Two short, owed fics
Jan. 24th, 2011 12:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dethoratsFirstly, for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
vampire_otaku / sleepy_firebug in return for this gorgeous fic.
Title: Distractions
Rating: PG
Pairing: Shanks and Ben
Word Count: 1428
Prompt: Descriptive Kissing
Spoilers: None, vague current timeline setting
“What?”
Ben arched a brow as Shanks shook his head.
“Nothin’.”
Dubiously Ben turned his attention back to the papers strewn over the map table in front of him. Routes and trading outposts and known Navy patrol patterns provided options and alternatives for their next shift in position, at least five different viable possibilities that needed to be considered. Each, of course, had its own pros and cons and the final decision ultimately came down to what the captain preferred to signal of his intentions. The balance of power in the world was in flux at the moment and every movement on the part of the larger players would be weighed and judged. Sending the wrong message now was as apt to trigger panic as it was to evoke indifference. With a small frown of concentration, Ben leaned forward to start marking notes on the patrol pattern sheet.
The shift in movement caught Shanks’ attention again and he didn’t bother to hide the grin that tugged the corners of his mouth upward. He had always found that little furrow of brow his first mate got when he was thinking hard about something very adorable, had teased him about it in the early days mercilessly just because the scowl said teasing managed to provoked was even cuter. Time had mellowed Ben’s temper and Shanks’ own temperament but that wrinkle of concentration was as distracting as ever. Certainly it was much more interesting to review than the supply logs he needed to finish evaluating. And Ben just wouldn’t stop being distracting so this was all his fault anyway or so the rationalization went. The quill he was supposed to be working with was left abandoned on the desk as Shanks propped his head up on his fist and set about studying an equally familiar and far more intriguing subject.
The sensation of being watched sank in slowly through Ben’s preoccupation with the matter at hand. At first he tried to ignore it, redoubling his focus, but the gaze was persistent, as was the absence of the sound of another pen at work. Years of experience had weaned him from the need to whirl around to try and catch whoever was staring at him. Shanks rarely bothered to hide what he was doing unless he was in a particularly playful mood and he’d be left with only whiplash for his trouble. Slowly, with just a hint of exasperation in the breath he huffed out, Ben looked up from his paperwork. There was a fond smile on the face that met his, nothing more, and the absence of mischief meant he had to ask again.
“What?”
Another small shake of the head and Ben sighed, cracked his back as he straightened up.
“It’s not ‘nothing.’ You keep staring and breaking my concentration and, I might add, not paying any attention to your own work. Did I spill something on myself at breakfast that no one bothered to mention?”
It was nice to know that no matter how much time had marched forward and the world had changed, some things never would. Shanks shook his head again, smile growing broader. “Nope. Nothin’ spilled on you. Although I am tempted to find somethin’ to spill on these borin’ logs. Anyway, can I not take a moment or two to admire a fine piece of work?”
Ben didn’t flush the way he used to anymore either but he still ducked his head, shot back the expected retort. “If anybody here is a piece of work, it’s you.”
“Aye, and I am a fine one too. But not so fine as yourself when you really get to workin’ on somethin’ important.” Shanks pushed himself away from the desk, stretching out the kinks that an hour of paperwork had already put in his muscles. It took him only three short strides to crowd into Ben’s personal space before he could reach up to tap the spot that was still so distracting, even though his first mate’s brow was now furrowed in confusion rather than concentration. “How am I supposed to get anythin’ done when you get that little wrinkle right here? You’re distractin’ me on purpose, Beckman!”
“I am hardly…” Righteous indignation marked his tone before Ben managed to collect himself at the feel of the fingertip poking at him changing to a soft, circling motion. The mischief that had been missing before was now apparent on Shanks’ face but it was still overlaid by a gentle fondness. This wasn’t a game then, or hadn’t been until this very moment, and Ben knew something about being distracted himself. There were reasons why he didn’t often let himself directly follow his captain into battle and he even had a few small scars to remind him when he forgot. Too, he knew how desk time tended to make Shanks antsy. So it was his fault, hmm? Then an apology doubling as temporary diversion was in order. “I apologize, captain. I did not realize merely attending to my work would cause you so much trouble.” Ben let a small, knowing smile slip onto his face. The steps to this dance were practically instinctual and he had grown to love them. “How can I make it up to you?”
