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Nov. 22nd, 2005 03:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dethoratsTitle: A Matter of Opinion
Rating: PG
Pairing: LuZo
Word Count: 300
Just because he was impetuous, oblivious, and often single-mindedly leapt right into the middle of danger didn’t mean that Monkey D. Luffy was incapable of learning from his mistakes. For one thing, rushing headlong down the Grand Line seemed to be a workable strategy; it hadn’t failed him yet. For another, even when he knew better, impatience or boredom typically overrode his hard-won lessons. That was why he didn’t touch the burners on Sanji’s stove but never hesitated to grab meat directly out of the frying pan. And it was also why he rarely paused before poking at a sleeping swordsman or adding powders to one of Usopp’s bubbling, smoking experiments. Life at sea could be very tedious and Luffy found that he’d rather be entertained and singed than bored and safe.
One particular instance from his childhood, though, remained a firm deterrent despite his ever-growing curiosity. It had been Shanks’ fault. The red haired man had teased Luffy endlessly about the juice and milk the young boy consumed. Pirates drank grog, Shanks had claimed, rum and whiskey and whatever distilled alcoholic swill they could get their hands on that would knock them on their asses. Finally Luffy had had enough and swiped a bottle with newly stretchy limbs from behind the bar when Makino wasn’t looking. The bitter, sour stuff had burned his throat, made his eyes sting and water. He’d coughed, spluttering, but had managed to down a good quarter of the bottle anyway before he started to feel sick. An instance of vomiting and one morning headache later and he’d sworn off the stuff for good.
Ultimately Luffy revised his opinion and decided that alcohol could taste good after all, but only when he got to suck it off of a relaxed and happy green-haired swordsman’s tongue.
Title: Libation Liberation (Lame, but I couldn't resist)
Rating: PG-13 for swearing
Pairing: Zoro -> Sanji
Word Count: 300
“How can you drink that shit?”
Zoro thumped down the nearly empty bottle of cheap rum and glared blearily across the table at the stupid chef. Sanji, looking well on his way to tipsy but not nearly as drunk as the swordsman knew himself to be, swirled an expensive red wine around in his glass, waving it in the direction of Zoro’s rum.
“Why not? ‘S better than your fancy-pants expensive crap.”
“Damn marimo, wine is a refined beverage. I know your worthless palate isn’t discerning enough to appreciate that, but at least you should drink something better than your usual swill.”
Sanji leaned forward on the table, seeking and catching Zoro’s eyes with his single visible and startlingly blue one.
“It’ll ruin your stomach and liver, drinking that turpentine and distilled molasses shit.”
Zoro sneered back, holding his gaze despite the heat that surged in him from the blonde’s steady focus.
“Wadda you care, ass? ‘Sides you go ‘round ruining your lungs all damn day with your fucking cigarettes. You’ve got no room ta talk.”
The swordsman drained the rest of his bottle, wiped one tan wrist across his mouth, and unsteadily got to his feet to search for another bottle. Retrieving more cheap booze, he took a swig before weaving back to his seat. Sanji scowled at him and Zoro frowned and opened his mouth again.
“Cheap stuff gets me drunk faster,” he muttered, kicking the blonde under the table when the chef shot back yet another disparaging remark.
And it was true, he did get drunk faster, and that was all that mattered when he was trying to forget; forget how much he wanted the idiot across from him or forget his inhibitions and finally do something he wasn’t sure, but either way the alcohol was necessary.
Rating: PG
Pairing: LuZo
Word Count: 300
Just because he was impetuous, oblivious, and often single-mindedly leapt right into the middle of danger didn’t mean that Monkey D. Luffy was incapable of learning from his mistakes. For one thing, rushing headlong down the Grand Line seemed to be a workable strategy; it hadn’t failed him yet. For another, even when he knew better, impatience or boredom typically overrode his hard-won lessons. That was why he didn’t touch the burners on Sanji’s stove but never hesitated to grab meat directly out of the frying pan. And it was also why he rarely paused before poking at a sleeping swordsman or adding powders to one of Usopp’s bubbling, smoking experiments. Life at sea could be very tedious and Luffy found that he’d rather be entertained and singed than bored and safe.
One particular instance from his childhood, though, remained a firm deterrent despite his ever-growing curiosity. It had been Shanks’ fault. The red haired man had teased Luffy endlessly about the juice and milk the young boy consumed. Pirates drank grog, Shanks had claimed, rum and whiskey and whatever distilled alcoholic swill they could get their hands on that would knock them on their asses. Finally Luffy had had enough and swiped a bottle with newly stretchy limbs from behind the bar when Makino wasn’t looking. The bitter, sour stuff had burned his throat, made his eyes sting and water. He’d coughed, spluttering, but had managed to down a good quarter of the bottle anyway before he started to feel sick. An instance of vomiting and one morning headache later and he’d sworn off the stuff for good.
Ultimately Luffy revised his opinion and decided that alcohol could taste good after all, but only when he got to suck it off of a relaxed and happy green-haired swordsman’s tongue.
Title: Libation Liberation (Lame, but I couldn't resist)
Rating: PG-13 for swearing
Pairing: Zoro -> Sanji
Word Count: 300
“How can you drink that shit?”
Zoro thumped down the nearly empty bottle of cheap rum and glared blearily across the table at the stupid chef. Sanji, looking well on his way to tipsy but not nearly as drunk as the swordsman knew himself to be, swirled an expensive red wine around in his glass, waving it in the direction of Zoro’s rum.
“Why not? ‘S better than your fancy-pants expensive crap.”
“Damn marimo, wine is a refined beverage. I know your worthless palate isn’t discerning enough to appreciate that, but at least you should drink something better than your usual swill.”
Sanji leaned forward on the table, seeking and catching Zoro’s eyes with his single visible and startlingly blue one.
“It’ll ruin your stomach and liver, drinking that turpentine and distilled molasses shit.”
Zoro sneered back, holding his gaze despite the heat that surged in him from the blonde’s steady focus.
“Wadda you care, ass? ‘Sides you go ‘round ruining your lungs all damn day with your fucking cigarettes. You’ve got no room ta talk.”
The swordsman drained the rest of his bottle, wiped one tan wrist across his mouth, and unsteadily got to his feet to search for another bottle. Retrieving more cheap booze, he took a swig before weaving back to his seat. Sanji scowled at him and Zoro frowned and opened his mouth again.
“Cheap stuff gets me drunk faster,” he muttered, kicking the blonde under the table when the chef shot back yet another disparaging remark.
And it was true, he did get drunk faster, and that was all that mattered when he was trying to forget; forget how much he wanted the idiot across from him or forget his inhibitions and finally do something he wasn’t sure, but either way the alcohol was necessary.
