Who doesn't like parties? Especially pirate parties?


Chapter 9

May 8th, 1522

Ace pulled at the collar of his shirt for the tenth time in three minutes. He felt awkward, constricted. That wasn't to say that his clothes weren't comfortable; the tie wasn't too tight, the suit he wore fit him like a glove, and the material was soft, resting easily on his skin.

But it didn't feel right. After so long with his only clothing other than that on his lower half being the occasional cloak, scarf, or jacket, wearing a suit felt strange. He couldn't even wear his necklace, arm guard, or log pose. He felt rather lost without them, but Thatch had said that Ace would get used to it with time.

Thatch. The man had ditched Ace the moment they entered the mess hall. Ace had tried in vain to look for him, but the cook knew how to stay hidden. Even Observation Haki did nothing. Ace thought he would be easy to find; the man had a unique hairstyle, and he wasn't exactly short. Unfortunately, the Whitebeard Pirates were made up of such a mix of people that picking out one unique person among a crowd of unique people was proving to be extraordinarily difficult. And the mess hall was huge.

Had Ace mentioned that there were tons of people?

Not to mention that the mess hall wasn't even the familiar expanse full of tables and laughing pirates that Ace had navigated daily. No, it was the same room, but most of the tables were gone. Decorations lined the walls and a section of the floor had been replaced to permit dancing, while another part was raised as a kind of stage for a band hammering away what Ace was pretty sure was a drinking song.

They were pirates. They could dress nice, sure, but a pirate was a pirate. Drinking songs were a given.

At least his family looked happy. Ace took some solace in that; he would never forget their expressions when he'd left in pursuit of Teach, but seeing them happy dulled the pain of that particular memory more and more with each passing day.

Ace didn't see Teach. He didn't intend to look.

Officially, the celebration was the once-a-year party to celebrate . . . well, anything. Unofficially, it was an excuse to dress fancy for a group of people that usually wore whatever the hell was on hand. Ace was under the impression that the Whitebeard Pirates just didn't want to admit that they wanted to wear suits sometimes, too.

Ace caught a glimpse of Takashido and noted that the looked vaguely dumbfounded by the other men in suits around him. It was the same every year; he never expected anyone else to dress as nicely as him.

Even Whitebeard was dressed up, though finding anything that fit his massive size had been a challenge only a combination of Izo, Thatch, Marco, and Vista had been able to overcome. He kept his captain's jacket, of course, and remained seated, but there was a proud grin on his face as he looked over his family.

Ace fidgeted. He could see a buffet table off to one side, and the food layered on it looked delicious. The problem was, pairs of dancers and dangerous conversing pirates stood in the way, and there was no way Ace was going to sacrifice his dignity to stick to the wall and inch around them. He just had to weave through them, and he'd be fine.

He saw Thatch try to get to the buffet table, only to get whisked away by Haruta and Izo. He winced, seeing the helpless expression on the fourth division commander's face.

This was going to be more of a challenge than he originally thought.

Taking a deep breath and steeling his nerves, Ace began to walk forward, making sure to keep his body loose and ready to dodge anyone too eager to socialize. He avoided one, two, three conversations and literally ducked out of the way of Tasuka—was she already drunk?—only to nearly get run over by a definitely inebriated Kisha.

He found an isle of solace by a group of chatting pirates and stopped to catch his breath, already looking for the next safest route to the buffet table. His mind was in overdrive, every detail sharp and crystal clear. His breathing slowed and he took a step, then another, and another, until he was once again slipping between groups of people with all the ease of a fishman in water. He'd learned how to navigate crowded rooms from bandits; this was nothing.

A burst of raucous laughter nearly distracted him, but Ace managed to keep his wits in time to slip behind another pirate and avoid Marco, who Ace knew from his memories would be looking or him. There was a bet riding on whether Ace would dance and another on whether he would sing, and Ace was not doing either of those tonight.

He was almost to the buffet table; it was just out of reach, and with a profound sense of relief Ace straightened and began to walk normally—

"There you are."

The shrimp suddenly seemed impossibly far away. Slowly, with trepidation coloring every movement, Ace looked up and met Marco's far-too-satisfied gaze.

"Hey," Ace said, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. His eyes darted to the food on the table and he took a half step in that direction, only for Marco to cut him off.

"Hey," the other commander responded evenly. "Listen, Shia's been waiting by the dance floor for some respectable gentleman and so far no one's taken her up on it."

"Because she could paralyze them six ways to Sunday," Ace said, knowing that his chances of getting food were dropping to zero. "And I see what you're trying to do, Marco, and I'm not dancing."

Marco rolled his eyes, grabbing Ace before the boy could protest. "Yes, you are. Come on. Thatch had money riding on this."

"You mean, you and Thatch have money riding on this, and bet on opposite sides, so you're taking matters into your own hands."

"Yes," Marco answered without preamble. "That idiot bet way too much, and I'm still mad at him for lighting my desk on fire a week ago."

Ace smirked. "I remember that. It was funny."

"Only because you were leaving the room. Now go. Dance."