Shanks grinned back before quickly schooling his face into an expression of mock thoughtfulness. “I suppose I’d take a kiss. But it has to be a good one, not just a quick peck on the cheek. You’re sneaky and I’m not lettin’ you get away with that. So…” Rising up on tiptoes, Shanks let his finger drift away from the now-erased wrinkle, skim over the ridge of one brow and slide into the strands of steely gray hair at Ben’s temple. It was quickly joined by the rest of his fingers as they gently tangled themselves, mapped out the shape of the skull beneath. He tugged lightly, eyes closing as he tilted his head up expectantly.
Ben leaned down at the command, his arms moving to settle snugly around Shanks’ trim waist. For half a second he considered drawing the moment out, waiting until he was looking into blinking hazel, but orders were orders. Besides, he had never been able to really resist having a warm and expectant captain in his hold. Ben’s eyes fluttered shut to fully savor the feeling as he touched his lips to Shanks’. Soft, delicate, a light touch to awaken sensation and induce a craving for more. Ben held himself back, playing yet another game, as Shanks for the moment remained pliant and willing to let him set the pace. Lips brushed, the short red hairs framing Shanks’ prickling lightly on Ben’s. And just as he finally moved to press with more firmness, the fingers tangled in his hair tightened and pulled him closer still as the mouth beneath his opened.
Shanks smiled into the kiss as Ben immediately stopped teasing, opened his own lips at the request of the captain’s tongue. He poured everything he had into the kiss; every frustration and longing from a day spent side by side engaged in the tedious minutia of daily life as well as the years of knowledge and companionship and respect that made such days an unexpected pleasure. Tongues twined and danced and teased, the slick contact sending a tingle down Shanks’ spine even as the arms around his waist pulled him even closer, held him tight and made him want to push his first mate down and climb into his lap. But such heat could not be sustained, not when there was still work to be done, and it was with reluctance that Shanks softened the kiss, his thumb stroking across Ben’s forehead to settle into the hollow dip of scar tissue at his temple.
Moist lips brushed one last time and then Ben felt Shanks settle back onto his feet and reluctantly let him go. Fingers brushed for an instant before Ben schooled his expression appropriately and looked solemnly down at the captain. “Apology accepted?”
And Shanks gave him an impish grin before walking backwards towards his chair. “I suppose it’ll do…For now. After we’re done here – and I’m nearly through with these so we can go over the options next – I’ll expect you to finish makin’ it up to me.”
“It would be my pleasure.” And that it would be indeed, Ben mused, as he bent back to his work after permitting himself a long moment of his own to gaze fondly at Shanks’ profile as the captain finally returned his attention to his books.
And then forserrende in return for her beautiful artwork.
Title: Capable
Rating: G
Pairing: None, Usopp and Zoro-centric
Word Count: 1151
Prompt: Something with Usopp and Zoro after the time skip
Spoilers: Very faintly through 607
Zoro had always exuded an air of confidence. The swordsman wasn’t smug or boastful or anything; one just got the sense that he knew what he was doing and that he was someone a body could rely on. It was something Usopp had always liked about Zoro once he got to know ‘the Demon of East Blue’ well enough not to live in total fear of him. With a guy like Zoro at his back and with someone as fearless and formidable as Luffy to lead them, he had always felt slightly better about some of the crazy situations the Straw Hat Pirates found themselves pulled into. Not that he didn’t panic or try to convince the crew that there were other alternatives besides confrontation but it was reassuring to know that he could depend on his nakama if he got in a bind.
There hadn’t been much time in between Thriller Bark and the confrontation with Kuma but it had been enough for Usopp to pick up that something was going on with Zoro. It sometimes felt like years had passed since the swordsman had first fought Mihawk even though only months had elapsed. Despite losing to the man who was his ultimate rival and nearly dying in the process, that sense of confidence had never wavered. Perhaps it was because he’d been somewhat naive, unaware of the dangers the Grand Line held. Perhaps it was because Mihawk had tempered Zoro’s defeat with encouragement. Perhaps it was because they were still a tiny crew, with only half the number of people to worry about. Whatever the reason, Zoro had bounced back even stronger and ready to keep working toward his goal. To Usopp, watching and listening and analyzing as he always did, after Thriller Bark Zoro didn’t seem to have the same easy determination in his stride, the same hand resting loosely on the hilts of the blades at his side.
