"What? Not up for another chorus of 'Wellerman?'" I asked, crossing my arms and leaning against the door frame.
Shanks was standing in the hall in front of my room with a paper bag in his hand. He must've just showered. His red hair was still damp, and he smelled like the soap the inn kept stocked in the rooms.
Based on what Rhys, who was married to Carl, the innkeeper, had told me, the soap was made by a woman in town with a fragrance unique to the inn to make everyone's stay just a little bit more special. He had worked with her to find the perfect balance of citrus and spice to capture the overall vibe of the place. Based on Carl's fond expression as this story was relayed, he didn't totally get it but was happy to indulge his husband.
Now, as the smell wafted off the pirate before me, I could really appreciate Rhys' effort.
By the time Yasopp's hair was fully retwisted, all the crew members staying at the inn had made their way back, and the rain had finally hit the shore. Once the Red Force was secured, they'd extended their services to the rest of the village. Shanks had helped Carl with his final preparations for the storm before everyone had settled in for the night. I had offered to help, but Rhys had waved me off, insisting that they had it under control.
Most of the crew played cards, drank, and sang in the living room area. Their spirits were high, but I could tell by the sagging shoulders and how specific movements caused them to pinch their faces that the storm prep had beat them up.
It doesn't matter how strong you are in the face of a hard day's work. I could endure my brothers' training sessions no problem, but sometimes a day at the tavern or the store could leave me laid out on the couch, because I couldn't make it the whole way back the hall to my bed.
I had hung out long enough to greet the guys, hustle Gab out of a couple hundred bucks, and sing "Bink's Sake" before quietly slipping upstairs to shower and change into my pajamas.
"There will be other shanties," he said with a shrug. Even the captain wasn't safe from the exhaustion that had settled into the others. His countenance was unusually dim. "But who knows how many times I'll get to see this ensemble?" There was a hint of that smile.
I was in a cropped black tank top and obnoxious kitten pajama pants that Lyric had insisted the four of us get while the girls were all still traveling with me. We had a strange mix of childhoods, some mostly pleasant, others consistently tragic. Together, we tried to enjoy pieces of girlhood that we hadn't had the opportunity to appreciate in our youth, including many a slumber party, which, at Lyric's insistence, involved matching rainbow pajamas printed with weird cartoon cats with too-wide smiles.
"Shut up," I said, giving him a gentle shove.
"I like 'em. The creepy kittens go well with the tattoos and piercings," he said, eyes traveling from the rainbow print to the dark ink that started beneath my waistband and traveled up over my left hip and ribcage before winding around my back, up between my shoulders and down my right arm.
"Are you done?" I asked, causing his eyes to snap back to my face.
He grinned fully this time. "Do I have to be?"
"Get inside," I scolded, stepping aside to let him in.
He pressed a kiss to my cheek as he passed. "I brought provisions," he said, holding up the bag.
"What did you get?" I asked, shutting the door and following him to the desk where he set the bag down.
"Baked goods," he answered, reeling me in with his now free hand to kiss me properly.
It would be easy just to lose myself in Shanks - in the feeling of the muscles that flexed under the cotton of his t-shirt, the warmth he radiated like the damn sun, the way his lips slotted perfectly against mine.
There had been many times since I left Aurora when I became more accurately aware of my newfound freedom, but moments like these were where I most appreciated it. Sure, there was a series of newspaper clippings and maps marking out the travel patterns of my father and his sons tucked away in a folder on the desk, but here I didn't have to constantly look over my shoulder for one of the boys or Tel and his goons. I could fully focus my attention on the man in front of me.
"You know," Shanks started after he pulled back, looking surprisingly energized for a man who, minutes earlier, looked like he was going to drop. "I've been thinking about that pretty much all day."
"Oh really?"
"That and finally laying down," he said, flopping back onto my bed with a deep groan.
I chuckled, turning back to the desk to root through the bag. There were cookies, cupcakes, and hand pies. I pulled out one of the boxes, which opened to reveal an assortment of puff pastries. I grinned, grabbing one of the raspberry-filled ones and taking a bite.
I let out a pleased moan. It was perfectly flaky, and the sweetness from the berries was cut with the tanginess of the cream cheese filling.
"Sometimes I swear you're trying to torment me," he grumbled from the bed, throwing his arm over his eyes.
I raised my brows in question.
"Dressed like that, making sounds like that."
I laughed, incredulous. "The kitten pants really doing it for ya?" I teased. "You don't think I could do better than creepy rainbow kittens if I were out to get you?"
"I know that you could," he said, "That fucking bikini at the waterfall was proof of that."
I snorted, trying to hide how pleased I was. I could pretend I didn't know what I was doing when I dressed. In my defense, we were going to a swim spot, and it was hotter than holy hell out. But if we were honest, I 100% had Shanks in mind when I tied that swimsuit on. Hell, he'd been in my mind when I'd bought the damn thing while shopping with the girls, which would probably be embarrassing if I thought about it a little harder.
"But you don't have to try. It's effortless."
"You keep talking like that, and I might think you like me or something."
"Is that what gave it away then?" he asked, finally moving his arm from his face.