Marco gave Ace a hard shove that sent the second division commander staggering forward. He recovered his balance mere feet from Shia, who was dressed in a modest crimson dress with her hair done up in a braid. Her brown eyes glinted with amusement.

Ace got an annoying sense of déjà vu.

"Marco?" She guessed as Ace straightened.

"I think Thatch, using Marco," Ace clarified. Shia raised an eyebrow, automatically seeking the two commanders in the crowd.

"Really? How?"

Ace shrugged. "Not my problem. I'm just not dancing."

"You're going to leave me here?" Shia said, her lighthearted expression turning into a frown in a heartbeat. "Alone? With these idiots?" She jerked a thumb back at a group of pirates that were already drunk and calling out dancing invitations to Shia. She sighed. "They're nice when sober, but drunk . . . they're all left feet. It's horrible. Plus, I went to all the trouble of organizing this party and the dance floor; it would be a shame if it went to waste."

"I don't dance."

"Wonderful. Time to learn."

And then Ace was on the dance floor. Shia guided him through the dance—at some point, the music had switched to something more appropriate, and Ace suspected foul play—and he tried not to step on her feet. He'd always been coordinated, and he'd lied; Makino had briefly spent some time teaching him how to dance. His face burned at the memory, and Shia laughed at him.

"You're too sweet, Ace," she teased. "All anyone would have to do to beat you is send in a bunch of attractive women."

"That's not true," Ace replied automatically, getting his expression and voice under control. "When I'm fighting, I don't care who challenges me."

Shia's grin became genuine and she lightly punched him, simultaneously releasing him from the dance. "That's what I like to hear. Now go find the dumbass duo; I think I saw them giggling over your right shoulder a second ago."

"You were just dancing with me to find them?"

Shia shrugged innocently. "I don't know, was I?" Then she laughed at Ace's expression. "Oh, lighten up, kid. I do like the suit, though. It suits you."

Her grin remained as she swept up another crewmember and left Ace standing alone. The boy quickly swept his confusion under a mental rug and turned, searching the area Shia had described. He located a certain pompadour and gave chase, ducking and weaving through the crowd with twice the speed he had used before.

A flash of white, a hint of purple; Ace chased the two across the room, nearly tripping over his family more than a few times. Of course, the moment didn't last; he was almost caught up to Marco and Thatch when he collapsed, eyes sliding shut. He hit the floor, snoring away.

Distantly, he heard voices, and tried to hide his grin. He'd learned how to fake narcolepsy attacks a long time ago, and the practice was paying off.

"Aw, he fell." That voice was Thatch.

"He's asleep," Marco commented. Ace could tell he was kneeling. "Of all the times to get an attack . . . it's almost funny."

Ace heard a dramatic intake of breath. "Marco? Did you just call something funny? Oh, the world might be ending!"

"Shut up, you. At least I got him to dance."

"At my insistence. Now we get to split the others' bets."

"If I were an honest man, I never would've agreed to this."

"Luckily, you're a pirate."

Ace's patience finally wore thin and he jumped up, quickly pinning Thatch to the floor and ignoring Marco, whom he deemed as an innocent bystander caught up in Thatch's nefarious machinations.

"At least you got me to dance?" Ace repeated lowly, his glare more than enough to keep Thatch in place. "I've half a mind to throw you off the side of the ship right now, Thatch."

"Hey, hey now," Thatch said, offering his best smile. "Let's not jump to conclusions. I thought you were asleep!"

"I wasn't."

"I see that now. I don't suppose we can discuss this without your flaming fist a foot from my face? It's making me sweat."

"Good."

"Right then." Thatch looked to Marco for help but found no support in his old friend. Thatch mouthed, "you suck", and then looked back at Ace. "I'm sorry for coercing you—indirectly, mind you—into dancing. It was a terrible thing to do and I regret it terribly. I hope that someday, when you have grandchildren, a loving wife, and happiness in your belly that you will find it in yourself to forgive me for my terrible cri—ow! Hey!"

Ace stood up, shaking out his fist. "Be happy I didn't set you on fire, you overdramatic idiot."

"Aw, I know you wouldn't."

Somehow, Ace resisted the urge to set Thatch's hair on fire. Straightening, he worked his jaw. It ached from hitting the floor, but some things were worth it.

"So," Ace said, turning to Marco. "I heard a suspicious rumor that you lot were trying to get me to sing, too." His smile was chilling. "Rest assured, that won't happen."

Marco remained unfazed. "We'll see, yoi."


Things Thought Lost


"Heave a pawl, oh, heave away,

Way, ay, roll an' go!

The anchor's on board an' the cable's all stored,

Timme rollickin' randy dandy O!"

Ace finished the song, sucking in a deep breath when he was done and letting it out slowly. The other pirates that had joined him for the last chorus let out a few cheers and then went back to their own business.

Ace glared at Thatch, and then Marco. "I hate you, you know that, right?"

The fourth division commander grinned and tossed Ace a water bottle. "On the bright side, you're not a bad singer. You could probably make some money, actually."

