AN: You all knew this was coming~

Chapter X

"What's with the look?"

Makino fought to keep her smile innocent, biting the inside of her cheek as she leaned her weight on the counter. A slightly trembling hand pushed a newly polished glass forward, the dark amber liquid swirling inside as it slid across the bar-top. A frizzled grey brow raised suspiciously at the offered drink, before the calculating eyes beneath settled on Makino herself. Suzume frowned, before a smirk pulled at her lips, slowly stretching into a knowing grin.

Makino briefly entertained the idea of snatching the glass back and making a mad dash for the door, but a gnarled hand settled over hers, keeping her in place.

"Oho. So it's finally come to this, has it?" the older woman asked, her tone alone suggesting it was something she'd been expecting. Makino glared.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Suzume-san," she said, trying feebly to slip her hand free of the older woman's grip. Her plan had been to casually coax the answers out of her after getting a few glasses of potent alcohol in her system, loosening her tongue, along with whatever sense of propriety still existed in the eccentric old biddy. But Suzume was apparently far more perceptive than Makino would have guessed, and her ploy had obviously been discovered.

And going by the grin on her face, she was going to hear about it.

"Ya know, I was wondering when you'd work up the courage, after that last conversation of ours," she mused, removing her hand from Makino's to grasp the glass, swirling it languidly before taking a sip. Her eyes twinkled with the same childlike mischief Makino regularly saw in the eyes of the man who was, indirectly or not, the cause of her current predicament.

"Again," Makino said, eyes narrowing in an last attempt at keeping at least some of her remaining dignity, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Suzume snorted, downing the drink and placing the glass down, motioning silently that she wanted another. Makino heaved a sigh, wondering briefly what she had gotten herself into, and that she really should have thought this through a little better, before refilling the glass and sliding it back across the counter. Suzume grinned, lifting it smoothly to her lips, and Makino resisted the urge to roll her eyes. So much for having a drinking problem.

"So," Suzume said then, settling the glass back down, and fixing her sharp eyes on Makino. "What do ya want ta know?"

Fighting to keep the blush off her face – and damn it, couldn't she for once manage to keep her expression neutral? – Makino swallowed. "Um–"

And just like that, every possible question she'd thought about asking saw fit to flee her mind.

"Well? Go on, girl. If ye have questions, ask 'em. I'm old – I might keel over any minute, and unless you want to ask that Garp boy–"

Makino huffed a startled laugh. "Please don't ever joke about that, Suzume-san. And it's not that simple!"

"Sure it is. You have a question, ask it. If I know the answer," her eyes gleamed, and her grin looked positively ferocious, "which I more than likely will, given the nature of the question, I'll give you the best advice I have."

Rubbing her temples, Makino felt helplessness tug at her heartstrings. There was no way she was going to get away from this conversation without looking like a complete idiot – or at the very least feeling like one. And she doubted the old woman was ever going to stop teasing her after this. As was more likely, she'd keep reminding her until the day she really did keel over.

"Oh, don't look so reluctant, brat. Who do ya think Emiko came to in her time? Ye're not the first to come to this old lady for answers, let that just be said." A teasing grin pulled at the corners of her lips, and Makino felt her stomach drop. "'Course, Emiko was just shy of sixteen when she started askin'. Mah, can't help the fact that ya turned into such a prude, Ma-chan. Ye're here now, at least. I was beginning ta worry about ya."

Makino sighed. "Wonderful," she murmured. Why do I feel like I'm going to regret this?

When she turned her eyes back to Suzume, the old woman was regarding her with a distinctly calculating look. "So, how far have ya gone?"

She fought to keep her blush from rising, righting her spine and mentally steeling herself. She'd known this was coming, and she'd prepared for it, at least to some extent. Just tell her and get it over with.

"Come on, don't be shy. No need to sugar-coat it, either – I've heard things so vulgar, it'd give a girl like you nightmares."

Lovely. Makino shook her head. "There's been – kissing." The arched brow was enough to make her roll her eyes. "Not just kissing. Kissing."

Still the raised brow, and Makino fought the urge to tear at her hair. Mou, this is so humiliating!

"Alright, then I'll make this simple," Suzume said then, drawing Makino's attention back. "Are we talking other places than the usual?"