Whatever had happened to the swordsman at the very end of the fight on the scary island had come as close to killing him as Mihawk had, perhaps even closer. Zoro had been very quiet afterwards and, although he seemed at peace with himself, Usopp had seen the way his hand gripped his white sword from time to time, the way he looked his nakama, especially Luffy, and would then turn away with a worried frown on his face. The sniper had even exchanged a glance or two with Robin, who probably saw even more than he did, the evening after they met Duvall when Zoro went off to take a nap after only a pint of ale rather than trying to drink the rest of them under the table. And then came Sabaody.
Watching Zoro fall, seeing him lying helpless under Admiral Kizaru’s immaculate, immovable shoe, had not only scared Usopp, it had come close to breaking his heart. Where was the smirk or even just the steady set of jaw? Where was the will to stand against death and danger? Zoro would never run but he had never seemed so unsure of himself before. And then he’d fallen and not gotten back up. His reliable nakama, the steady rock that was Zoro, had crumbled and there was nothing any of them could do to help him. Usopp had been ashamed and terrified and experiencing so many other negative, adrenaline-pumping emotions at once that he thought his heart was going to explode. When Rayleigh had appeared to save Zoro, he’d done what he could. Zoro’s weight had barely put a dent in his speed but the ragged, blood-choked breaths in his ear had made his spirit feel like lead. And when he’d dropped him, when he’d lost Zoro, when Kuma had loomed and Zoro had been helpless before him, Usopp had wanted to disappear too.
He’d gotten his wish, giving the truth to the old adage, and then Luffy had sent out his message. He’d been given two years to find a way to never drop a nakama again, two years in which to think on his actions and on those of his nakama. Two years to puzzle through the way Zoro seemed to have lost something of his sense of self in those few short minutes when the rest of them had been unconscious. Usopp had trained and honed and refined his abilities, putting them to the test against all the formidable island had to throw against him and when the time came, he was ready to rejoin his nakama. As for Zoro, it seemed as though whatever had happened on Thriller Bark had shaken him, something that had wounded more than just his body. Lack of confidence was something Usopp was all too familiar with and, although he hoped Zoro would be back (because he refused to believe that his nakama would not reunite after he saw Luffy’s orders) to his usual self, the sniper was determined to speak with him if that wasn’t the case.
There was an air of calm to the swordsman when he finally laid eyes on Zoro’s newly scarred face; a sense of serenity overlaying explosive violence that had never been there before. But the feeling that Zoro could be relied upon, that he would have his nakamas’ backs no matter what, was still there and that aura of confidence was back. Zoro seemed balanced again, ready to move forward and face whatever was to come. It was reassuring to Usopp and he and the rest of the Straw Hat Pirates settled back into their comfortable routine. A short while later, though, Usopp got a chance to see just what else had changed. Some of Zoro’s old recklessness was back, reminding the sniper why leaving the swordsman and Luffy alone together was often a BAD IDEA, and then, sooner than he’d expected, it was his turn.
The Sargasso shot was a complete success and Usopp basked in the compliments from Luffy, Brook, and Chopper. And as he threw his head back to laugh his confident, manly laugh – the one that covered up the fact that he had been just the teeniest tiniest bit worried that his plants wouldn’t be enough – he caught sight of the approving smile on Zoro’s face. He had never thought about how he’d feel if Zoro smiled at him like that, not laughing at a joke or with that smirk that meant trouble was coming. It was a good smile and one Usopp wanted to see again. Warmth washed through him, followed abruptly by sobering thoughts about responsibility. It made Usopp straighten his shoulders, turn to face what was coming next rather than offering up an extravagant story to his audience. That could – and undoubtedly would – always come later. In the meantime, Fishman Island lay bright and mysteriously shining before them, a beacon of light and new adventures in the darkness at the bottom of the sea.
vampire_otaku / sleepy_firebug in return for this gorgeous fic.Title: Distractions
Rating: PG
Pairing: Shanks and Ben
Word Count: 1428
Prompt: Descriptive Kissing
Spoilers: None, vague current timeline setting
“What?”
