Work Text:
The Oro Jackson was rocking so softly it might’ve put Buggy to sleep if his mind wasn’t already occupied. His tiredness tugged at the corners of his attention, beckoning him to just lay down. Just enjoy the rocking of the ship, the light wind, the twinkling stars.
“No,” Buggy said, louder than he anticipated and with enough force to surprise even himself. “No sleeping,” he mumbled, hushed this time.
In front of him, on the scratched hardwood floor of the library, was a logbook. It wasn’t particularly long, or particularly interesting, but Shanks had made fun of him for being such a sound sleeper. He was DETERMINED to finish this stupid 700-page logbook about some guy’s journey to some lame island before the sun came up. Who’d be the heavy sleeper then, huh? Buggy had spent hours enriching his mind while Shanks just slept like the baby he was. Buggy chuckled to himself. This would show him for sure.
“You slept through THREE Marine attacks,” Shanks chided, pointing at Buggy, his handsome young face twisted into a frown.
Buggy rubbed his eyes. “You’re not the boss of me. Captain is. And he knows I’m a heavy sleeper.”
Shanks tsked, then crossed his arms. “If I was captain, I would’ve kicked you off the ship already.”
“Well, you’re not, so who cares.”
“I care. You don’t do shit around here, and I always have to make up crap so you don’t get in trouble.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“No, you didn’t, which makes it even more annoying.” The words were out of Shanks’ mouth before he could bite them back. His face turned red.
Buggy, oblivious, just laughed. “What is THAT supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” Shanks grumbled. “You’re stupid, and I hate you. Go die already.”
Buggy looked down and kicked the wood beneath his feet. He and Shanks didn’t always get along, but there was a part of him that still bruised when he was mean. A deep part somewhere in his chest that he tried his best to ignore. When he looked up, Shanks had already stalked off.
A light knock on the wall startled Buggy enough to split in two, the logbook skittering across the floor. “What the hell?” he cried, whipping around.
“What are you doing?”
Buggy squinted. He was half hoping it was Shanks for reasons he wasn’t going to unpack. But the looming dark figure in the doorway was too big for that.
Buggy’s face turned as red as his nose. “C-captain,” he stuttered, “I—”
Gol D. Roger’s heavy black boots struck the floor in a practiced glide. “It’s late.” His dark eyes gleamed down at Buggy, who felt himself shrinking away from the captain’s gaze.
“I was just—”
“Reading?” Roger touched the book lightly with his boot.
“Yes.”
“It’s almost three in the morning, Buggy.”
“I can’t sleep.”
Roger chuckled. “You?”
Buggy’s ears burned. Of all the things he could’ve said, that was probably the most obvious lie. “I’m trying to stay awake.”
“For Shanks?”
“No! Not FOR Shanks. Why would I do anything FOR Shanks? He’s stupid and I hate him, and he doesn’t know anything.” Buggy tripped over his own words, suddenly anxious to let his captain know how he felt.
“I thought you two were friends.”
“I-I don’t know.” Buggy fingered the edge of his shirt, looking down. “Sometimes he’s nice, like when he’s sleepy or drunk, but every other time he’s kind of mean.”
As much as Roger wanted to get involved and play matchmaker, he was smart enough to know that this was something they had to work out for themselves. He looked back at the door. “I’m going to bed.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Good night. Please go to sleep.”
“Maybe in a bit.”
Roger sighed. “Good enough, I guess.” He strode out of the room, his footsteps softening until Buggy could no longer hear them.
The next morning, at breakfast, Buggy stumbled into the dining room almost forty-five minutes late. His eyes were bloodshot and the skin under was a sickly purple. “Did you know that the great pirate Blood Jones once fought a seventeen-foot prehistoric bird on the summer island of Quana?”
Shanks stared, his fork halfway to his mouth. “Are you—”
“That’s very interesting, Buggy,” Roger said, wiping his mouth on a cloth napkin. “Why don’t you sit down and have something to eat?”
“Just coffee, please,” Buggy said, sitting across from Shanks.
“C’mon, Buggy, you have to eat.” Roger put his hand on Buggy’s back, but Buggy shied away.