"That and the waiting for two hours at a diner I might not have shown up at."
"Some people might think that's a romantic gesture," he argued.
"You know, I used to think shit like that didn't work in real life," I said.
Shanks grinned, propping himself up. "Used to?" I didn't miss the slight wince as he moved and how he was being extra cautious of his left arm.
I'm sure that the combination of physical labor and the drastically changing weather was taking its toll. Per Marco, the lower pressure caused tissues to expand, which is why some people experienced worse pain in their joints or residual limbs. Clearly, the shower hadn't helped a ton, or maybe it had, and today was getting to him. Hell, even the fit of my glass eye felt off.
"I also bought provisions," I said, grabbing a bottle from the bag I'd left inside the door when I'd returned the previous day. I lifted the sake bottle, giving it a little wave.
"Just when I thought you couldn't get any more perfect." He made a gimme motion.
I took the cap off before placing the open bottle in Shanks' outstretched hand. I did have sake cups stashed around here somewhere, but clearly, those weren't necessary today.
He took a long swig, before flopping back again, careful not to spill.
I sat on the bed next to him, leaning back against the headboard. "You look exhausted."
Shanks hummed, rolling over, resting his head on my thigh, and draping his arm across my legs. I brought my hand down to rake my fingers through his hair.
"I'm going to look like a rooster."
"Fitting." I glanced over towards the window. It was shuttered, but there was a little flex, causing it to bow and bend against the harsh winds. Bright flashes of lightning illuminated the gaps between the panels.
"How's the Red Force?"
"As secure as she can be," he said. "Not the first storm she's weathered."
I nodded. "How's the left arm?"
"Missing," he answered.
I rolled my eyes. "The part you still have," I clarified.
He was quiet for a second, before grumbling out, "Sore."
"Weather?" I asked.
He nodded against my thigh, before taking another swig from the bottle.
"Plus, I'm sure all the work tightened up all your muscles. The shower help?" I asked. As I did so, I brought the hand in his hair down to his shoulders. "Damn," I swore, poking at the tensed muscle.
"Stop it," he whined.
I would've laughed at the big bad pirate captain if I didn't feel bad. I grabbed the bottle from his hand and set it on the nightstand, ignoring his protests. I slipped out of the bed, causing him to fall face-first into the mattress.
He rolled onto his back, watching me as I went into the bathroom and grabbed a bottle of lotion. "Shirt off and roll back over," I said. "We're gonna do something about those damn knots."
He did as I asked without a word.
I squeezed some lotion into my hands, warming it before pressing my hands to his shoulders.
"Not a single crack about me being bossy or trying to get my hands on you? You must really be tired."
"We both know I'll let you put your hands wherever you'd like."
"Just my hands?" I asked, feeling his shoulders completely freeze up.
"Elizabeth," he warned.
I chuckled. "I told you I could do better than kitten pajamas."
"You're cruel," he said.
"Maybe just a little," I agreed.
"I thought you were supposed to be helping me relax."
"I'll stop," I conceded. "For now."
I started between his shoulder blades, working up his neck before my hands traveled across his wingspan, extra cautious as I moved from right to left. My movements were methodical. I recalled what Marco had taught me, and alternated between deep kneading at the tougher spots and gentle messaging. Tender touches over faded scars.
It was quiet save for the storm outside, the people in other rooms in the inn, and the occasional his or grunt of pain as I worked a tough spot, followed by my soft apologies.
By the time I was done, he'd practically melted into the mattress, eyes shut.
I stood up straight, cracking my back, suffering the effects of Yasopp's retwist and Shanks' massage, before heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth.
I'd suffered through years of back pain. It lingered because of an injury that had occurred during my captivity after I'd been abducted. Marco taught me all about the muscles and skeletal structure of the back as he worked out the best course of treatment. We'd then gone through the process of trying to figure out what exercises and stretches would help ease my discomfort.
It had worked for the most part. I no longer needed the braces and supports I'd required as a teenager, though I still preferred the added lumbar support from one of my corsets.
I came back out and crawled into bed next to Shanks. Almost immediately, he wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close.
"You might have a career as a masseuse," he said against my neck, warm breath leaving goosebumps in its wake. "You're pretty damn good at that."
"Don't make as much as bounty hunters, though. You're worth a pretty penny," I reminded him.
"We already established that you like me too much to kill me." He pressed a kiss to the side of my neck.
"And then we determined that you're worth more alive. I could still negotiate with Beck."
"You don't have to negotiate. Just say the word, and I'll give you whatever you want."
The words were on the tip of my tongue, but I bit them back for now.
Author's Note:
So folks, after a lot of thought I've decided that my time here FanFicNet is coming to an end. In general I'm not on here much, save to post Throne and I've been getting kinda bombarded with spam/bots. I'm still gonna be writing, and Throne will continue to exist on here for a while, but eventually, I'm going to remove it from this site and leave it just on my tumblr and on Ao3, where I've been primarily posting for the past several years. So if you want to keep following along you can find me there. tumblr - genogenocrazycatman Ao3 - teroinreadsteroinwrites