Ben arched a brow as Shanks shook his head.
“Nothin’.”
Dubiously Ben turned his attention back to the papers strewn over the map table in front of him. Routes and trading outposts and known Navy patrol patterns provided options and alternatives for their next shift in position, at least five different viable possibilities that needed to be considered. Each, of course, had its own pros and cons and the final decision ultimately came down to what the captain preferred to signal of his intentions. The balance of power in the world was in flux at the moment and every movement on the part of the larger players would be weighed and judged. Sending the wrong message now was as apt to trigger panic as it was to evoke indifference. With a small frown of concentration, Ben leaned forward to start marking notes on the patrol pattern sheet.
The shift in movement caught Shanks’ attention again and he didn’t bother to hide the grin that tugged the corners of his mouth upward. He had always found that little furrow of brow his first mate got when he was thinking hard about something very adorable, had teased him about it in the early days mercilessly just because the scowl said teasing managed to provoked was even cuter. Time had mellowed Ben’s temper and Shanks’ own temperament but that wrinkle of concentration was as distracting as ever. Certainly it was much more interesting to review than the supply logs he needed to finish evaluating. And Ben just wouldn’t stop being distracting so this was all his fault anyway or so the rationalization went. The quill he was supposed to be working with was left abandoned on the desk as Shanks propped his head up on his fist and set about studying an equally familiar and far more intriguing subject.
The sensation of being watched sank in slowly through Ben’s preoccupation with the matter at hand. At first he tried to ignore it, redoubling his focus, but the gaze was persistent, as was the absence of the sound of another pen at work. Years of experience had weaned him from the need to whirl around to try and catch whoever was staring at him. Shanks rarely bothered to hide what he was doing unless he was in a particularly playful mood and he’d be left with only whiplash for his trouble. Slowly, with just a hint of exasperation in the breath he huffed out, Ben looked up from his paperwork. There was a fond smile on the face that met his, nothing more, and the absence of mischief meant he had to ask again.
“What?”
Another small shake of the head and Ben sighed, cracked his back as he straightened up.
“It’s not ‘nothing.’ You keep staring and breaking my concentration and, I might add, not paying any attention to your own work. Did I spill something on myself at breakfast that no one bothered to mention?”
It was nice to know that no matter how much time had marched forward and the world had changed, some things never would. Shanks shook his head again, smile growing broader. “Nope. Nothin’ spilled on you. Although I am tempted to find somethin’ to spill on these borin’ logs. Anyway, can I not take a moment or two to admire a fine piece of work?”
Ben didn’t flush the way he used to anymore either but he still ducked his head, shot back the expected retort. “If anybody here is a piece of work, it’s you.”
“Aye, and I am a fine one too. But not so fine as yourself when you really get to workin’ on somethin’ important.” Shanks pushed himself away from the desk, stretching out the kinks that an hour of paperwork had already put in his muscles. It took him only three short strides to crowd into Ben’s personal space before he could reach up to tap the spot that was still so distracting, even though his first mate’s brow was now furrowed in confusion rather than concentration. “How am I supposed to get anythin’ done when you get that little wrinkle right here? You’re distractin’ me on purpose, Beckman!”
“I am hardly…” Righteous indignation marked his tone before Ben managed to collect himself at the feel of the fingertip poking at him changing to a soft, circling motion. The mischief that had been missing before was now apparent on Shanks’ face but it was still overlaid by a gentle fondness. This wasn’t a game then, or hadn’t been until this very moment, and Ben knew something about being distracted himself. There were reasons why he didn’t often let himself directly follow his captain into battle and he even had a few small scars to remind him when he forgot. Too, he knew how desk time tended to make Shanks antsy. So it was his fault, hmm? Then an apology doubling as temporary diversion was in order. “I apologize, captain. I did not realize merely attending to my work would cause you so much trouble.” Ben let a small, knowing smile slip onto his face. The steps to this dance were practically instinctual and he had grown to love them. “How can I make it up to you?”
