Finally got this batch done :D. Warnings are the same as always, at the beginning of every drabble, so I hope you enjoy!!
Disclaimer: See Chapter One
100 Moods
Set Five: Frustrated to Hopeful
Mood: Frustrated
Rating: Hard R. You have been warned.
Pairing: None, imply what you will
Word Count: 500
Notes: Where does this stuff come from? I don't write stuff like this…
He's in the corner of the hold, the door locked, under the excuse of getting some more supplies. He never specified which supplies, just that supplies were needed.
He's not getting supplies, though.
He's slumped against the wall, face flushed, chest heaving, pants open as he strokes himself, erection warm and heavy in his palm.
Running fingers lightly from base to tip, pressing his thumb into the slit and wishing, wishing it were a tongue and not his own hand, or if not a tongue at least someone else's hand.
Shirt hanging open, and he slides a hand up his sweat-slicked, toned abdomen to his mouth, sucking on his fingers as he stifles a moan. Fingers slide out, saliva coating them and running down his chin as they trail down, circling once; twice around a pink, peaked nipple before tugging, rolling the hardened nub between two fingers and moaning quietly again.
Hand sliding down, leaving a glistening trail before it slips to the back, under pants and underwear to circle once more before one finger presses in and he groans.
He's done it before, but never like this; never imagining somebody else's fingers, somebody else's mouth on his burning flesh. He presses, harder, and the finger slides in, searching.
His half-lidded eyes flash open as he finally hits it, deep within his body, and he stops stroking his dripping arousal long enough to find a piece of heavy mooring rope and bite into it, making the most pathetic sounds around it in the hopes that nobody will hear him.
Hand drops back to his groin, but not touching; not there as he moves lower, fondling himself and humming in contentment, before sliding up, stroking with renewed vigour as with his other hand he probes deep within himself, rubbing that sensitive bundle of nerves and sighing when he finds a comfortable rhythm.
It's still not enough, though; never enough with just his own touch, and even as he rocks back and forth to stimulate every nerve ending, even as he feels release tightening in his gut and his hand moves faster, harder on his skin, he knows, knows, knows…
"Ah…ah…" he gasps out around the rope, hitting that high as his mind blanks and he's there; it's perfect; hands moving in unison to bring him as close to the edge as he can go. He's shaking, sweating, heart pounding, breath coming in fast gasps and he's going to going to going to…
A name tears from his throat, and not the name he thought he'd ever say, and he feels the spurt of warm liquid, dripping to the floor, before he removes his fingers and lifts his soiled hand to his lips, licking the bitter fluid.
And the high leaves; leaves him shaking from cold, sweat cooling on his flushed body, feeling dirty and horrible and sick, and he wants, wants, needs more, but he'll never get it.
The one whose name he shouts in ecstasy…will only ever be a name.
Mood: Giddy
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: RobinxSanji, in a way
Word Count: 500
It takes a lot to get Nami drunk.
That being said, she's pretty much gone, and that means that everyone else is pretty much gone as well, Robin thinks as she watches her crew. They're only a couple of days away from Thriller Bark, but gaining a new Nakama and not losing their first mate seems to have had a rather adverse effect on the young crew. They're high on happiness and contentment, and the party's been going non-stop since they all woke up…about a week ago, now.
Luffy and Usopp are utterly plastered, and she stifles a smile behind her coffee cup as they dance around, singing something horribly off-key, and she's pretty sure they slipped something into Chopper's customary milk as well because the young reindeer is quite pink under his fur as he watches them.
Zoro is sleeping. Not unusual, considering what he's been through, but with Nami deciding that sleeping Zoro would make a good pillow, Robin wonders how he can stay so firmly ensconced in dreamland.
Brook, she thinks, is always drunk. Or at least he seems that way, 'yohoho'-ing his way around and dropping to pull his inexplicable 45 degrees trick against any vertical surface.
Franky doesn't drink, not really, but he gets just as excited as the rest of them and he and Brook have now started a jig and Nami gets up long enough from her nap to thunk them both in the head. Brook takes this as an invitation and asks to see her panties, and Robin thinks she just might be drunk enough to take him up on that, but her rationality pulls through and she punts him across the ship.
Impressive kick that girl has, Robin thinks. She must be watching…
Robin's cyan eyes slide over to the lanky cook, propped against the railing, dressed in that worn hoodie, and smoking, a sated smile on his face. She gracefully sets her mug down and gets up, moving away from the raucous party on the foredeck to the more secluded part of the ship.
