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When Shanks is 17, Benn is 28. Benn thinks about the path his life is now on as he blindly follows a mere child into the open ocean. He is not the first member to be recruited by his new and ambitious captain, but he is deemed the first mate. The other man, Yasopp, does not seem to have any complaints about the job being appointed to someone else. He tells Benn that he left behind a wife and a son at the village that Shanks picked him up from. Benn isn’t sure about a guy who is willing to leave his family so easily, but gives him the benefit of the doubt over it.
The day Shanks tells him that his former crew was none other than the Roger Pirates, Benn spends almost an hour that night wondering how the King of the Pirates ended up with a child on his crew. He does not think too long about it in the moment because Shanks is insisting that as his first mate, he must share every detail of his life with his new captain. Benn cannot say he is a fan of this idea, but indulges Shanks nonetheless.
Benn is not cocky or haughty, but he is one of the smartest people he knows. He wonders how he was so easily swayed to follow Shanks in the first place. Regardless, he tells his captain that he was born in the North Blue and that he doesn’t think what his life was like before Shanks even matters. Shanks notes that they need a member from the South Blue, and then they will have all oceans covered, aside from the Grand Line of course.
Shanks comments on the gun Benn keeps tied to his hip and the sheer size of it is intimidating. He tells Benn about being raised by pirates and how most of his old crewmates used swords. Shanks admits to wanting to hold the rifle that is easily more than half his size and pouts childishly when turned down. Yasopp offers his gun to their captain as a consolation but Shanks declines.
That night, Benn stays up late. He flips through books he has read too many times to count. At some point he goes to the deck and lights up a cigarette with a match pulled from his pocket. He knows Yasopp is asleep at this hour and assumes the same of his captain.
Benn paces the deck, stopping only a few times to lean over the edge of their boat and gaze at the moon. “It’s my favorite part of nighttime,” he hears Shanks’ voice at his side. Benn is polite and snuffs out the end of his cigarette against the heel of his boot before he says anything back. He assumes the comment to be about the moon itself, but he isn’t able to get a single word in before Shanks is talking again.
“I don't know if I want to be the next King of the Pirates.” He sounds solemn by all definitions of the word. Benn thinks he’s too young to be sounding so serious, but doesn’t say anything about it. “You’ll stay by my side regardless though, right?”
“Of course,” Benn is quick to reply. “Who else would babysit you?” He wins a sputtering laugh from Shanks. Shanks departs the deck just about as quickly as he appeared with only a dismissive wave of his hand.
Stay by his side, Benn thinks. He isn’t sure what else there is for him to do otherwise.
By the time Shanks is 21, Benn is 32, and he no longer questions his decision to follow Shanks. They have almost a full crew, complete with a cook and a couple musicians. Benn thinks about how much Shanks has grown not only as a person but as their leader.
Shanks has not quite grown into his skin yet, Benn thinks. He still wears the same straw hat and jovial smile that always reaches his eyes. Everyone on the crew respects their captain despite his age and size. They have amassed a variety of people, all with unyielding devotion to Shanks.
The boat is stopped on an island for the night to celebrate Shanks birthday. Their captain insists on partying at nearly any occasion; Benn thinks he's getting too old to party like this. He still enjoys drinking with his crew though and will still occasionally pick up a lady or two to keep himself company for the night. Benn feels responsible for Shanks when they drink. He likes to make sure that Shanks stays out of trouble and doesn’t get his head blown off for saying something stupid to the wrong person.
Around midnight the crew is still racking up quite a bill, but their antics have died down significantly. Several of the members have made their way out of the bar and to a hostel not far. Benn finds himself still seated at the counter with a drink in hand. He thinks he should wait out his captain and see where he ends up for the night in case he needs to drag him back to their boat by morning.
Shanks, to Benn’s surprise, is seated at a table meant for two by the window. He rests his chin in his palm and gazes out the window with a glossed over stare. Benn gets up to take the seat beside him.
“You remind me of the moon,” Shanks says. He doesn’t look away from the window.
