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“What’s the matter with you, hm?” Buggy asks while reapplying his lipstick.
Shanks looks at his husband—his husband, he thinks with a flush of delight—and marvels. Buggy’s haori glitters audaciously. The gold suits him, and if Shanks were a different kind of pirate he would make a point of acquiring gold with the explicit purpose of gilding everything Buggy ever wears. He’s not that kind of pirate, though—and more importantly, Buggy is that kind of pirate. He wouldn’t thank Shanks for getting gold for him, not when he’d rather acquire his own gold himself.
Some people look at those differences between them and wonder what Shanks sees in Buggy.
Shanks sighs. “Somebody’s going to cause a fuss, I just know it,” he says, adjusting the fit of his tie for the third time.
“And so what if they do? We’re already married, or did you forget?”
Buggy gives Shanks a sly look out of the corner of his eye—as if Shanks could forget those cups of sake. Buggy taking so large a sip the first time that Shanks barely got to wet his lips. Shanks childishly returning the favor the second time. Buggy nearly choking when the third cup turned out to be served in a saucer gifted by Dorry and Brogy, Shanks happily finishing off that cup when it was offered.
Giving up on his tie, Shanks loops a finger in the front of Buggy’s haori himo, tugging at the knot and leaning in close. “Never,” he whispers, pleased by the flush that rises in Buggy’s cheeks—and affronted when Buggy shoves him back. “Wha—?”
“I’m not redoing my make-up a third time today,” Buggy says with a sniff. “You can wait.” Buggy frowns at the mirror and steps back, satisfied. “Come on, idiot,” he says warmly, taking Shanks’ hand in his and drawing him out to face the crowd. “We’ve got vows to say, champagne to drink, and people to offend! And if Strawhat tries to object… well, I’ll be happy to let you ruin my makeup a little then.”
Shanks grins and follows.