Shanks grinned back before quickly schooling his face into an expression of mock thoughtfulness. “I suppose I’d take a kiss. But it has to be a good one, not just a quick peck on the cheek. You’re sneaky and I’m not lettin’ you get away with that. So…” Rising up on tiptoes, Shanks let his finger drift away from the now-erased wrinkle, skim over the ridge of one brow and slide into the strands of steely gray hair at Ben’s temple. It was quickly joined by the rest of his fingers as they gently tangled themselves, mapped out the shape of the skull beneath. He tugged lightly, eyes closing as he tilted his head up expectantly.
Ben leaned down at the command, his arms moving to settle snugly around Shanks’ trim waist. For half a second he considered drawing the moment out, waiting until he was looking into blinking hazel, but orders were orders. Besides, he had never been able to really resist having a warm and expectant captain in his hold. Ben’s eyes fluttered shut to fully savor the feeling as he touched his lips to Shanks’. Soft, delicate, a light touch to awaken sensation and induce a craving for more. Ben held himself back, playing yet another game, as Shanks for the moment remained pliant and willing to let him set the pace. Lips brushed, the short red hairs framing Shanks’ prickling lightly on Ben’s. And just as he finally moved to press with more firmness, the fingers tangled in his hair tightened and pulled him closer still as the mouth beneath his opened.
Shanks smiled into the kiss as Ben immediately stopped teasing, opened his own lips at the request of the captain’s tongue. He poured everything he had into the kiss; every frustration and longing from a day spent side by side engaged in the tedious minutia of daily life as well as the years of knowledge and companionship and respect that made such days an unexpected pleasure. Tongues twined and danced and teased, the slick contact sending a tingle down Shanks’ spine even as the arms around his waist pulled him even closer, held him tight and made him want to push his first mate down and climb into his lap. But such heat could not be sustained, not when there was still work to be done, and it was with reluctance that Shanks softened the kiss, his thumb stroking across Ben’s forehead to settle into the hollow dip of scar tissue at his temple.
Moist lips brushed one last time and then Ben felt Shanks settle back onto his feet and reluctantly let him go. Fingers brushed for an instant before Ben schooled his expression appropriately and looked solemnly down at the captain. “Apology accepted?”
And Shanks gave him an impish grin before walking backwards towards his chair. “I suppose it’ll do…For now. After we’re done here – and I’m nearly through with these so we can go over the options next – I’ll expect you to finish makin’ it up to me.”
“It would be my pleasure.” And that it would be indeed, Ben mused, as he bent back to his work after permitting himself a long moment of his own to gaze fondly at Shanks’ profile as the captain finally returned his attention to his books.
And then for
serrende in return for her beautiful artwork.Title: Capable
Rating: G
Pairing: None, Usopp and Zoro-centric
Word Count: 1151
Prompt: Something with Usopp and Zoro after the time skip
Spoilers: Very faintly through 607
Zoro had always exuded an air of confidence. The swordsman wasn’t smug or boastful or anything; one just got the sense that he knew what he was doing and that he was someone a body could rely on. It was something Usopp had always liked about Zoro once he got to know ‘the Demon of East Blue’ well enough not to live in total fear of him. With a guy like Zoro at his back and with someone as fearless and formidable as Luffy to lead them, he had always felt slightly better about some of the crazy situations the Straw Hat Pirates found themselves pulled into. Not that he didn’t panic or try to convince the crew that there were other alternatives besides confrontation but it was reassuring to know that he could depend on his nakama if he got in a bind.
There hadn’t been much time in between Thriller Bark and the confrontation with Kuma but it had been enough for Usopp to pick up that something was going on with Zoro. It sometimes felt like years had passed since the swordsman had first fought Mihawk even though only months had elapsed. Despite losing to the man who was his ultimate rival and nearly dying in the process, that sense of confidence had never wavered. Perhaps it was because he’d been somewhat naive, unaware of the dangers the Grand Line held. Perhaps it was because Mihawk had tempered Zoro’s defeat with encouragement. Perhaps it was because they were still a tiny crew, with only half the number of people to worry about. Whatever the reason, Zoro had bounced back even stronger and ready to keep working toward his goal. To Usopp, watching and listening and analyzing as he always did, after Thriller Bark Zoro didn’t seem to have the same easy determination in his stride, the same hand resting loosely on the hilts of the blades at his side.
