Gaudy
BUBONICAPPLE
Warnings: Not for the squeamish or even the most yaoi-hardened. Buggy/Shanks, violence, coarse language, and watch for fanfic reader head explodey.
-
She moved softly, not wanting to so quickly ruin this opportunity. For hours she had crouched in the shadows, cramping in her sides and legs, hugging her thin jacket around herself. Though she came close to abandoning the ornate ship many times, her interest was always sparked anew by the sight of a pirate - the tall one with the hawk features and black-green hair, long on one side and shaved in a pattern on the other, his checkered scarf obscuring the lower half of his face, and the smaller man with the white hair and blunt features, and once, she thought she saw the back end of a lion.
None of these were potentially the captain, but to her, that was promising: perhaps the captain was ill, or on shore? The eyesore of a ship had been docked for several days now, and though everyone seemed to be huddled beneath its shadow in a constant veil of fear, this emotion in her had now been eliminated, replaced with curiousity...and an ever-present tickling of gold lust in the back of her head.
It had been a stroke of luck when the tall man with the checkered scarf decided to forsake his duties in exchange for nosing out a bit of excitement, and the white-haired man disappeared below decks. Though in the morning many different pirates had been swarming over the deck, they were either being raucous in town or seemed to have turned in for the night. That was all she needed. Just a minute, a few seconds. She only wanted to look around, and maybe...
Take a trophy.
It didn't take her long to see what she wanted. She had always been partial to the patchwork, rustic outfits some pirates wore, and there, the ideal prize: an orange hat with white edges, and what looked to be two blue tassels on either corner. She reached out to feel the fabric, and it seemed rich enough, though she wasn't one to pick and choose over quality.
She carefully took a grip on the hat, glanced to her left and right, and then, a series of events unfolded that she would look back on with raised eyebrows and an amused, if not nervous smile.
She started to run, but the hat seemed attached to something - she gave it another hard yank, and then, a howl: it made her scream in surprise, but she would not for the life of her let go of the hat...even when it rose up, and she discovered it was on top of a head, the head of which was attached to a large man with murder in his eyes, his painted red lips curled back in a snarl.
He must have been sleeping, and yanking so rudely on his hat had obviously stirred this man into awareness. Wrenching on it had definitely given him a shock, and though terrified, she didn't release the orange hat, now clinging to it more out of stubbornness.
"Get your head out of my hat!" she shouted, hoping to scare him away, or maybe startle him long enough to make her getaway. He made a low rumbling sound in his throat very like a growl, abruptly leaning towards her, reaching for her chest. He gripped her breast, though perhaps unintentionally, his hand fisting in the fabric of her shirt. So close was he that she could see he was wearing what looked to be a rubber clown nose, and for a brief moment she pondered this oddity; though she snapped out of her musings when she felt his hand on her breast, if not for a split second.
He opened his mouth to speak, to threaten; though his thoughts abruptly severed all connections with his mouth when her knee slammed into his stomach. He doubled over, and she took the opportunity to give the hat one final, violent tug - ripping it off his head, and it was then she discovered the blue tassels were actually his hair.
Well, that explained why he had awoken with such a start.
She had never been frightened of pirates, having been around them so often in her life, but there was something about this one that told her she should make her way back to town. Without bothering to stop and ask him if he was alright, the girl turned on her heel and fled, turning back to look over her shoulder when she heard him yell 'Chop chop!'
To her shock, the pirate had...broken into several pieces. Her immediate thought was that by taking his hat she had somehow killed him, and the moment she was off the ship she ran towards the nearest person, thrusted the hat into his arms, and ran off into the night, leaving the man staring after her in a state of surprise.
-
"Ben?"
He watched the girl run away a moment longer before he turned his attention to Yassop, removing his cigarette from his lips as he studied the hat she had entrusted to him. "Do you think she stole this?" he asked, and Yassop only briefly glanced at it.
"The way she was behaving, most likely...she came running from that God awful ship over there."
"Which one?"
Lucky Roux looked briefly up from his food to stare at the obvious 'God awful ship' Yassop mentioned, and he burst out laughing. "Which one!" he thundered, startling Ben badly enough to make him drop the hat. "My God, which one could he possibly mean, man? That massive kitschy thing!" And he continued to laugh, and though Yassop's mind was beginning to haze over with rum, he, too joined in Lucky's slurred snorting and laughing. Ben just watched the two of them with a furrowed brow, but his concern and mild annoyance was forgotten quickly.
"MY HAT!"
The snarling bellow made all three men quickly silence and look up, but outside of the beam of light the lantern had encircled them in, the world was black; Ben stepped out to get a closer look a half second before a hand...seemingly on its own...crashed into the wall that had been behind his head, holding four blades that splintered the wood easily.
"Oh, shit!" Yassop cried, saying what had been on all their minds. "What the hell is that?!"
Ben wasn't about to give any more appendages a chance with his life, and though he was sober enough to bolt, he wasn't sober enough to drop the hat.
This is where the second series of events unfolded.
Lucky Roux would have preferred to stay and fight, Yassop would rather eat mushrooms than stay; but Ben knew all three were drunk and the fight would have been sloppy and quickly lost - their attacker was sober and, quite obviously, infuriated, although Ben wished he knew what on earth 'Maahat' was, or who it was; because apparently, the thing had mistaken him for it.
At the speed they maintained (even Roux), they reached their ship in less than half the time it would have taken them normally. Ben had been cut twice by the flying knives, and Yassop heart nearly ruptured when he said he saw a head zip by him. Ben would normally have laughed, but this whole situation was so ridiculous he believed it.
"GIVE ME BACK MY HAT!"
Only then it occurred to Ben what that thing had been squawking about, but he was now aboard his ship. Regardless, he attempted to throw it back to the dock...and watched as it fell into the water.
This seemed to make whatever was intent on turning him into a pincushion even angrier.
Very quickly, the sound of air being sliced surrounded him and the others, and he looked up, watching as their flag was rendered to strips; their mast was being hacked through, the decks were stabbed at viciously, and Ben caught a look of dimly reflected light, managing to duck before his head was sliced clear off his shoulders.
"Get the Captain!" he yelled, but someone had already thought as much, probably whoever was guarding the ship. He had nearly flattened the person in his rush, but he didn't know who it had been. Evidently, it was a blessing: he saw Shanks carrying a good pace towards the ship, but instead of enraged or worried he looked positively enthused.
"Ben!" he shouted, cupping his hand around his mouth. "What's the story?"
He felt ridiculous, knowing what he was going to yell to his Captain, who hadn't even stepped on the docks yet. "We're being attacked by hands, and I think Yassop saw a head!"
Sure enough, Shanks stopped to laugh, standing beneath a bobbing lantern. Ben looked around warily for any more blades coming at him, but the attack had tapered off to nothing. When he turned his head the other direction, he jerked so violently he nearly sent himself over the edge of the ship.
A man stood there, one that had not been there before. He was watching Shanks with narrow eyes and his lips pressed into a hard line, his fists clenched, and strands of blue hair hung around his face, shaken loose from his pigtails.
All was silent for a moment. Ben knew it was his attacker, he wore the same gloves as the hands that had gone after him, and judging from Yassop's pale face, this man had the head poor Yassop had seen.
In any other circumstances, Ben would have known the man immediately, knowing enough details about the different captains and their distinguishable marks. He was privately embarrassed that it was Shanks who identified him, twenty feet away and well on his way to being pickled, and also viewing the man in dim light.
"Buggy!" Shanks grinned broadly, and Ben was sure he heard the man next to him growl. "What's all this about?" Shanks asked, trying to look serious and failing, in too high of a spirit.
"He," Buggy said, pointing accusingly at Ben, his voice dry with loathing, "came on my ship and stole my hat."
If indeed Buggy had been thinking clearly, which he never does when he goes into a rage, he would have remembered he had grabbed the thief on his ship and felt a definite breast, and would not have been so enraged by Ben's pleads of innocence.
"I didn't, Captain!" Ben said quickly, "I was with Yassop and Roux. We were looking for something to do when a girl gave me the hat and ran off."
Knowing and having faith in Ben's character, it was obvious who Shanks believed. He just smiled patiently, running a hand through his hair. "Buggy," he finally said, "this is ridiculous and you know it. Where's your hat now?" He raised his eyebrows when Buggy's accusing finger dropped from Ben to the water, and Ben discreetly noticed Buggy was wearing the face of an angry child.
