Shanks and Ben ficcage
Jul. 22nd, 2005 05:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dethoratsWell, I decided to try something a little different with my writing style. I don't know that it worked exactly or just what exactly is different. And I'm not sure that I like the overall thing, but it was just an experiment after all. A slice of life, descriptive little thing focusing on my favorite pirates.
Title: Introspection
Rating: PG
Pairing: Shanks and Ben
Word Count: 2267
Soft. The bed was so soft and comfy. It was the perfect temperature beneath the sheets and comforter too, the weight of the bedclothes providing a gentle pressure all along his body. Shanks nuzzled his face deeper into the pillow and let out a little sigh of pure happiness. There was just something about waking up from a nap and realizing it was an entirely natural process for a change - feeling refreshed and lethargic at the same time – rather than rushed or hurried by an alarm or insistent voice. It was an experience that could only be topped by the realization that he was on vacation and could go right back to sleep or just while away the day in bed with no one to say otherwise. He wasn’t quite ready to give up the warm darkness that was the world behind his closed eyelids yet, and he burrowed deeper under the covers, cocooning himself. Snug and having satisfied his tactile needs, Shanks relaxed into the bed and decided to play one of his favorite private games.
He knew already from the overall coolness of the sheets when he had drawn them close that Ben had been out of bed for a while. Odds were good, however, that he hadn’t gone too far. They were on vacation after all; there would be no pressing need that would call his first mate away. Besides the whole point of this vacation was to give the entire crew some much-needed rest – with the added bonus of plenty of private time for everyone away from the close quarters of the ship. Ben wouldn’t give up this well-earned solitude so quickly, especially not when he himself had been quiescently whiling away the day with a nap.
Shanks woke up alone more often than not. Sometimes he thought Ben didn’t bother to sleep at all, resting by reading or just watching the stars or the sunrise. Still, despite his empty bed, his first mate didn’t often venture beyond the boundaries of the cabin. He would work, pour over the inventory or the charts or with a bit of mending in his capable hands, or sometimes just read in the stillness afforded by the hour. And Shanks, having learned all this, liked to try and figure out where the man was and what he was doing without tipping the other off. It was just a little challenge he amused himself with, and now seemed like a good time to play again. Ears first, he decided. Ben was pretty quiet and Shanks always gave himself bonus points in one form or another if he could pinpoint the man with just that sense.
The sound of running water was shockingly loud as he began concentrating solely on his hearing. It had been white noise before, a low rush of current flowing over smooth rocks and into still pools. They were shelling out a large sum for this particular inn but it was well worth it. A series of hot springs bubbled up out of the mountainside and long ago some enterprising person had seen fit to construct a few low daub-and-stone buildings and started charging people for the pleasure of staying in them. Most of the original rooms were gone now, replaced with warm, solid brick or airy, aromatic cedar and bamboo. Their lodgings weren’t the largest nor the most well appointed in the place, but Shanks had commandeered the one with the most privacy, all the way at the top of the property. It was only a few hundred yards from the summit, and he had already regretted the choice once while staggering up the gravel path from the common room, completely wasted from celebrating the first night of vacation. Ben had wisely suggested they bring the alcohol to the room from then on, and the staff had swiftly learned to bring an extra bag or two along to collect all the empty bottles. Still, despite the location’s hindrances to intoxication, it was worth it.
Aside from the spectacular view from the front porch, and the privacy that came from being well removed from the rest of the compound, their particular cabin featured not only its own hot spring but also a second pool. This one was clear and cool, fed by a stream that had its source in an outcropping of rocks about fifty feet higher up. The stream trickled down the mountainside, falling freely in a shallow arc for the last three feet into the pool. From there the water shimmered through a shallow, rock-strewn bed to the privacy fence before continuing its rush down the slope towards the bay. The sound of it was soothing, musical, with the deeper, constant susurration of the fall melding with brighter snatches of water running over well-worn rock.
