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The first few hours Decue and Ace had spent on Striker after what felt like months, yet was only a few days, on Sixis was uneventful, to say the least. The shock of almost starving to death on the island compared to the almost peaceful journey in the middle of who knows where was not something Deuce would have dealt with by sleeping. Ace, his new best friend and now captain, clearly had different plans. With his back against their makeshift mast and his bright orange hat covering his eyes, Ace was practically knocked out. Deuce would have been worried, since the man was their only source of fuel, per se, was it not for the lack of snores coming from him. This was the tell-tale sign of deep sleep, something that Deuce had to learn the hard way after spending long and (metaphorically) cold nights by his side. He knew that, with enough instability from the boat, and with enough complaining from Deuce himself, Ace would be able to immediately begin to provide firepower for their ship.
Before Deuce was able to succumb to the boredom without Ace awake, a shout startled him. He whipped his head over to Ace, half expecting him to have burned a hole through the wood. All he saw was Ace, wide awake, hitting a closed hand to his now open palm. "I got it!"
Deuce suddenly felt more tired than he had on Sixis. "You got what , exactly?" He sighed, already used to Ace's fairly predictable antics. He almost regretted humoring Ace, with the wide grin already spreading across his face at the reply.
"So... you're a doctor, right Deuce?" Ace asked, leaning closer. Before he could protest ("a medical student , Ace, I didn't even pass my second year"), the other man answered his own question. "Well, even if you aren't, you're all I got," He murmured, chewing on his bottom lip. "Anyway, how do you feel about performing surgery on a guy like me?" He continued, grin back in place.
Deuce felt his stomach drop. "You're hurt?! Why didn't you tell me sooner, Seas, you could've died," Deuce rushed out, already flipping through the mental notes he remembered from barely a year ago. Ace casually waved him off, raising an eyebrow at the other's reaction.
" You were practically glued to me for the last three days, wouldn't you have seen?" He replied flippantly, not acknowledging the lack of color in Deuce's face. "It's nothing serious, but I was thinking about it and it seemed like the perfect captain and first-mate bonding opportunity!" Ace cheered.
With a sigh, Deuce could only preserve what little dignity he had left as a failed medical student. "I already know that's... not true , but even disregarding your feeble attempt to convince me, we don't have any antiseptic or even numbing medicine, let alone proper surgical tools."
Ace smirked, reaching into his cargo pants. He waved a pocket knife in Deuce's face, one that he had not seen since they had tried to tear up one of Deuce's more... unsalvageable shirts and make it into a Jolly Roger. Before Ace could defend himself, his knife hand was forcefully shoved down, Deuce struggling to fit it back into his pocket. " Deuce ," he practically groaned, tensing his wrist to avoid losing to the other's admittedly weak grip. Almost a week without a full meal will do that to a guy. "C'mon, we can put your skills to use! Make sure you haven't forgotten whatever those personal tutors taught you, while also helping a friend in need,"
"I am trying to tell you that I learned absolutely nothing from them!" Deuce spat out in return. "Just tell me what you need, and I will try to help you to the best of my abilities," - that doesn't involve surgery performed by a failed doctor , Deuce bit back. This was his captain, after all, no matter how many days (or hours) it had been since that fact was established. He almost flinched at the relieved look in his partner's eyes, guilt settling into his stomach instantly.
Ace waited until the other took the pocket knife from his outstretched hand to explain his predicament. "Have you ever..." He started, mulling over something, before starting over. "Do you know how to do top surgery? Not that you've actually performed it before, I can guess that much, but do you at least know how ?" Ace rushed out, feeling the need to clarify his rather blunt statement before Deuce could back out.
A breath was let out as Deuce gripped the knife a little tighter. "I mean, I am almost certain I've read about it, and it shouldn't be that hard... right?" He replied, not wanting to let Ace, his captain, his friend, down. "Not that I would ever recommend getting any type of surgery from a dirty knife while stranded in the ocean. Unfortunately, I know you better than to assume you'd allow us to reach land and perhaps seek a professional," Ace had the gall to look even the smallest bit apologetic as he raised his other hand, setting the tip of his finger on fire.
