Work Text:
Cabajis self esteem had always been big enough to not care what other people said about him or who they compared him to. Be it people comparing him to his overachiever of a brother, people making fun of him for his interest in acrobatics, or his old captain telling him nothing worthwhile would ever become of him or his brother. Cabaji never cared. Words didn’t hurt him the way they did others. They were just words after all, actions meant a lot more.
Yet, somehow, the words out of his captains, his crush’s, Buggy’s mouth hurt worse than any physical wound he had ever endured.
It had started out simple enough. After Buggy had picked him up, had forced him away from his brother's corpse, had given him a home when Cabaji thought his life had ended, he soon came to realize Buggy never seemed to fully be over his ex boyfriend, Red-Haired Shanks. Cabaji didn’t care at first, after all everything he was was Buggy’s right hand man, his second in command, his best friend, but soon their friendship formed into something different, something so deliciously dangerous and addictive that Cabaji could get drunk off of it. He fell in love with his captain and he fell hard.
He wanted to tell him, wanted Buggy to know just how much Cabaji worshiped him, but he couldn’t think of the right moment.
His mother used to teach her sons that the way into anyone's heart was a good, home cooked meal. Yes, that sounded like a good idea.
So, one evening, Cabaji got to work, telling Buggy he would be cooking for the two of them tonight. Buggy seemed excited, after all their ship's cook was just horrible, so the thought of some actual good food made the clown more than happy.
Cabaji gave it everything he got, pulling out every last trick his mother had taught him, nothing but perfection for this evening. When he was finally done, taking a lot longer than he had anticipated, he walked into Buggy’s quarter, two plates of the still steaming food in hand.
They talked throughout dinner, laughed together, Buggy telling him some story of a pirate hit he had once pulled off, Cabaji simply listening with a smile. When both had finished their plates, Buggy leaned back, sighing softly, Cabaji knowing this was his moment.
“How’d you like it?” He asked, wanting to start the conversation normally, still keeping the pleasant atmosphere.
“You know, Shanks' cooking was way better. The things that man could do with a few ingredients was just impressive.” Buggy chuckled, still seeming completely chill, while every muscle in Cabajis body tensed.
What?
Why did Buggy feel the need to say that?
And why did it hurt Cabaji so bad?
He decided to let it slide, surely this was just a one time thing, right?
Yet, it destroyed the moment. It wasn’t perfect anymore. It wasn’t good enough anymore.
Cabaji wasn’t good enough.
The second time Buggy’s words ripped into Cabajis heart was after their base of operations was raided by a crew of bandits.
They had taken them by surprise, attacking at night, taking anything they could see. They ended up killing four of Buggy’s men before either Buggy nor Cabaji even realized what was happening and while Buggy stayed back, fighting off the bandits still in their camp, Cabaji followed the few who got away.
He was barely clothed, in nothing but a long pair of pants, his sword in hand as he followed the three men into the forest, trying his best to track them down, eventually losing sight of them. It was dark, Cabaji was tired and disoriented, so of course they would get away.
It didn’t matter though, as far as Cabaji could tell, they didn’t have anything of value on them.
Slowly making his way back to camp, he suddenly heard a noise next to him, a sharp pain tugging at his side. He looked down, seeing blood from the now openly gushing stab wound in his side soaking his pants, his free hand immediately shooting up to press against it, a sharp hiss of pain escaping him.
They had tried to ambush Cabaji, one of them slashing his side while the others readied their attacks. Cabaji could barely react, keeping his head from being sliced off by parrying one of their attacks, turning to run. He was alone, they were three men with the element of surprise and Cabaji had been wounded, he did not stand a chance. What he could do though was lure them farther away from the camp, perhaps making them lose their orientation.
So that’s exactly what he did, running through the woods, the stones and twigs on the ground stabbing into his bare feet, the bloodloss already making him dizzy. He managed to lose them, hoping, praying he had gotten them far enough away from camp as he slowly, weakly made his way back.
The camp was a single bloodbath. Both the bandit’s and their own men’s blood. Buggy stood in the middle of it all, triumphantly holding the head of one of the bandits, cackling quietly to himself, turning to look at Cabaji, who no doubt looked close to death.