"Sanji-san?"
"Ah, Robin-chan, how can I be of assistance? Some more coffee?" he twirls, always eager to serve.
"You don't seem to be enjoying the party."
"It's gone on for a week," he shrugs. "And besides, I'm not one for big get-togethers anyway."
"You should enjoy the peace while it lasts," she reminds him, all too well aware of how quickly things can change when you sail with Monkey D. Luffy.
"I am enjoying the peace," he counters.
"Well, true enough," she leans beside him on the rail, and he looks at her curiously.
"Robin-chan?"
And in the end she'll put it all down to the energy of the party getting to her, but when she kisses him and he makes the most wonderful noise, she can't help but feel it's right.
She walks away immediately, leaving him breathless and confused, before she turns and says, "Come back with me?"
And he nods and does so.
Mood: Giggly
Rating: PG
Pairing: AcexVivi. Weird, I know, but it's very mild.
Word Count: 494
Notes: Contains spoilers for recent chapters. But we all know who Ace is related to, right?
Desert nights were cold, which everyone knew perfectly well, but somehow it became infinitely more bearable when they discovered that not only had Ace managed to procure food from that village, but several types of alcohol as well.
This, of course, prompted a massive party, and now there was only one bottle of sake left (which Zoro, naturally, had procured and saved for 'a special occasion').
However, Ace thought as he watched Luffy's crew dance around the fire, he wondered if the young Alabastan princess had ever experienced sake before.
Because Vivi was drunk.
Really drunk.
And apparently when she got plastered, she giggled.
Annoyingly.
Well, actually, it was kind of cute, he grinned, but she was still practically a kid, so he wasn't going to think of her in that way. She was, what, four years younger than he was?
And of course she was royalty and he was…well…a pirate.
"Ace-san!" she had giggled her way over, managed to trip on a rock jutting out of the sand, and fell nearly onto his lap. "Oof! Wow, the fire's so pretty tonight, Ace-san!"
"Calm down there, little miss," Ace moved back slightly and moved to push her hood off of her head, freeing her long blue hair.
"But Ace, you make such pretty fire," she pouted, although it was hard to hear her over the rest of the crew…especially with Luffy, Usopp and Chopper screaming "Kanpai!" every two seconds and Nami, who could apparently drink anyone under the table, screaming at them to be quiet.
Looking over at Zoro and Sanji who were, for once, agreeably getting along (more than 'getting along' in Ace's opinion; Sanji was practically laying in the swordsman's lap) the blonde glanced up and met his eye, raising his curled eyebrow as Ace tried to get Vivi to stop pawing at him.
He had a feeling that Sanji would be seeking revenge on Luffy and the other two idiots for getting Vivi as drunk as she was, but for the moment he seemed content to lay and smoke. Zoro let out a prodigious yawn and flopped back onto the sand and Sanji irritably shoved him.
Smirking to himself, Ace caught Vivi's hand from where it was sneaking under his robe and shook his head, placing it gently in her lap as she pouted.
"But Ace, you're so warm," she was whining again, and it was rather adorable, but Ace knew better than to flirt with the heir to a kingdom.
Not that he wasn't the son of 'royalty' himself, but somehow he doubted Cobra would take that as an excuse. But, he wasn't going to deny her…at least, not warmth, which they so desperately needed in the desert.
"Alright, little miss. C'mere," he held out his arm and she gratefully snuggled against him, giggling now and then at the Idiot Trio. Ace stifled his own laugh and closed his eyes, feeling peaceful and content as he drifted off to sleep.
Mood: Gloomy
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: ZoSan
Word Count: 500
Notes: Modern mythical AU
The sky was grey; dull; the waves crashing onto the rocky shore as needles of freezing rain drove from the sky. The whitecap spray washed over a lone figure on the closest outcropping to the sand. Nobody was on the beach today; the tourists holed up in their hotels, warm in front of their fireplaces with cups of hot chocolate or watching the massive waves through the lobby windows.
It was storm season.
But he wasn't going inside.
He was waiting.
The water flattened his golden, sun-kissed hair to his scalp, darkening it to a sandy brown and dripping off of his long fringe to run in rivulets down his pale skin. His tail slapped almost forlornly on the black rock; wondering; waiting; hoping.
He had debated not coming.
He shouldn't have come.
He'd made a fatal mistake: he'd fallen in love.