"This asshole of yours threw it in the fucking water!"
"Ben," Shanks continued, "get the man's hat, ey?"
Ben nodded, preferring to jump quickly over the edge of the ship than to linger next to the odd man with the red nose. Buggy favoured him an acidic glare moments before he jumped, and Ben caught it in the corner of his eye. He was relieved for the shock of water against him, not at all liking the feeling of hatred and anger that practically radiated from the pirate.
When Ben surfaced, he heard now that Buggy was in a foul mood and was taking it out on Shanks, and Ben knew he wasn't the only one who was going to be angry about that. Shanks was in a patient and good mood, as he usually was, and he either agreed with Buggy's foul comments and observations to avoid more conflict, or cheerfully dismissed them.
"I should've known you'd get a crew like this," Buggy snapped, "fucking thieves, the lot of you."
"I'd imagine your crew is much better."
"Damn right it is. Who the hell breaks onto a ship to steal a hat? I'll slit your throat, Shanks; don't you grin at me like that. I'll carve your throat out."
"I believe you. You were always more of a pirate than I was," he added in his careful voice, now preferring to placate Buggy, obviously familiar with his temper and where it could lead.
Buggy muttered under his breath, and the next moment he was in front of Shanks, glaring down at the red-haired man. Ben was climbing out of the water with the hat securely under his arm, and he had emerged in time to see Buggy seemingly materialize in front of his captain; and when Buggy grabbed Shanks by his cloak, Ben itched to attack, as he knew Lucky did. He could hear the fat man loading his gun.
Shanks glanced sidelong at Ben, and he shook his head. Reluctantly, Ben instead walked closer and held out the hat. Buggy ignored him completely. "I'll kill you. You know I will."
"I know, Buggy."
"You told me," he said dryly, "if we ever crossed, it would be a fight to the finish."
Shanks reached out and took the hat from Ben, brushing a bit of mud from the brim. "Yes, I did. But it was also said if we ever crossed on the seas...we're on land."
Buggy's anger melted away, his expression replaced with confusion as he worked that out in his head. As he realized it was true, he began to get himself worked into a fever pitch of rage again, releasing Shanks's cloak and stepping back, pointing at the redhead's face with his knife.
"You got me off topic!" Buggy snapped suddenly, and with a look from Shanks Ben retreated back to the ship, albeit reluctantly. "God damn you, what kind of captain are you? One of your men came onto my ship and stole my hat!"
"Which I have right here."
"I should kill you and your little rats of a crew, I really should."
"Oh, now, that wouldn't be friendly of you, would it? We haven't seen each other in ages now, and I've heard a lot about you." The idea his infamy has traveled to Shanks seemed to calm Buggy at a surprising rate. "Been keeping busy, ey?"
"I'll slit your blasted throat and ship pieces of your body to every single continent, Shanks. Just you watch me."
"What kind of talk is that? Are you still sore about this?" Shanks held up the hat, and Buggy snatched it from him. "You're in a foul mood...but I know how it feels to have an attachment to a hat, of all things...I'd have blown a gasket looking for mine, too, I must say."
"Where is that ugly thing?"
"Never mind that. Now, see here. If it meant that much to you, I'll make it up to you."
"Fuck you."
Shanks smiled, and though he avoided such things, he gingerly touched on a sore spot. "Were we still apprentices, Tully would have washed your mouth out with soap if he heard you talk like that."
Buggy scowled, dropping his eyes to the side. He had tasted the bitter soap many a time at the hands of the first mate, and once even from the Captain, which had been a humiliating ordeal. The Captain had never liked Buggy, and while forcing the young apprentice to endure the soap, had shouted at him and shook Buggy by his hair. "Well, we aren't apprentices, are we? Stupid."
"Just had to add that on, didn't you?" Shanks sighed, looking up at the sky, calm despite all that was happening. "Come on, you foul bastard...I'll get you a beer and do whatever else it takes for you to forget this. And when we meet on the seas, we'll have that fight."
"I don't like being off my ship."
"The people here are good...one in every thousand is a thief, and usually a born one. But it looks like you've scared that one off for the night, whoever that may be," Shanks added quickly, catching the anger that was stoking inside Buggy's expression again. "Forget that for now, and let's go get a beer, you and I. If you're not happy after that we'll find something else." Shanks couldn't resist one final stab. "It breaks me heart to see a clown that isn't smiling."
He had to duck when Buggy swiped at him, but there seemed no other hostility, other than that in his mood. Ben and Roux watched uneasily from the vandalized deck, watching the two pirates walk back into town. Shanks paused to wave over his shoulder at his men, before turning his head to catch something Buggy said. Whatever it was made him laugh, and Buggy gave him a shove for it.
-
"You always were so bitter," Shanks said as though it were an announcement, setting a mug down in front of Buggy. The ale splashed and dribbled over one side, and Buggy glanced sidelong at Shanks, watching the man sit next to him.
"You were always an ass."
"Oh, your wit - how it burns." Shanks took a slow drink of his own ale, looking out at the hazy atmosphere of the tavern with lidded eyes, a seeming weariness settling in his features. They were both the same age, and while his years were slowly catching up to Shanks, Buggy was evidently bearing the brunt end of pirate life; his expression hardened into a permanent scowl, deep lines under his eyes, the corners of his mouth.
"Well, you were always so oblivious," Buggy muttered, pulling off his bandana. He removed the ties and went about fixing his pigtails, pushing them back through the holes on his hat. He replaced both his hat and bandana without another word.
"What?" Shanks raised his eyebrows, frowning slightly. "Is that a random observation?"
"One that's bothered me a long time. You were always so God damn oblivious."
"I am not. When was I ever oblivious?"
Buggy said nothing for a moment, and he instead fired a glare in the redhead's direction, slowly lifting his pewter mug. He took a long drink, and when he lowered the mug, he spoke with a hissing voice. "The things I said to you, the way I treated you. And you never got it."
Shanks took his turn to be quiet, more out of respect for Buggy's strength. When they had been young, they were equally matched, but Buggy had grown into a large, fairly muscular man, one with a hair trigger temper. Should he lash out, Shanks would be likely knocked to the ground - he was slighter than Buggy, and with only one arm to boot, and he now realized he had foolishly gone with the other pirate without his crew. He could usually hold his own, but he wasn't sure he liked his chances, should Buggy decide to fight.
"I still don't get it," Shanks said carefully, and Buggy again gave him one of those evil glares. "I suppose that means I'm as oblivious as you say." He smiled, and he felt uncomfortable when Buggy grinned back. There was still anger in Buggy's eyes, and the grin was discouraging.
"You always have been...no matter how obvious things are made, and that's because you're stupid. It has to practically hit you in the face before you realize it." With that, Buggy turned towards him in his seat, and Shanks thought he actually was going to be hit. He tensed, eyeing Buggy carefully, an anxious cross between relieved and worried when he wasn't struck. "You never got it," Buggy repeated, "and you're so fucking stupid I doubt you ever will."
"Buggy-"
"Shut up," he snapped, "you shut up. I'm talking now, and if you interrupt me, I'll kill you. You were never my friend, Shanks. I never liked you. I put up with you because I was alone otherwise, and you thought, for some odd reason, that we were at least on friendly terms. But I hated you
so damn much - you have to know how it feels, dear little Shanks; not even the perfect Shanks can live without knowing how it feels. I hated you so much that I had to fight the urges to just choke you and choke you and choke you, and keep squeezing until every last bit of life was out of youand then some. Do you think any of that has changed?" Shanks was silent. "You and that stupid grin of yours, and that dismissive attitude. Did you think I forgot about how you always dismissed and ignored me, except if you were the one who wanted company, or if you were the one who was after something?"
Buggy was silent now, and Shanks upheld the quiet between them for a moment until he was sure Buggy wanted an answer. He leaned close and spoke in a low voice, wishing they were outside. He hated arguing in a crowded place, but he was thankful for the mass of people and singing pirates at the same time. In here, he hoped, Buggy wouldn't try anything. "I never thought we were on good terms, Buggy. I knew it was a bad...friendship we had, because I knew you were...like I said...always so bitter, and I'm not like that. I don't know why you're always so angry...but besides that, I didn't exactly look to be alone with you, because even if we were equal matches then, you were always looking to fight or argue."
