Random One Piece Drabbles
Jun. 16th, 2005 06:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dethoratsSo...three G rated and weird drabbles that involve something hidden.
Title: An Unexpected Spot
Pairing: Ben/Shanks
Word Count: 339
He’d found it completely by accident, the reaction he’d gotten so intense that he didn’t realize what he’d done. Time had passed and he had tried again and again to recreate the scene, unaware that it wasn’t the situation or the timing or the mood, it was the simplest of touches. He found it again one rainy, boring afternoon when they were holed up below deck.
They were conducting themselves like usual, the nagging and the nagged, the teasing and the teased, the annoyer and the annoyed, while going about the tedious process of resealing the hull with flame retardant. The stuff was slippery and thick, hard to apply, and it reeked horribly, but the job had to be done. He was trying to be careful, he really was, even though it was hard to tell with the way he was waving around his brush. Besides even the best of sailors can still be caught off guard by a sudden swelling wave. And the floor was slick with the pungent gunk.
He’d been caught, neatly saved with his rear hovering about a foot off the floor and an arm wrapped tightly about his ribs. He’d only tilted his head back to grin up at his savior when suddenly it happened again. The wood was hard beneath his back, breath gone, as he was unexpectedly dropped. Behind him, the other man backed away too quickly, trying to ward him off, and slipped himself when the ship surged again.
Eyes gleaming, he’d stalked towards his prey on hands and knees, one finger reaching out to brush across the spot so recently caressed by his hair.
“Really? Your elbow?”
“Shut up!”
Breathless beneath him, the man had tried to squirm away. But it was really hard to escape someone when they’re sitting on your hips and have a firm grip on your arm.
“No fair!” Shanks managed to get the words out in between fits of laughter. Ben raised an eyebrow and stroked his fingers across the joint again. “Pirates never are.”
Title: Cookies
Pairing: None really…Luffy, Zoro, and Sanji
Word Count: 786
For the fourth time in two weeks Sanji sat bolt upright in his hammock, heart pounding in his chest. There was something going on in his kitchen, he just knew it! A quick glance to the right proved just how correct his fears were – Luffy wasn’t snoring away across from him. At least the last three times the food-craving captain had been asleep, and he’d written the feeling off to Zoro stealing booze during his watch. But with the swordsman and the bottomless pit both missing, his kitchen and their food supply was in mortal peril.
The wooden door burst open and Zoro froze, guiltily clutching a plate full of chocolate chip cookies in his hand. Luffy, seated at the table just continued to stuff his face, pausing occasionally to gulp down some milk. Sanji took in the scene, opened his mouth, and…stopped. He hadn’t made chocolate chip cookies in almost a month. His Nami-swan’s tastes ran more to airy pastries and sorbets than to the common treat. A closer examination of the room and its occupants revealed the bowls and pans in the sink and the faint traces of flour dusting green hair.
At first he had wanted to yell. Instead, feeling somewhat confused considering the unblackened status of the cookies, he sat down. Warily Zoro had followed suit, sliding the plate towards Luffy. They both watched as the captain devoured almost half in thirty seconds before chugging his milk. The shitty swordsman, Sanji noted, was watching this process with a stupid grin on his face, the kind of grin he himself wore all too often when observing the crew eat.
“Well,” he asked when Luffy had finally drained his glass, thumping it down on the table. “Anyone want to explain what’s going on in MY kitchen?”
“Crap cook…” Zoro had started to growl out when Luffy beamed at both of them and answered instead.
“Zoro made me cookies.”
“I can see that. But why didn’t you ask me? I’m sure Zoro’s can’t be that good.”
The captain had pondered this for a moment, mindless of the glares and the sudden kicking match that had started under the table.
“Actually, I like his better’n yours.”
“What?!”
“Hah!”
Sanji felt his face going red as he took in the smug look on the stupid seaweed head’s face. “Luffy, you can’t mean that.”
“Nope, I do. Here.” He pushed the nearly empty plate towards the cook. “Try one.”
Sanji stared at the few remaining cookies. It was below his dignity as a chef to eat such obviously inferior cooking, but Luffy was looking at him so expectantly. Reluctantly he picked one up, absently noting it was still warm, and took a bite. The cookie was good. No, better than good. It was perfect. Chewy but not overly so, warm and soft but not crumbly, with just the right amount of chips. Sweet and chocolatey and delicious – it was, he had to concede, better than his own by an infinitesmal amount.
