Shanks

Laughter punctuated the crackling fire and Shanks leaned back, his empty tankard held loosely in his fingers. Smiling, he watched some of the crew drunkenly singing across the firepit but didn't join in. Glancing around, he noticed Yassop and Ben laughing at something together, and Roux was in an eating contest with a few others.

Above them, the nearly full moon shone brightly, turning the beach silver. Tipping his head back to watch the moon, he turned when someone nudged him. "Boss?"

"Yeah, Hongo?" Shanks turned to the crew's doctor. He was a little surprised Hongo wasn't drunk yet. But then again, he had been trying to stay as sober as he could for the last few weeks to keep an eye on his unexpected patient.

Hongo jerked his head to somewhere behind Shanks. "Might want to keep an eye on Osa."

Frowning, Shanks tipped his head back until he could see Osa leaning against a crate outside of the circle of light. One hand on his hat, Shanks fell onto his back with a whump. Grinning, he shook his head at Hongo as he stood. "I think you worry too much. You're the one who told him he shouldn't drink right now, so he's probably just trying to listen to you."

"At least someone does," Hongo muttered, but Shanks ignored the sarcastic remark. Leaving the doctor, he grabbed a full tankard and headed for Osa.

Walking unsteadily over, Shanks nearly fell as he sat down. "Not joining in?" Some of the ale sloshed out, spilling into the sand.

Osa sniffed as Shanks sat facing him, but kept his gaze on the forest. "I don't drink."

Shanks shook his head, grinning widely. "I know that's on the doctor's orders, but surely you can have a little?" He held out the tankard, but Osa grimaced and shook his head. His hair, not pulled back today, shook around his face.

"I don't drink." His words barely hid the growl embedded in the repeated words, but Shanks wasn't sure he heard it correctly.

"Come on, it's a party! We're leaving tomorrow, so have some fun with us while you're here!" Shanks took a large swig and glanced at Osa.

He was sitting with one leg stretched out, while the other was bent with the freshly bandaged stump sitting in the sand. His hair was messy, but Shanks thought that was its natural way. The color had deepened, even in the bright moonlight, to a red-burnished black. Osa was shirtless again, but so was half the crew. His bronze skin looked pale in the moonlight. His hand was bandaged, but he kept flexing his fingers ever so lightly.

Maybe it was the excessive drinking tonight, but Shanks felt a sudden urge to grab Osa's hand and lead him back to the fire. He didn't think the Navy man would appreciate that though, so he resisted. He had noticed early on that Osa hated being touched; he was worse than Mihawk.

The first day he had come back onto the beach, someone bumped into him and Osa leaped away like he had been struck, knocking over a barrel. He had apologized, but noticeably stayed away from everyone after that.

Shanks heard some of the crew muttering about him being a ticking time bomb, but he ignored them. He knew some people were just jumpy, and Osa was also a lone marine among pirates here. It was natural for him to feel jumpy here.

Osa's glare sent a shiver down Shanks' spine as he snarled, "I don't drink." The words clipped out, Osa's teeth audibly snapping.

Shanks watched him look back at the forest and frowned. "Why not?" It was rare he found someone unwilling to drink, especially at a party.

Osa leaned back and looked at the sky. "I don't want to talk about it." His voice was low, but Shanks heard regret hidden there.

"Bad time?" he asked.

Osa glanced at him, then nodded. "Yeah." Shanks was surprised when he saw something glittering down Osa's cheek after a few tense minutes. "I just…I got drunk and made a huge mistake. It cost me two of my only friends."

Shanks wasn't sure why he reached out and wiped the tear away, but quickly withdrew his hand at Osa's flinch. His face burning, he looked at the forest. "Yeah, that can ruin drinking pretty quickly." He took another long drink and felt a haze building up in his head.

"You get drunk a lot." Osa's words caused Shanks to burst out laughing. When it had subsided some, Osa shook his head. "I don't understand why you enjoy that." He looked serious, but Shanks thought he saw his lips twitch up.

"Because I like having fun," Shanks retorted lightly. "I'd guessed you weren't the type to drink like a pirate, but I'm surprised you don't seem to have fun at all." Too late, he realized how rude that sounded. He wanted to apologize immediately, but couldn't form the words right through his inebriation.