"Because you were stupid."
"You keep saying that, but what do you mean, anyhow? I'm no genius, but even a gibbering idiot can clarify what they mean."
"Did you just call me an idiot?"
"Indirectly, yes."
Buggy was unused to defiance or insult, not since he started his own pirating career. Most insults he heard were the result of his poor hearing, but Shanks had, in a understated way, insulted him and admitted to it. Buggy was more interested than mad. "You want me to clarify?" he asked, his grin widening and voice raising in volume. Shanks braced himself for an onslaught of insult and a cynical, repetitive spiel of anger. But instead, Buggy's voice calmed to a low volume, and Shanks had to crane closer to hear him. "You're an oblivious bastard, let me just establish that first. You're blissfully unaware of anything unless you want to know about it, and the fact you didn't want to know about this gives me particular pleasure." As Buggy spoke, his eyes narrowed once again, his grin widening, and he gripped Shanks by his chin, leaning close to speak in his ear. "I never did like you. You ruined my life - did you know that, dear Shanks? You completely ruined my life." During the last weeks of Buggy's apprenticeship, Shanks had heard that many times, but never the reason behind it, and when he grew fed up and told Buggy he was glad he did so, the other boy
had punched him hard enough to cut Shanks's cheek with his fist. Shanks had returned the injury, but now, he felt weak. He was alone, and he was beginning to suspect that Buggy was insane.
"I suppose I shouldn't be too angry. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be Captain Buggy...at least, not the Captain Buggy I am now...so when you hear about all my exploits and all the people I kill, you'd do well to remember it was all your fault."
"What're you talking-"
"What did I tell you about interrupting me?" Buggy shifted his grip to Shanks's throat, gripping tight. "Shut up and listen. I'm getting to the important part. You're so stupid you probably won't even get it then...but how could you? I told you when we were young. I told you in the kitchen, when we were peeling carrots. Remember?"
Shanks had to think on that for a moment, and Buggy's hold on his throat was a little more than distracting. They often peeled potatoes, but carrots - that was almost like an event, just because it was different.
He soon remembered one such incident, when Buggy had offhandedly made a remark that he couldn't recall, but he remembered it had been odd, jumbled and contradictory. It had been such a bizarre thing to say Shanks was a little shocked he couldn't remember. "I remember you said something, but it was vague and weird. I don't recall what you said, exactly."
"But you remember the essence of it?"
"You were talking about desire. I remember that much. And then you got accusing and defensive, and told me you hated me, and you said...something about I was driving you crazy. And then we got in a fight, and Tully yelled at us, and then the Captain shook us by our hair and-"
"That isn't important," Buggy interrupted, and he smirked. "You have no idea what I meant by any of that?"
"No. I don't."
"Come on, Shanks, don't be so daft, no matter how good you are at it..." Even though he didn't want to get in a fight with Buggy, Shanks had had about enough of the insults he could take. "Try and piece it together, like a good boy. I was talking about want, by the way, not desire. Fuck, when have I ever used 'desire' in a conversation? Anyhow, I'm not letting you go until you figure it out...but since I'm such a nice guy, I'll help you out..." Buggy's grin grew wider. "Think: I started talking about wanting a person, and I got all awkward and uncomfortable when you asked me who...and then I told you that you were driving me crazy. There were other times, but this is the one you seem to remember right now..."
All at once, Shanks was hit with a wave of clarity so powerful he felt like the wind had been knocked out of him; his eyes widened and he turned his head to stare at Buggy. All the times, the awkwardness, the constant fights, the accusatory and seemingly nonsensical things Buggy had always said, the way Buggy would be sometimes frustrated to tears, the days of avoiding Shanks, the discomfited references to want and carnality and hunger for a person. Sense filled voids of confusion, and Shanks drew back slightly. Buggy released his throat, watching him with his predatory eyes.
"You get it, do you?"
Shanks nodded, reaching for his mug and taking a quick drink, turning his eyes to the side. "I get it." He cleared his throat several times, setting down his mug. "Is that how I ruined your life?"
"Don't flatter yourself, you little bastard."
"Why?" Shanks shot back, his temper finally having reached its limit. "Why shouldn't I? Being with you, a person has to flatter himself, or this constant...constant attack of yours will drive him insane! My God, Buggy, are you listening to yourself? And you wonder why people are either scared of you or hate you, though I can't say you look like you mind very much when a person is afraid! I mean, damn, Buggy, how can you be so bitter and hateful when I've never been anything but civil to you, entertaining all your stupid ideas and putting up with your shit for days on end? Has it ever occurred to you that you were the one who always started the fights, and maybe if you had acted like a human being, I wouldn't have been so reluctant to accept that...you...that..." Shanks grasped for the right words. "I wouldn't have been so reluctant to open my eyes up and see what you were trying to tell me!"
Buggy was quiet, although not at loss for words. Shanks could see the killer in Buggy's eyes, patiently waiting for Shanks to finish his outburst.
Shanks noticed the tavern was suddenly quieter, and realized several people, likely Buggy's crew, were filing out the door - even natives to the village were hurrying out. The curious, the brave and the stupid remained: Shanks knew he was one of them, though he didn't know which category.
Shanks stood up, though he really didn't know why he did such a thing. The moment he did, Buggy was on his feet as well, watching Shanks, or rather, looking down at him. The height difference wasn't incredible, but it was enough to make Shanks realize that this was the last time he went
anywhere without a weapon and alone.
As he expected, Buggy struck first.
However, he didn't expect that Buggy would be strong enough to actually send him a few feet before he crashed into a table, knocking it over and taking him to the ground with two mugs of warm ale. The men at the table jumped back quickly, and one looked at Shanks, the other stared at Buggy, their dilemma clear: jump into the brawl, or maybe for once, stay out of it?
When Buggy's hands disconnected from his wrists, the men wisely chose the latter.
Shanks felt the grip on his throat, the other in his hair, wrenching back his head. He struggled and kicked as he was lifted off the ground, dragged back to Buggy; the hands connected back to Buggy's wrists, and Shanks was turned and slammed down against the nearest table, the one that had not been overturned. He stared up at Buggy, startled, angry and hurt, but not afraid. He wouldn't let Buggy scare him.
"You can dish it out, but you can't take it!" Shanks's voice was high, and it had an odd, tight quality to it, but he dismissed it as the hand on his throat. "That's so typical of you, Buggy, so damn-" The grip tightened and Shanks opened his mouth, gagging, digging his fingers into Buggy's arm, tugging.
"I'll give you ten seconds, dear Shanks...don't let your pride fuck you up this time...because this time, if I catch you, you'll have lost a lot more than that arm." He grinned, although it looked more like he was baring his teeth, and he hissed, "Are you afraid of clowns, Shanks?"
With that, Shanks was released, and though it pained him to do so, he quickly got up and ran, unable to suppress several violent coughs when air rushed to his lungs.
Ten seconds wasn't enough, and he knew damn well Buggy would chase him. He needed to get back to the ship, and if he couldn't at least get his weapon, he'd have his crew alongside him. At least, for the love of God, give him somewhere to duck.
He quickly turned into an alleyway, slipping on the damp ground; he caught himself with grace he rarely had, and he ran to the end of the alley, his back against a wet brick wall, and he held his breath. He held it until black spots erupted before his eyes, letting it out only when he thought he would pass out.
He didn't see Buggy, or anything. But moments after he let his breath rush out of his lungs, he felt something tighten around his ankle, and with a hard yank he fell, hitting his head against the ground. It made him dizzy, but he didn't falter, kicking at his ankle to get whatever it was off. He didn't have to puzzle about it long to figure out it was Buggy's hand, especially not when the other closed over his mouth.
And then the third series of events came into play.
-
Ben jumped when the falling ashes burned his hand, and, back in reality, he took his cigarette from between his lips, raising his eyes to briefly scour the docks.
He was discomforted by Shanks's absence, while Lucky seemed to have calmed the moment the clown pirate had left. Yassop was still jittery and pacing, swearing and in an overall foul mood.
"Yassop!"
The blond glanced at him, stopping in kicking at a barrel with the toe of his boot. "Ayuh?"
"D'you think we ought to go after the Captain?"