He felt like it.
“Well?” Buggy started, throwing the decapitated head behind himself, taking slow, almost stalking steps towards Cabaji. “Where are they?”
“I-” Cabaji hissed in pain again, falling to his knees, his legs shaking, the pain enough to make him see stars. What was even worse was Buggy’s hand on his hair, pulling his head back so he’d be forced to stare directly into Buggy’s face. He wasn’t wearing his typical make up, giving him an almost human appearance. The dark circles around his eyes, his high cheekbones, his green eyes almost glowing in the dim light of the camp, it all made Cabajis heart flutter. Buggy was so beautiful, way more beautiful than anything Cabaji had ever seen before, more beautiful than anything Cabaji would ever see again.
“What was that? Didn’t hear ya there Baji” The use of his nickname made Cabajis face heat up, the low growl of Buggy’s voice shooting directly to Cabajis groin. Every normal person would’ve felt fear in this situation, but not Cabaji.
“I lured them away, captain” Cabaji croaked out, barely louder than a whisper. He was scared if he spoke any louder, Buggy might hear the shake in his voice.
The blue haired man stared for a moment before softly chuckling, grinning at Cabaji.
“You let them get away?” He asked, that same dangerous, low tone that Cabaji would die for.
Cabaji nodded softly, almost unable to move his head due to Buggys hand in his hair.
“Cabaji, Cabaji, Cabaji. I really expected more of you. Shanks wouldn’t have let them get away, so why did you?”
Shanks.
Again.
What?
Buggy had compared him to Shanks again.
Why did it feel as if his heart would explode any second now?
Why did those few words force tears into his eyes?
“I’m sorry Captain.” Cabaji whispered “It won’t happen again.”
Buggy smiled but Cabaji knew it was a put on smile. He was disappointed in Cabaji. Again.
Cabaji wasn’t good enough.
After the bandit attack, Cabaji felt off. Almost as if nothing he could do would ever compare to Shanks. As if Shanks would always be better than him. Normally, he wouldn’t have cared, when it came to Buggy though, Cabaji wanted, no, needed to be perfect.
Every time Buggy compared Cabaji to Shanks, he was reminded that he wasn’t perfect.
How he hated Shanks. He had never met the man and yet he hated his very being. He wanted to be the only one on Buggy’s mind, he wanted to be the man Buggy loved, that he told others about, that he compared others to.
Cabaji would do anything to be that man.
He would do anything to be Shanks.
But he wasn’t and Buggy made sure to remind him of it.
“You really need to be careful around guns, Captain. You know your devil fruit can’t protect you from bullets.” Cabaji explained as he took the needle into his hand, pinching the shot wound on Buggy’s shoulder, carefully placing his first stitch.
“I know, I- Ouch!” Buggy flinched, almost causing Cabaji to stitch into the wrong part of the blue haired man's shoulder.
“Stay still!” Of course Buggy had to pick a fight with a marine and of course that marine shot him and of course it was now left up to Cabaji to sew him back up. Cabaji would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy this, didn’t enjoy feeling Buggy’s muscles flex beneath his fingers, didn’t enjoy taking care of Buggy, seeing the huge, detailed muriel to Gol D. Roger tattooed on his back, one of the only ones on the crew who even knew Buggy was tattooed, Cabaji loved all of it.
A few moments of silence was all it took for Cabaji to finish taking care of the wound, Buggy doing his best to stay still, pouting like a small child all the while.
“There, all done now” Cabaji smiled as he looked at his work, feeling the need to kiss the now stitched up hole.
Something overcame him as he already moved forward to connect his lips with Buggy’s shoulder, when the few words that left Buggy’s mouth made him freeze on the spot.
“Shanks was always really soft, not so brutish” Buggy mumbled, getting up and putting his vest back on.
The smile on Cabajis face disappeared just as fast as it had appeared, a deep seated anger suddenly bubbling up.
He wanted to say something, wanted to yell at Buggy, tell him if Shanks had been so good to him, why not go back, but he kept himself from it.
