Chapter Text
“Shanks!” A gloved hand slapped something down on the table. Shanks didn't bother to look up; wasn’t his humiliation complete enough as it was? “Hey!” With a scrape of metal on wood, Buggy shoved the object closer to Shanks. He lifted his hand, and it turned out to be the ring. Of course. “Give it to me again!”
Shanks had to look up at this. Buggy was twitchy in a way Shanks hadn't seen him in ages. Nerves or lying? Probably not lying—Buggy was almost a good liar these days. (Unfortunately for him, Shanks was an expert at seeing through Buggy’s bullshit.) What could he be nervous about? Shanks looked down at the ring. What had he said? Give it to him again?
Shank set down his pint and flicked the ring across the table to Buggy. “There.”
Scowling, Buggy shoved it back at him. “Not like that! Like…” He went twitchy again.
“Like what, Buggy?” Shanks was not in the mood for one of Buggy’s mind games. He’d been lucky, earlier, that no one had seen them, that his complete mortification had stayed private. Now, sitting on the deck on his own ship, Shanks was about as far from alone as he could get while sitting at an empty table. (His crew had seen he was in a mood, and Beck was too busy cataloging things to deal with Shanks yet.) He was not eager for a continuation of those mind games to happen in earshot of most of his crew.
Buggy grimaced, leaning in close. “Like you’re making me an offer, not just giving me something flashy.”
Shanks blinked a few times, making sense of Buggy’s words. So Buggy hadn’t even known what Shanks was doing. That was a small comfort; he hadn’t been faking ignorance to spare Shanks the embarrassment of a no. But then… he squinted at Buggy. “Why? You want to turn me down properly?”
Buggy scowled. “No!”
“Because—no?” It took a moment for Buggy’s meaning to connect. (Shanks had maybe had a couple pints already.) His jaw dropped. “You… don’t want to turn me down?”
Buggy flushed. In an undertone, he said, “Like I said. Give me the ring like you’re making me an offer.”
Shanks held the ring up so it caught the light. The blue gleam of the sapphire had captivated him when he first saw it, unlike almost anything he’d ever seen. He looked up at Buggy, the same shade of blue in a paired setting on that dear, dear face. Shanks set the ring down and said, “I’ve wanted this for a long time, you know. The two of us at Laugh Tale. It seemed like such a hopeless dream for a long stretch in the middle there that I made myself a promise. If I ever managed to get you here, I’d try and fulfill an older dream while I was at it. Really press my luck," he added with a smirk.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future. I have hopes, fears.” Shanks squeezed Buggy’s hand. “But I’m going to try to use the secrets I found here to establish the new era, to make a freer world. And if I survive, I would love nothing more than to be your husband.”
Smiling fondly at Buggy’s overwrought expression, Shanks said, “How was that?”
Buggy sniffled wetly. “Needs improvement.”
“It does?” Shank said, stung.
“Yeah, there wasn’t nearly enough in there about how madly in love with me you are,” Buggy said, wiping at his eyes. “And what’s all this about marrying me if you survive changing the world?” He crossed his arms huffily. “Are you seriously gonna make me wait until after you’ve taken down the government or whatever?”
Shanks blinked.
“I don’t give a shit about your new era, Shanks. But if it’s serious enough that you think you’re gonna die making it happen, the least you can do is marry me first.”
An incredulous laugh burst out of Shanks; he tried to muffle it with his hand, and got glared at for his trouble.
What did he care? This was, somehow, really happening.
“I’m either gonna be your husband or your widower. None of this ambiguous “oh, they were engaged, but before they could say “I do” that idiot Shanks got himself killed” nonsense.” Buggy leaned in close. “Are we clear?”
Pinching the ring between his thumb and forefinger, Shanks grinned and held it out. “Crystal,” he said, and watched Buggy eagerly slide it on.
Cheers erupted around them, and Buggy finally noticed that they had an audience. His shoulders hunched up, his cheeks flushing a beguiling pink. A few senior officers gave Shanks a congratulatory word or pat on the back. Some bold crewmen tried to do the same thing, not seeing the cornered animal in Buggy, seconds from unsheathing his claws.
Shanks hastily arranged their escape.
“Sorry about them. I did try to propose in private,” Shanks apologized as he led them away.
“You call that trying?” Buggy rolled his eyes. “You didn’t say anything!”
“I was nervous!” Shanks said defensively. “I’d thought about it a lot, and then looking up at you holding the ring… I got tongue-tied.” And then mortified.
“I don’t see why,” Buggy said absently, angling his wrist to make the diamonds on his ring sparkle. “You’ve asked me that question tons of times.”
Shanks paused mid-step, turning to scrutinize Buggy. “What?”
“What?”
“I’m pretty sure I’d remember if I asked you to marry me before.”
Buggy rolled his eyes more emphatically. “Not literally the same question, dumbass. But you’ve always been asking me to be with you, ever since that first day.”
…so he had.
“And now you’re gonna stay with me.” Shanks took Buggy’s hand and interlaced their fingers, enjoying the feeling of cool metal against skin. “Right?”
“Ugh, I guess,” Buggy sighed, squeezing Shanks’ hand, following where he led. “I never was any good at saying no to you and meaning it.”