"No," Yassop answered sharply. "No, we oughtn't. He had that...thing under control, and if we show up, especially you..." Yassop shuddered. "Besides I have faith in Shanks, but I don't like to think about what'll happen if you pop up. That clown wasn't so pissed when you left."
"If you say...where's Roux?"
"Eating."
Somehow, that served to calm Ben down. The normalcy amidst this insanity with clowns materializing and hands chasing them through the night was a Godsend.
Yassop was probably right. Shanks would be fine.
-
Shanks was dragged off the ground, and as before, the hands were again attached to Buggy's wrists. "I told you what would happen if I caught you," Buggy hissed, pressing Shanks against the wall, heaving the redhead easily off the ground and pressing close. Shanks could smell the salt of the ocean fresh on Buggy's skin and in his hair, woven into his clothes as sure as the threads themselves. Buggy lowered his hand from Shanks's mouth, all but quivering with rage. "I always wanted you," Buggy snarled, bitterness and surprising emotion thick in his voice, "but you never noticed - you never pulled your head out of your ass and opened your eyes to it, you fucking bastard...you never care about anyone's feelings
beyond your own, do you?"
"Buggy," Shanks spoke in a slow, quiet voice, trying again to placate Buggy; he felt like he was trying to sooth a rabid beast. He felt lost. "Buggy, I never knew...and you were always angry...how was I supposed to know when something was going on?
"Is that what you're going to hide behind?" Buggy demanded, now filled with fury beyond what he had felt for Shanks before. "Do you have any idea what I could do to you right now?" he whispered, "What I want to do to you?"
The words left a chill inside Shanks, and he could do nothing except simply look at Buggy, the toes of his boots barely scraping the ground. He would fight - but he needed an opening.
"This ends now," Buggy continued, sliding one hand back to get a firm grip in Shanks's hair. He twisted the man's head back, and Shanks's eyes grew wide when Buggy's mouth crushed against his.
Dimly, irrationally, Shanks noted that Buggy tasted as salty as he smelled, though the underlying bitter flavour likely came from the words he so often spoke. The kiss was so firm it made Shanks's jaw ache, and he pressed his fist against Buggy's chest, shuddering when the other pirate pulled back, but he couldn't turn his head away unless he wanted Buggy to tear his hair out at the roots.
Soon, the disgust was forgotten when Shanks felt Buggy's hand release his hair and venture lower, sliding inside the folds of his cloak. He began to squirm and kick his legs, it made Buggy chuckle; Shanks was released, his knees buckling when he hit the ground.
Buggy gripped Shanks's wrist, bending it behind the redhead's back; he pressed his face against the curve of Shanks's neck and bit down on the tanned skin. Shanks tugged away, surprised when he felt a sudden flare of deep pain blossom from his neck inwards, and he noticed a red darker than that on Buggy's lips on the clown's teeth, on his chin.
Shanks was grabbed once more by his hair, but he didn't stand idle this time. He slammed his knee into Buggy's crotch as hard as he was able, wrenching out of his grip at the same time. Pain and shock merged into one undistinguishable sensation, too intense, and Buggy dropped to the ground heavily, swearing and gasping, his eyes wet and the fury stoking inside him like a furnace.
Shanks didn't give him the chance to rise, running from the alleyway, the rush of adrenaline more intense than before. He briefly looked up at the lantern that hung on the wall just outside the alley, and in his anger and panic and determination to prevent Buggy from following, he grabbed it off the iron hook and threw it into the alley.
Shanks didn't dare stay to listen for a scream of pain. He just ran, his neck bleeding and his face pale.
-
Roux saw the captain before anyone else, and he peered down at the docks through his goggles. He easily saw the red of blood staining Shanks's tunic, and he quickly turned to call for Ben.
"Ben! It's the Captain!"
Despite the hangover that was beginning to herald its birth, Ben clambered to his feet the moment Shanks boarded the ship, pale, shaking, angry and swearing; his fist clenched and an odd look of fear and disgust in his eyes.
"Captain?" Ben asked cautiously, and Shanks stared at him, silent, before he spoke quickly, his hand gripping Ben's shirt.
"I shouldn't have gone with him, and I should have known he would do something like this, he always does something like this, although not exaclty...he's never done anything exactly like this before-"
"Captain, you're bleeding!"
"Of course I'm bleeding! He bit me! He's fucking insane!"
Ben felt slow and stupid, unable to really understand what Shanks was telling him. "He bit you?"
"Yes, he bit me! He kissed me! I don't want something like that from Buggy, for God's sake, not Buggy! That is possibly the most repulsive thing that's ever happened to me!"
Ben rubbed the back of his neck, squinting. "Why would he bite you?"
Shanks stared at him, his mouth ajar and eyes wide. "Are you listening to me!?" he cried, "We have to pull up anchor and go right now! I threw a lantern at him, of all bloody things..." Shanks paled even more, and he grabbed his own hair this time. "Oh, my God, I threw a lantern at him! Who throws a lantern?!"
"Captain, we can handle him if he comes back! Yassop rounded up the rest of the crew, we-"
"I can't face him after that!" Shanks shouted, "And I can't just attack him!"
"If we take off, he'll chase us," Ben reasoned, and Lucky Roux spoke up.
"He might, and he might not."
Shanks began to pace, swearing and muttering and ranting to himself, looking to Ben for advice. "What do I do?" he asked, and Ben slid a cigarette between his lips, working out all that Shanks told him.
"We pull up anchor. We'll stop somewhere else...besides, it's foggy here..." He looked skyward, watching the silver of his cigarette smoke curl over the moon. "Captain, you should go rest, and let someone look at your neck and cheek."
In his haste and panic, Shanks had completely forgotten about the bite wound, the bruise on his cheek. He touched both, gingerly, staring dumbly at the blood on his fingers. Dutifully, Yassop took Shanks by his elbow and lead him below deck.
-
"What's going on with him?" Mohji whispered, glancing up at Kabaji. The acrobat shot him a dirty look, elbowing him in the chest.
"If you're so curious, why don't you go ask him? He just replenished his shipment of cannonballs, after all."
"Bite your tongue!" Mohji snapped, but the comment left him ill at ease. Kabaji, however, was the more curious of the two, and he cautiously knocked on Buggy's door.
"Captain?" he called, and the door opened with surprising formality. Buggy looked out at him, silent for a moment, and before Kabaji could draw another breath, Buggy grabbed his vest and pulled him close, dragging him to the porthole and forcing him to look out.
"See that?" he asked, pointing to the village, which was clearly visible from Buggy's quarters.
Kabaji nodded, beginning to tremble as he imagined Buggy shoving him through the tiny hole. "I see it, Cap-"
"I want to see it no more than a speck, next time I look out."
Relieved, Kabaji nodded a second time, and Buggy released him. Kabaji left the room hurriedly, gripping Mohji's arm. "We need to cast off," Kabaji said quickly, "tell the men we need to get the ship out of here, fast as we can."
"What's going on?"
"I don't know, damn you! Just do as I say!"
Sore at being talked to that way but understanding, Mohji shook Kabaji free of his arm and ran down the hall, to the deck. Kabaji stayed
where he was, rubbing his forehead slowly.
He should have joined a different crew...
-
end
Jesus. This was a real labour of love - I had to keep sending it to myself via e-mail so I could work on it at all the different computers I frequent, I role-played a lot of this with Strategos, and once my e-mail kakked out and I had to replace all the grammar, and after that, the program I opened it in to work on it made it into one continuous sentence, so I had to go back and make all the spaces and indentations over again. After submitting it again, I found someone had gone into my account at school, found it, and changed Buggy's name to 'Queer' and Shanks to 'Fag'. Oh, wit-TY. After fixing that, I submit it but for some reason everything was in lowercase. Then I had to edit out a lot of stuff, mostly Buggy's language, and read a lot of my One Piece manga (oh, torture) to get his and Shanks's character down right - I just winged it for Yassop, Lucky, Ben and Mohji. Kabaji I know well enough.
(bear with me- venting almost done.)
THEN I had to go through a printed-off version with a highlighter, and I found so many mistakes I almost took a gun to my head.
In other words, if any of you mention spelling, formatting or grammar errors, I will seriously kill you.
Other than that, I need C&C! I worked DAMN hard on this weird little thing...
