Okay, so it's been a while since I updated pretty much anything (I was working on a big bang story that finally didn't make it to the event and will be posted at a later date), but today is May 20th, my birthday, and I'm updating some stories.
Here's a scene about a topic I've been wanting to show for a while. After this, I want to get started in what you could call a mini-arc inside the story.
Hope you enjoy.
As always, beta-read by Anjelle (and believe me this time you're veeeery fortunate about it) :D
Dreams
Marco wakes up in a terrified, cold sweat. He is silent, his labored breaths the only indicator that something is off. At some point, he learned not to scream when he wakes up from a nightmare, and it is a habit he has no intention of breaking. He doesn't want to disturb his captain's sleep over something as silly as this.
The dreams, so frequent during the first few weeks, have slowly grown further apart as time passes. Marco's usual reaction to them is to turn in bed so that he can see the dark, slumbering form of his captain, and he always pulls his warm, soft covers tighter around himself and burrows into his fluffy pillow and comfy mattress until the sense of safety his bed gives him lulls him back to sleep. He only has one blanket and the sheets now, and even that is starting to feel too hot, but he isn't ready to relinquish the blanket yet. He fears he will feel too exposed if he does. Marco hasn't gotten around to sleeping in more than his underwear; the seams of the pajamas bother him too much to let him fall asleep after so many years without clothes, and his captain made it clear from the beginning that Marco isn't obligated to wear anything he doesn't want to. Ever.
That is not what he does today. Today's dream hasn't been about any of the rooms in the manor itself, but instead it has been of the hole in the wall that was his prison. While the bed is nothing like his prison, Marco wakes up with an aching need for outside, and so he throws on a pair of pants and a shirt he doesn't bother to button up and pads barefoot to the deck.
It is late, though perhaps very early in the morning would be a better description. There is probably a few hours left for dawn still —Marco isn't very good at telling the time based on the position of the stars yet, but he will learn— but that is fine. The stars and the moon are good.
Once he is out of the way of the door —Marco doesn't want his captain to accidentally step on him— he drops onto his back so all that remains in sight is the darkened mast and folded sails backed by a vast sea of shining stars in a cloudless sky, the nearly full moon shining brightly amongst them.
Marco doesn't move from there, nor does he try to fall asleep again. Instead, he spends the time identifying every constellation whose name he has recently learned anew.
There are so many of them.
And then, for no reason, he raises his arm and lights his hand on fire.
He still has conflicting feelings regarding his devil fruit power, and he is nowhere close to comfortable at the thought of actively using it in battle, but blue fire means no kairoseki chains, and right now that reassurance has more weight for him than the voices in the back of his mind commenting on how interesting that power is.
Marco blinks awake to a bright blue sky that signals it has to be at least three hours past dawn —he is much better at guessing the time based on the position of the sun than he is with the stars— and it takes him a moment to realize that what woke him isn't the light, but the soft weight on his shoulder and the slight shake that accompanies it. He turns his head to see a large finger resting on his shoulder, and follows it up to the hand, the arm attached to it and finally to his captain's face. His captain is crouched next to him.
Marco blinks blearily up at him.
"Sleep well?" his captain asks, and while the question sounds lighthearted, Marco suspects his captain knows exactly why Marco is sleeping on the middle of deck instead of in his bed.
He nods. He feels better, rested the way he hadn't when he woke up earlier.
"Good," his captain says, grinning. He removes his hand from Marco's shoulder and extends it to him in an offer to help him up. "Breakfast is ready."
Marco's cheeks heat up at the realization that he has been sleeping out here while his captain did all the work, and decides that he will wash the dishes as compensation.
Pushing himself to sit up, Marco places a hand on his captain's in acceptance of the offer, and then follows him into the kitchen.
He has slept under the stars and he is going to eat breakfast now. Despite the dream, today is a good day.