Benn feels the smile forming on his own face.
“Some people think the moon is cold, but I think it’s warm. Rayleigh used to tell me that the moon glows because the sun shines on it.” Shanks turns this time, facing Benn. “Roger would tell me about an ancient civilization on the moon. I realized the moon glows because of the sun, but is also really interesting all on its own.” Benn thinks he knows what Shanks is implying, but also thinks his captain could have had too many drinks.
They spend another few moments in silence before Shanks stands and stretches himself out like a cat. He rolls his shoulders back and then hunches over. “Finally tired yourself out?” Benn asks him. Shanks shrugs as he strides to the seat that Benn is sitting in. He drapes himself over Benn.
Benn sighs, it is all a little too characteristic for his captain. He stands and with him, he lifts Shanks ever so slightly off his feet. Benn drags him out of the bar, offering the nice lady working a wave on his way out.
The next morning Benn wakes up with Shanks asleep at his side. He can’t say he remembers how he ended up in the same room, in the same bed , but he doesn’t care too much. They have shared closer quarters before. Benn sits up carefully as to not wake his sleeping captain. He wonders how bad the hangover will be for Shanks. As much as he wants to get up, Benn does not move from the bed, instead he finger combs some of the stray strands of red fallen over Shanks’ eyes. He stirs, mutters, and reaches out. Shanks’ arm ends up across Benn’s lap.
Now I’m really stuck here, he thinks.
Shanks is 27 when Benn is 38 and all he can think about Shanks’ blood-curdling screams and his unconscious body writhing in pain. He knows his captain did the right thing to save the kid, but he wishes he wasn't picking up the pieces. Benn feels the warmth from Shanks body dissipating quickly with blood loss, and he hears Hongo yelling at him to hold Shanks still. He sees only the pained expression on the face of the man he devoted his life to and thinks it's the worst thing his eyes have ever laid sight on
Hongo is able to get Shanks sedated enough that Benn does not need to be in the room anymore and kicks him out on the premise that, “his stress is spreading.” Benn wants to strangle the doctor, but turns heel and leaves. He spends the next several hours sitting on the hardwood deck beside the door of their medical room chain-smoking until he's flat out of matches. Benn contemplates getting the extras he keeps in the kitchen, but chooses not to move. At some point, Hongo had come out and told him Shanks would be fine, yet he still doesn’t move. Late into the night, the doctor tells him it’s fine if he wants to go in, but he shouldn’t linger. Benn takes half of that advice.
Every couple of hours, someone comes into the medical room to check on Shanks. Benn knows that they are as concerned for their captain as he is, but also knows that part of the periodical checks are to make sure he hasn’t lost his mind at Shanks’ bedside. He is brought meals and tidbits of information about what is going on beyond the confines of the medical room. Benn replies in a series of nondescript hums and groans.
After a whole day, Yasopp enters the room and leans himself against the door. He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, just looking between his unconscious captain and their first mate who is looking more and more drained by the minute. Yasopp knows well enough without the use of any Observation Haki that Benn is falling apart. “Staring at him isn’t gonna make him wake up any faster.” Benn knows he is right, but cannot bear the idea of leaving his Captain’s side when he is most vulnerable. Yasopp doesn’t stay much longer, but makes sure to give Benn a reassuring nudge on the shoulder before he leaves.
Three days pass before Shanks budges even a little. Hongo is about ready to force Benn out of the room and lock the door behind him, but knows that he cannot begin to imagine what the crew’s first mate is going through. He can’t remember ever seeing Benn so torn up, not even when Shanks almost lost an eye. Hongo thinks that an arm and an eye are admittedly different. There are many stories about great soldiers and warriors fighting without the privilege of sight, but not many about heroes with one arm. Hongo instead suggests a shower and maybe a little bit of fresh air to clear his mind. Benn can’t find it in himself to argue.
“I know you love him, Beckman, but seriously go take care of yourself.” Hongo sighs while washing his hands off.
“Don’t make it sound so romantic.” He scoffs as he stands. “ He’s my captain, as is he yours.” Benn replies flatly.