BUBONICAPPLE
Warnings: Not for the squeamish or even the most yaoi-hardened. Buggy/Shanks, violence, coarse language, and watch for fanfic reader head explodey.
-
She moved softly, not wanting to so quickly ruin this opportunity. For hours she had crouched in the shadows, cramping in her sides and legs, hugging her thin jacket around herself. Though she came close to abandoning the ornate ship many times, her interest was always sparked anew by the sight of a pirate - the tall one with the hawk features and black-green hair, long on one side and shaved in a pattern on the other, his checkered scarf obscuring the lower half of his face, and the smaller man with the white hair and blunt features, and once, she thought she saw the back end of a lion.
None of these were potentially the captain, but to her, that was promising: perhaps the captain was ill, or on shore? The eyesore of a ship had been docked for several days now, and though everyone seemed to be huddled beneath its shadow in a constant veil of fear, this emotion in her had now been eliminated, replaced with curiousity...and an ever-present tickling of gold lust in the back of her head.
It had been a stroke of luck when the tall man with the checkered scarf decided to forsake his duties in exchange for nosing out a bit of excitement, and the white-haired man disappeared below decks. Though in the morning many different pirates had been swarming over the deck, they were either being raucous in town or seemed to have turned in for the night. That was all she needed. Just a minute, a few seconds. She only wanted to look around, and maybe...
Take a trophy.
It didn't take her long to see what she wanted. She had always been partial to the patchwork, rustic outfits some pirates wore, and there, the ideal prize: an orange hat with white edges, and what looked to be two blue tassels on either corner. She reached out to feel the fabric, and it seemed rich enough, though she wasn't one to pick and choose over quality.
She carefully took a grip on the hat, glanced to her left and right, and then, a series of events unfolded that she would look back on with raised eyebrows and an amused, if not nervous smile.
She started to run, but the hat seemed attached to something - she gave it another hard yank, and then, a howl: it made her scream in surprise, but she would not for the life of her let go of the hat...even when it rose up, and she discovered it was on top of a head, the head of which was attached to a large man with murder in his eyes, his painted red lips curled back in a snarl.
He must have been sleeping, and yanking so rudely on his hat had obviously stirred this man into awareness. Wrenching on it had definitely given him a shock, and though terrified, she didn't release the orange hat, now clinging to it more out of stubbornness.
"Get your head out of my hat!" she shouted, hoping to scare him away, or maybe startle him long enough to make her getaway. He made a low rumbling sound in his throat very like a growl, abruptly leaning towards her, reaching for her chest. He gripped her breast, though perhaps unintentionally, his hand fisting in the fabric of her shirt. So close was he that she could see he was wearing what looked to be a rubber clown nose, and for a brief moment she pondered this oddity; though she snapped out of her musings when she felt his hand on her breast, if not for a split second.
He opened his mouth to speak, to threaten; though his thoughts abruptly severed all connections with his mouth when her knee slammed into his stomach. He doubled over, and she took the opportunity to give the hat one final, violent tug - ripping it off his head, and it was then she discovered the blue tassels were actually his hair.
Well, that explained why he had awoken with such a start.
She had never been frightened of pirates, having been around them so often in her life, but there was something about this one that told her she should make her way back to town. Without bothering to stop and ask him if he was alright, the girl turned on her heel and fled, turning back to look over her shoulder when she heard him yell 'Chop chop!'
To her shock, the pirate had...broken into several pieces. Her immediate thought was that by taking his hat she had somehow killed him, and the moment she was off the ship she ran towards the nearest person, thrusted the hat into his arms, and ran off into the night, leaving the man staring after her in a state of surprise.
-
"Ben?"
He watched the girl run away a moment longer before he turned his attention to Yassop, removing his cigarette from his lips as he studied the hat she had entrusted to him. "Do you think she stole this?" he asked, and Yassop only briefly glanced at it.
"The way she was behaving, most likely...she came running from that God awful ship over there."
"Which one?"
Lucky Roux looked briefly up from his food to stare at the obvious 'God awful ship' Yassop mentioned, and he burst out laughing. "Which one!" he thundered, startling Ben badly enough to make him drop the hat. "My God, which one could he possibly mean, man? That massive kitschy thing!" And he continued to laugh, and though Yassop's mind was beginning to haze over with rum, he, too joined in Lucky's slurred snorting and laughing. Ben just watched the two of them with a furrowed brow, but his concern and mild annoyance was forgotten quickly.
"MY HAT!"
The snarling bellow made all three men quickly silence and look up, but outside of the beam of light the lantern had encircled them in, the world was black; Ben stepped out to get a closer look a half second before a hand...seemingly on its own...crashed into the wall that had been behind his head, holding four blades that splintered the wood easily.
"Oh, shit!" Yassop cried, saying what had been on all their minds. "What the hell is that?!"
Ben wasn't about to give any more appendages a chance with his life, and though he was sober enough to bolt, he wasn't sober enough to drop the hat.
This is where the second series of events unfolded.
Lucky Roux would have preferred to stay and fight, Yassop would rather eat mushrooms than stay; but Ben knew all three were drunk and the fight would have been sloppy and quickly lost - their attacker was sober and, quite obviously, infuriated, although Ben wished he knew what on earth 'Maahat' was, or who it was; because apparently, the thing had mistaken him for it.
At the speed they maintained (even Roux), they reached their ship in less than half the time it would have taken them normally. Ben had been cut twice by the flying knives, and Yassop heart nearly ruptured when he said he saw a head zip by him. Ben would normally have laughed, but this whole situation was so ridiculous he believed it.
"GIVE ME BACK MY HAT!"
Only then it occurred to Ben what that thing had been squawking about, but he was now aboard his ship. Regardless, he attempted to throw it back to the dock...and watched as it fell into the water.
This seemed to make whatever was intent on turning him into a pincushion even angrier.
Very quickly, the sound of air being sliced surrounded him and the others, and he looked up, watching as their flag was rendered to strips; their mast was being hacked through, the decks were stabbed at viciously, and Ben caught a look of dimly reflected light, managing to duck before his head was sliced clear off his shoulders.
"Get the Captain!" he yelled, but someone had already thought as much, probably whoever was guarding the ship. He had nearly flattened the person in his rush, but he didn't know who it had been. Evidently, it was a blessing: he saw Shanks carrying a good pace towards the ship, but instead of enraged or worried he looked positively enthused.
"Ben!" he shouted, cupping his hand around his mouth. "What's the story?"
He felt ridiculous, knowing what he was going to yell to his Captain, who hadn't even stepped on the docks yet. "We're being attacked by hands, and I think Yassop saw a head!"
Sure enough, Shanks stopped to laugh, standing beneath a bobbing lantern. Ben looked around warily for any more blades coming at him, but the attack had tapered off to nothing. When he turned his head the other direction, he jerked so violently he nearly sent himself over the edge of the ship.
A man stood there, one that had not been there before. He was watching Shanks with narrow eyes and his lips pressed into a hard line, his fists clenched, and strands of blue hair hung around his face, shaken loose from his pigtails.
All was silent for a moment. Ben knew it was his attacker, he wore the same gloves as the hands that had gone after him, and judging from Yassop's pale face, this man had the head poor Yassop had seen.
In any other circumstances, Ben would have known the man immediately, knowing enough details about the different captains and their distinguishable marks. He was privately embarrassed that it was Shanks who identified him, twenty feet away and well on his way to being pickled, and also viewing the man in dim light.
"Buggy!" Shanks grinned broadly, and Ben was sure he heard the man next to him growl. "What's all this about?" Shanks asked, trying to look serious and failing, in too high of a spirit.
"He," Buggy said, pointing accusingly at Ben, his voice dry with loathing, "came on my ship and stole my hat."
If indeed Buggy had been thinking clearly, which he never does when he goes into a rage, he would have remembered he had grabbed the thief on his ship and felt a definite breast, and would not have been so enraged by Ben's pleads of innocence.
"I didn't, Captain!" Ben said quickly, "I was with Yassop and Roux. We were looking for something to do when a girl gave me the hat and ran off."
Knowing and having faith in Ben's character, it was obvious who Shanks believed. He just smiled patiently, running a hand through his hair. "Buggy," he finally said, "this is ridiculous and you know it. Where's your hat now?" He raised his eyebrows when Buggy's accusing finger dropped from Ben to the water, and Ben discreetly noticed Buggy was wearing the face of an angry child.