"At least we can clean it with this, right?" He smiled, waving his tiny flame. Deuce grimaced, raising the knife to the flame as he let it burn whatever bacteria it could. He grabbed Ace's empty hand and tasked him with holding the hilt while he searched his jacket.
"If we are doing this right," he muttered, "then I'll need to sew you up after. You are so lucky I thought to bring a needle with me. How I managed to keep it after my raft went under is a mystery for all of us."
"I guess it was fate?" Ace snickered, waving his flame out as the metal became bright red. Setting the knife onto Deuce's lap, Ace bundled his arms behind his head and laid back. "Ready, doctor?" he smiled, squinting up at him.
Deuce warily eyed the weeks-old bandages around his top half, dreading to see the state of his body underneath. "I never had a choice, did I?" he murmured, sending a prayer to anyone who would listen as he began to unwrap the bandages. The color drained from his face, once again, as he looked back and forth from the knife to Ace's chest, realizing just how real this entire situation was. "Seas, why me?" He could tell the man under him was just as nervous, yet still trusting him , essentially a stranger (he knew Ace had never thought that not even during their first meeting, but still ). The unwavering trust was something that Deuce was utterly unfamiliar with.
"Okay," He spoke out loud, willing his voice to stay calm. "I am now going to-"
"You don't have to narrate whatever it is you're about to do, Deuce. Actually, I think it would make me feel better if you just rattled on about completely unrelated things like that book... what was it?" Ace cut him off, a shake present in his own voice. Deuce didn't bother to reply as he began to recite the entirety of Brag Men to his newest patient, lowering the knife as he did so.
I'm sorry , he thought as the first incision was made, unable to imagine how the whole ordeal felt without any anesthetics. Pushing the thought out of his head and continuing with the operation, Decue was able to finish fairly quickly. He dropped the knife as soon as he was done, grabbed the needle pinned to his coat, and began to panic. "Thread. I need thread," he muttered, eyes flickering from the body in front of him to his bloodied gloves. Ace had already passed out at this point, and without any rational thoughts left in his head, Deuce leaned over and plucked a strand of the other's hair. " I truly hope this works," he practically begged, threading the hair as precisely as he could with shaking fingers. Before Ace had lost too much blood, Deuce had poorly stitched up his incisions. With the wounds closed, he was able to move on to his next problem: clean bandages. With an almost disgusted glance at the pile of dirt-stained bandages, Deuce picked at his own shirt. Without another thought, and these were the times he believed made him the smartest, he began tearing the thin fabric into long strands. Once he accumulated a sufficient amount, his entire shirt torn to threads, he began to wrap.
Not too long after, Deuce finally let out the breath he felt had been held for almost an hour. He leaned back, closing his eyes against the sun's too-bright rays. Within seconds, he was passed out against the mast, resembling Ace only a few hours before.
-
"Deuce! Deuce, wake up! " Ace yelled, loud and too close to his ear. Deuce flinched awake, forcing himself to stay still, in hopes that he would remain on the Striker. What greeted him was Ace, shirtless, which wouldn't normally be concerning, but due to the events that had just transpired, was extremely concerning.
"Where are your bandages ?!" He hissed in return, hands flailing around the other man. Ace only laughed, throwing his arms wide open. The only hint that anything was out-of-the-ordinary was the small wince he had tried to hide. Deuce, being the tired first mate and self-appointed surgeon he was, found it only logical to fall into Ace's waiting embrace.
He felt the other smile in his hair as the grasp of sleep overtook him once again. Before he was able to peacefully return to a world without questionable captains and dull pocket knives, he felt, more than heard, Ace thank him. He allowed himself the tiniest of smiles before finally drifting off.