“See?”
Sanji nodded, a pain forming in his stomach as he took another bite. What else was the damn marimo good at that he was hiding? Was there no need for him any more?
“Oi oi! Bastard chef! Don’t look like that!”
Zoro scowled at him and grabbed the plate back, stuffing the last few cookies into his haramaki to feed to Luffy later. Sanji looked like he was ready to cry and the last thing he needed to deal with tonight was an insecure cook. He never should have let Luffy find out that he knew how to make chocolate chip cookies, but the captain had been so annoying about it when the stupid chef had refused to make them two weeks ago in favor of yet another citrus flavored cream puff.
“I can’t…” Zoro rubbed the back of his head, hating that he was even trying to reassure the asshole across from him. “It’s not like I can make anything else as good as yours, okay. Just this.” He leaned forward, finger jabbing Sanji right on the nose. “And I learned how to make these from my grandma so don’t be tryin’ to get me to make anything else.”
That did the trick. “Shitty swordsman, I would never let an oaf like you in my kitchen. You’d just fuck everything up. And I wouldn’t want you in here helping me anyway. Your grandma’s recipe on the other hand…”
Neither of them noticed when Luffy snatched the cookies out of Zoro’s haramaki and then got up and started helping himself to the contents of the fridge. They were too busy trying to see who could kill the other first without actually getting up from the table.
Title: Calligraphy
Pairing: Vague Usopp and Zoro
Word Count: 563
When Roronoa Zoro asks to borrow something with that fierce, scowly, ‘don’t question me, just do as I say’ look on his face, Usopp figured there wasn’t anybody in the world who wouldn’t obey. He’d handed over paper and brush and watched the swordsman vanish below the deck. It was only later, when his knees stopped shaking from the intensity of the other’s presence, that he realized Zoro hadn’t asked for any paint.
Thoughts of Zoro slicing his own wrist, letting the blood flow out so he could use it as an ink wouldn’t leave the sharpshooter alone. As ridiculous as he knew it was, he couldn’t get the image of Zoro, startlingly dressed in a white robe, sitting on the floor and writing a suicide note in his own blood before falling on one of his swords. He lasted nearly an hour before the ideas he conjured up became too extreme for him to sit still any longer.
What he saw as he peered through the space between door and frame wasn’t nearly so macabre as what he’d imagined, but it was still strange. Zoro would sit on his knees, eyes closed for long minutes, almost like he was asleep except for the rigid posture. Then, without any signal Usopp could see, he’d dart forward. Snatching up the brush from off a wet-looking black stone, he’d attack the paper with a few strong, sure strokes. Then he’d go back to that uncomfortable looking position again.
Finally, after he’d been watching for half an hour, Zoro appeared to finish. He studied the paper in front of him with a satisfied smile and then glanced at the door. His mouth had firmed and Usopp squeaked, caught. Then the swordsman had sighed and waved him in. He crossed the room with quaking nerves and stopped, caught by the unexpected work in front of him.
“It’s beautiful.”
And it was, black lines stark and forceful, bold on the white paper. But they also seemed to float, the curves on some of them and the trailing edges suggesting something else buried under the initial display of power. It wasn’t exactly a picture, not the way he knew pictures at least, but it wasn’t really writing either. It was something new, something he’d never seen before.
“It’s a meditation technique.” Zoro sounded diffident behind him, and Usopp, moved by the unusual tone in the swordsman’s voice, gestured for him to come forward and explain more.
“It’s a way of focusing. I use it to help me create or strengthen attacks. Here, this one is tora gari. I’m trying to improve it.”
Usopp studied the paper once more. Sure enough the strokes on the paper seemed to mimic Zoro’s form in an abstract way. It was pretty cool; art, caricature, sword technique, and meditation all in a single work. Usopp knew his strength lay in his mind and in his eyesight. He wasn’t a fighter in the same way Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, even Chopper, were. Zoro, who seemingly lived for physical violence, had always been something of an enigma. But now, maybe, here was a chance to try and understand.
“I have lots more paper. Do you think something like this would work with ballistics?”
And Zoro, to his surprise and delight, had nodded, dug around in his haramaki, and presented him with another one of those black stones.
And that's that. These were all weird but I had nothing better to do. Oh, and I think my official OP drabble count is now over 100. (And I think at least 60 of those are Ben/Shanks...no, I'm not obsessed at all.)