"This asshole of yours threw it in the fucking water!"
"Ben," Shanks continued, "get the man's hat, ey?"
Ben nodded, preferring to jump quickly over the edge of the ship than to linger next to the odd man with the red nose. Buggy favoured him an acidic glare moments before he jumped, and Ben caught it in the corner of his eye. He was relieved for the shock of water against him, not at all liking the feeling of hatred and anger that practically radiated from the pirate.
When Ben surfaced, he heard now that Buggy was in a foul mood and was taking it out on Shanks, and Ben knew he wasn't the only one who was going to be angry about that. Shanks was in a patient and good mood, as he usually was, and he either agreed with Buggy's foul comments and observations to avoid more conflict, or cheerfully dismissed them.
"I should've known you'd get a crew like this," Buggy snapped, "fucking thieves, the lot of you."
"I'd imagine your crew is much better."
"Damn right it is. Who the hell breaks onto a ship to steal a hat? I'll slit your throat, Shanks; don't you grin at me like that. I'll carve your throat out."
"I believe you. You were always more of a pirate than I was," he added in his careful voice, now preferring to placate Buggy, obviously familiar with his temper and where it could lead.
Buggy muttered under his breath, and the next moment he was in front of Shanks, glaring down at the red-haired man. Ben was climbing out of the water with the hat securely under his arm, and he had emerged in time to see Buggy seemingly materialize in front of his captain; and when Buggy grabbed Shanks by his cloak, Ben itched to attack, as he knew Lucky did. He could hear the fat man loading his gun.
Shanks glanced sidelong at Ben, and he shook his head. Reluctantly, Ben instead walked closer and held out the hat. Buggy ignored him completely. "I'll kill you. You know I will."
"I know, Buggy."
"You told me," he said dryly, "if we ever crossed, it would be a fight to the finish."
Shanks reached out and took the hat from Ben, brushing a bit of mud from the brim. "Yes, I did. But it was also said if we ever crossed on the seas...we're on land."
Buggy's anger melted away, his expression replaced with confusion as he worked that out in his head. As he realized it was true, he began to get himself worked into a fever pitch of rage again, releasing Shanks's cloak and stepping back, pointing at the redhead's face with his knife.
"You got me off topic!" Buggy snapped suddenly, and with a look from Shanks Ben retreated back to the ship, albeit reluctantly. "God damn you, what kind of captain are you? One of your men came onto my ship and stole my hat!"
"Which I have right here."
"I should kill you and your little rats of a crew, I really should."
"Oh, now, that wouldn't be friendly of you, would it? We haven't seen each other in ages now, and I've heard a lot about you." The idea his infamy has traveled to Shanks seemed to calm Buggy at a surprising rate. "Been keeping busy, ey?"
"I'll slit your blasted throat and ship pieces of your body to every single continent, Shanks. Just you watch me."
"What kind of talk is that? Are you still sore about this?" Shanks held up the hat, and Buggy snatched it from him. "You're in a foul mood...but I know how it feels to have an attachment to a hat, of all things...I'd have blown a gasket looking for mine, too, I must say."
"Where is that ugly thing?"
"Never mind that. Now, see here. If it meant that much to you, I'll make it up to you."
"Fuck you."
Shanks smiled, and though he avoided such things, he gingerly touched on a sore spot. "Were we still apprentices, Tully would have washed your mouth out with soap if he heard you talk like that."
Buggy scowled, dropping his eyes to the side. He had tasted the bitter soap many a time at the hands of the first mate, and once even from the Captain, which had been a humiliating ordeal. The Captain had never liked Buggy, and while forcing the young apprentice to endure the soap, had shouted at him and shook Buggy by his hair. "Well, we aren't apprentices, are we? Stupid."
"Just had to add that on, didn't you?" Shanks sighed, looking up at the sky, calm despite all that was happening. "Come on, you foul bastard...I'll get you a beer and do whatever else it takes for you to forget this. And when we meet on the seas, we'll have that fight."
"I don't like being off my ship."
"The people here are good...one in every thousand is a thief, and usually a born one. But it looks like you've scared that one off for the night, whoever that may be," Shanks added quickly, catching the anger that was stoking inside Buggy's expression again. "Forget that for now, and let's go get a beer, you and I. If you're not happy after that we'll find something else." Shanks couldn't resist one final stab. "It breaks me heart to see a clown that isn't smiling."
He had to duck when Buggy swiped at him, but there seemed no other hostility, other than that in his mood. Ben and Roux watched uneasily from the vandalized deck, watching the two pirates walk back into town. Shanks paused to wave over his shoulder at his men, before turning his head to catch something Buggy said. Whatever it was made him laugh, and Buggy gave him a shove for it.
-
"You always were so bitter," Shanks said as though it were an announcement, setting a mug down in front of Buggy. The ale splashed and dribbled over one side, and Buggy glanced sidelong at Shanks, watching the man sit next to him.
"You were always an ass."
"Oh, your wit - how it burns." Shanks took a slow drink of his own ale, looking out at the hazy atmosphere of the tavern with lidded eyes, a seeming weariness settling in his features. They were both the same age, and while his years were slowly catching up to Shanks, Buggy was evidently bearing the brunt end of pirate life; his expression hardened into a permanent scowl, deep lines under his eyes, the corners of his mouth.
"Well, you were always so oblivious," Buggy muttered, pulling off his bandana. He removed the ties and went about fixing his pigtails, pushing them back through the holes on his hat. He replaced both his hat and bandana without another word.
"What?" Shanks raised his eyebrows, frowning slightly. "Is that a random observation?"
"One that's bothered me a long time. You were always so God damn oblivious."
"I am not. When was I ever oblivious?"
Buggy said nothing for a moment, and he instead fired a glare in the redhead's direction, slowly lifting his pewter mug. He took a long drink, and when he lowered the mug, he spoke with a hissing voice. "The things I said to you, the way I treated you. And you never got it."
Shanks took his turn to be quiet, more out of respect for Buggy's strength. When they had been young, they were equally matched, but Buggy had grown into a large, fairly muscular man, one with a hair trigger temper. Should he lash out, Shanks would be likely knocked to the ground - he was slighter than Buggy, and with only one arm to boot, and he now realized he had foolishly gone with the other pirate without his crew. He could usually hold his own, but he wasn't sure he liked his chances, should Buggy decide to fight.
"I still don't get it," Shanks said carefully, and Buggy again gave him one of those evil glares. "I suppose that means I'm as oblivious as you say." He smiled, and he felt uncomfortable when Buggy grinned back. There was still anger in Buggy's eyes, and the grin was discouraging.
"You always have been...no matter how obvious things are made, and that's because you're stupid. It has to practically hit you in the face before you realize it." With that, Buggy turned towards him in his seat, and Shanks thought he actually was going to be hit. He tensed, eyeing Buggy carefully, an anxious cross between relieved and worried when he wasn't struck. "You never got it," Buggy repeated, "and you're so fucking stupid I doubt you ever will."
"Buggy-"
"Shut up," he snapped, "you shut up. I'm talking now, and if you interrupt me, I'll kill you. You were never my friend, Shanks. I never liked you. I put up with you because I was alone otherwise, and you thought, for some odd reason, that we were at least on friendly terms. But I hated you
so damn much - you have to know how it feels, dear little Shanks; not even the perfect Shanks can live without knowing how it feels. I hated you so much that I had to fight the urges to just choke you and choke you and choke you, and keep squeezing until every last bit of life was out of youand then some. Do you think any of that has changed?" Shanks was silent. "You and that stupid grin of yours, and that dismissive attitude. Did you think I forgot about how you always dismissed and ignored me, except if you were the one who wanted company, or if you were the one who was after something?"
Buggy was silent now, and Shanks upheld the quiet between them for a moment until he was sure Buggy wanted an answer. He leaned close and spoke in a low voice, wishing they were outside. He hated arguing in a crowded place, but he was thankful for the mass of people and singing pirates at the same time. In here, he hoped, Buggy wouldn't try anything. "I never thought we were on good terms, Buggy. I knew it was a bad...friendship we had, because I knew you were...like I said...always so bitter, and I'm not like that. I don't know why you're always so angry...but besides that, I didn't exactly look to be alone with you, because even if we were equal matches then, you were always looking to fight or argue."