Osa's jaw clenched. "I don't have that luxury, unlike you." The words hissed through his teeth and Shanks blinked in surprise.

"What's that mean? Don't you enjoy the Navy?" Shanks felt something at the edge of his thoughts. Slowly, he remembered the picture in his cabin. "I mean, you never seemed that happy in the few times we've met, but surely you have fun sometime?"

Osa glanced at him strangely; Shanks could see his cheeks growing darker. "No."

Feeling a little awkward now, Shanks downed the rest of the drink and tossed the tankard to the side. "Why be in the Navy if you aren't having enjoying it?"

Osa shrugged. "It's where I belong."

Despite the thick haze over his mind, Shanks couldn't miss the hollowness of Osa's words. "You don't want to be there."

Osa froze and Shanks guessed he was right.

"Why stay then? Why not turn pirate?" Shanks grinned as he spoke, teasing Osa lightly. "You wouldn't be the first person to do so."

Osa shook his head. "And live my life with a bounty on my head? No thanks." His lips twitched though in a slight smile. "Besides, so few pirates come here, who could I leave with? Steal aboard a merchant and be hunted for abandoning my men?" There was a sarcastic edge to his voice, but Shanks couldn't miss the…the what? Wish? Idea? Longing?

"Come with us." The words escaped from Shanks' mouth before he realized what he was saying.

Osa

Osa wanted to freeze, to dash away, to escape, but he forced himself to laugh; it sounded bitter. "Are you…asking me to join your crew?"

Shanks closed his eyes, swaying slightly, then looked at Osa and shrugged. "I guess? I mean, are you happy in the Navy?" He grinned again, but it didn't reach his eyes. There was a bright red line across his cheekbones and his eyes glittered.

Osa closed his eyes and stretched out his other leg, tipping his head back. He wanted to tell Shanks the truth, though he wasn't sure why. About the years of training, honing his haki, getting beat by several of the other recruits in Cipher Pol. The bruises, the breaks, the reasons behind the scars on his back. Pushing himself so hard he passed out. Enduring the snide remarks he heard about the "devil" in their midst.

Instead, he lied. "Happy enough."

Shanks laughed. "I think you're lying." He shifted so he was sitting next to Osa, their arms almost touching.

Osa gritted his teeth, his ears flattening. His tail twitched, curling around his waist. A partial morph again, caused by his own nervousness. But, and he didn't want to admit this even to himself, he liked hearing Shanks' laugh. It was so light and carefree. He felt his arm almost burning from where it was close to Shanks.

He ignored the prickling along his skin and faced away. He still didn't understand why he felt this way, why he had been feeling this way for three weeks every time the captain got near him. And the more he ignored it, the worse it got.

It was quiet for several moments when Osa felt Shanks lean against him. He immediately bristled until he heard a light snore. Glancing over, Osa saw Shanks' head was tipped back and his eyes were closed. Another light snore and Shanks slipped down into the sand slightly, leaning more onto Osa. His hat fell to the ground.

Another shift and Osa quietly hissed as Shanks leaned over too far. With a swift motion, he carefully caught Shanks before he could fall. Laying him gently in the sand, Osa was careful to not jostle him. Shanks didn't wake, but turned his head to the side with another snore.

"Osa? Shanks?" Footsteps heralded the approach of Ben.

Osa wasn't sure what to think of the crew's first mate. He was much more serious than the rest of them, and not given to much talk. Osa had felt Ben's gaze on him almost every time he was around the crew since he had gotten here.

Ben's gaze narrowed as he rounded the crates, then he sighed. "Passed out?" The flickering fire illuminated his slight grin.

Osa shrugged. "Yeah. Mid-talk too."

Ben chuckled and shook his head. "Sorry he fell on you. I saw what was happening from over there." He jerked his head to where Yassop was sprawled out drunkenly.

"It's alright. Not like he meant to," Osa responded. He must pass out a lot if Ben didn't seem worried.

"Is it alright if he stays there with you then?" Ben's question surprised him. Did they trust Osa enough to know he wouldn't kill their captain or bind him and race off?

