp leaned back so he could look at Luffy. “I mean, I don’t think anyone would blame you. It’s just a little funny is all.”

Luffy pouted. “Why is it funny?”

The sniper shrugged and laughed. “It just is. So what’s the plan?” He remembered who his captain was and laughed to himself. “Or rather, what are you going to do about it?”

Luffy pushed off the railing and rolled himself upright so that he was kneeling in front of Usopp. “I dunno. I just wanted to know when he’d be back so I can drink and dance with him.”

“A lot of stuff went down. He probably needs time to process.” Usopp reached for his mug only to find it empty. He frowned at it. “Wouldn’t hurt to go check on him maybe.”

They stood and made their way over toward where one of the chefs was acting as an improvised barkeep for the party. Luffy sat up on the counter while Usopp leaned back against it and they waited until Ideo was done grabbing another round for him and Zoro.

“You going to go see him?”

“Yeah,” Luffy kicked his legs out. “He should be happy and up here with us.”

Usopp shrugged. “Eh, who knows,” He elbowed Luffy playfully. “Maybe he’ll even say thank you with a kiss.”

Luffy nudged Usopp’s shoulder with his foot as he laughed. “That’s dumb. Why would he do that?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Usopp grabbed his beer and moved out of the initial range of Luffy’s foot. “Anyone can see you’re not the only one thinking it. But I am an expert in these things.” He took a hearty drink. “That’s why they call me Usopp the love guru! And wingman for the king of the pirates.” At the mention of Luffy’s dream and goal, several of the gathered allies cheered even if they didn’t know why. Usopp grinned over his shoulder at them and gave a nonchalant shrug to Luffy. “See?”

“I was going to go check on Torao anyway.” Luffy smiled at his friend, thankful for his support even if he didn’t understand his own feelings at the moment. He grabbed a bottle of orange juice for himself and snagged some sake from behind the bartender.

“Good luck,” Usopp patted him on the shoulder as he passed.

Luffy knew more or less where Law had gone off to, and it didn’t take long to find him sitting off by himself. He didn’t get a reply when he called out to the other captain though. As he approached, he noticed Law was holding his injured arm. “Law?” He tried again. It wasn’t until he settled beside him, close enough that their shoulders and knees brush, that Law’s eyes came back into focus from wherever far off place his mind had been. Luffy poked him in the side to make his presence a little more known. “Torao, you’re missing the party!” With a wave of his hand in front of Law’s face, Luffy broke into his usual smile. “Are you dead or something?”

Law blinked and looked up at Luffy. “I’m alive, Straw Hat. Thank you for checking up on me.”

“Sure thing.” Luffy wiggled a little inside, glad that Law was ok and here, and just generally happy to be with his friend and ally. “Why aren’t you at party?”

“I needed a moment alone, to think.”

“Oh, good thing I brought these then!” Luffy passed over the bottle of sake he’d grabbed for Law. Drinking helps a man think, or that’s what Beckman had told back when he was younger. The first mate had then laughed and informed Luffy that regardless of how much Shanks drank, he wasn’t that great at thinking. He took Law in again, going over the bandages that he could see. “Are you hurt? Do you need a doctor?”

“No.”

Luffy didn’t necessarily believe that statement. Law looked tired and exhausted even though they had rested before leaving Dressrosa. He knew Law was still recovering, but he didn’t think Law would still be this tired. Maybe it took him longer to heal. “Are you okay, then?” He asked instead.

Law sighed and looked down at the bottle in his hand. A slight frown twisted on Luffy’s lips, but he didn’t press. Maybe Law needed more time to think. He opened his own bottle and took a drink from it. Talking stuff out helped people think, right? So Luffy thought back on Doflamingo and what he recalled about him from the fight.

“That Mingo guy was tough. And he had a weird power.” Luffy glared into his bottle as he thought of the birdcage. “He was arrogant, like a lot of others. Or… Like Crocodile.” That’s who Mingo reminded him of. Except he had succeeded in making his twisted little version of a utopia. They were also both Warlords.

Law hummed and took a sip of sake.