“No thanks,” he said, mixing in three lumps of sugar. “I still have 150 pages left.”
Shanks looked from Buggy to Roger. “150 pages of what?”
Roger just sighed. “Eat, Buggy,” he said, standing up from the table.
“But I’m—” Buggy started to protest.
“That’s an order.” He pointed at Rayleigh. “You, come with me.”
Rayleigh followed Roger out of the cabin and onto the deck.
“I can’t believe they still act like this,” Roger said, leaning over the side of the ship.
“Like what?” Rayleigh asked, a few steps behind him.
“Like children.”
“They are children.”
Roger turned. “They’re, what, sixteen? Too old to be acting like that!”
Rayleigh just chuckled. “I think you’re becoming a little too invested in this love story, Boss.”
“It’s not that.” Roger rubbed his eyes. “I want them to be great pirates someday.”
“What makes you think they won’t?”
“Nothing. Just…”
“They act stupid? Like children?”
“Yeah, I guess. I can’t put my finger on it yet.” Roger gazed out to sea. “And you know Rouge wants to know every little update in their lives.”
“I heard you talking to her last night.” Rayleigh rubbed the back of his neck. “But I didn’t hear some of the stuff you said.”
Roger’s face turned red in embarrassment. “Well, she’s pregnant, and that makes her, you know, and since I can’t be there to, you know…” He made a series of offensive gestures that made Rayleigh gag.
“It’s none of my business,” Rayleigh said, shaking his head. “Thank god.”
Roger laughed. “That just means we have to get you—”
Both pirates whipped around when they heard a loud crash erupt from the dining cabin.
“Those kids…” Roger groaned, his head in his hands.
“Hey,” Rayleigh said, patting the captain’s back. “Be gentle. They’re in love, you know.”
Rayleigh and Roger burst into the cabin.
“What happened?” “What’s wrong?” They called in unison.
The room was a mess. Smeared butter and jam decorated the walls, and bits of broken glass and porcelain littered every surface. Food was smushed underfoot, and at least one chair was broken completely in half. Shanks, baring his teeth, crouched on a chair, blocking with his sword as Buggy pitched knives at him.
“Bastard,” Buggy growled, missing Shanks and shattering a frame behind him.
“You’re the bastard, bastard!” Shanks shouted, swinging wildly. A vase, miraculously untouched in the chaos, was swiped clean in half. The single red rose flopped onto the table.
“THAT’S ENOUGH,” Roger called, his voice reverberating the whole ship. Both boys came to a halt mid-fight. “What is the matter with you two?”
“He—he just—” Buggy started, his eyes watering, pointing at Shanks.
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“Oh, are you gonna cry, you big baby?” Shanks snarled.
“Shanks, that’s enough.” Roger folded his thick arms across his chest. “Come on, you two. We need to have a little chat.”
The wind had picked up, forcing Buggy to take off his beanie if he didn’t want to be chasing after it every five minutes. His blue hair was just below his chin, a black elastic keeping it half-up and away from his face. He was staring at the ground, his cheeks deep red.
Only Roger noticed how Shanks bit his lip when he saw Buggy’s hair and a blush that lingered on his face a little too long. Shanks turned to face the other way, his brow scrunched up.
“What’s going on, you guys?” Roger sighed.
“He—” Buggy started, pointing a finger at Shanks.
“I don’t care about that. I want to know what’s going on between you two.” Roger already knew, but he had to break his promise to not get involved if his ship was going to be destroyed in the process of these two idiots figuring out their feelings for each other.
“Buggy doesn’t do anything around here,” Shanks blurted out, looking at the ground. “He’s always dicking around.”
“What Buggy does or doesn’t do is none of your business. Buggy?”
“Shanks is always treating me like he’s better than I am.”
“I am better, stupid,” Shanks mumbled.
“See?” Buggy cried.
“As far as I’m concerned, neither of you are better than the other.” Roger crossed his arms. “Good talk. Now go clean that dining hall.”
