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Shanks accepts the package from the store owner. Nice that she offered to wrap it for him, considering doing it himself isn't really an option. One hand does not make it easy to wrap presents. Even ones like books, that are the perfect shape to be wrapped.
Now, though, he has a nicely wrapped one. All under another layer of brown paper, to make sure the pretty stuff doesn't get messed up.
It's honestly a bit unnecessary side, in Shanks opinion. Growing up, presents normally weren't wrapped at all or were stuck inside a treasure chest for him to open. Hell, his birthday was just part of the New Year's celebration, cause it's not like anyone knew when it was.
So fancy paper and a bow all seem kinda weird, to him. But a harmless, almost charming sort of weird. And considering everything else about Shamrock, well. Shanks can accept the harmless stuff.
Even if he knows it's just another part of Shamrock being a spoiled rich snob. Expecting gifts to be wrapped at least doesn't hurt anybody.
Tucking it under his arm, Shanks starts his way back to the ship. He'll drop it in his quarters for now, hit the bar after.
Later, he'll worry about getting it to Sabaody.
~Years Ago~
"Hey kid."
"Hey Rayleigh." He puts down his glass, giving a small wave as Rayleigh sits down on the stool next to him. It's so weird, that Rayleigh is shorter than him now. He'd always seemed larger than life, before.
"What's got you drinking like this, Shanks? Shakky is gonna run out wine." There's a look in his eye and a tone in his voice that tells Shanks Rayleigh isn't going to be dropping this. "Didn't even know you liked wine, kid."
"What can I say, Rayleigh? It's my birthday, I felt like doing something a bit special."
Rayleigh snorts. "Kid, you celebrated your birthday over two months ago and we both know it. Plus drinking alone isn't really much of a celebration. Try again."
"It really is my birthday, though." Shanks pours more wine from the bottle into his glass. It's nice, that Shakky had this. "I found out last year."
"Ahh."
Shanks doesn't have to explain anything else. Rayleigh knows where Shanks was. How he found out when his actual birthday is.
He'd been so surprised when, on the first of March, Shamrock had visited his room. Not unusual in itself, the other had taken every chance he could find to spend time around Shanks. It made his mission a lot harder. But this time, Shamrock was there for more than just spending time with Shanks.
No, he wanted to know if there was anything Shanks wanted to add to their birthday celebration. And, when Shanks hadn't known what he was talking about, he'd been so upset.
A bit over a week later, it was the worst party Shanks had ever been to. He'd tried to get out of it with training or a mission or something, but Shamrock had been a step ahead the whole time.
Shanks had to party with the World Nobles, had to go to a party in his honor, whether he liked it or not.
It was awful. Sure, every luxury under the sun was there. There were dozens of gifts, at least half of which had to come from Shamrock. It was over-the-top in every way and it had to look great.
Not a bit of it was sincere and Shanks didn't want a bit of it. Every part of the place was poisonous. He had to lie and lie, all through the night, about how much better this was. How happy he was to be in Mariejois, to finally have what he should have had all along.
Had to spend the night faking a smile.
Up until the end, after everyone left, when Shamrock found him again. Shanks, himself, had been done with everything. Wanted to just go to bed, after a wasted day surrounded by awful people.
So Shanks wasn't happy when, on the way to his room, Shamrock stops him and pulls him into a smaller one. At least, small by the standards of Mariejois. There are two plush chairs sitting next to a small table, with a bottle of wine and two glasses.
Great. More partying, he'd thought. Knowing that nothing here could be called an actual party.
He'd tried to get out of it, but Shamrock had insisted. Promising that it wouldn't take long, that Shanks could go to bed soon.
So he'd sat in a chair and drank a glass of wine. Good stuff, he could tell, even if Shanks had never been fond of wine. Of course it was good, nothing is even comfortably mediocre here.
Shanks is about halfway through his glass, hoping he can leave after just one, when Shamrock speaks.
"Thank you, brother."
"Sure." Shanks replies, because it seems like the thing to say. "For what?"
"Your birthday present to me."