With a mortal.
And if he left; never came back; it would be a very short time (for him) before the human died, but every year he returned to the desolate shore to wait for their annual meeting, as short and unfulfilling as it was forced to be.
He'd never even found out his name, instantly captivated by the seaweed-green hair and the triple golden earrings that the man pulled off so effortlessly. Sometimes he wished he could trade in his tail for legs so that they could truly consummate their relationship, but such things were the stuff of legends.
He was doomed to the sea, and his companion to the land.
As he continued to stare at the colorless landscape before him, the weak winter sun broke through a thin patch of cloud, and he caught a flash of light on gold from behind him.
He turned, unwilling to look too excited, as the man moved onto the slippery rock, but he walked with the assurance of a man completely confident in his own balance and ability.
"You came." His voice had a musical lilt, and his sky-blue tail slapped the rock a little harder in obvious excitement.
"You were worried?" the man grinned, pushing the hood of his rain slicker off and moving to sit beside the blonde. "I made you a promise, Eyebrow."
"I can't trust humans to keep promises, Marimo. I've loved and lost too many times…" and not just the ones who had died, but also the ones who never returned.
The green-haired man slid an arm around the thin shoulders and leant in for a wet kiss. "I won't be like those men."
"But we can never…" the merman closed his eyes, unwilling to cry.
"It doesn't matter," the other man assured him, holding him close. "We don't have to have that kind of relationship…"
"I'm Sanji," the merman suddenly blurted, knowing that he'd never revealed his name to anyone but somehow feeling a need to.
The brilliant smile he got in return told him he'd done the right thing.
"Zoro," was the reply, and together they sat, contentedly watching the storm.
Mood: Good
Rating: PG
Pairing: None, really
Word Count: 466
Notes: I've been reading too much out-of-fandom stuff lately. It does weird things to my muse. Oh, this is obviously AU. I kind of like this world, actually…
He stares out the window to the dirty city, streaked with rain and mud and soot and smog, and wonders for the millionth time why he lives in such a dingy run-down old top-floor apartment with a band of misfits when he could probably own his own high-class restaurant in one of the good neighbourhoods.
Not the ones where you look down and see junkies shooting up on your doorstep or bums passed out in your graffiti-covered entrance, but ones where women in white jog with their golden retrievers and children get into Rolls Royce's to take them to private academies.
Still, here he is, wearing an old hoodie and wondering why his hair looks so horrible when the door slides open. "Hey."
"Hey," he turns, setting down his cold cup of coffee (had it ever been hot?) and glancing back at the man who had just entered and is fighting with getting his scarf off properly. "How was work?"
"Work was work," the man finally gives up on the scarf and huffs, and the other unfolds his long, perfect legs and moves to undo the scarf with long, perfect fingers. "Thanks."
"Whatever, little Marimo," he holds the scarf close before wrapping it around his own neck.
"Why's it so cold?" the green-haired man asks, realizing as if for the first time that he's shivering despite still wearing his coat.
"Because we have no heat," the first man flicks the other's nose teasingly. "Remember? No money?"
"Oh, right," the one named 'Marimo' rolls his eyes. "Oi, Sanji?"
"Yeah, Zoro?"
"Got any more coffee?"
"If you make it," Sanji replies with a nonchalant shrug, managing to look regal and stately even dressed in too-big too-worn clothes. Zoro grunts and moves into the kitchen to do that while Sanji hops up on the counter and swigs his legs.
They're quiet until the phone rings, but neither of them move to answer it and soon a message is played to the open room.
"Hey, guys! Usopp 'n me are going for dinner and he said he'd pay and…"
"Luffy! I did not say I'd pay! I have no money!"
"But you sold that painting and…"
"A-anyway, 7:00 at the café, hope you guys can make it."
"Hahaha, Nami said she'd come, too, and Kaya's coming, so bring dates, k?"
"Luffy!"
-click-
"That boy has no tact," Zoro mutters, stirring some powdery coffee sweetener that he'd swiped from a local corner store into his strong coffee.
"Well, we could always just take each other," Sanji suggests with a smirk.
"Yeah?" Zoro glances up, a smile playing about his lips.
"Yeah," Sanji nods, and Zoro shakes his head and looks back at his steaming cup of caffeine.
And Sanji thinks that, in the end, maybe this life isn't all that bad.
Mood: Grateful
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: None
Word Count: 500
It was a strange, strange thing, to feel this much gratitude; to care so much. Especially because a mere day ago when asked, she would have gladly said that she hated any and all of them.