Buggy grabbed the buckets of soapy water and lifted them above his head. He gently stepped around the mess that was on the floor, trying to avoid anything that might make him slip and fall. Shanks was already sweeping gunk into a bag.
Buggy set the buckets onto the floor and wiped his brow. “Heavy,” he mumbled.
Shanks stared but didn’t notice the buckets. I wonder if he could lift me over his head, he thought without realizing.
“What?”
Shanks snapped back to reality. “What?”
“You’re staring at me.”
Shanks turned as red as his hair. “What?! N-no. I was staring at…” He looked around desperately, then noticed: “The buckets.”
“Uh, okay. Can I ask why?”
“I think we’re going to need…” Shanks stopped short.
“You think we’re going to need…?” Buggy repeated, slowly peeling off his blue shirt.
“Uh…”
“More…water?”
“Yeah. Tons.” Shanks turned around and muttered something under his breath. “Tons of cold water. Cold, cold, very cold.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
The rest of their cleaning passed without incident. Shanks had ended up taking his shirt off, too, glancing at Buggy ever so often to see if he noticed.
Buggy stayed focused on his task, scrubbing every inch of the cabin until it was sparkling white. They’d have to get new glassware, though. And new porcelain. Rayleigh wasn’t going to be happy about that.
A soft knock came from the door. “How are you guys doing?” Rayleigh said, peeking his head inside. His eyebrows raised. “Are you guys…still cleaning?”
“Yeah, it just got hot in here, that’s all.” Buggy said, squeezing a sponge.
“Yeah,” Shanks piped in, “really hot.”
Rayleigh chuckled. “Well, we’ve docked. I know we’re going to need new glassware and porcelain, and since you broke it…”
Buggy and Shanks shifted nervously.
“…I thought it might be nice for you guys to pick some new stuff out.” Rayleigh beamed at them. “What do you say?”
Shanks raised his eyebrows. “Is the captain okay with that? I know we’re kind of in trouble…”
“Think of it as a test,” Rayleigh mused. “You’ll have to be together for a while without killing each other. Think you can do that?”
Buggy sighed and wiped his brow. “Anything to get off this ship,” he muttered.
“Great!” Rayleigh stepped into the room, careful to avoid the spills of soapy water. “Here are two hundred berries. You might have to do some haggling, but I think it’ll be enough.” Buggy snatched the money before Shanks could, and Shanks fumed as they both stepped past Rayleigh onto the deck.
"Oh, and boys?” Shanks and Buggy both turned. Rayleigh sighed. “Please put on a shirt.”
The walk to town was quiet. The only sound came from their shoes on the cobblestones and the soft chatter of townspeople in the distance. Shanks always walked just a few steps in front of Buggy, as if he was rubbing in the fact that he had always been a natural leader. Whatever. Buggy was going to be the captain of his ship someday, anyway.
“No, we’re supposed to make a left.” Buggy squinted at the map. “Yeah, a left.”
“I don’t think that’s right. Let me see.” Shanks shouldered up to Buggy, their forearms pressing together. “Ah, you’re right…”
“You can hold the map if you want,” Buggy offered, holding out the flimsy piece of paper. “I think I have the route memorized by now.”
Shanks shook his head. “No, it’s okay. You’re better at this stuff anyway.”
Buggy stopped in his tracks. Shanks, noticing the lack of footsteps, turned around. “What?” he asked, frowning.
“Did you say I was good at something?” Buggy said, smiling.
“Wipe that shit-eating grin off your face or so help me,” Shanks threatened, his hand going to the hilt of his sword. But the smirk on his face was so obvious that Buggy couldn’t help but laugh. “Wh-why are you laughing?”
“Why are you laughing?”
“Because you’re laughing!”
“Well, at least I don’t-don’t have stupid red h-hair!”
“Well, at least I don’t have a stupid red nose!”
Buggy gasped. “Too far!” he cackled, barely able to breathe.
Shanks swung his arm around Buggy’s shoulders. “Let’s drink,” he giggled.
Buggy shook his head. “Shopping first.”
“Then drinking?” Shanks asked hopefully.
“Sure, if you’re paying.”