Yelling at Buggy wouldn’t do anything.
It would just make Buggy hate him even more.
Cabaji wasn’t good enough.
He tried to forget about it, tried to ignore the times he cried himself to sleep thinking about Shanks, tried to ignore these abstract, disgusting feelings bubbling up inside of him.
He was Cabaji, Buggy’s first commander, his right hand man, his best friend and no one could take that from him. Right?
Right.
No one.
Not even Shanks.
Not even the annoyed look Buggy directed towards him as Cabaji told him of the time his brother and he had pulled their first ever score.
Wait.
What?
They were sitting in Buggy’s quarter, Buggy again telling Cabaji grant stories of his grant adventures when Cabaji, for the first time, decided to share a story of his own.
He tried his best to tell it with just as much enthusiasm as Buggy always did, just enough theatrics to make it fun for Buggy to listen to.
He tried his hardest.
Yet Buggy looked bored to the core.
“..What?” Cabaji asked, scared of the reaction he would get from Buggy, knowing where this would lead.
He was dreading it.
“Shanks' stories were better.” Was the clown's simple answer and Cabaji could have started to cry right then and there.
Why.
Why did Buggy always feel the need to compare him to his ex?
Why did Buggy always need to destroy these moments?
Why did Cabaji never do as well as Shanks?
Why did it hurt Cabaji so much?
Why did he have to fall in love with Buggy?
“...Excuse me.” He muttered, getting up and swiftly exiting the quarter before Buggy could make out the tears now violently streaming down Cabajis face.
Shanks wouldn’t have started crying.
Cabaji wasn’t good enough.
The next morning was just as bad.
Cabaji barely managed to force himself out of bed, having stared at the ceiling all night, not able to get even the tiniest bit of sleep in. When he finally got up, he went to sit down at his dressing table, staring into his own eyes.
His reflection disgusted him. His brown eyes were tired, the bags way too noticeable for Cabajis liking, the shadow of a beard creeping on his chin and his completely disheveled hair nearly made him gag. Yes, he was a pirate, but that never meant he couldn’t care about his appearance.
Cabaji cared a lot about his physical appearance, after all it was one of the few things he still had from his brother. People had always told them how similar they looked, even though his brother was seven years older than him.
He had been as old as Cabaji is today when he died.
The Demon had taken his brother's head with him, traded it for a handful of Berry. Even if Cabaji had wanted to, he could never see what his brother looked like again.
After his brother's death, Cabaji swore to himself to keep his legacy alive, to never forget what his brother looked like. So he adopted his brother's looks fully, grew out his hair, wore it the same as his brother used to, wore similar clothing to his brother, all in an effort to hopefully, one day, make Roronoa Zoro pay for what he did to his brother. Make him remember, make all of them remember the great man his brother was.
Yet, here he was, letting his appearance waste away, letting himself waste away.
He couldn’t keep doing this. He needed to act now.
So, picking up his brush, he got to work, detangling the tight knots in his hair, trying to return it to its original beauty.
It had been a few minutes, his hair still tangled in a lot of places, when Buggy walked in, startling Cabaji, who turned to quietly stare at his captain.
“Oops, wrong door” Buggy already took a step back again, wanting to close the door, when he pushed it open again, seemingly remembering something he wanted to say.
“You know” he started, Cabaji still staring at him, brush in hand. “Shanks was just naturally hot, never had to do all that self grooming shit you do. Seems kinda excessive, doesn’t it?” He was grinning, as if he had just given Cabaji some major wisdom, pulling the door shut and leaving Cabaji in silence.
The moment the door closed, tears immediately formed, angry tears flowing down Cabajis face. Anger at Buggy for bringing up Shanks again, anger at Shanks for simply existing, anger at himself for being so weak. So ridiculous. So easy to hurt. So naiv.
He looked to the side, back into his mirror and couldn’t bear the sight in front of him.
His eyes already red and puffy from crying, snot running down his nose, his knuckles white from how hard he had gripped the brush.
It was a mere split second decision, but something inside him turned violent as he threw his brush into the mirror, shattering it into a million pieces.