Beyond the backdrop of the stream, other noises began to filter in. High pitched peeping calls came almost constantly from outside, and Shanks had to resist the urge to open his eyes and check the hour. The tiny, jewel-green frogs that made their home in the steam-fed pool only began their mating calls at dusk. The low drone of cicadas also reached his ears, both sure signs of summer evenings. Otherwise the air was still, no birdcalls like in the morning nor the filtered sounds of fellow guests splashing and talking boisterously in some of the other nearby springs. And nothing that hinted at Ben’s presence. Shanks made a small moue of disappointment. So much for getting his bonus points. Except, hell, he was on vacation. Nothing wrong with bending the rules a bit. As long as he could pinpoint Ben on this next round, he decided, the bonus would stand.
The air on the exposed portion of his face was cool but humid, heavy with the scent of damp earth and greenery. Ah, perhaps that was what had helped him finally wake from his nap. It had started raining after lunch, a true soaking rain rather than the daily mid morning shower that had served as his alarm clock since their arrival. The sound of it drumming on the roof had made his eyelids heavy, his body already languid beneath the covers from Ben’s earlier attentions. He’d fallen asleep to it, and to the mellow sensation of long fingers smoothing through his hair. Now the rain seemed to be over, the summer heat pulling it from the ground and filling his nose with the smell of growing things. The honeysuckle that dotted the wooded mountainside in thick clumps was heady, thickened near to cloying by the moisture-filled air, and very sweet. He could barely detect the sulfur that also hung over the grounds, a product of the springs. There was a faint note of smoke as well, too weak to classify with his nostrils full of plant life and evaporating water.
Shanks slid over until he could hide his face in the pillow next to him. It already smelled like Ben, that unique mingling of cigarettes, shampoo, ink, and sweat, and he breathed it in deeply, let it clear his senses. Fortified, he scented the air again. This time he got a stronger whiff of the unknown smoke. His nose wrinkled as he sniffed again, a line forming between his brows as he concentrated. The smell was familiar; he should be able to figure it out. It wasn’t Ben’s cigarettes. He could identify that particular brand with ease, even in a crowded, smoke-filled bar. And it wasn’t cook smoke or any type of wood fire as far as he could tell. It tickled the back of his brain, teasing his memory. He really should know this; the scent was directly related to vacations and hot springs somehow. When was the last time they’d been to such a place?
Oh yes, it had been two years ago. But it hadn’t been to the island they were docked at presently. Recollections of icicles hanging from the eaves and the mad dash from the steaming springs across a snow-covered yard eventually brought him to the image of Ben lounging up against the wall in the cedar paneled dining room. The old man who ran the place had gotten the first mate to try one of the long stemmed, narrow pipes that never seemed to leave the corner of his whiskered mouth. The whole crew had had a fine time calling Ben ‘gramps’ for a couple months afterwards. Watching Ben sitting there, legs crossed as he stared into the fireplace and sucked on the pipe had been slightly odd. Something like a look into the future – they weren’t getting any younger after all – but the smoke had been pleasant, a richness in his mouth tied to the old man’s folk stories and long nights spent staying warm in his first mate’s embrace. He had forgotten the proprietor had presented one of the pipes to Ben when they’d left. But the smell, and the taste, had lingered on in his memory. Smiling with his victory and his bonus points, Shanks stretched out on the bed and slowly opened his eyes.
Darkness was the first thing he noticed. Obviously his nap had gone on for far longer than he’d thought. A small halo of light came from the shuttered lantern on the table by the door. It hadn’t been lit earlier, nor shuttered, and he gazed at it, wondering just how late it was. One small turn of his head gave the answer. It was well past midnight. The sliding paper door that led to springs was open and he had an excellent view of the night sky. The stars never seemed as numerous or as close on land as they did at sea, but there, high on the mountainside, they came close to approaching the same glittering dome of light. The moon, too, hung low and full. The hour was definitely late since he could just barely see the entire glowing disc of it above the treetops. A small zephyr caressed his cheek and carried another hint of smoke. Only the silvery gleam of a bare shoulder and the glowing embers of his pipe marked Ben’s presence in the shadows by the open door.
He had always liked the loose cotton robes they always had at hot springs. They were comfortable and made great lounging wear. Being a pirate, he’d stolen one or two along with the towels, but never any that were truly high quality. This resort had some particularly nice ones, richly patterned and of a fine weave. For some reason the first mate never was able to keep both shoulders covered for very long. One sleeve or the other always slipped down despite all of his constant tugging and readjustments. It was just like his hair before he’d cut it – that one strand had never cooperated with Ben’s desire to keep it all pulled back. The effect was, at least to Shanks’ way of thinking, very sexy. And the first mate’s near constant frustration with his attire kept him both entertained and amused. His own robe was on the floor somewhere, tossed aside in the flurry of activity that had lately marked their return from lunch. That meant he’d been in bed for over twelve hours already, an excellent way to spend a quiet rainy day.