Shanks, already lightheaded and drunk with friendship, pressed his face into Buggy’s hair right above his ear.
Buggy stopped, and the color drained from his face. “What are you…?”
Shanks, only now realizing what he’d done, drew back. “I was…”
Buggy, although embarrassed, felt heat rising in his core. He took a chance, doing what his young mind interpreted as the mature thing to do. “It was nice,” he blurted out. His hands were knotted into fists.
The two were silent for a moment. “Thanks,” Shanks said loudly. “Sorry. I mean…thanks.” Shanks turned on his heel and walked to town, suddenly anxious to get this shopping trip over with.
“Left, Shanks. No. No. Your other—yes, that’s right.”
“Right?”
“NO.”
Shanks folded one arm around his waist and put a finger up to his lips. “Hmm…” he mused.
Buggy had navigated them there, to the town square, but he let Shanks do this part. Shanks was better with people, and the kindly old man was more likely to offer a good price to a charming and handsome young man than a clown.
Buggy tried hard to forget what he looked like, but it was difficult when everywhere he looked there was a silver serving platter the size of a wall mirror.
“I’m gonna get some air,” Buggy said, walking out of the small shop and into the square. A few people gave harsh stares, but Buggy just sat on a bench and put his head in his hand, hoping that Shanks would be quick.
Shanks hummed in response to Buggy, never taking his eyes away from the six-piece dinnerware set in a lovely, clear white porcelain. A few of those would be enough for the ship and extras. The price was just a hair off: 280 berries.
“You like?” the old man said, beaming. “We make this one here. I can tell you have very good taste, young man.”
Shanks chuckled. “I suppose I do.”
“It’s 280 berries for the set.”
Shanks nodded. “It’s really beautiful,” he sighed.
“Why the long face?” The man stepped closer to Shanks.
“I’m missing the money."
“Well, how much do you have?” The old man winked. “It’s not so often I see such a handsome young man with such exquisite taste. How old are you?”
“200 berries,” Shanks answered, “and I’m sixteen.”
“Sixteen!” The old man exclaimed gleefully. “I just might have the solution.”
Shanks perked up. “Oh?”
“I’ll give you this set for 200 berries—”
Shank’s mouth opened excitedly.
“—If you take my beautiful granddaughter Patricia out on a date.”
Shanks’ smile faded. “Well, I’d love to, but I’m not going to be here long enough.”
“Tonight, then.”
“To-tonight.”
“Yes.”
Shanks scratched the back of his head. “Uh, okay. Should I pick her up here?”
“Yes!” The old man beamed. “At 7:00. Okay?”
Shanks shrugged. “Okay.” He glanced at the clock behind the counter. “I have three hours, then.”
“I’ll see you then!” The old man was already ushering Shanks outside. “Don’t be late!”
“Okay, I’ll—” The door slammed shut. Shanks turned, his hands in his pockets, and scanned the scene for Buggy. His eyes settled on him, sitting on a bench with one knee up, carving into the soft wood with one of his knives.
“Aren’t you too old to be doing that?” Shanks said as he walked up.
Buggy glanced up, pouting. “How did it go?”
“Fine, I guess.” Shanks looked around, raking a hand through his hair. “I have to take that weird old guy’s granddaughter out on a date tonight.”
Buggy stopped. “Oh.”
“Oh?”
“That’s weird.”
Shanks laughed, his hands on his hips. “I know. But he’d give us the set for 200 berries if I did, so I will.”
“What time?”
“7.”
“What are we going to do until then?”
“Look I know you’re older than me, and you don’t want me to take care of you or whatever, but I feel kinda bad.”
Buggy raised his eyes. “That’s unlike you.”
Shanks shoved Buggy playfully with his knee. “Hey, now. No, it’s not. Anyway,” he continued, “I know you’re, like, a nerd, so…”
“Literally what are you trying to tell me?”
“I thought we could spend time at the library.”
“I thought you wanted to drink.”
“I want to spend time with you more.” Again, the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. This is becoming a serious problem, he thought, flustered. It wasn’t like him to be so open.