Hongo turns on his heel slowly. It’s almost comical. “You’re kidding right?” He asks as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. “You two are together, aren’t you?” As matter of factly as he says it, Benn almost wants to ask what in the world would make him feel that way.
Benn stares at him blankly. If he wasn’t dead tired from three days of staring at Shanks lifeless body, he would have given their doctor a much harder time about the assumption. Instead, he gives a side to side shake of his head.
“Well shit,” Hongo stiffles an embarrassed laugh. “I owe Limejuice some money then.” Benn doesn't bother asking. He isn't sure he wants to know.
Benn takes just about the quickest bath he ever has, he isn’t even sure that he washed his hair, and returns to his seat at Shanks’ bedside.
That night, Shanks stirs with a groan. He is weak and he knows. His throat is dry, and he is barely able to croak out his first mate's name; It’s just loud enough to catch Benn’s attention. Shanks can’t say he knows what's going on, a little delirious in his current state, but he knows Benn is at his side. He falls back into sleep, and it’s another half day before he's awake again.
The second time Shanks wakes up, Hongo is in the room. He’s shocked to see his captain awake and is even more shocked when he speaks up.
“Lend me a hand?” He gets out. Hongo knows it’s supposed to be a joke, it is Shanks after all. He hears the chair at the side of the bed scrape irritatingly against the wooden floorboards. Benn finds the joke less than amusing.
“Are you serious, Shanks?” Benn is almost yelling. His fists are balled tightly, his knuckles turning white. Hongo takes the opportunity to slip out of the room unscathed.
Shanks eyes Benn. The captain’s gaze is wide at the response, like an animal caught somewhere it isn't supposed to be. “Hey…” he offers shakily. He can't get another word in before Benn is raising his voice again.
“No.” Benn says firmly. He takes a deep breath through his nose. Shanks can tell he’s shaking, wavering, with what emotion he can’t be sure. “No, Shanks. What the fuck was all that? You almost died, you know. What was supposed to happen around here without you? Did you think of that, captain ?” He’s angry, overwhelmingly so, and the title rank comes out as a sarcastic spat. His jaw is clenched painfully, fighting back nasty words.
The younger man lies still in the bed, unsure of what to say or do. He knows Benn. Better than anyone else, he'd say. In all their years together, over a decade of time, Shanks has never seen his first mate so overcome by rage. Benn was meant to be the cool, composed one. He is the ground that keeps Shanks down. Benn Beckman was not, is not, and never will be a man ruled by his emotion, and it is then that Shanks realizes just how badly he must have hurt them, hurt him .
And then Benn softens. He sits back down. His elbows rest against his knees and his hands cup the majority of his face. “I am not fit to be a captain, Shay.” He says. His palms drag across his face until his hands are clasped beneath his chin. “And there’s no way in hell I could do it without you.”
Benn turns to face his captain. The look in his eyes is worried, but soft. Shanks meets his gaze, but doesn’t hold it. He stares at the beams in the ceiling for answers, but they aren’t written there.
“I don’t blame you for saving the kid. You would’ve beat yourself up over it if you didn’t.” Benn admits to him honestly. “But next time, don’t almost die. You scared the shit out of me.”
“Was it really that bad?” Shanks asks. Benn knows it's not a dig, but he finds himself biting his tongue regardless.
Benn exhales the breath he didn’t realize he was holding and just nodded. He wouldn’t tell Shanks of the details; he doesn’t feel up to reliving them himself. The two of them sit silently for a while. Shanks still searches the walls for answers to offer Benn, but comes up empty-handed. He watches as Benn gets lost in his head.
He thinks of Shanks, despite the man awake and in the same room. Shanks is almost always at his side, or he is always at Shanks’ side he supposes. They understand each other in a way that nobody else does. Their crew thinks they're together, romantically nonetheless. They share meals in the dead of night and have shared a bed on more than one occasion. Benn thinks about all the times he has found himself to be the lap Shanks is perched on and the shoulders he is draped over, begging for attention. All the times he has told Benn that he reminds him of the moon. The moon his captain loves . He knows Shanks in and out, like the back of his hand. Benn knows that he would risk his life a million times over for Shanks and isn’t sure he could live a life without the red haired man anymore.