"The book?" Shanks had only grabbed it because he knew it'd look bad if he didn't give Shamrock something, with how excited he obviously was. And Shamrock had a bunch of books, ridiculous looking things, so Shanks had grabbed the first in a series and called it good enough. If Shamrock already had that one or sonething, he could plead ignorance. It really wasn't a big deal. "You got me a lot more stuff than that."
"Things you should have always had." Glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, Shanks can easily see how tight Shamrock's face is. Can read anger and something else there. "A good number are from before we ever met."
It has to be the wine that loosens his tongue, just a little. Enough to joke. "Am I going to find children's toys when I open all those gifts?"
Things Shanks doesn't need or want.
To his surprise, Shamrock doesn't respond immediately. When he turns his head for a better look, there is a slight blush on his cheeks that can't be from the wine.
"Really, Shamrock?"
"I don't expect you to keep them." The words are almost rushed. "But they were already yours. You can keep them or throw them out as you wish."
Shanks doesn't know what to do with this, so he deflects. "Yeah, well. Same goes for that book."
"Of course I won't." Shamrock sounds almost offended. "It says it's the start of a series. I expect the next one, next year."
"Yeah, sure." Shanks downs his glass, standing up and stretching. He hates these clothes so much. "Anyway, I'm heading to bed now."
"Goodnight, brother. And happy birthday."
"Yeah." It's not Shanks' birthday, but it is Shamrock's. So…
"Happy birthday, brother."
Despite what he honestly expected, Shanks saw Shamrock reading that book. Heard him muse on what might happen next, on who Sara would end up with.
And he knows Shamrock hadn't bought the next book when he left.
Shanks sighs, before raising his glass for a large drink. It's good wine; Shanks will probably owe Shakky a small fortune.
"Try not to dwell on what might have happened. Who you were born to doesn't matter, Shanks."
Oh, Shanks is not going to start down that rabbit hole right now. He's only drinking wine, which isn't nearly strong enough.
"Nah, I'm just thinking about a promise, that's all."
"Oh?"
It can't hurt. Rayleigh has every reason in the world to hate Garling already, and he doesn't hate Shanks. This can't change that, right?
"I told Shamrock I'd get him a book for our birthday. Obviously, that didn't happen." And Shanks had never planned to, never thought he'd stay around that long.
Still. Shamrock, for all the ways he was awful, wasn't the worst at being a brother.
Oh look, his glass is gone. Shanks raises the bottle once more, frowning slightly when it only halfway fill the glass.
He'll have to get another bottle.
"Hey, Shakky– Hey!" Shanks protests as the glass is pulled from his hand, Rayleigh downing the wine in it with one gulp. "I was going to drink that!"
"I know you were." Oh, Shanks recognizes that voice. It means Rayleigh has decided something. Only Roger could ever get him to change his mind when he sounds like that. Well, and Shakky. "Now you're not. Hope you have enough berri left for whatever this book is."
"What? I can't?"
"Sure you can." Rayleigh turns, heading toward the bar door. "And parts that you can't, I can."
~
Sorry it's a bit late, I'll try and do better next year. But here you go, the second book of the Heartsong series. Still can't believe you like this stuff so much.
Happy birthday, brother. I'll drink a glass of wine for you next year, too.
~March 9th, Years Later~
Guests sent away, Shamrock makes his way to his study. In his hand is a small package, the smallest of gifts he has received tonight. The paper it's wrapped in is bright red, smooth but he can see small creases in it. Imperfections most would have found unacceptable.
The only gift he's yet to open.
He still knows exactly what it is and who it's from.
Shamrock sits down, pouring wine into the cup waiting by his chair. Tears through the paper easily, revealing the book underneath. It's nothing special, new and mass produced.
He would kill anyone who damaged a single page.
Shamrock lifts his glass in a silent toast. He'll drink the bottle tonight as he reads Heartsong, Volume 14: Shadow of Dangerous Desire. It was one of two remaining bottles of this vintage, aged 75 years.
After tonight, he knows, there will be none.
The wine is sweet on his tongue as he opens the book to its first page and begins to read.