Buggy grimaced to mask the heat he felt in his face. “You know libraries have books, right? Like, to read?”
Just like that, Shanks’ embarrassment was gone. “I’m not stupid.”
“Whatever.” Buggy sat up and their hands brushed.
Shanks’ knuckles were hairier than Buggy’s, with long, slender fingers. Buggy drew his hand back sharply.
“Sorry!” They both shouted.
Shanks didn’t have to stand on his tiptoes to reach the Ba—Cm nonfiction section like Buggy did.
“Which one?” Shanks asked plainly, his slender fingers hovering over the spines.
“Um…” Buggy swallowed. “Chirakira,” he mumbled.
Shanks tipped the spine towards him and pulled the book out.
“I could’ve gotten it on my own, you know.” Buggy grumbled, taking the book from Shanks’ hand.
Shanks laughed quietly. “I know,” he said. “We’re only, like, two inches apart.”
Buggy sighed. Only twenty minutes away from Shanks’ date. He gave the book back to Shanks, who dutifully pushed it back into its proper spot.
“Was it any good?” Shanks asked over his shoulder.
Buggy stood and stretched his legs. They were in a small part of the library, surrounded by rows of books with a small wooden table in the middle. It wasn’t near a corner, just a quiet section where they could be alone and unbothered. “It wasn’t bad,” Buggy said, shrugging. “But I was looking for something flashier.”
His eyes caught a glimpse of a gold spine, slightly buried behind a few other books. “Ooh,” he said, his eyes glinting in the dim light. “What do we have here?”
Buggy reached up, frowning, his thick fingers working the other books out of the way.
Shanks tried not to stare. But every move of Buggy’s hands made his forearms and biceps move, and before he could stop himself, he was watching the side of Buggy’s pectoral move under his sleeveless t-shirt. Shanks turned as bright red as his hair. No touching, he told himself forcefully, but before he knew it, he was brushing his knuckles against Buggy’s skin, slightly sticky with sweat.
Buggy recoiled, a cry escaping his mouth. “What the hell?” He whispered forcefully. “That tickled!”
Shanks hiccupped.
“Oh,” Buggy said flatly. “You’re drunk.”
“When I said I was going to the bathroom,” Shanks explained, his voice wobbling, “I didn’t.”
The truth was, Shanks had needed just a little liquid courage. He didn’t care about the date, but all this time with Buggy was making his chest hurt and his head swim.
Buggy clicked his tongue. “I see.” He sighed, moving his arms to his hips. “Well, it’s just about time for your date.”
“Please don’t be mad,” Shanks slurred.
“I’m not.” Buggy looked over his shoulder. “This is exactly what I expected.”
Patricia greeted Shanks in a pink dress. “Hi,” she said kindly. She was pretty, Shanks noticed, as far as those things went—a blonde with blue eyes.
“Hi,” Shanks said back, softly. The drink was mostly worn off but still left him a little sleepy.
“Where are we going?”
“I don’t know, I’m not from here.”
Her smile faltered. “Oh.”
“But I’d love for a local to show me around,” he said, beaming. He offered her his arm, and she took it, blushing.
Anything to get my mind off that stupid clown, Shanks thought, the guilt he felt settling uncomfortably in his stomach. He didn’t mean to get drunk, but the pressure in his heart was too much for him to bear sober. No matter what he did; how he yelled, or fought, or threatened to kill him, all Shanks could do was think about how perfectly Buggy’s lips would fit onto his.
Which meant that this date was purely for a discounted price for those dishes, and as pretty as his date was, he wasn’t going to go any further than hold her hand.
“Oi, I’m Shanks, I’m the captain’s favorite,” Buggy mimicked, lugging the dishes under both arms. “No, no—I’m Shanks, I’m everybody’s favorite…”
The old man had snatched the money and shoved the dinnerware set into Buggy’s hands before either of them could get a word out.
Buggy had seen the girl. She was pretty, wearing a dress with roses attached at the waist. He had said a quick hello but noticed her eyes widen when she saw Shanks. Buggy was used to it: that was pretty much every girl’s reaction. Shanks was tall and handsome; it was easy for him to find the right kind of attention. Buggy had left without saying goodbye but felt Shanks’ eyes burning into his back.