In tandem with the tears, sobs now also escaped him, the anger turning to a deep seated fear and sadness as he stared at the shards of mirror, pulling his legs up to his chest, hugging them tightly. He hid his face in his knees, shaking with both the sobs and a terror now building up.
The sight of those shards made him realize just how much he wanted to hurt someone. Hurt himself.
Cabaji wasn’t good enough.
A few weeks went by where things were good. Perfect even. Buggy had stopped constantly bringing up Shanks and the two of them had started growing closer again. Closer to the point where one late night, after one of Buggy’s shows, they had started celebrating together, drinking, Cabaji drinking just enough to gain the courage he needed to finally lean forward, connecting their lips in a hungry, needy kiss. He had grabbed the front of Buggy’s vest, keeping him close, his eyes pressed shut as he shoved his tongue into Buggy’s mouth. Buggy wasn’t protesting, quite the contrary, he reciprocated the kiss with just as much force behind it, his gloved hand immediately finding its way to Cabajis hip, grabbing Cabaji.
They separated for a short moment, staring into each other's eyes, seeing nothing but want and lust, enough for both to start taking off their clothes, Cabaji even going as far as pulling the bandana off Buggy’s head, burying his hands in Buggy’s soft hair.
More kisses followed, cold hands exploring exposed, burning up bodies, both men clearly greatly enjoying themselves, especially as Cabaji slowly moved lower, Buggy grabbing a fistful of the acrobats hair, groaning as Cabajis lips wrapped around Buggy’s member. The hushed moans filling the air were music to Cabajis ears and he put everything into sucking Buggy off, wanting his captain to fully unravel beneath him.
He tried to take Buggy fully, tried to deepthroat him, but he had never gotten this far with any of his previous partners, so his throat immediately closed up as the tip of the blue haired mans dick hit the back of his mouth, his gag reflex causing him to pull off of Buggy, coughing into his hand, Buggy watching him, barely able to contain a chuckle.
“Man, Shanks could deepthroat me no problem” He said, his voice still dripping with lust, the blush on his face noticeable even through his makeup.
Cabaji on the other hand just froze up.
No.
Not now.
Not again.
This was perfect. Why did he have to ruin it?!
Why did he have to talk about that man?!
Why couldn’t he just shut up?!
“WHY?!” Cabaji suddenly yelled, even surprising himself at his sudden outburst. Yet it seemed he wasn’t finished, getting off the bed, the anger in him finally boiling over. “Why can’t you just shut up about him?! For once just SHUT UP! Please! I hate this! I hate him! I hate you! God, I hate myself! YOU have made me hate myself! You and your stupid stories about him and your stupid comparisons! If you’re not over him, just go back! GO CRAWLING BACK TO HIM FOR ALL I CARE! I love you Buggy! I am here and I love you and I would never betray you like he did! And what do you do?! YOU COMPARE ME TO HIM! You talk about how great he used to be! How he was so much better than me! IF HE WAS SO GOOD THEN LEAVE! BUT PLEASE! SHUT UP!” Tears were once again stinging in his eyes, but surprisingly it felt good, so good to just tell Buggy everything that had built up. He was so deep into his own head that he hadn’t even registered Buggy grabbed a pillow, using it to shield his groin, looking almost sunken in on himself, like a small child whose mother just yelled at him.
“...Shanks never yelled at me” He whispered, not daring to look at Cabaji.
This was it. This was the last straw.
God help him.
Cabaji grabbed the first thing he could to his right, which turned out to be a flathead screwdriver from Buggy’s workbench.
Perfect.
He threw it, a precision and speed to it that couldn’t be bettered by anyone on their crew, let alone the east blue, Buggy barely being able to disconnect his head to dodge the attack.
Cabaji grabbed his pants, quickly putting them on, before looking at Buggy with a gaze that could only be described as pure, cold fury.
“Pray to god that you never mention that man again, or else I will take you apart and bury your pieces below the ocean floor.” Cabaji hissed, grabbing his coat and scarf, quickly leaving Buggy’s quarter.
It wasn’t Cabaji who wasn’t good enough.
Buggy wasn’t good enough.