Title: An Unexpected Spot
Pairing: Ben/Shanks
Word Count: 339
He’d found it completely by accident, the reaction he’d gotten so intense that he didn’t realize what he’d done. Time had passed and he had tried again and again to recreate the scene, unaware that it wasn’t the situation or the timing or the mood, it was the simplest of touches. He found it again one rainy, boring afternoon when they were holed up below deck.
They were conducting themselves like usual, the nagging and the nagged, the teasing and the teased, the annoyer and the annoyed, while going about the tedious process of resealing the hull with flame retardant. The stuff was slippery and thick, hard to apply, and it reeked horribly, but the job had to be done. He was trying to be careful, he really was, even though it was hard to tell with the way he was waving around his brush. Besides even the best of sailors can still be caught off guard by a sudden swelling wave. And the floor was slick with the pungent gunk.
He’d been caught, neatly saved with his rear hovering about a foot off the floor and an arm wrapped tightly about his ribs. He’d only tilted his head back to grin up at his savior when suddenly it happened again. The wood was hard beneath his back, breath gone, as he was unexpectedly dropped. Behind him, the other man backed away too quickly, trying to ward him off, and slipped himself when the ship surged again.
Eyes gleaming, he’d stalked towards his prey on hands and knees, one finger reaching out to brush across the spot so recently caressed by his hair.
“Really? Your elbow?”
“Shut up!”
Breathless beneath him, the man had tried to squirm away. But it was really hard to escape someone when they’re sitting on your hips and have a firm grip on your arm.
“No fair!” Shanks managed to get the words out in between fits of laughter. Ben raised an eyebrow and stroked his fingers across the joint again. “Pirates never are.”
Title: Cookies
Pairing: None really…Luffy, Zoro, and Sanji
Word Count: 786
For the fourth time in two weeks Sanji sat bolt upright in his hammock, heart pounding in his chest. There was something going on in his kitchen, he just knew it! A quick glance to the right proved just how correct his fears were – Luffy wasn’t snoring away across from him. At least the last three times the food-craving captain had been asleep, and he’d written the feeling off to Zoro stealing booze during his watch. But with the swordsman and the bottomless pit both missing, his kitchen and their food supply was in mortal peril.
The wooden door burst open and Zoro froze, guiltily clutching a plate full of chocolate chip cookies in his hand. Luffy, seated at the table just continued to stuff his face, pausing occasionally to gulp down some milk. Sanji took in the scene, opened his mouth, and…stopped. He hadn’t made chocolate chip cookies in almost a month. His Nami-swan’s tastes ran more to airy pastries and sorbets than to the common treat. A closer examination of the room and its occupants revealed the bowls and pans in the sink and the faint traces of flour dusting green hair.
At first he had wanted to yell. Instead, feeling somewhat confused considering the unblackened status of the cookies, he sat down. Warily Zoro had followed suit, sliding the plate towards Luffy. They both watched as the captain devoured almost half in thirty seconds before chugging his milk. The shitty swordsman, Sanji noted, was watching this process with a stupid grin on his face, the kind of grin he himself wore all too often when observing the crew eat.
“Well,” he asked when Luffy had finally drained his glass, thumping it down on the table. “Anyone want to explain what’s going on in MY kitchen?”
“Crap cook…” Zoro had started to growl out when Luffy beamed at both of them and answered instead.
“Zoro made me cookies.”
“I can see that. But why didn’t you ask me? I’m sure Zoro’s can’t be that good.”
The captain had pondered this for a moment, mindless of the glares and the sudden kicking match that had started under the table.
“Actually, I like his better’n yours.”
“What?!”
“Hah!”
Sanji felt his face going red as he took in the smug look on the stupid seaweed head’s face. “Luffy, you can’t mean that.”
“Nope, I do. Here.” He pushed the nearly empty plate towards the cook. “Try one.”
Sanji stared at the few remaining cookies. It was below his dignity as a chef to eat such obviously inferior cooking, but Luffy was looking at him so expectantly. Reluctantly he picked one up, absently noting it was still warm, and took a bite. The cookie was good. No, better than good. It was perfect. Chewy but not overly so, warm and soft but not crumbly, with just the right amount of chips. Sweet and chocolatey and delicious – it was, he had to concede, better than his own by an infinitesmal amount.
“See?”