At her furious blush, Suzume barked a laugh. "That answers that question, I guess. Now, ya do realize ya need to remove some clothes for it ta get serious? 'Course, ya don't need to remove everything, if ye've got little time and such, but usually that's how it goes."

Makino nodded absently, blush deepening. "I wouldn't say – removal, more like...rearranging, and...disregarding." Her voice was an embarrassingly high pitch, and she silently cursed herself for sounding so ridiculous.

Suzume's grin never faltered. "Ha, that's something, at least. Good fer you, girl! Didn't think you had it in ya."

Makino scowled. "Suzume-san."

"Yes, yes. Please continue. What do ya want to know?" Her brows furrowed suddenly. "Wait – ya do know the basics, right? Can't have read all those novels and still be in the complete dark. And don't even try telling me those things are pure innocence, either. I've read some of 'em myself. Some endowments are a little exaggerated, I'll grant ya, but it ain't all wrong."

Makino focused the whole weight of her attention on the crack in the bar-top. "I know the – the basics." And thank heavens for that, her mind supplied quietly, not even willing to consider what would have transpired if she hadn't. "I just don't really know– where do you put your hands?"

The bellow of laughter that escaped the old woman before her had her cheeks exploding with colour, and she clutched the rag in her hands tightly. "Suzume-san!"

Suzume wiped her tears. "Apologies, Ma-chan, but I should have known you'd make such a simple thing so complicated in that head of yours."

Makino scowled, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's–" She huffed, looking away, and mumbled under her breath, "It's not as simple as you make it sound."

Suzume raised a brow. "Oh no? I think it is. Ya put them where ya want to." That dangerous gleam was back in her eyes. "With the redhead, that ought to be quite a few places. I'd suggest the rear, as a personal favourite, but the shoulders are a good place ta start. Especially nice and broad ones like that."

Makino chewed on the inside of her cheek, hands fidgeting with the dirty rag. It made sense, of course, and put like that, it sounded like the simplest thing in the world. Unfortunately, she felt this was one of those situations where saying and doing were completely different things.

Entirely unheeding of Makino's conflict, Suzume was still talking, "Of course, man's built like a damn tree. Could cause trouble, you being so slight, but ya should do fine. It gets easier once the clothes start coming off," she assured her. "Heh. You'll have something ta occupy those fretting hands of yours with then!"

"Yeah, but–"

"What stopped ya last time?"

She blinked, a frown pulling her brows downwards. "What?"

Suzume gave her an exasperated look, as though telling her she should try to keep up. "I'm just going ta go ahead an assume the reason ye're comin' ta me fer this now is because somethin' went wrong. You backed off, or he backed off, but knowing you, Ma-chan, I'll make a wager you were the one doing the backin' off."

She was about to protest and say that no, Shanks was the one who'd pulled away, but stopped herself. She couldn't really deny that it had been her hesitation that had made him do just that.

"I was – scared. About a lot of things." A huffed breath, holding more than just frustration. "And so I...I hesitated." A lot.

The snort didn't surprise her one bit. Suzume downed the last of her drink, and Makino didn't need to look up to know she was being watched. "And what did he have ta say about it?"

Lips pursing in an attempt to hide the sudden smile that slipped past her troubles, Makino turned her gaze to the window, remembering his words from the other day. "That I set the pace."

The older woman hummed thoughtfully. "That so? Wouldn't have guessed," she murmured, her previously wicked smile settling into something startlingly soft, and suddenly, Makino couldn't read her expression at all. "Or maybe it's not that strange. A good man, that one."

"Suzume-san?"

Seeming to snap out of her daze, the old woman blinked once, her eyes settling on Makino again. "What?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. I just – what would you say would be the right moment? For – for something like that."

Suzume didn't hesitate. "Every moment's the right moment, so long that there aren't any spectators. Doubt ye're into that sorta thing, unless you've been holdin' out on this old girl."

Makino was still gaping when the old girl in question burst out laughing, the sound a harsh and familiar mixture of gravel and sandpaper. "I'm kidding, Makino. Wipe that scandalized look off yer face – it's like you can't take a joke."

Makino huffed. "I wasn't looking for a joke – I was being serious."