"Because you were stupid."
"You keep saying that, but what do you mean, anyhow? I'm no genius, but even a gibbering idiot can clarify what they mean."
"Did you just call me an idiot?"
"Indirectly, yes."
Buggy was unused to defiance or insult, not since he started his own pirating career. Most insults he heard were the result of his poor hearing, but Shanks had, in a understated way, insulted him and admitted to it. Buggy was more interested than mad. "You want me to clarify?" he asked, his grin widening and voice raising in volume. Shanks braced himself for an onslaught of insult and a cynical, repetitive spiel of anger. But instead, Buggy's voice calmed to a low volume, and Shanks had to crane closer to hear him. "You're an oblivious bastard, let me just establish that first. You're blissfully unaware of anything unless you want to know about it, and the fact you didn't want to know about this gives me particular pleasure." As Buggy spoke, his eyes narrowed once again, his grin widening, and he gripped Shanks by his chin, leaning close to speak in his ear. "I never did like you. You ruined my life - did you know that, dear Shanks? You completely ruined my life." During the last weeks of Buggy's apprenticeship, Shanks had heard that many times, but never the reason behind it, and when he grew fed up and told Buggy he was glad he did so, the other boy
had punched him hard enough to cut Shanks's cheek with his fist. Shanks had returned the injury, but now, he felt weak. He was alone, and he was beginning to suspect that Buggy was insane.
"I suppose I shouldn't be too angry. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be Captain Buggy...at least, not the Captain Buggy I am now...so when you hear about all my exploits and all the people I kill, you'd do well to remember it was all your fault."
"What're you talking-"
"What did I tell you about interrupting me?" Buggy shifted his grip to Shanks's throat, gripping tight. "Shut up and listen. I'm getting to the important part. You're so stupid you probably won't even get it then...but how could you? I told you when we were young. I told you in the kitchen, when we were peeling carrots. Remember?"
Shanks had to think on that for a moment, and Buggy's hold on his throat was a little more than distracting. They often peeled potatoes, but carrots - that was almost like an event, just because it was different.
He soon remembered one such incident, when Buggy had offhandedly made a remark that he couldn't recall, but he remembered it had been odd, jumbled and contradictory. It had been such a bizarre thing to say Shanks was a little shocked he couldn't remember. "I remember you said something, but it was vague and weird. I don't recall what you said, exactly."
"But you remember the essence of it?"
"You were talking about desire. I remember that much. And then you got accusing and defensive, and told me you hated me, and you said...something about I was driving you crazy. And then we got in a fight, and Tully yelled at us, and then the Captain shook us by our hair and-"
"That isn't important," Buggy interrupted, and he smirked. "You have no idea what I meant by any of that?"
"No. I don't."
"Come on, Shanks, don't be so daft, no matter how good you are at it..." Even though he didn't want to get in a fight with Buggy, Shanks had had about enough of the insults he could take. "Try and piece it together, like a good boy. I was talking about want, by the way, not desire. Fuck, when have I ever used 'desire' in a conversation? Anyhow, I'm not letting you go until you figure it out...but since I'm such a nice guy, I'll help you out..." Buggy's grin grew wider. "Think: I started talking about wanting a person, and I got all awkward and uncomfortable when you asked me who...and then I told you that you were driving me crazy. There were other times, but this is the one you seem to remember right now..."
All at once, Shanks was hit with a wave of clarity so powerful he felt like the wind had been knocked out of him; his eyes widened and he turned his head to stare at Buggy. All the times, the awkwardness, the constant fights, the accusatory and seemingly nonsensical things Buggy had always said, the way Buggy would be sometimes frustrated to tears, the days of avoiding Shanks, the discomfited references to want and carnality and hunger for a person. Sense filled voids of confusion, and Shanks drew back slightly. Buggy released his throat, watching him with his predatory eyes.
"You get it, do you?"
Shanks nodded, reaching for his mug and taking a quick drink, turning his eyes to the side. "I get it." He cleared his throat several times, setting down his mug. "Is that how I ruined your life?"
"Don't flatter yourself, you little bastard."
"Why?" Shanks shot back, his temper finally having reached its limit. "Why shouldn't I? Being with you, a person has to flatter himself, or this constant...constant attack of yours will drive him insane! My God, Buggy, are you listening to yourself? And you wonder why people are either scared of you or hate you, though I can't say you look like you mind very much when a person is afraid! I mean, damn, Buggy, how can you be so bitter and hateful when I've never been anything but civil to you, entertaining all your stupid ideas and putting up with your shit for days on end? Has it ever occurred to you that you were the one who always started the fights, and maybe if you had acted like a human being, I wouldn't have been so reluctant to accept that...you...that..." Shanks grasped for the right words. "I wouldn't have been so reluctant to open my eyes up and see what you were trying to tell me!"
Buggy was quiet, although not at loss for words. Shanks could see the killer in Buggy's eyes, patiently waiting for Shanks to finish his outburst.
Shanks noticed the tavern was suddenly quieter, and realized several people, likely Buggy's crew, were filing out the door - even natives to the village were hurrying out. The curious, the brave and the stupid remained: Shanks knew he was one of them, though he didn't know which category.
Shanks stood up, though he really didn't know why he did such a thing. The moment he did, Buggy was on his feet as well, watching Shanks, or rather, looking down at him. The height difference wasn't incredible, but it was enough to make Shanks realize that this was the last time he went
anywhere without a weapon and alone.
As he expected, Buggy struck first.
However, he didn't expect that Buggy would be strong enough to actually send him a few feet before he crashed into a table, knocking it over and taking him to the ground with two mugs of warm ale. The men at the table jumped back quickly, and one looked at Shanks, the other stared at Buggy, their dilemma clear: jump into the brawl, or maybe for once, stay out of it?
When Buggy's hands disconnected from his wrists, the men wisely chose the latter.
Shanks felt the grip on his throat, the other in his hair, wrenching back his head. He struggled and kicked as he was lifted off the ground, dragged back to Buggy; the hands connected back to Buggy's wrists, and Shanks was turned and slammed down against the nearest table, the one that had not been overturned. He stared up at Buggy, startled, angry and hurt, but not afraid. He wouldn't let Buggy scare him.
"You can dish it out, but you can't take it!" Shanks's voice was high, and it had an odd, tight quality to it, but he dismissed it as the hand on his throat. "That's so typical of you, Buggy, so damn-" The grip tightened and Shanks opened his mouth, gagging, digging his fingers into Buggy's arm, tugging.
"I'll give you ten seconds, dear Shanks...don't let your pride fuck you up this time...because this time, if I catch you, you'll have lost a lot more than that arm." He grinned, although it looked more like he was baring his teeth, and he hissed, "Are you afraid of clowns, Shanks?"
With that, Shanks was released, and though it pained him to do so, he quickly got up and ran, unable to suppress several violent coughs when air rushed to his lungs.
Ten seconds wasn't enough, and he knew damn well Buggy would chase him. He needed to get back to the ship, and if he couldn't at least get his weapon, he'd have his crew alongside him. At least, for the love of God, give him somewhere to duck.
He quickly turned into an alleyway, slipping on the damp ground; he caught himself with grace he rarely had, and he ran to the end of the alley, his back against a wet brick wall, and he held his breath. He held it until black spots erupted before his eyes, letting it out only when he thought he would pass out.
He didn't see Buggy, or anything. But moments after he let his breath rush out of his lungs, he felt something tighten around his ankle, and with a hard yank he fell, hitting his head against the ground. It made him dizzy, but he didn't falter, kicking at his ankle to get whatever it was off. He didn't have to puzzle about it long to figure out it was Buggy's hand, especially not when the other closed over his mouth.
And then the third series of events came into play.
-
Ben jumped when the falling ashes burned his hand, and, back in reality, he took his cigarette from between his lips, raising his eyes to briefly scour the docks.
He was discomforted by Shanks's absence, while Lucky seemed to have calmed the moment the clown pirate had left. Yassop was still jittery and pacing, swearing and in an overall foul mood.
"Yassop!"
The blond glanced at him, stopping in kicking at a barrel with the toe of his boot. "Ayuh?"
"D'you think we ought to go after the Captain?"