For the first time in his ten years at Shanks side, Benn realizes he is in love with the man.
He says nothing about it, yet Shanks knows. “What?” He asks, but it isn’t really a question. It’s flat and almost demanding.
Benn shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”
Shanks rolls his eyes. “You know I can tell. I’m giving you the chance to get it out yourself.” He is teasing again. It’s true and Benn knows this, but he also knows that his captain wouldn’t get too far on his bad side.
Benn leans back in his chair. He feels relaxed for the first time in days, and it’s as if all the exhaustion has caught up with him at once. His head falls back and his eyes shut. “Your crew seems to think we're lovers.” He tests the waters, if only to gather whether Shanks’ reaction will be positive or negative.
“Do they now?” Shanks asks. It’s conniving, and he knows it when he says it. “I couldn’t imagine why that is, Benn.”
The dark haired man cracks open an eye at his words. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Shanks laughs, and it’s the most comforting thing that Benn has heard in days. “What do you mean?” He asks back. “I’ve been telling you that I love you for the last, like, five years!” Shanks finds the strength to roll on his good side and get a better look at his first mate. “You are the single smartest man in all the East Blue,” he says. “I didn’t know I needed to spell it out for you.”
Benn sits back up. He is glad he can’t see his own face since he is sure that his expression is both confused and flattered. His eyes land on Shanks’ face, his soft gaze, his cocky smile. He needs no haki to know the emotion rolling off Shanks in waves is admiration, it’s love .
“You love me.” Benn parrots in disbelief. He wonders if he has passed out in the chair and is trapped in some dreamworld.
“I, Shanks, captain of the Red Hair Pirates, love you, Benn Beckman.”
Benn isn’t sure what comes over him, but he knows that kissing Shanks is one of the best feelings in the world. He feels the scarred tissue of his captain’s skin under his fingertips, this time warm and full of life. His own heartbeat is pounding in his chest and his ears and he can’t hear anything else. He is surprised when Shanks kisses back with vigor.
Shanks can’t put up much of a fight, not that he wants to. He slides his hand up his first mate's upper arm, resting it against his bicep. Benn takes it as a signal to pull away, and although reluctantly, he doesn't regret his decision. He opens his eyes. Admittedly, he isn’t sure when he closed them, and is met with one of the most sincere, heartwarming smiles that he has seen from Shanks in the whole time he has known him.
“I think I got the message,” Shanks remarks. “Can’t believe it took you this long.”
Benn kisses him again, but this time quickly and chaste. “You drive me crazy.”
Shanks can only laugh. “Do I? But you love it.” He says playfully. The same toothy grin paints his pink-dusted cheeks. “You love me.”
“I sure do, don’t I.” Benn says it mostly for himself. He brushes the strands of red hair falling over Shanks face to the side and offers his captain a faint smile. It’s defeated and tired, but no less tender and amorous.
Injury aside, Shanks slides himself back to be more centered on the mattress and rolls over to his back once more. “Put your head down and get some sleep, Benn. You probably look worse than I do.”
Benn listens. He sits back down in the chair which he feels like he's been living in, and he kind of has been. His arms cross against the sheets, and he rests his cheek against his forearm. Shanks gets his fingers underneath the band keeping his first mate's hair tied back and pulls it. Long, dark strands fall against his resting face and relaxed shoulders. Shanks combs through it gently, and he knows within moments his first mate is asleep.
The younger stays up a little longer with his thoughts. A smile finds his face again when he feels Benn exhale a heavy sigh even in his sleep.
Shanks thinks he is probably the luckiest man in the world to have a first mate who loves him so much. He will never not feel cared for, he has felt the love and care of his first mate for the last ten years of his life.
Eventually, sleep reclaims Shanks.
They'll deal with the rest later.