Well, perhaps not all, but enough of them to constitute the majority.
But when one of the ones that she hated saw her shredded clothing and basically dropped his shirt on top of her head, she felt a strange sort of almost sibling-like thankfulness.
He didn't have to.
He was more burnt than she was, all things considered.
But he did, and instead of making some scathing remark that she would have normally had to reprimand him for, he just gave her the shirt.
Maybe, she reflected, it had to do with the fact that they…all of them…had lost. Maybe it had to do with the fact that their incompetent boss had finally abandoned them. Maybe it had to do with the fact that unless they got out, they were all going to die in the Buster Call.
Maybe it had to do with the fact that, in the end, they did care about each other.
But probably not. Probably it was only temporary.
A horrible, strangled cough broke her out of her musings, and Jyabura came back up the stairs, carrying a figure absolutely soaked in blood; clothing in worse shreds than her own.
"We have to find the others," Jyabura's voice was scratchy, his usual feigned contempt for the man on his back hidden. "We have to get out…we…"
"How?" she asked, tugging the shirt tighter around her. "We have no time; the island's going to be destroyed."
"Blueno."
It was quiet, but fervent, and she knew without a doubt that until they found Lucci, if…no, certainly they would…Kaku was in command. She had always felt protective of him; he was still a child, but she knew she would follow him without question.
He coughed again, blood staining his lips, and she felt another unwarranted pang of sympathy.
"He's right," Jyabura nodded. "He can get us out of here."
"How do we know…"
"They're alive," Kaku said firmly, and once again she didn't think to question him. "We just have to find…"
There was a crash from outside; the building was going down, and she could see her death. It was scarier than she would have anticipated.
The displacement of air in the room was subtle, but when the door opened and the remaining members of their team fell through, she felt a strange surge of affection for all of them.
"Let's go," Blueno gestured, and her heart clenched again at the sight of their obviously unconscious leader.
"Is he…" Kaku couldn't finish the sentence.
"Alive. For now," Blueno gestured again. "Now. Hurry," he spoke with no emotion, but the urgency was there as he helped her to her feet.
"Go," Kaku urged her, and she went without question.
…funny that it took her this long to realize she'd follow them anywhere.
Mood: Grumpy
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: None. Vague Shanks/Mihawk if you want it.
Word Count: 500
Notes: Because these two bickering are so much fun to write xP
"You have to lighten up!"
A glare was the only response to the words; a glare and a half-sneer that seemed to be the closest thing to a smile that he would ever get out of the other man. Everything about him was sharp, from his strange golden eyes to the pointed goatee to his weapon of choice to the cut of his words, made even more scathing by the absolute tenor of his voice.
"It's strange, isn't it?"
The abrupt change of subject made the swordsman turn, and he slung a too-friendly arm around his shoulders and gestured grandly, "Why is it that in all of the stories the most powerful men have the deepest voices? Look at us; two of the most powerful men in the world, and neither of us sound very intimidating Tone wise," he amended. He got strange when he drank; he knew that well enough, and from the look he got in return, he suspected that he really wasn't making much sense.
"Why should how you sound denote how strong you are?" was the expected reply.
"It doesn't. It's just weird, y'know? Like us; we're weird. Privateer and Buccaneer, Warlord and Emperor…rightfully we should hate each other…"
"We do hate each other."
"But we're drinking...-hic-…together and…and…" his voice faltered. He knew about the impending war, and the thought was sobering, even as he removed the extravagant hat from his companion's head and placed it on his own. "Dracule?"
The hawk-eyed man looked at him, knowing instantly that this wasn't the drink talking. "Yes?"
"When the war starts, whose side will you be on?"
"We're enemies," the man stated bluntly. "We will always be enemies. I work for the government now."
"For convenience's sake!"
"Do you believe that?" he looked straight into the other's eyes for once, and Shanks met his gaze evenly.
"I'd like to. You were never a real pirate, Dracule. Just a man with a dream; but…but you're not a government dog either, no matter what the general perception of 'Shichibukai' is. You don't use your position in order to bend the rules; it's merely a matter of protection against those who seek to unfairly dethrone you," he said calmly, all traces of drunkenness gone from his system now.
"You overestimate me."
"I know you," Shanks protested vehemently, pulling the other man so that their foreheads rested together, not caring that it knocked his feathered hat askew.