Suzume was shaking her head. "I know, kid. Bless you and yer innocent little heart." Makino was about to protest, when the older woman cut her off, "And to answer your question – you'll know."

She blinked. "What?"

Suzume shrugged. "When the moment comes – the right one. You'll know. Now," she said, rising from her chair and sliding the empty glass across the counter. "Gotta quit while the game's good. Used ta have a problem, ya know. Mah, see you around, brat, granted I don't drop dead tomorrow."

"Suzume-san!"

She grinned. "What? Can't get much older than this. 'Sides, I told ya I'd go peacefully with a man like yours around. Now you just have to keep him around, you hear? Fer this old heart, if anythin'."

Makino shook her head. "You're impossible."

"Haven't claimed otherwise, kid. Now go gather up some courage, and for the love of yer poor old Mistress, get laid."

Ignoring the horrified look on Makino's face, Suzume proceeded to shuffle out of the tavern, muttering under her breath about aching backs and silly young girls. Makino watched her go, shaking her head. Had she gotten anything even remotely useful out of this conversation?

"You'll know."

She frowned. Well, there was that, but what good did that do her? How would she know? When?

Grumbling under her breath, she picked up the glass to have it cleaned. She couldn't have felt it yet, that was for sure. Not that she had any idea what she was supposed to feel, but she was sure the disaster she'd sworn never to think or speak of again hadn't been the right moment. She'd been three sheets to the wind, for one, and couldn't have managed to put her hands right if she'd tried, broad and tempting shoulders notwithstanding. With such an laughable first attempt though, the second could only be an improvement.

...right?

In a fit of uncharacteristic frustration, she tossed the rag away from her, watching it land in a pitiful heap on the floor. The fact that she was acting like a blindly smitten teenager about the entire ordeal was enough to make her want to ram her head repeatedly against the nearest wall. She was determined to handle it like a grown woman, damn it all. She suffered no illusions that it would be perfect, she just hoped she really would know when the right moment came, and not let it pass her by.

Gods only knew, with her romantic track record, she wouldn't be surprised if it did.

In retrospect, it could have gone worse.

Really, compared to what could have happened – all the possible scenarios having run through her head at least once both before and after – it was a success.

Sort of.

In all her books dealing with the subject – every well-thumbed bodice-ripper hidden safely under her bed, the vulgar as well as the flowery sort – the moment in which the protagonist allowed herself be seduced by whatever handsome captain, lord, wizard, highwayman or stable boy the author had introduced, or the moment in which she took matters into her own hands, always occurred at night, or during a fierce storm. A combination of the two wasn't unthinkable.

So that the moment it should strike Makino as being the right one – the one she'd been waiting for since that day in her bathroom – happened to be in the early hours of the morning on a sunny, cloudless day, struck her as incredibly strange.

She didn't know what she'd expected, really – all she knew was what she'd read in her books, and those moments were, as she'd had pointed out to her several times throughout her life, overly exaggerated and glorified. But despite all her warnings, a part of her had always imagined there would at least be things like candles, and flowing curtains of some sort. Maybe even a storm – not necessarily a raging one, just enough to set the mood – or pale moonlight outside her bedroom window. Nevermind the fact that her own curtains didn't really allow for flowing of any sort, and that the moon once up was rarely visible from her room's only window.

Still, she'd had a somewhat – decorative view of how things would go down. It involved a bed, at the very least. Maybe she could do without the candles and the moonlight, but as any sensible girl with an over-active imagination and a small mountain of raunchy novels tucked away, that was where she'd always imagined it would happen. It was what she'd expected.

Flat on her back behind the bar was not.

But it couldn't have been helped, and she'd realize that more than once in the years to come, remembering the moment with unbearable fondness. She'd been utterly unprepared for the onslaught that had hit her that sunny morning, standing at the bar and polishing her glasses.

It had been a shockingly ordinary day. He'd come in early, as he'd made a habit of doing in the days of their latest visit, and he'd simply sat there, offering quiet conversation as the sunlight crawled lazily across the floorboards. He'd worn his usual capris, and the white shirt she assumed he had an entire closet full of. He'd washed his hair – she could tell by the dampness of it, and how some strands clung to his forehead. But there had been nothing unusual about their meeting, or their conversation.

