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Careful not to be spotted, especially not by one of his new admirers, Buggy snuck toward the shadows and floated away from the main deck where the rowdy banquet was still ongoing. He had been playing the role of the oh-so-great Captain Buggy for hours now, and he was more than ready for a break.
After a few minutes of searching, Buggy finally found a suitable place to rest. It was mostly dark in this corner of the ship, with little moonlight reaching into the nooks and crevices. There didn’t seem to be much more than some ropes and barrels filling the space, which suited Buggy just fine. He had managed to snag a bottle of whiskey before he left anyway, so he was set when it came to provisions.
Settling down into a corner, Buggy made himself comfortable, using his commandeered marine coat as a cushion against the hard wood floor. With a sigh, he took off his hat and pulled his hair out of the twin tails they had been in. What he wouldn’t give for a spa day with Alvida right about now. His hair was a total mess after everything he had been through recently.
From where he was, the sounds of partying had faded somewhat but hadn’t completely disappeared. It was a different ship, different circumstances, and different pirates, but there was something nostalgic about the situation. It was almost like being back on the Oro Jackson, during simpler times.
Buggy loved a good party as much as anyone else, but he also liked having time to himself. Back in the day, once most of the Roger Pirates were already deep into their cups, Buggy would grab whatever bottle of ale he could and sneak away for a moment of quiet on his own. He’d tuck himself into any half-hidden corner and alcove he could find and just relax, enjoying the distant sounds of revelry without having to be in the middle of it.
Not that he was ever alone for long, though. It was only a matter of time before something, someone, came and found him, shattering his well-earned peace.
“Are you still mad about the treasure map?”
Buggy didn’t bother turning toward the voice. I could have done without this similarity at least, he thought with a scowl. Leave it to Shanks to bother Buggy when he least wanted to see him as usual.
“Of course I’m still mad about the treasure map,” Buggy said, knowing that it was better to reply and get the conversation over with instead of trying to ignore Shanks. He never took that well, and Buggy wasn’t in the mood to deal with his whining. “How many times has that been now? You’re so annoying!”
“Aw, Buggy, don’t be like that.” Despite Buggy radiating unfriendliness, Shanks sat down next to him, nudging Buggy with his arm so that he’d make some room. “It’s the first time we’ve seen each other in a while. Let’s just have fun, you know?”
“Who’d want to have any fun with you?” Buggy muttered. He elbowed Shanks in the side, not that it did any good. It was like hitting a brick wall, and Buggy’s arm popped off at the impact, much to his irritation. “You think you’re some hotshot, don’t you? Coming in as an emperor all high and mighty right at the end of things! Well, I’ll have you know—!”
Right as Buggy was gearing up for a good rant—he had more than enough grievances to air about Shanks after all, especially after 20-plus years—he was abruptly cut off by a warm, wet mouth pressing against his own.
Maybe it was just muscle memory, or maybe Buggy was just that stupid, but he kissed Shanks back, opening up under the first swipe of Shanks’ tongue against his lips. Shanks moved to cup the back of Buggy’s neck, tilting his head back so he could deepen the kiss even more. His hand, broad and rough, was a hot brand against Buggy’s skin, and he couldn’t help but shiver at the touch, unfortunately leaning into it instead of away.
It took Buggy… much too long to come to his senses, and by that time, Shanks had gotten even more comfortable with invading Buggy’s personal space. If it wasn’t for the wall behind him holding him up, Buggy was sure Shanks would have already pushed him down and covered him completely.
“Stop…that!” Buggy tore his mouth away from Shanks with more effort than he would have liked. To prevent Shanks from following after him and dragging him back into another kiss, Buggy detached one of his hands and used it to grab the back of Shanks’ collar, pulling him away. “What’s wrong with you?!”
“Nothing’s wrong with me.” Reaching behind himself, Shanks grabbed Buggy’s detached hand. Instead of giving it back, he pressed a kiss to the gloved palm—a poor choice considering all it got him was a smack in surprise.
“I said stop!” Buggy jerked his hand back to his body, cradling it against his chest like it had been bitten instead of kissed. “You can’t just kiss me like that! Not anymore!”
Apparently, tonight was just a trip down memory lane with the way decades-old experiences were being dredged up. Some things were better left in the past, though. Case in point: Shanks’ tendency to kiss Buggy whenever they were mid-argument.
It had started when they were just barely over 10 years old. Buggy couldn’t remember what their argument had been about, but he did remember the smacking kiss Shanks had given him in an attempt to shut him up. With the way Buggy cried after, you would have thought Shanks hit him across the face instead of kissing him. It probably didn’t help that Shanks kissed him again to try and get him to stop crying either.
Over the next few years, the kisses slowly evolved, going from chaste and teasing to something more heated, especially as they hit their teenage years and entered puberty. Buggy would never initiate, but he also stopped bothering to push Shanks away all the time. It wasn’t like it felt good or anything, though. It was more like Buggy was doing Shanks a favor! (Or so he told himself.)
Kissing was a teenage thing, an Oro thing. Something from the past—and better left there than being dragged into the present, in Buggy’s opinion.
“Why not?” Shanks asked, because he loved to contradict Buggy whenever he could. “It’s still fun to kiss you.”
“And—” Shanks leaned forward, trapping Buggy against the wall. He cursed his decision to hide in a corner instead of a more open area. The privacy, which had seemed so appealing before, was now his downfall. “You kissed me back. It can’t have been all that bad.”
“I-I did not!” Buggy sputtered, lying openly. “You were just imagining things! Stupid Shanks! Who would ever want to kiss you?!”
Buggy should have known better by now. There was no use in arguing with Shanks, especially not in the positions they were in now. Somehow, he had fallen right where Shanks had wanted him, in arm’s reach and with nowhere to escape.
Shanks kissed Buggy again, right as he was in the middle of excoriating Shanks about his terrible ego, his poor listening skills, and various other egregious sins. The kiss was gentle, soft, and Buggy, despite still being irritated beyond measure, gave in under the pressure of Shanks’ lips.
Maybe when he was a teenager, Buggy could have used the excuse of hormones for why he kept allowing himself to be swayed by Shanks’ desires. Now, though, he had no other excuse but his own stupidity. It was the only explanation for why Buggy let himself be so thoroughly swept away, with barely a token protest.
Wrapping an arm around Buggy’s waist, Shanks lifted him up and set Buggy down onto his lap, swallowing a sound of protest in the meantime. Buggy pushed back on Shanks’ shoulders—broad and wide just like the rest of him, goddamnit—breaking the kiss so he could take a moment to breathe.
“I’m still mad at you,” Buggy said, scowling down at Shanks. This position allowed him to get a good look at Shanks’ face, not that it did anything but fuel his irritation even more. Gone was the fresh-faced boy Buggy last remembered. In his place was a mature man, rugged and handsome. Even the scars across his left eye, which gave Buggy an unsettling sort of discomfort when he first saw them in a wanted poster, just added to his charm. He hated how much he liked how Shanks looked now.
If Shanks was bothered by Buggy’s assessing gaze, he didn’t show it. “That’s fine,” he said, leaning up to press another kiss to Buggy’s downturned mouth. “I’ll make it up to you.”
A kiss, no matter how good it was, would never be equal to a treasure map. It was insulting that Shanks would even try to imply otherwise. It was just another example of his arrogance and why Buggy would never forgive him.
Still, like the fool he was, Buggy let Shanks kiss him again and again, until both of their mouths were smeared with red from his lipstick. In the morning, the taste of his regret was just a bit bitter and sweet at the same time.