“Hey.” He kept his voice soft, blending it into the low sounds of the water and in keeping with the general stillness that surrounded him.
There was a pause before Ben shifted in the dark, drawing the nearly extinguished pipe from his mouth. “Finally awake?”
“Mmmhmm.” Shanks stretched again, luxuriating in the rested state of his body and the delicious warmth of the bed. He wiggled his foot under the covers and wondered if Ben could see it in the scant light. “What time is it?”
“After three.”
Shanks watched as Ben leaned out the door and knocked his pipe against the side of the few stairs. He couldn’t hear any hiss of extinguished heat over the background chorus of frogs and insects but Ben appeared to be satisfied as he rose to his feet. He paused, one hand resting on the sliding door, and looked out over the peaceful scene once more.
“You missed a beautiful night.”
“Mmm.” Shanks was enjoying the vision Ben made framed by the doorway and lit by the slowly sinking moon. “Well, I guess I’ll just have ta stay up and watch the sun rise instead.”
“Oh? You sure you won’t just fall back asleep, lazy?”
Now was the time to try and put those bonus points he’d allotted to himself to good use. “Maybe if I had somethin’ ta keep me occupied…” Shanks let the words trail off as he slid the smooth covers down to his waist.
“I see. And just what did you have in mind?”
Shanks just smiled and slipped the bedclothes down a bit further.
“Mmm.” The first mate smiled, a flash of white in the shadows. “I think perhaps I can help you find something…”
Long fingers trailed down to work at the knot in his sash as Ben crossed the floor towards the bed. His hair was soft, softer than the fabric of the robe in his hand as Shanks freed the other shoulder, and it tickled against the smooth flesh of his inner thigh as Ben climbed onto the bed. Warm lips ghosted up his body, swirling wetness joining in a few choice locations. Then a smoky mouth was on his, and he reacquainted his tongue with the taste of a fondly remembered tobacco. Vacations were wonderful things.
Title: Introspection
Rating: PG
Pairing: Shanks and Ben
Word Count: 2267
Soft. The bed was so soft and comfy. It was the perfect temperature beneath the sheets and comforter too, the weight of the bedclothes providing a gentle pressure all along his body. Shanks nuzzled his face deeper into the pillow and let out a little sigh of pure happiness. There was just something about waking up from a nap and realizing it was an entirely natural process for a change - feeling refreshed and lethargic at the same time – rather than rushed or hurried by an alarm or insistent voice. It was an experience that could only be topped by the realization that he was on vacation and could go right back to sleep or just while away the day in bed with no one to say otherwise. He wasn’t quite ready to give up the warm darkness that was the world behind his closed eyelids yet, and he burrowed deeper under the covers, cocooning himself. Snug and having satisfied his tactile needs, Shanks relaxed into the bed and decided to play one of his favorite private games.
He knew already from the overall coolness of the sheets when he had drawn them close that Ben had been out of bed for a while. Odds were good, however, that he hadn’t gone too far. They were on vacation after all; there would be no pressing need that would call his first mate away. Besides the whole point of this vacation was to give the entire crew some much-needed rest – with the added bonus of plenty of private time for everyone away from the close quarters of the ship. Ben wouldn’t give up this well-earned solitude so quickly, especially not when he himself had been quiescently whiling away the day with a nap.
Shanks woke up alone more often than not. Sometimes he thought Ben didn’t bother to sleep at all, resting by reading or just watching the stars or the sunrise. Still, despite his empty bed, his first mate didn’t often venture beyond the boundaries of the cabin. He would work, pour over the inventory or the charts or with a bit of mending in his capable hands, or sometimes just read in the stillness afforded by the hour. And Shanks, having learned all this, liked to try and figure out where the man was and what he was doing without tipping the other off. It was just a little challenge he amused himself with, and now seemed like a good time to play again. Ears first, he decided. Ben was pretty quiet and Shanks always gave himself bonus points in one form or another if he could pinpoint the man with just that sense.