Except for the unexpected, near overwhelming desire to chuck the glass in her hands, crawl across the bar and kiss him senseless. Which was what she did.

...sort of.

It hadn't been so much of her crawling and flinging herself, as that would no doubt have ended in disaster, much like that time at the docks some months past where she'd attempted to kiss him. So no, she hadn't actually crawled – her mind had helpfully presented her with an image of what that would lead to, and it didn't involve heated kisses so much as it involved a cast and a black eye.

And so she'd done the one thing that had popped into her mind at the time – a thought that, in the time following the event, would surprise her at its sheer devious nature. She hadn't been aware she possessed ideas like that, let alone the courage to pursue them.

But she did – and she had, which was why she now found herself kneeling behind the bar, surrounded by scattered pieces of glass and with her heart hammering against her chest, as though threatening to burst right through it.

"Makino?" The concern was evident in his voice, and she heard the shuffle of feet and fabric as he rose from his chair to come around to check on her. Her blood thundered through her veins, a drumming sound in her ears, and she wondered briefly what the hell she was doing, when he was suddenly kneeling beside her, picking pieces of glass out of her hands to place atop the counter above them.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, voice a murmur as he turned her hands over to check for cuts. She was sure she'd stopped breathing. "Makino?" He was looking at her now, those dark eyes narrowed ever so slightly, confusion swimming in their depths, along with a spark of curiosity. She swallowed thickly.

She didn't hit his chin this time, nor did she manage to inflict any damage to either of their persons. In fact, it went smoothly, just as she'd imagined, for once. She still wasn't entirely sure what she was doing, but her hands were on his cheeks, keeping his face still as she pressed her mouth to his without a hint of her usual shyness. She'd wanted to kiss him – wanted him, had orchestrated an accident to achieve her goals, and it felt strangely right, sunny morning and lack of flowing curtains aside.

She was sure it was relief that kick-started her heart again, and pushed air back into her lungs – the staggering, knee-weakening relief when he accepted her advances without question, tugging her to him as a warm, calloused hand slipped around her neck to tangle in her hair. The kerchief she'd tied it up with fell shortly after, and just like that, it was happening.

The fact that they were behind the bar, into which anyone could venture at any moment, hardly registered, and the thought to move upstairs forgot to cross her mind. It probably should have, all things considered – she'd always prided herself on being a sensible girl, and sensible girls considered such things, but it was increasingly difficult to be sensible with the grinning mouth that was once again on that spot at the juncture of her neck. And although hard against her back, the feel of the floorboards beneath her was a fleeting discomfort as he shifted his weight against her, his own desire evident, and she almost lost herself completely right then and there. His hands were in her hair again, tangling in the soft strands, and suddenly her kerchief wasn't the only thing missing, and she couldn't fathom where his shirt had disappeared to – or hers, for that matter.

He breathed her name against her, and her response was a far less eloquent thing – a stifled noise that tore from somewhere deep, and she felt his grin widen, his stubble scratching her skin.

Of course, she should have known it wouldn't go entirely without a hitch.

She hadn't heard him approach – would probably never have noticed, had the man above her not gone suddenly rigid, and the hand against her mouth startled her so much she let out an involuntary squeak of surprise.

"Ma-chan?"

Her eyes went wide at the voice, and the softly spoken inquiry. And she knew that if the boy found them, Garp would never forgive her – it would be a scolding she'd feel for a decade, and that would put all the boxed ears of her childhood to shame.

That was, of course, if he didn't kill her first.

For his part, Shanks was completely silent, his hand still covering her mouth, as though waiting for something. She could hear the soft patter of footsteps around the common room, and prayed to whatever higher powers listening that Luffy wouldn't think of looking behind the bar.

"Looks like Ma-chan forgot her shirt," came the observation, and the sheer innocence of the statement had tears of laughter springing to her eyes, and her whole body shook as she desperately tried to stifle her giggles. From above her, Shanks grinned, and her heart skipped a beat at the sight. His hair was in his face, falling into his eyes, dark and searching and seeming to hold all of her at once.

