greetings! i'd just like to get this off my chest: this particular piece was so hard to write! i was caught between zoroxluffy and iceburgxfranky, two pairings i really can't get enough of. i actually didn't want to do two tom's workers stories in a row, but when i tried to write zolu, it got two feet off the ground and promptly burst into flames. it's still smoldering on my desk... i do apologize to any who are looking foward to captain and first mate, and i will get around to them once i find an appropriate prompt for them.
thank you!
once again, i don't own one piece or any other of oda eiichiro's characters.
For God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love
"There." Iceburg released Franky's ankle and sat back on his hands, sighing wearily. He had spent the last hour and a half squatting in various and increasingly uncomfortable positions from his seat on the floor as he salved and bandaged Franky's latest consignment of burns, scrapes, and bruises, sustained from Battle Franky God-knows-what-numerate after its uniflow engine had decided to instantaneously explode.
Iceburg reached for the roll of bandages, replacing it into the box it had come from and fixing the fifteen-year-old sitting on the sofa above him with a severe stare. "Nmaa…it's not the best or prettiest job, but it'll be effective. I'm not Kokoro-san after all." He had no idea why he felt the need to justify himself for his honestly crude attempt at first aid.
Franky, who had remained uncharacteristically still over the duration of his impromptu hospice cast a jaundiced eye over Iceburg's handiwork. "How effective?"
"Effective enough. Stop griping."
The younger of the two ran a hand tentatively down his linen-bound leg, frowning when he tried to bend his knee.
""Ah.""
Both young men froze as the sharp, brief sound of tearing fabric rent the air.
"…! Bakanky, you—!"
"Don't blame me! You're supposed to leave some slack around my knee!? S'not my fault you have no skills worth mentioning whatsoever outside shipbuilding, and just so you know, your bedside manner sucks!"
Franky had finally worn down Iceburg's daily allotment of Stupid Tolerance, and the latter responded by gracefully tackling him down into the lumpy sofa like a sack of potatoes.
"OWoww~!! Gerroffame!"
"Shut up!"
"Let go! What's the matter with you!?"
"You're the problem! I don't have the faintest idea how I manage to put up with you day in and day out with your slacking off and your disrespect and stupidity and are you biting me!!?"
They had finally settled down into a state of mild chaos, with various limbs tangled and fabric bunched into uncomfortable places and Franky's bandages starting to come undone when Iceburg took advantage of the lull to mumble half-heartedly, "…And if it's a question of skill, you're not much better off than me."
"Why do you have to call me out on every little thing I say?"
"Shut up. Shut up shut up shutupshutupshutup." Iceburg punctuated each verbal reprimand growled out through gritted teeth by butting his forehead against Franky's with generous force, which turned out to be a slightly unfortunate occurrence for the recipient of his hostility, as that part of his anatomy had also managed to sustain injury previously in the day.
His eyes watering, Franky was momentarily stunned into involuntary silence as he clutched his abused forehead and glared at the man above him with an expression that clearly wished him a world of hurt.
Iceburg paused to regain his breath,
counted to five,
opened his mouth,
thought better of it,
closed it,
looked into Franky's eyes…
And just gave up.
He sank like a deflating balloon onto Franky's chest, all the tension and anger built up inside him dissipating like drops of water under the sun.
Franky watched him through large, ephebic eyes, his expression open and quiescent. He found himself on the verge of biting out a perfunctorily insinuating remark when he caught sight of Iceburg's hair contrasted sharply against the stark white of the fabric binding his torso. His gaze slid fluidly down to his bare shoulders, following the lines of muscle that were then interrupted by mazarine tattoos. He had always liked them, ever since Iceburg had decided to get them, though he'd be damned if he ever told him so.
He felt those arms burrowing between his back and the cushions, tugging him closer and squeezing him around his middle, firm enough to admonish, gentle enough to get his other message across.
Franky released a soft, slow breath through his nose as he settled down.
Funny, it seemed the only time they ever understood each other wasn't when they were snarling or clawing at each other, but when they shut up and didn't do anything at all…except be.