He nodded, and Ben walked off. Glancing at the rest of the crew, Osa shifted a bit to get more comfortable but froze when he felt Shanks move. Looking down, he noticed Shanks had rolled so his face was against Osa's leg, one arm stretched across his lap.

Heart beating almost painfully against his ribs, Osa gingerly tried to move Shanks' arm, but gasped when Shanks clutched him. He said something sleepily, but Osa couldn't make it out.

Biting back a growl, and fighting the instinctive panic rising in his chest, Osa gazed at Shanks as the man slept deeply. Slowly, his heart steadied and Osa managed to squash down his panic. Once he was calm enough, he realized this was the first time he had really paid attention to Shanks.

Not that he hadn't before, but Shanks was always drinking, partying, sparring with someone; he couldn't seem to keep still sometimes, or otherwise had an almost permanent red mark across his cheekbones and eventually passed out away from Osa.

Osa sighed. He never imagined someone could drink so much and still be able to function. Pushing the thought away, he looked down.

Shanks hadn't changed much, aside from being older. His red hair was brilliant in the moonlight, which had failed to turn it silver. Instead, it was almost like a deep flame now. A light stubble covered his chin, but his cheeks were smooth; did he shave often? There weren't any worry lines that marred his face, and even in his sleep, there was a smile tugging at his lips. His skin was clear, tanned lightly from constant days in the sun.

Without thinking, Osa reached down and ran his fingers through Shanks' hair. It was smooth and clean. Not that pirates didn't bath, but it looked like Shanks actually cared about his appearance. At least a little. He heard Shanks murmur, felt his arm tighten around Osa's waist, and stopped, but the man didn't wake. He left his hand there, not wanting to disturb him.

Osa gazed at him for a few minutes, then looked at the forest towards the base. He was surprised, but glad, someone hadn't come looking for him. He thought about the base and mentally groaned at the fact he was going back tomorrow. Ben and Shanks were going to escort him close to town, leaving him where it would be easy for him to get back alone on just a crudely cut crutch.

He didn't want to, not after having spent three weeks being happy for once.

Wait…happy? Was he? Osa thought back and couldn't resist the little smile that crossed his face. While the pirates had clearly not trusted him at first, they were all good men. Not like some of the bloodthirsty savages he heard stories about. They partied a lot, and it wasn't uncommon for most everyone to get drunk every night, but once Osa could join them, they had opened up pretty quickly.

Shanks was always laughing, and always encouraged Osa to join in whenever he could. He had been the first one to offer sympathy when Osa woke to find out they had amputated his foot. When something was wrong or needed doing, Shanks was always the first to help, even doing things that Osa knew Navy captains would never dare to do.

Osa had found it difficult to feel anything but happy or amused around him. Found it hard to dwell on the stress of his position. Around Shanks, the weight from his chest lifted.

His face burned and he looked down at Shanks. Still asleep, it was clear he was happy where he was. As a pirate, with his own crew. But the burn turned to fire as he thought about all the times he caught Shanks looking at him, or him at Shanks, and covered his eyes with his free hand with a soft groan at a sudden realization.

Did he like Shanks? He had no experience in anything relating to relationships, even friendship really. How was he supposed to know why he felt the way he did around Shanks? But the moment he said it to himself, he knew he was right.

He liked Shanks. A lot. And he had for a while. Since they were teenagers in Loguetown probably.

But he couldn't do anything about it. He was Cipher Pol, a member of CP8 now. Not Navy, worse. Why did he have to escape the base, try to fix his restlessness? If he hadn't climbed out the window that night, he would've never stumbled into the trap. Never lost his foot.

And never met Shanks.

No, he corrected himself. He still would've met Shanks eventually, and it was certainly better meeting him here than in battle, where he would either have to kill him or his crew or risk getting killed himself. And even if it was only temporary, he was glad Shanks had rescued him and brought him here. It was nice being…

"Free," Osa breathed the word quietly. Without thinking, he brushed his hand through Shanks' hair gently. Shanks made a sound of appreciation, tightening his grip again, and Osa glanced at him.

When tomorrow came, how was he going to leave?