"No," Yassop answered sharply. "No, we oughtn't. He had that...thing under control, and if we show up, especially you..." Yassop shuddered. "Besides I have faith in Shanks, but I don't like to think about what'll happen if you pop up. That clown wasn't so pissed when you left."
"If you say...where's Roux?"
"Eating."
Somehow, that served to calm Ben down. The normalcy amidst this insanity with clowns materializing and hands chasing them through the night was a Godsend.
Yassop was probably right. Shanks would be fine.
-
Shanks was dragged off the ground, and as before, the hands were again attached to Buggy's wrists. "I told you what would happen if I caught you," Buggy hissed, pressing Shanks against the wall, heaving the redhead easily off the ground and pressing close. Shanks could smell the salt of the ocean fresh on Buggy's skin and in his hair, woven into his clothes as sure as the threads themselves. Buggy lowered his hand from Shanks's mouth, all but quivering with rage. "I always wanted you," Buggy snarled, bitterness and surprising emotion thick in his voice, "but you never noticed - you never pulled your head out of your ass and opened your eyes to it, you fucking bastard...you never care about anyone's feelings
beyond your own, do you?"
"Buggy," Shanks spoke in a slow, quiet voice, trying again to placate Buggy; he felt like he was trying to sooth a rabid beast. He felt lost. "Buggy, I never knew...and you were always angry...how was I supposed to know when something was going on?
"Is that what you're going to hide behind?" Buggy demanded, now filled with fury beyond what he had felt for Shanks before. "Do you have any idea what I could do to you right now?" he whispered, "What I want to do to you?"
The words left a chill inside Shanks, and he could do nothing except simply look at Buggy, the toes of his boots barely scraping the ground. He would fight - but he needed an opening.
"This ends now," Buggy continued, sliding one hand back to get a firm grip in Shanks's hair. He twisted the man's head back, and Shanks's eyes grew wide when Buggy's mouth crushed against his.
Dimly, irrationally, Shanks noted that Buggy tasted as salty as he smelled, though the underlying bitter flavour likely came from the words he so often spoke. The kiss was so firm it made Shanks's jaw ache, and he pressed his fist against Buggy's chest, shuddering when the other pirate pulled back, but he couldn't turn his head away unless he wanted Buggy to tear his hair out at the roots.
Soon, the disgust was forgotten when Shanks felt Buggy's hand release his hair and venture lower, sliding inside the folds of his cloak. He began to squirm and kick his legs, it made Buggy chuckle; Shanks was released, his knees buckling when he hit the ground.
Buggy gripped Shanks's wrist, bending it behind the redhead's back; he pressed his face against the curve of Shanks's neck and bit down on the tanned skin. Shanks tugged away, surprised when he felt a sudden flare of deep pain blossom from his neck inwards, and he noticed a red darker than that on Buggy's lips on the clown's teeth, on his chin.
Shanks was grabbed once more by his hair, but he didn't stand idle this time. He slammed his knee into Buggy's crotch as hard as he was able, wrenching out of his grip at the same time. Pain and shock merged into one undistinguishable sensation, too intense, and Buggy dropped to the ground heavily, swearing and gasping, his eyes wet and the fury stoking inside him like a furnace.
Shanks didn't give him the chance to rise, running from the alleyway, the rush of adrenaline more intense than before. He briefly looked up at the lantern that hung on the wall just outside the alley, and in his anger and panic and determination to prevent Buggy from following, he grabbed it off the iron hook and threw it into the alley.
Shanks didn't dare stay to listen for a scream of pain. He just ran, his neck bleeding and his face pale.
-
Roux saw the captain before anyone else, and he peered down at the docks through his goggles. He easily saw the red of blood staining Shanks's tunic, and he quickly turned to call for Ben.
"Ben! It's the Captain!"
Despite the hangover that was beginning to herald its birth, Ben clambered to his feet the moment Shanks boarded the ship, pale, shaking, angry and swearing; his fist clenched and an odd look of fear and disgust in his eyes.
"Captain?" Ben asked cautiously, and Shanks stared at him, silent, before he spoke quickly, his hand gripping Ben's shirt.
"I shouldn't have gone with him, and I should have known he would do something like this, he always does something like this, although not exaclty...he's never done anything exactly like this before-"
"Captain, you're bleeding!"
"Of course I'm bleeding! He bit me! He's fucking insane!"
Ben felt slow and stupid, unable to really understand what Shanks was telling him. "He bit you?"
"Yes, he bit me! He kissed me! I don't want something like that from Buggy, for God's sake, not Buggy! That is possibly the most repulsive thing that's ever happened to me!"
Ben rubbed the back of his neck, squinting. "Why would he bite you?"
Shanks stared at him, his mouth ajar and eyes wide. "Are you listening to me!?" he cried, "We have to pull up anchor and go right now! I threw a lantern at him, of all bloody things..." Shanks paled even more, and he grabbed his own hair this time. "Oh, my God, I threw a lantern at him! Who throws a lantern?!"
"Captain, we can handle him if he comes back! Yassop rounded up the rest of the crew, we-"
"I can't face him after that!" Shanks shouted, "And I can't just attack him!"
"If we take off, he'll chase us," Ben reasoned, and Lucky Roux spoke up.
"He might, and he might not."
Shanks began to pace, swearing and muttering and ranting to himself, looking to Ben for advice. "What do I do?" he asked, and Ben slid a cigarette between his lips, working out all that Shanks told him.
"We pull up anchor. We'll stop somewhere else...besides, it's foggy here..." He looked skyward, watching the silver of his cigarette smoke curl over the moon. "Captain, you should go rest, and let someone look at your neck and cheek."
In his haste and panic, Shanks had completely forgotten about the bite wound, the bruise on his cheek. He touched both, gingerly, staring dumbly at the blood on his fingers. Dutifully, Yassop took Shanks by his elbow and lead him below deck.
-
"What's going on with him?" Mohji whispered, glancing up at Kabaji. The acrobat shot him a dirty look, elbowing him in the chest.
"If you're so curious, why don't you go ask him? He just replenished his shipment of cannonballs, after all."
"Bite your tongue!" Mohji snapped, but the comment left him ill at ease. Kabaji, however, was the more curious of the two, and he cautiously knocked on Buggy's door.
"Captain?" he called, and the door opened with surprising formality. Buggy looked out at him, silent for a moment, and before Kabaji could draw another breath, Buggy grabbed his vest and pulled him close, dragging him to the porthole and forcing him to look out.
"See that?" he asked, pointing to the village, which was clearly visible from Buggy's quarters.
Kabaji nodded, beginning to tremble as he imagined Buggy shoving him through the tiny hole. "I see it, Cap-"
"I want to see it no more than a speck, next time I look out."
Relieved, Kabaji nodded a second time, and Buggy released him. Kabaji left the room hurriedly, gripping Mohji's arm. "We need to cast off," Kabaji said quickly, "tell the men we need to get the ship out of here, fast as we can."
"What's going on?"
"I don't know, damn you! Just do as I say!"
Sore at being talked to that way but understanding, Mohji shook Kabaji free of his arm and ran down the hall, to the deck. Kabaji stayed
where he was, rubbing his forehead slowly.
He should have joined a different crew...
-
end
Jesus. This was a real labour of love - I had to keep sending it to myself via e-mail so I could work on it at all the different computers I frequent, I role-played a lot of this with Strategos, and once my e-mail kakked out and I had to replace all the grammar, and after that, the program I opened it in to work on it made it into one continuous sentence, so I had to go back and make all the spaces and indentations over again. After submitting it again, I found someone had gone into my account at school, found it, and changed Buggy's name to 'Queer' and Shanks to 'Fag'. Oh, wit-TY. After fixing that, I submit it but for some reason everything was in lowercase. Then I had to edit out a lot of stuff, mostly Buggy's language, and read a lot of my One Piece manga (oh, torture) to get his and Shanks's character down right - I just winged it for Yassop, Lucky, Ben and Mohji. Kabaji I know well enough.
(bear with me- venting almost done.)
THEN I had to go through a printed-off version with a highlighter, and I found so many mistakes I almost took a gun to my head.
In other words, if any of you mention spelling, formatting or grammar errors, I will seriously kill you.
Other than that, I need C&C! I worked DAMN hard on this weird little thing...