"You don't know anything about me," Mihawk attempted to pull back but Shanks kept them close.
"I know that you have to lighten up," Shanks grinned again before pulling back a bit and letting his arm wrap around Mihawk's shoulders again. "Drink?" he held out a fresh mug, and Mihawk rolled his eyes before taking it. "Dracule…will you really choose the government over us?"
Mihawk didn't answer, but Shanks didn't expect him to, knowing that, until the moment came, the swordsman wouldn't know the answer.
And he would just have to be content with that.
Mood: Guilty
Rating: PG
Pairing: None
Word Count: 496
Notes: Ace-centric, spoilers for recent chapters. The italicized/bolded/separated lyrics are from the song "What You Own," from the musical RENT. It's probably my favorite song of the musical, all things considered, and it's totally not as angsty as the snippets make it sound like xP
Don't breathe too deep
No.
Nonononono this wasn't supposed to happen, not this way. Whitebeard…captain…father, enemy of my father…wasn't supposed to come.
Wasn't supposed to lie; wasn't supposed to cover up the truth, the truth was the truth was the truth was he…
Knew he couldn't win. Was an idiot to think he could, but he had to had to had to try. Would my father have done this? Risked everything to bring down a mutineer?
And did it matter? I don't want to be King of the Pirates, his own voice, strong in his conviction.
That pint of shame
The war. The war had begun. The war was his fault.
So let him fight; let him die in a blaze of fire and glory; let him do something other than sit here shackled and forced to watch. Watch his captain, his crewmates, his…brother. No, not 'brother,' but 'brother' in everything but pure blood.
It was the ultimate culmination, the war a score of years in the making, the government and their privateer dogs against the pirates. Nobody could foresee the outcome, nobody; but…but if he just…
Just don't let go or you may drown
What if he were to be executed? Would the war stop?
There was no war when his father was killed, just the dawning of a new age.
Could he bring on a new age?
No, nonono he didn't want that, didn't want to think about…
I'm not my father. I won't go nobly and unafraid to my death because my goal has been fulfilled. It hasn't.
But what goal that was, he wasn't sure. Help Whitebeard find the One Piece? Sure, to begin with, but Whitebeard…if Whitebeard tried to offer it, he couldn't…
Couldn't, wouldn't, would never…
I'm not my father. I never knew my father.
I don't want to be my father.
Call me a hypocrite
What did he want? He wasn't sure he knew anymore. He didn't want to die, but if he was saved the war would start. And he didn't want the war, but that was impossible unless he were dead.
Maybe even if he were dead.
Best to stay alive, keep breathing, stop thinking, you can't have what you want, you've been cursed since you took your first breath…
You're not alone
But he was, he was so alone. No real family, no matter how much Luffy insisted; they weren't brothers.
His crew had already proven they could turn around and stab you in the back a moment's notice for fame and glory.
There was no one no one no one to depend on…no one who could save him and allow him to live with a clean conscience.
He didn't deserve to be…but he wanted to…but he needed to…
Luffy.
It always came back to Luffy, and Luffy would…
Save…
His brother. His brother, and just stop thinking stopstopstop…
Trust.
Luffy, Whitebeard, whoever.
Just trust.
Just tighten those shoulders
Not alone.
Never alone.
I'm not alone.
Mood: Happy
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Mild ZoSan
Words: 482
Notes: Spoilers for fairly recent chapters.
Sanji often thanked his lucky stars that he had made it off of Kamabakka Island alive, relatively sane, and without having to sleep with any one of the decidedly unattractive inhabitants there.
He thanked his lucky stars whenever he remembered…at least until, naturally, he ran into somebody he knew.
The fact that that person was Zoro was pretty much inevitable, based on the fact that his luck had never held for long.
And Zoro, wonderful man that he was, took one look and promptly began to laugh so hard he had to drop to his knees or risk falling over.
"Oi. Not funny."
"Cook," Zoro gasped out before dissolving into laughter again.
"I said, it's not funny!" Sanji lifted a heeled foot to kick the rude man, but Zoro caught his leg halfway down. He pulled, his hand sliding up Sanji's calf and eventually under his skirt, and he tried to wiggle away unsuccessfully.
"It's hilarious." Zoro had stopped laughing now and was deadly serious. "Because I know for a fact that you'd make the most beautiful girl in the world, but they made you look like somebody tried to doll you up in the dark. You got any normal clothes?"