Whatever had happened to the swordsman at the very end of the fight on the scary island had come as close to killing him as Mihawk had, perhaps even closer. Zoro had been very quiet afterwards and, although he seemed at peace with himself, Usopp had seen the way his hand gripped his white sword from time to time, the way he looked his nakama, especially Luffy, and would then turn away with a worried frown on his face. The sniper had even exchanged a glance or two with Robin, who probably saw even more than he did, the evening after they met Duvall when Zoro went off to take a nap after only a pint of ale rather than trying to drink the rest of them under the table. And then came Sabaody.
Watching Zoro fall, seeing him lying helpless under Admiral Kizaru’s immaculate, immovable shoe, had not only scared Usopp, it had come close to breaking his heart. Where was the smirk or even just the steady set of jaw? Where was the will to stand against death and danger? Zoro would never run but he had never seemed so unsure of himself before. And then he’d fallen and not gotten back up. His reliable nakama, the steady rock that was Zoro, had crumbled and there was nothing any of them could do to help him. Usopp had been ashamed and terrified and experiencing so many other negative, adrenaline-pumping emotions at once that he thought his heart was going to explode. When Rayleigh had appeared to save Zoro, he’d done what he could. Zoro’s weight had barely put a dent in his speed but the ragged, blood-choked breaths in his ear had made his spirit feel like lead. And when he’d dropped him, when he’d lost Zoro, when Kuma had loomed and Zoro had been helpless before him, Usopp had wanted to disappear too.
He’d gotten his wish, giving the truth to the old adage, and then Luffy had sent out his message. He’d been given two years to find a way to never drop a nakama again, two years in which to think on his actions and on those of his nakama. Two years to puzzle through the way Zoro seemed to have lost something of his sense of self in those few short minutes when the rest of them had been unconscious. Usopp had trained and honed and refined his abilities, putting them to the test against all the formidable island had to throw against him and when the time came, he was ready to rejoin his nakama. As for Zoro, it seemed as though whatever had happened on Thriller Bark had shaken him, something that had wounded more than just his body. Lack of confidence was something Usopp was all too familiar with and, although he hoped Zoro would be back (because he refused to believe that his nakama would not reunite after he saw Luffy’s orders) to his usual self, the sniper was determined to speak with him if that wasn’t the case.
There was an air of calm to the swordsman when he finally laid eyes on Zoro’s newly scarred face; a sense of serenity overlaying explosive violence that had never been there before. But the feeling that Zoro could be relied upon, that he would have his nakamas’ backs no matter what, was still there and that aura of confidence was back. Zoro seemed balanced again, ready to move forward and face whatever was to come. It was reassuring to Usopp and he and the rest of the Straw Hat Pirates settled back into their comfortable routine. A short while later, though, Usopp got a chance to see just what else had changed. Some of Zoro’s old recklessness was back, reminding the sniper why leaving the swordsman and Luffy alone together was often a BAD IDEA, and then, sooner than he’d expected, it was his turn.
The Sargasso shot was a complete success and Usopp basked in the compliments from Luffy, Brook, and Chopper. And as he threw his head back to laugh his confident, manly laugh – the one that covered up the fact that he had been just the teeniest tiniest bit worried that his plants wouldn’t be enough – he caught sight of the approving smile on Zoro’s face. He had never thought about how he’d feel if Zoro smiled at him like that, not laughing at a joke or with that smirk that meant trouble was coming. It was a good smile and one Usopp wanted to see again. Warmth washed through him, followed abruptly by sobering thoughts about responsibility. It made Usopp straighten his shoulders, turn to face what was coming next rather than offering up an extravagant story to his audience. That could – and undoubtedly would – always come later. In the meantime, Fishman Island lay bright and mysteriously shining before them, a beacon of light and new adventures in the darkness at the bottom of the sea.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-01-24 10:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-03 03:47 am (UTC)Thank you! I love Usopp introspection, if only because he feels so much like the introspective type.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-25 12:48 pm (UTC)The final sentence is wonderful. ♥♥
no subject
Date: 2011-02-03 03:49 am (UTC)I'm mildly obsessed with the dropping moment and how that would weigh on Usopp. It's driving me a little bit crazy actually and it's something I'd like to see explored by other people as well.