The sound of running water was shockingly loud as he began concentrating solely on his hearing. It had been white noise before, a low rush of current flowing over smooth rocks and into still pools. They were shelling out a large sum for this particular inn but it was well worth it. A series of hot springs bubbled up out of the mountainside and long ago some enterprising person had seen fit to construct a few low daub-and-stone buildings and started charging people for the pleasure of staying in them. Most of the original rooms were gone now, replaced with warm, solid brick or airy, aromatic cedar and bamboo. Their lodgings weren’t the largest nor the most well appointed in the place, but Shanks had commandeered the one with the most privacy, all the way at the top of the property. It was only a few hundred yards from the summit, and he had already regretted the choice once while staggering up the gravel path from the common room, completely wasted from celebrating the first night of vacation. Ben had wisely suggested they bring the alcohol to the room from then on, and the staff had swiftly learned to bring an extra bag or two along to collect all the empty bottles. Still, despite the location’s hindrances to intoxication, it was worth it.
Aside from the spectacular view from the front porch, and the privacy that came from being well removed from the rest of the compound, their particular cabin featured not only its own hot spring but also a second pool. This one was clear and cool, fed by a stream that had its source in an outcropping of rocks about fifty feet higher up. The stream trickled down the mountainside, falling freely in a shallow arc for the last three feet into the pool. From there the water shimmered through a shallow, rock-strewn bed to the privacy fence before continuing its rush down the slope towards the bay. The sound of it was soothing, musical, with the deeper, constant susurration of the fall melding with brighter snatches of water running over well-worn rock.
Beyond the backdrop of the stream, other noises began to filter in. High pitched peeping calls came almost constantly from outside, and Shanks had to resist the urge to open his eyes and check the hour. The tiny, jewel-green frogs that made their home in the steam-fed pool only began their mating calls at dusk. The low drone of cicadas also reached his ears, both sure signs of summer evenings. Otherwise the air was still, no birdcalls like in the morning nor the filtered sounds of fellow guests splashing and talking boisterously in some of the other nearby springs. And nothing that hinted at Ben’s presence. Shanks made a small moue of disappointment. So much for getting his bonus points. Except, hell, he was on vacation. Nothing wrong with bending the rules a bit. As long as he could pinpoint Ben on this next round, he decided, the bonus would stand.
The air on the exposed portion of his face was cool but humid, heavy with the scent of damp earth and greenery. Ah, perhaps that was what had helped him finally wake from his nap. It had started raining after lunch, a true soaking rain rather than the daily mid morning shower that had served as his alarm clock since their arrival. The sound of it drumming on the roof had made his eyelids heavy, his body already languid beneath the covers from Ben’s earlier attentions. He’d fallen asleep to it, and to the mellow sensation of long fingers smoothing through his hair. Now the rain seemed to be over, the summer heat pulling it from the ground and filling his nose with the smell of growing things. The honeysuckle that dotted the wooded mountainside in thick clumps was heady, thickened near to cloying by the moisture-filled air, and very sweet. He could barely detect the sulfur that also hung over the grounds, a product of the springs. There was a faint note of smoke as well, too weak to classify with his nostrils full of plant life and evaporating water.
Shanks slid over until he could hide his face in the pillow next to him. It already smelled like Ben, that unique mingling of cigarettes, shampoo, ink, and sweat, and he breathed it in deeply, let it clear his senses. Fortified, he scented the air again. This time he got a stronger whiff of the unknown smoke. His nose wrinkled as he sniffed again, a line forming between his brows as he concentrated. The smell was familiar; he should be able to figure it out. It wasn’t Ben’s cigarettes. He could identify that particular brand with ease, even in a crowded, smoke-filled bar. And it wasn’t cook smoke or any type of wood fire as far as he could tell. It tickled the back of his brain, teasing his memory. He really should know this; the scent was directly related to vacations and hot springs somehow. When was the last time they’d been to such a place?
