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Jan. 27th, 2005 01:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dethoratsTitle: Jargon
Pairing: Coby + Helmeppo
Rating: G
Word Count: 293
Note: Really lame and bad nautical double entendres within.
Becoming a marine was turning out to be more difficult than Coby had imagined. For one thing, it was physically demanding. He was worked to the point of exhaustion and beyond. For another, he got stuck with Helmeppo. At first Captain Morgan’s son had merely held him back, whining, pouting, and generally interfering with Coby’s efforts to become a true marine and some day an officer. But gradually Helmeppo had become a friend, particularly after he had vowed to capture his father.
After they’d been taken to the Marine headquarters in the Grand Line, they’d become even closer. They worked together during the day, trained together at night. Helmeppo served as both his biggest rival and strongest support. They were rarely separated, something that hadn’t gone unnoticed by the regular marines stationed at the base. Coby had been ignorant of the initial comments. After all, this was a marine base, and nautical terms were bound to come up in everyday conversation. However, the longer he was there, the more he overheard of casual talk. It turned out there was more to the lingo than he knew.
He also discovered many marines suspected him and Helmeppo of being together. It wasn’t true, but the idea had stuck with him. He couldn’t stop the flush that crept up his neck whenever they were ordered to clean various ships and to “pay special attention to the lazarette.” And of course, they were always having to polish various pieces of brightwork, which never failed to amuse passing sailors. The worst to date came when he was told to “take Helmeppo amidships and make sure to work hard.” Being a marine was hard, Coby learned, and he could get a nosebleed from more than a slip-up in sparring.
Title: Rum, Soco, and 3 Kinds of Juice
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ben/Shanks
Word Count: 300
The mainsail was spread out over the deck, a carpet of worn black canvas. Ben and a couple of other crewmembers sat around it, engaged in the tedious task of patching. Anchored in a lively port, the men were discussing their activities of the past night.
“So, how was that club? Worth the cover charge?”
“Hell yeah! They had these really hot women serving and the drinks had me under the table right quick.”
“Really? So it wasn’t just the typical grog?”
Ben didn’t listen too closely. Shanks wasn’t interested in bars that had a cover charge. Paying for atmosphere took funds away from the main essential, booze.
“Nah. It was all kinds a mixed liquor. And they had naughty names. Lemme tell ya, when a wench asks ya if you want a Sloe Screw, you’ll say yes.”
“What else didja have?”
“Well, I had a Leg Spreader an’ a Sex on the Floor.”
“Betcha liked that one!”
“Yeah, they were all great, even the last one. It was kinda exotic. Had a long name…I think it was Banging the Captain Three Ways on the Comforter.”
Four inches of curved steel suddenly paused in their darting pattern. Ben looked up slowly from his work. He wasn’t sure when the conversation had jumped from barmaids to Shanks, but he didn’t appreciate what he’d just heard. Voice icy, he asked, “Care to repeat that?”
Oblivious to the potential danger, the pirate nodded. “Sure, Banging the Captain Three Ways on the Comforter. It was good, even wi' the cranberry juice.”
“The cranberry juice?” Ben wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
“Yeah, I don’t like it with rum normally.”
Ben had to agree, but he decided to remember the drink anyway. It would be fun to see Shanks’ face if he ever ordered it.
Pairing: Coby + Helmeppo
Rating: G
Word Count: 293
Note: Really lame and bad nautical double entendres within.
Becoming a marine was turning out to be more difficult than Coby had imagined. For one thing, it was physically demanding. He was worked to the point of exhaustion and beyond. For another, he got stuck with Helmeppo. At first Captain Morgan’s son had merely held him back, whining, pouting, and generally interfering with Coby’s efforts to become a true marine and some day an officer. But gradually Helmeppo had become a friend, particularly after he had vowed to capture his father.
After they’d been taken to the Marine headquarters in the Grand Line, they’d become even closer. They worked together during the day, trained together at night. Helmeppo served as both his biggest rival and strongest support. They were rarely separated, something that hadn’t gone unnoticed by the regular marines stationed at the base. Coby had been ignorant of the initial comments. After all, this was a marine base, and nautical terms were bound to come up in everyday conversation. However, the longer he was there, the more he overheard of casual talk. It turned out there was more to the lingo than he knew.
He also discovered many marines suspected him and Helmeppo of being together. It wasn’t true, but the idea had stuck with him. He couldn’t stop the flush that crept up his neck whenever they were ordered to clean various ships and to “pay special attention to the lazarette.” And of course, they were always having to polish various pieces of brightwork, which never failed to amuse passing sailors. The worst to date came when he was told to “take Helmeppo amidships and make sure to work hard.” Being a marine was hard, Coby learned, and he could get a nosebleed from more than a slip-up in sparring.
Title: Rum, Soco, and 3 Kinds of Juice
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ben/Shanks
Word Count: 300
The mainsail was spread out over the deck, a carpet of worn black canvas. Ben and a couple of other crewmembers sat around it, engaged in the tedious task of patching. Anchored in a lively port, the men were discussing their activities of the past night.
“So, how was that club? Worth the cover charge?”
“Hell yeah! They had these really hot women serving and the drinks had me under the table right quick.”
“Really? So it wasn’t just the typical grog?”
Ben didn’t listen too closely. Shanks wasn’t interested in bars that had a cover charge. Paying for atmosphere took funds away from the main essential, booze.
“Nah. It was all kinds a mixed liquor. And they had naughty names. Lemme tell ya, when a wench asks ya if you want a Sloe Screw, you’ll say yes.”
“What else didja have?”
“Well, I had a Leg Spreader an’ a Sex on the Floor.”
“Betcha liked that one!”
“Yeah, they were all great, even the last one. It was kinda exotic. Had a long name…I think it was Banging the Captain Three Ways on the Comforter.”
Four inches of curved steel suddenly paused in their darting pattern. Ben looked up slowly from his work. He wasn’t sure when the conversation had jumped from barmaids to Shanks, but he didn’t appreciate what he’d just heard. Voice icy, he asked, “Care to repeat that?”
Oblivious to the potential danger, the pirate nodded. “Sure, Banging the Captain Three Ways on the Comforter. It was good, even wi' the cranberry juice.”
“The cranberry juice?” Ben wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
“Yeah, I don’t like it with rum normally.”
Ben had to agree, but he decided to remember the drink anyway. It would be fun to see Shanks’ face if he ever ordered it.