“You shouldn’t look down on someone because they’re younger than you.” Mingo and Croc were similar in that too. “I still beat him.” Luffy rocked a little as he came back around to the positive. “It was actually a fun fight, I was just mad at him. For what he did to Rebecca and the people there. And you…” He took a deep breath. “And it’s over now.” It left him as a whisper and even though Law hummed in response, Luffy doubted he had really heard him. He had a far off look in his eye again. Luffy focused back on the parts of the fight he liked, bouncing from piece to piece rather than telling it chronologically. Law had been there for most of it after all, he knew what had happened when more or less. And he talked about Gear 4 and it’s abilities, thanking Law again for watching over him while he recovered. He wanted to build up his endurance to keep his exhaustion at bay. It was risky to do alone, but he wasn’t always going to have a choice.

A different sort of hum left Law as he brought the bottle to his lips again. “You really are fascinating, Straw Hat.” He said as he lowered his drink.

Luffy smiled and tilted his head at Law. There was fuzzy warmth in his eyes now, and he seemed more present than he had been. “Yeah? How so?

Instead of answering like Luffy assumed he would, Law reached out and tugged his hat down over his eyes. It was sudden and playful and Luffy giggled because he hoped this meant Law was feeling better. When he pushed his hat back up, he saw a smile on Law’s face.

“Thank you. Truly, I’m in your debt as an ally now. Once we regroup with my crew on Zou we can begin to discuss a strategy on taking down Kaidou.” Law’s voice had a gentle mirth to it, calm and lighter than it had been in a long while. It almost reminded Luffy of the few words they shared back on Sabaody.

“Kaidou, Shmaido,” Luffy grinned. “I don’t care about the plans and whatever. I kicked Mingo’s ass because we’re nakama, and he hurt you.” He smiled easily and looked up at the sky. “So he deserved to get his ass kicked.”

“Thank you.” Law’s voice was quiet as he stated his gratitude again. “Doflamingo’s defeat is something I’ve worked towards accomplishing for years now. You helped me make it happen.”

“No biggie,” Luffy shrugged. Mingo wasn’t the first Warlord he’d taken out and was unlikely to be his last. He pressed his hand to his chest over the scar, a dull ache beating beneath his skin but with a burning fire for the future. “I owed you one anyway. Now we're even.”

Law nodded. “Yeah, we're even.”

With Law’s confirmation, Luffy laughed and in his glee he threw his empty juice bottle high into the air. It arched against the starry sky before crashing back down on the deck with a triumphant smash. He turned to Law and saw the almost smile pulling at his lips. “Throw yours, Torao!”

Law finished the sake in the bottle with a quick drink before mimicking Luffy’s toss. It came down near Luffy’s own broken bottle and smashed into dozens of glittering pieces of glass. Luffy grinned wide. “That was great!”

The lamp light in the distance caught on the broken glass and danced across, making them sparkle like the sky above them for just a moment. Luffy was found himself lost in that moment, thinking of things he normally paid no heed to. Like the way Law’s eyes also shone with strength and determination, and the small smile gracing his features.

He found himself leaning in toward Law, pushing the boundaries of Law’s personal bubble even further than he normally did. He wanted to kiss Law. So he did.

Law’s lips were warm from the sake, and his breath hitched just the slightest at the feeling of Luffy pressing his against him. He saw Law’s eyes widen from the shock of the sudden kiss and a soft pink start to bloom over his cheeks. Slowly, and almost reluctantly, Luffy pulled away, taking a breath before moving back to look at Law.

“Why did you do that?” Law asked. He sounded lost but mostly confused.

“I wanted to,” Luffy watched as how Law quickly licked his lips and pressed them together. “Did Torao not want me to? Usopp said you would…”

A sudden chuckle, then laugh, erupted forth from Law. “What the fuck,” He tried to take a breath between his laughter. “You’re insane Straw Hat, no one just does that, not to me…”

Luffy playfully rolled his eyes before giggling himself. He reached out and took Law’s hand, squeezing his fingers and anchoring him.

Once their laughter calmed, Law gave a sigh. “You’re one of a kind, Straw Hat. I should have stabbed you.”

“But you didn’t.” Luffy reminded.

“No,” Law stared off into the distance for a moment.

Luffy hopped up to his feet, Law’s hand still in his, and gently pulled him up with him. “No more thinking Law, not for tonight.” He wasn’t sure if Law heard him or not, but he did follow him back to party. And he didn’t let go of Luffy’s hand either.

Thinking could wait, and they would talk later too. But for the moment, they were happy and the darkness that crept up on Law chased off by the happiness and laughter he shared with Luffy.