Sanji nodded, a pain forming in his stomach as he took another bite. What else was the damn marimo good at that he was hiding? Was there no need for him any more?
“Oi oi! Bastard chef! Don’t look like that!”
Zoro scowled at him and grabbed the plate back, stuffing the last few cookies into his haramaki to feed to Luffy later. Sanji looked like he was ready to cry and the last thing he needed to deal with tonight was an insecure cook. He never should have let Luffy find out that he knew how to make chocolate chip cookies, but the captain had been so annoying about it when the stupid chef had refused to make them two weeks ago in favor of yet another citrus flavored cream puff.
“I can’t…” Zoro rubbed the back of his head, hating that he was even trying to reassure the asshole across from him. “It’s not like I can make anything else as good as yours, okay. Just this.” He leaned forward, finger jabbing Sanji right on the nose. “And I learned how to make these from my grandma so don’t be tryin’ to get me to make anything else.”
That did the trick. “Shitty swordsman, I would never let an oaf like you in my kitchen. You’d just fuck everything up. And I wouldn’t want you in here helping me anyway. Your grandma’s recipe on the other hand…”
Neither of them noticed when Luffy snatched the cookies out of Zoro’s haramaki and then got up and started helping himself to the contents of the fridge. They were too busy trying to see who could kill the other first without actually getting up from the table.
Title: Calligraphy
Pairing: Vague Usopp and Zoro
Word Count: 563
When Roronoa Zoro asks to borrow something with that fierce, scowly, ‘don’t question me, just do as I say’ look on his face, Usopp figured there wasn’t anybody in the world who wouldn’t obey. He’d handed over paper and brush and watched the swordsman vanish below the deck. It was only later, when his knees stopped shaking from the intensity of the other’s presence, that he realized Zoro hadn’t asked for any paint.
Thoughts of Zoro slicing his own wrist, letting the blood flow out so he could use it as an ink wouldn’t leave the sharpshooter alone. As ridiculous as he knew it was, he couldn’t get the image of Zoro, startlingly dressed in a white robe, sitting on the floor and writing a suicide note in his own blood before falling on one of his swords. He lasted nearly an hour before the ideas he conjured up became too extreme for him to sit still any longer.
What he saw as he peered through the space between door and frame wasn’t nearly so macabre as what he’d imagined, but it was still strange. Zoro would sit on his knees, eyes closed for long minutes, almost like he was asleep except for the rigid posture. Then, without any signal Usopp could see, he’d dart forward. Snatching up the brush from off a wet-looking black stone, he’d attack the paper with a few strong, sure strokes. Then he’d go back to that uncomfortable looking position again.
Finally, after he’d been watching for half an hour, Zoro appeared to finish. He studied the paper in front of him with a satisfied smile and then glanced at the door. His mouth had firmed and Usopp squeaked, caught. Then the swordsman had sighed and waved him in. He crossed the room with quaking nerves and stopped, caught by the unexpected work in front of him.
“It’s beautiful.”
And it was, black lines stark and forceful, bold on the white paper. But they also seemed to float, the curves on some of them and the trailing edges suggesting something else buried under the initial display of power. It wasn’t exactly a picture, not the way he knew pictures at least, but it wasn’t really writing either. It was something new, something he’d never seen before.
“It’s a meditation technique.” Zoro sounded diffident behind him, and Usopp, moved by the unusual tone in the swordsman’s voice, gestured for him to come forward and explain more.
“It’s a way of focusing. I use it to help me create or strengthen attacks. Here, this one is tora gari. I’m trying to improve it.”
Usopp studied the paper once more. Sure enough the strokes on the paper seemed to mimic Zoro’s form in an abstract way. It was pretty cool; art, caricature, sword technique, and meditation all in a single work. Usopp knew his strength lay in his mind and in his eyesight. He wasn’t a fighter in the same way Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, even Chopper, were. Zoro, who seemingly lived for physical violence, had always been something of an enigma. But now, maybe, here was a chance to try and understand.
“I have lots more paper. Do you think something like this would work with ballistics?”
And Zoro, to his surprise and delight, had nodded, dug around in his haramaki, and presented him with another one of those black stones.
And that's that. These were all weird but I had nothing better to do. Oh, and I think my official OP drabble count is now over 100. (And I think at least 60 of those are Ben/Shanks...no, I'm not obsessed at all.)
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Date: 2005-06-17 12:24 pm (UTC)