"No, I…they were kind of ruined after Kuma…" Sanji stopped, reaching to remove his wig and scrubbing the excessive, almost clownish makeup off with a sleeve. He also did it to hide the fact that he was crying, but he'd never admit that.
"Hey, don't start. You're alive; I'm alive; I'm sure everyone's fine, love-cook," Zoro still hadn't moved his hand, and it was beginning to look a little inappropriate.
Sanji didn't really care; there was nobody watching, and he let his arms drape over Zoro's shoulders as he gave him a chaste kiss. "Yeah. You're right; they're stubborn freaks. And Nami-san and Robin-chan are brilliant, so they'll be fine."
"Something's bugging you," Zoro decided, and Sanji gave him a surprised look. "And I mean, something other than us being separated. Spill."
"It's just…you say that I'd make a pretty girl, right? Would you rather…would you…"
"Cook," Zoro chuckled. "It's only the truth; it's nothing to get excited about. Look," he released Sanji's leg and pulled him into a tight embrace. "If I wanted a girl, I'd get a girl. I'm not as unpopular with women as you tend to think. But I don't want a girl. I want you."
Sanji heaved a sigh before smiling. "That might be the most romantic thing you've ever said."
Zoro blushed immediately, tightening his arms even more. "Shut up. 'M not romantic."
"No; of course not," Sanji pulled back enough to kiss him again. "I'm glad you're alright, idiot Marimo."
"Yeah. Same, pervert cook," Zoro grunted. "Now, let's find you some normal clothes. Or at least a prettier dress."
Sanji kicked him for that, but he didn't bother to hide his grin this time.
Mood: Hopeful
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Mild KiddxLaw, see-it-if-you-want-it DrakexHawkins, and Bonneyxfood. The last one's canon, right?
"Why would anybody want to be the pirate king?"
"Fame? Glory?" Bonney asked around a mouthful of pizza, swallowing noisily before starting immediately in on another piece. "Pick of any girl or guy you want?"
"You really believe that?" Drake looked sceptical.
"Well, sure. When you're as famous as that, it doesn't matter what you look like. People are gonna throw themselves at you. 'Course, I wouldn't, I mean, but people…" she cut off to down half the contents of her mug. "People would."
"Yes, but…" the original asker held up a hand before dropping it. "That doesn't answer my question."
"Then turn it around on yourself, Trafalgar," Bonney suggested. "Tell me why somebody wouldn't want to be the pirate king."
"In case everyone's forgotten, the last pirate king was executed. Not exactly a positive thing, is it?" Law had to ask.
"It's the principle of the thing," Bonney shrugged. "Glory or bust, y'know?"
"But is it worth it? Is glory worth an early death?"
"Easily remedied," Drake chimed in again. "Whoever becomes the new pirate king just has to make sure it'll never come to death. Roger gave himself up, remember?"
"Easier said than done," Law narrowed his dark eyes, glancing surreptitiously across the bar.
"Ooh, you're just pessimistic because you're worried about him," Bonney smirked knowingly.
"That's complete idiocy," Law replied, a little too quickly.
"He doesn't have to worry about me," came a new voice.
"Yes, because all of the things Bonney's been saying have been so positive!" Law rolled his eyes.
"Look, Trafalgar…" Kidd squatted beside the other captain's chair. "First of all, my reasons for wanting to find the One Piece are my own, but rest assured that even if countless men and women throw themselves at me, unless you somehow get killed out there the only person that will be sharing my bed is you."
Law blushed at the forwardness of this, but Kidd merely chuckled, grinned slyly, and said, "Well, it's not like it was a secret. But lighten up. I'm supposed to be the one who acts like there's no hope. And besides…" he stood and let his hand linger on Law's shoulder. "I'm not going to die today. Right, Hawkins?"
The man in question, who had been walking by the table, vacantly nodded before dropping down onto Drake's lap as if he hadn't noticed the man was there. "Yes, that is true. You will not die today."
"See? Now get outta your funk, Trafalgar!" Bonney clapped him on the back. "We're all alive here, and for once we can just drink and eat and be merry!"
Law finally smiled and nodded, feeling a little better about everything; maybe a little more hopeful. Drake and Hawkins were arguing about the proper usage of chairs and that you just don't sit on somebody, Bonney was stuffing her face again, and Kidd just looked vaguely disgusted with all of them.
All was right with the world once more.
That's all for this batch :D
Don't be afraid to drop a review on the way out!!