“Hey, Buggy, is that you?” Rayleigh called from the ship. He and Roger were sitting on the deck, each drinking out of a glass bottle. “Where’s Shanks?”
“Found some girl,” Buggy muttered. “Here’s the dishes.”
Rayleigh eyed the bundle on the ground. “Great, thanks.”
Buggy nodded. “I’m going to bed.”
“Okay,” Rayleigh said. “Good night.”
“Good night, Buggy,” Roger said. His voice was a little rough, but sympathetic.
“Rayleigh, Captain.”
Buggy couldn’t help it: he needed a distraction. So, he finished the dining hall, working until his hands were blotchy and red, then sat down at the finished table and poured himself a drink. He leaned on his hand a took a long, thoughtful sip. His heart drummed in his chest. Why was he feeling so crappy? He let his mind wander a little, even though it was torture.
Where were they? At dinner? Buggy’s stomach growled. Of course, he’d been so angry at Shanks that he forgot to eat, and it was biting him in the ass now. But with the drink in his system, the short crystal glass in his palm, it was too much effort to get up. Buggy glanced up at the clock. It was almost 8:20 now, too late for dinner. He wondered if they’d finished already and if they were in some shady corner or alley. Buggy gulped, angry, jealous heat rising to his face. That’s what they were doing. It was no secret that Shanks got around, so this would be perfectly in character for him. Typical. So typical. With his pants down around his ankles, her legs wrapped tight around him, his mouth on her neck, his hips pushing up into her little—
“Hey,” Shanks said tiredly, squeaking open the door.
Buggy was so surprised he dropped the glass onto the counter. It didn’t shatter, but a small part chipped. It skittered, then fell off the edge onto the floor.
“Fuck,” Buggy muttered.
Shanks sighed and walked over to the small piece of glass. He picked it up and threw it into the trash. Now across from Buggy, he leaned onto the counter.
“I’m sorry,” he said, cheeks flushed.
“For impregnating that poor girl? Apologize to her, not me.”
Shanks furrowed his brow. “What? I didn’t—I wouldn’t—”
“It’s fine,” Buggy said bitterly. “Suits you, anyway.”
Shanks chuckled meanly. “Figures.”
“What?”
“I left early from my date.”
Buggy raised his eyebrows. “Couldn’t last, huh?”
Shanks turned red. “No, you idiot, I came here to talk to you.”
“You already said you were sorry.” Buggy twisted the glass on the counter. “But you went and got drunk when you said you wanted to spend time with me.”
Shanks rubbed his forehead. “I know, and that was so fucking stupid. I’m just—” He sighed, exasperated. “I don’t know how I feel.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that I need you to shut up.”
“Uh, I don’t think so. I’m not the type to ‘shut up’, do you know me at all? Jeez, Shanks, you’d think I was—”
Shanks grabbed Buggy’s face and brought their mouths together.
It was over as quickly as it had started, with both panting like they had been fighting. Each could feel their heart drumming loudly in their chest, even though the kiss was no more than a peck.
“That didn’t feel weird,” Buggy muttered.
Shanks let a breathy chuckle loose. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Fuck yeah!” Roger squealed. “My ship is safe!”
Rayleigh peeked through the tiny window into the dining hall. “Oh yeah. Those two brats look guilty as hell.”
“Great,” Roger sighed. “Now I can go to bed.”
“Ugh.” Rayleigh grimaced. “As long as I don’t have to hear you again.”
“God Rayleigh, don’t be such a prude.” Roger gave him a playful nudge to his shoulder.
Rayleigh just hummed in response.
It wasn’t long until they were back at it, chaste pecks turning more rebellious with every passing second. Shanks opened his mouth and Buggy did the same.
“Look, Shanks,” Buggy gasped. “This is fun, but, uh, I don’t want to like, rob you of your, you know—”
Shanks chuckled and pressed the tips of their noses together. “I think you might be the only one for me.” He was only half-joking.
“I don’t need to tell you that you’re the only one.”