Oh yes, it had been two years ago. But it hadn’t been to the island they were docked at presently. Recollections of icicles hanging from the eaves and the mad dash from the steaming springs across a snow-covered yard eventually brought him to the image of Ben lounging up against the wall in the cedar paneled dining room. The old man who ran the place had gotten the first mate to try one of the long stemmed, narrow pipes that never seemed to leave the corner of his whiskered mouth. The whole crew had had a fine time calling Ben ‘gramps’ for a couple months afterwards. Watching Ben sitting there, legs crossed as he stared into the fireplace and sucked on the pipe had been slightly odd. Something like a look into the future – they weren’t getting any younger after all – but the smoke had been pleasant, a richness in his mouth tied to the old man’s folk stories and long nights spent staying warm in his first mate’s embrace. He had forgotten the proprietor had presented one of the pipes to Ben when they’d left. But the smell, and the taste, had lingered on in his memory. Smiling with his victory and his bonus points, Shanks stretched out on the bed and slowly opened his eyes.
Darkness was the first thing he noticed. Obviously his nap had gone on for far longer than he’d thought. A small halo of light came from the shuttered lantern on the table by the door. It hadn’t been lit earlier, nor shuttered, and he gazed at it, wondering just how late it was. One small turn of his head gave the answer. It was well past midnight. The sliding paper door that led to springs was open and he had an excellent view of the night sky. The stars never seemed as numerous or as close on land as they did at sea, but there, high on the mountainside, they came close to approaching the same glittering dome of light. The moon, too, hung low and full. The hour was definitely late since he could just barely see the entire glowing disc of it above the treetops. A small zephyr caressed his cheek and carried another hint of smoke. Only the silvery gleam of a bare shoulder and the glowing embers of his pipe marked Ben’s presence in the shadows by the open door.
He had always liked the loose cotton robes they always had at hot springs. They were comfortable and made great lounging wear. Being a pirate, he’d stolen one or two along with the towels, but never any that were truly high quality. This resort had some particularly nice ones, richly patterned and of a fine weave. For some reason the first mate never was able to keep both shoulders covered for very long. One sleeve or the other always slipped down despite all of his constant tugging and readjustments. It was just like his hair before he’d cut it – that one strand had never cooperated with Ben’s desire to keep it all pulled back. The effect was, at least to Shanks’ way of thinking, very sexy. And the first mate’s near constant frustration with his attire kept him both entertained and amused. His own robe was on the floor somewhere, tossed aside in the flurry of activity that had lately marked their return from lunch. That meant he’d been in bed for over twelve hours already, an excellent way to spend a quiet rainy day.
“Hey.” He kept his voice soft, blending it into the low sounds of the water and in keeping with the general stillness that surrounded him.
There was a pause before Ben shifted in the dark, drawing the nearly extinguished pipe from his mouth. “Finally awake?”
“Mmmhmm.” Shanks stretched again, luxuriating in the rested state of his body and the delicious warmth of the bed. He wiggled his foot under the covers and wondered if Ben could see it in the scant light. “What time is it?”
“After three.”
Shanks watched as Ben leaned out the door and knocked his pipe against the side of the few stairs. He couldn’t hear any hiss of extinguished heat over the background chorus of frogs and insects but Ben appeared to be satisfied as he rose to his feet. He paused, one hand resting on the sliding door, and looked out over the peaceful scene once more.
“You missed a beautiful night.”
“Mmm.” Shanks was enjoying the vision Ben made framed by the doorway and lit by the slowly sinking moon. “Well, I guess I’ll just have ta stay up and watch the sun rise instead.”
“Oh? You sure you won’t just fall back asleep, lazy?”
Now was the time to try and put those bonus points he’d allotted to himself to good use. “Maybe if I had somethin’ ta keep me occupied…” Shanks let the words trail off as he slid the smooth covers down to his waist.
“I see. And just what did you have in mind?”
Shanks just smiled and slipped the bedclothes down a bit further.
“Mmm.” The first mate smiled, a flash of white in the shadows. “I think perhaps I can help you find something…”
Long fingers trailed down to work at the knot in his sash as Ben crossed the floor towards the bed. His hair was soft, softer than the fabric of the robe in his hand as Shanks freed the other shoulder, and it tickled against the smooth flesh of his inner thigh as Ben climbed onto the bed. Warm lips ghosted up his body, swirling wetness joining in a few choice locations. Then a smoky mouth was on his, and he reacquainted his tongue with the taste of a fondly remembered tobacco. Vacations were wonderful things.
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Date: 2005-07-22 09:12 pm (UTC)