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dethoratsTitle: Going Home
Rating: G
Pairing: Shanks and Ben
Word Count: 816
It never hits him until they dock, when the small port downs and the larger city wharves come alive with smiles and happy tears and the cheerful shouts of children. To Shanks, his ship is his home. There is no cottage, no farm or crumbling tenement, no roof or rug or basement waiting for him on an island somewhere. There are no children, bright and lively, to cling to his legs and pat at his pockets in search of treats or souvenirs. And he has no wife, no strong woman to bear his absence in silent sorrow and the far too hard work of raising the next generation alone. There’s not even a mother or a father, or even an elderly great aunt somewhere. He doesn’t remember his parents. The first real father he had was the man who became the Pirate King and then had to go and prove that he was all too mortal after all. The Oro Jackson – his first real home - was never the same after that and by then he’d been a teenager, chafing under the twisted discipline that had been necessary to conquer the world. And so his ships have always been his anchor, his home sweet home.
There are arrangements that are made when a man, or more rarely a woman, becomes a pirate. Loyalties pledged and commitments given. But Shanks is not just a good captain but also a kindly soul. Even though his ship is his home, it’s not the heart’s hearth for all of his men. Furloughs are arranged every two years as long as circumstances permit. It’s almost like a vacation, the great dragon-prowed ship traveling the circuit of the Line and all four Blues. On average a circuit takes ten weeks, barring complications, and so every man who wants leave has hard earth under his feet for two and a half months and a bed with his wife and home-cooked meals and children constantly underfoot. The system has the added bonus of only leaving the barest minimum of a crew for a short time. Shanks, at home on his ship, watches what counts as his family, leave to rejoin their kin and their absences tug at him. Thankfully it’s impossible to sail his ship alone and there are a few like him who have nowhere else to go.
The last three times, Ben hasn’t bothered to go home. That makes six years since he’s seen his parents. Shanks is secretly glad and feels guilty about it. Ben only stays for him, he knows. The packages that go back and forth by Mail gull are heavy and as frequent as their plans permit. Books and notes and fragments and maps; Ben’s parents are the scholars he should have been if Shanks hadn’t arrived and stolen him away. It gives his first mate something to do on the long stretches of quiet ocean and, Shanks suspects, sometimes helps to keep him balanced. This time, as they head into the final leg of the circuit, West Blue is relatively calm. Dragon’s moved on for the time being and, as Ben observes one starry night as he leans against the rail and smokes, the Navy has been remarkably absent. Shanks only nods and ignores the tightening in his chest as he makes a mental note to correct their course in the morning.
Ben only raises an eyebrow the next day as he notes the new heading. It’s only on the last day before they make landfall that he bothers to pack and Shanks, staying out of the way because watching makes him uncomfortable, doesn’t notice the extra duffel until they’ve docked. The gray, sprawling heap of the University dominates the island and the drunken calls of students slumming at the wharf bars spark nostalgic memories as Shanks stands on his deck and surveys the scene. He’s too caught up to pay attention to the orders Ben gives behind him but he can’t miss the hand that wraps around his wrist.
“One week,” Ben says, the serene smile on his face the one that brooks no argument. “A break for everyone where we can actually have it.” Fingers stroke over Shanks’ pulse until he nods and then they let go and catch up a duffel, toss the heavy bag at him. “My parents have missed you,” he adds as he slings his own bag over his shoulder.
Nine days later, stuffed full of cafeteria food and the incredible booze that the faculty makes themselves, Shanks drops his duffel bag in his cabin. Behind him, Ben flops on the bed – so much smaller than the one they’d had for the past week or so – and smiles. “That was nice,” he says as he pats the familiar blankets in a clear invitation. “But it’s good to be home again.” It’s the truth and Shanks grins and stretches out beside him.
Rating: G
Pairing: Shanks and Ben
Word Count: 816
It never hits him until they dock, when the small port downs and the larger city wharves come alive with smiles and happy tears and the cheerful shouts of children. To Shanks, his ship is his home. There is no cottage, no farm or crumbling tenement, no roof or rug or basement waiting for him on an island somewhere. There are no children, bright and lively, to cling to his legs and pat at his pockets in search of treats or souvenirs. And he has no wife, no strong woman to bear his absence in silent sorrow and the far too hard work of raising the next generation alone. There’s not even a mother or a father, or even an elderly great aunt somewhere. He doesn’t remember his parents. The first real father he had was the man who became the Pirate King and then had to go and prove that he was all too mortal after all. The Oro Jackson – his first real home - was never the same after that and by then he’d been a teenager, chafing under the twisted discipline that had been necessary to conquer the world. And so his ships have always been his anchor, his home sweet home.
There are arrangements that are made when a man, or more rarely a woman, becomes a pirate. Loyalties pledged and commitments given. But Shanks is not just a good captain but also a kindly soul. Even though his ship is his home, it’s not the heart’s hearth for all of his men. Furloughs are arranged every two years as long as circumstances permit. It’s almost like a vacation, the great dragon-prowed ship traveling the circuit of the Line and all four Blues. On average a circuit takes ten weeks, barring complications, and so every man who wants leave has hard earth under his feet for two and a half months and a bed with his wife and home-cooked meals and children constantly underfoot. The system has the added bonus of only leaving the barest minimum of a crew for a short time. Shanks, at home on his ship, watches what counts as his family, leave to rejoin their kin and their absences tug at him. Thankfully it’s impossible to sail his ship alone and there are a few like him who have nowhere else to go.
The last three times, Ben hasn’t bothered to go home. That makes six years since he’s seen his parents. Shanks is secretly glad and feels guilty about it. Ben only stays for him, he knows. The packages that go back and forth by Mail gull are heavy and as frequent as their plans permit. Books and notes and fragments and maps; Ben’s parents are the scholars he should have been if Shanks hadn’t arrived and stolen him away. It gives his first mate something to do on the long stretches of quiet ocean and, Shanks suspects, sometimes helps to keep him balanced. This time, as they head into the final leg of the circuit, West Blue is relatively calm. Dragon’s moved on for the time being and, as Ben observes one starry night as he leans against the rail and smokes, the Navy has been remarkably absent. Shanks only nods and ignores the tightening in his chest as he makes a mental note to correct their course in the morning.
Ben only raises an eyebrow the next day as he notes the new heading. It’s only on the last day before they make landfall that he bothers to pack and Shanks, staying out of the way because watching makes him uncomfortable, doesn’t notice the extra duffel until they’ve docked. The gray, sprawling heap of the University dominates the island and the drunken calls of students slumming at the wharf bars spark nostalgic memories as Shanks stands on his deck and surveys the scene. He’s too caught up to pay attention to the orders Ben gives behind him but he can’t miss the hand that wraps around his wrist.
“One week,” Ben says, the serene smile on his face the one that brooks no argument. “A break for everyone where we can actually have it.” Fingers stroke over Shanks’ pulse until he nods and then they let go and catch up a duffel, toss the heavy bag at him. “My parents have missed you,” he adds as he slings his own bag over his shoulder.
Nine days later, stuffed full of cafeteria food and the incredible booze that the faculty makes themselves, Shanks drops his duffel bag in his cabin. Behind him, Ben flops on the bed – so much smaller than the one they’d had for the past week or so – and smiles. “That was nice,” he says as he pats the familiar blankets in a clear invitation. “But it’s good to be home again.” It’s the truth and Shanks grins and stretches out beside him.
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Date: 2008-12-16 05:51 pm (UTC)omg it's almost Christmas break, Em, and THEN WE CAN RP!! I'm so excited!!
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Date: 2008-12-17 06:38 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2008-12-17 06:38 am (UTC)