And then she found herself subject to that look again – the one that made her feel like the only woman on the five seas, and suddenly she found she didn't care if he'd given the same look to someone else before her. She'd take it for herself – a pirate's treasure, it was hers if she claimed it, so were the rules of the sea, and she'd claim it and him both and no one could stop her.

Her expression must have betrayed some of her thoughts, because then he was kissing her fiercely, and she forgot about Garp and Luffy and repercussions and the future, because all that mattered was the man kissing her as though he'd never get enough. Like a dying man trying to quench his thirst with salt water, he yielded his weight for her to carry, the gesture an almost vulnerable thing, and as her hands travelled up his chest, encircling his neck and tugging at the fine hairs at the back of his head, Makino let go of her last fears.

It was clumsy when it finally happened, and she knew she'd treasure the memory with an equal measure of fondness as embarrassment, for despite her books and her questions, she still had only a vague idea of what she was doing. He seemed to have a better grasp of things though, but the fact that had once bothered her more than anything seemed unimportant as large, steady hands grasped her trembling ones, squeezing them reassuringly, and she knew she'd remember that gesture for the rest of her life.

The pain was another thing she'd remember.

Nothing she'd ever heard or read about could have prepared her for it, and damn her books, there was nothing remotely glamorous about it. She cried out in surprise at the abruptness of it, tears springing to her eyes before slipping down her temples to gather in her hair, and suddenly she was all too aware of the floorboards pressing into her back, his heavy weight against her and the stubble on his chin scuffing her skin where he rested his face in the crook of her neck, kissing it lightly, but the kisses eluded her – the overwhelming pain dulling her senses completely. And on top of the pain was, as always, embarrassment, and all of a sudden she couldn't seem to think beyond her naked state, and she squirmed beneath him in a vain attempt to hide herself, or to get away – anything but embarrass herself further.

The sudden twinge of pleasure took her by surprise, and she sucked in a startled breath as her hands reached to steady herself against him. And as he pulled back to give her a reassuring smile, sympathy and concern swimming in his gaze, Makino knew that this – this was what she would remember most of all.

From there, it was a mix of a great many things – pain, more pain, which thankfully dulled shortly after she'd thought she'd pass out from it, and her back ached from the repetitive motions, trapped between his weight and the hardwood floor. But – but there was also pleasure, startlingly sincere, and leaving her light-headed and shaking. And she felt his own keenly – the grip of his hands digging into her hips, and the vicious, startling oath lost in her hair as he shuddered his release against her, prompting a spark of gratuitous self-satisfaction that left her feeling giddy and light-headed.

And for a moment, all was well. She bore his weight, the hands she hadn't known where to place splayed flat against his sweat-slicked back, and the honest rasp of his laughing breath made a smile break out across her face as he flipped her smoothly, until she was sprawled across him.

But then – when the contented daze she'd slipped into faded off, the pleasant buzz clearing from her mind – her earlier fears and insecurities came back with a vengeance, dragging her embarrassment with them and dousing her like a bucket of cold water.

Really cold water.

"Makino."

She said nothing, keeping her nose buried in the hollow of his throat, and wondering idly if she could pretend she hadn't heard him. Unfortunately, her luck was out on that one, and Ben had warned her the man was annoyingly persistent. "You're making me worry here. What's wrong?"

She released the breath she'd been holding, but refused to lift her head to look at him. Of course he'd ask – would try to make her feel better, irrespective of his own thoughts on the matter. And she could have let him, she knew. She could have allowed him to be a gentleman about it, and pretend everything was peachy.

But, "It was awkward, wasn't it?"

She didn't know what she'd expected from that statement – half-hearted denial or reluctant agreement. Maybe a combination of both.

The bark of laughter caught her by surprise, and she raised her face from where she'd been hiding it, mouth open as she prepared to ask him just what he found so amusing, because surely her botched attempt at seduction and the subsequent act wasn't anything to laugh at–

The grin on his face had her annoyance fleeing faster than Luffy whenever Garp showed up in town, and she was rendered momentarily speechless by the sight. "I've heard a great many things in my life, my dear girl, but that comment surely surpasses them all," Shanks quipped, the grin tugging his lips further apart.