Rolling his eyes, Ace took a big drink and hopped down from the stage, offering the members of the band a small wave. "I still can't believe you got me to sing. I'm never going to live this down."

"What, like that's a bad thing?"

Ace elected to ignore Thatch for the time being. Everyone was at least slightly buzzed at this point from the alcohol being passed around—everyone except Ace and Marco, of course, though Whitebeard probably wasn't feeling the effects of the alcohol at all yet—and it was obvious in the way some of them spoke and laughed more loudly, their gestures more open and expressions more animated than usual. Only two fights had broken out, and they'd been resolved quickly.

"So how much did you make?" Ace asked Thatch, resigned to the fact that, despite his best efforts, he'd somehow been roped into both singing and dancing that night, just like the last time. Thatch grinned.

"Almost two thousand beri."

Marco looked impressed. "That's not bad. You might even be able to pay me off for that incident the other week. I still need a new desk, by the way."

Thatch opened his mouth to reply and then ducked behind a passing pirate, trying to use him as a shield. Unfortunately, that merely caused the pirate to stumble and drop his food—a delicious looking arrangement, in Ace's opinion—all over a different passing pirate.

"And here I was hoping we would avoid this," Marco sighed, already walking away. "Ace, good luck."

Ace blanched, his own memories of the event rising. He scrambled after Marco and almost wasn't fast enough; what looked like a potato flew through the air, barely missing Ace and hitting Izo instead. Feeling the tension in the room skyrocket, Ace ducked outside just as the food fight began in earnest. Marco stood a few feet away, watching the sky.

Ace glanced down at himself, wincing when he saw various bits of food had still hit him in the back. At least it was mostly collateral, he mused.

"This was a nice suit, too," Ace muttered, picking off some kind of bean. Marco raised an eyebrow, his purple tie loosened around his neck.

"You weren't fast enough."

"At least I didn't run out of the room. I have dignity."

Marco snorted. "Sure."

An ominous crash sounded from inside the room and Marco looked pained. "I'm going to have to find a way to pay for all the things they break," he said by way of explanation. "Looks like we're going to be doing more raids in the next few weeks."

Ace hummed agreement. He kind of wanted to go back inside; food fights were fun, after all, and it had been a while since he'd been in one.

But then familiar, strange warmth filled his head when he took a step, and the last thing he was aware of was Marco's hand stopping him from slamming onto the deck. Then he succumbed to darkness and blissful silence.


Things Thought Lost


Ace groaned, blinking his eyes open until he could see a familiar wooden ceiling. He was in his room, then. Rolling over, he saw Marco standing near the doorway, arms crossed but an amused expression on his face. Ace noted that Marco had changed out of the suit he'd been wearing and was back to his usual attire.

"How long was I out this time?" Ace asked, sitting up. He tried to ignore the irony; he'd faked an attack, only to get a real one soon after.

"Only a few minutes," Marco replied. "Thatch told me that it'd be best if you changed out of your suit, however. Apparently the food fight somehow devolved into a water balloon contest."

"Ah. Give me a second." Marco casually looked away while Ace cursed his way out of the suit and pulled on his far more comfortable normal clothes. "Much better. Wearing a shirt sucks."

"I'm not going to argue that point. By the way, your room's 'safe zone' status wears off in about thirty seconds."

Ace froze. "Where are the water balloons stored, and are they seawater?"

"Three places; in the kitchen, on the figurehead, and by Oyaji's chair, and yes, but they're not very big so Devil Fruit users don't have to worry. It's division against division; from what I heard, yours is waiting in the third sleeping quarters."

"Thanks, Marco!" Ace said, jumping to his feet and exiting to room. Only his quick reflexes saved him from being pelted by water balloons immediately and Ace dove around the first corner he reached before going into a headlong sprint, memory guiding his footsteps while instinct prevented him from being hit. Never had he been happier that he'd learned Observation Haki.

He found his division with little difficulty; they'd managed to secure a cooler of water balloons and were awaiting his orders. Grinning, Ace pulled out a water balloon.

"Let's go kick their asses!" He declared. It was all he had to say; the pirates left the room in a roaring mass, descending upon the other divisions with brutal efficiency.


Things Thought Lost


By the end of the night, thirty-three people had fallen overboard, two had fallen from the masts, five got tangled up in ropes and cords, one was missing somewhere below decks, and ten people reported symptoms of deep shock. Someone even had a broken bone, but was currently being celebrated as a hero of his division for his sacrifices.

Ace declared it a victory on all counts, and then pelted Thatch in the face with the water balloon he'd been saving since the beginning.


A/N For the song that Ace sings (called Randy Dandy O), go to brethrencoast dot com slash Sea_Shanties . html (remove the spaces, replace dot com and slash). It should start playing automatically. I think it's a pretty cool-sounding song.

Reviews:

Chamsin: That may be the case. I've never really thought about it that way.

Nala1220: He already knows flying, in a way; he won't be doing it using wings, just the usual fire. It's briefly shown in his episode in the anime (can't remember the number at the moment; it was 400-something).

Reviews are awesome; feedback is awesome. You guys are awesome.

-RoR

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