She scowled, ducking her head again, and – noticing her lack of clothing and, as some sort of twisted chain-reaction, his lack of clothing – suddenly the courage that had spurred her previous actions saw fit to run away and hide somewhere at the very back of her mind, pushing her insecurities to the front to deal with what she'd gotten herself into.

"Makino," the murmur was an oddly comforting reverberation beneath her where she lay tucked against him, but before she could hide herself further, she was no longer looking at his throat but at his eyes, her chin gripped firmly by the hand not curled around her waist. "I thought we went over this," he chided, the words playful rather than exasperated, and she clenched her eyes shut, unable to take the full, all-encompassing force of his gaze.

A kiss pressed between her brows had them fluttering open again, to the sight of a smile that had some of her fears fleeing to whatever dark corners of her mind her courage was hiding in, and she felt some of the tension bleed out of her shoulders. She didn't say anything, though – didn't think she had the voice to do so. And for a moment, neither did Shanks.

Finally, she sighed, averting her eyes to the skin of his throat. You couldn't win a staring contest against eyes like that. It just wasn't done.

"What do you see in me, really?" she asked then, shaking her head as a nervous chuckle escaped her. Bringing her hands up, she rubbed at her face. "I want to laugh at myself sometimes." A soft snort followed, and, "It's beyond me why you're not doing the same."

The hand that held her chin captive released it, reaching out to brush her fringe away from her face, and she parted her fingers to look through them. Shanks was looking at her with an expression of utter contentment, tinged with what she thought looked like barely restrained amusement.

She drew a breath. "I'm my very own brand of foolish."

"You're young."

"It's the same though, isn't it?"

He smirked. "Old men can be fools. You're not foolish. Gorgeous in everything you do and completely unaware of it, but never that."

She cocked her head, letting her hands drop. "I don't see what you do, then."

"No, you don't." His grin widened. "But while we're on the subject of looks, need I remind you that I carry more scars that you'll have in fifty lifetimes?"

She flicked his nose lightly. "You're rugged – there's a difference," she pointed out smartly.

He laughed out loud at that, the sound making her stomach flutter pleasantly, before he caught her around the waist with his free hand, pulling her closer and eliciting a small yelp. "You have no idea what you do to me, do you?"

She felt her expression soften, but doubted he could see it with her face pressed against his chest. "The feeling is very much mutual, Captain."

"Ah, and we finally agree on something!"

She shook her head with a smile. "I still feel like a fool," she muttered.

She felt his fingers run through her hair, the action luring a contented sigh from her chest. "Then that makes two of us. Although in this case I'm the bigger fool, for blindly falling into your clever trap."

Her cheeks coloured, and she tried to hide the smile that always gave her away when she attempted to lie her way out of things. "Trap? I confess I don't know what you're talking about. Or implying, for that matter."

The hands pinching her waist had her shrieking with laughter, and he smirked. "I haven't seen you drop a glass since that ordeal with the socks," he said. "I applaud it, actually. Quite devious, if I do say so myself. Worthy of a pirate, even."

Keeping the silly grin off her face had become a losing battle. "I persist, sir, that I don't know what you're talking about," she quipped, another trilling laugh tearing from her when his hands skimmed the skin of her stomach, to that particularly ticklish spot below her ribs. He grinned into her neck.

"Siren," he murmured against her pulse, before pulling back to catch her lips with his, the hands spanning her waist tightening their grip with mischievous intent.

And as her peals of laughter echoed throughout the empty tavern, no doubt attracting the attention of nearby village-folk, but at this point her inhibitions truly were long gone and she found she really didn't care – Makino realized that, although not ideal by the standards of her favourite authors, the experience itself far surpassed anything she'd ever heard or read about. This wasn't a story – his sudden appearance in her life might beg to differ, but what had happened afterwards couldn't even hope to compare, and the man wrapped around her was real, with all his mysterious scars and unfathomable kindness. Too real for perfection, but that realness perfect in its own, strange way.

And for her, more than she'd asked for, and far, far more than she'd ever dared hope.

AN: Writing Makino is one of the most enjoyable things I've ever done – such a contradictory bundle of emotions, and for me at least, entirely recognizable. I wish we were given more glimpses of her character in canon, but despite knowing very little about her, I can only hope she feels real here.