OP Exchange Fic
Feb. 6th, 2009 05:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dethoratsPrompts: REQUEST 1: Coby has a little too much of the special eggnog at the Marine Christmas party and all that liquid courage makes him decide to give Helmeppo a very special Christmas present.
And
REQUEST 2: Jango and Fullbody attempt to impress Hina with their snowman(snow sculpture) building skills...and comfort each other when it most likely fails
Title: Winter Interlude - Navy Style
Rating: PG
Pairing: Coby/Helmeppo, Hina/Tashigi
Word Count: 3,506
Hina rolled her eyes behind the shield of her ski goggles, grateful to the tinted glass for both the protection it provided from the snow glare and from all the idiots rolling, sledding, skiing, and snowballing away from her. Damn Vice-Admiral Garp for being so predictably unpredictable. She had had every intention of skipping the annual Marine Holiday Party but the wily old bastard had come across her bow just three days ago with Admiral Aokiji in tow. There had been no escape after that, no excuse. And why did Fleet Admiral Sengoku insist on having a party anyway? She suspected it involved the lanky, lazy man who’d spent the trip to Ever Green Island – a misnomer if ever there was one – lounging and snoring on Garp’s ship, and almost certainly Garp himself.
The old man was always up for mischief and, if the scuttlebutt making the rounds was true, he’d passed the trait on to some truly troubling offspring. Then again, what else could one expect from the man who’d brought the Pirate King himself to justice? He wasn’t around at the moment, much to Hina’s relief. For some reason, the Vice-Admiral had always enjoyed trying to get her to move beyond her usual steely exterior and air of detached amusement and he was one of the few who had – rarely – succeeded. There was some sort of contest going on further down the mountain, out near the frigid bay where a fleet of naval vessels that should have been looking for pirates now sat uselessly at anchor. It had been Garp’s idea and most of the rest of his fellow marines had gone tearing done the mountain in order to win some vaguely promised prize. Hina wasn’t against vacations and breaks from the hard task of meting out justice on the Grand Line but it seemed rather foolhardy to bring so many of them in. Then again, most of her fellows consisted of fools so perhaps it wasn’t so unexpected after all. Especially if they were inclined to trust Garp’s promise of a reward for victory when they could have been making a REAL attempt at relaxation like she was trying to do.
At least with so many upper ranked marines busy one-upping each other at the contest, no doubt expending far too much testosterone and stupidity in the process, the ski slopes were almost entirely empty. Aokiji remained, snoring from his slouch on the stopped ski lift in nothing but his shirt sleeves, and Vice-Admiral Strawberry, usual stern countenance flushed with irritation as he struggled with his skis, but the snow fields spread out before her remained empty. They were somewhat disturbed by the earlier mass migration of marines but that just meant more of a challenge and Hina smiled as she popped her spine and plotted her path.
The brisk wind whistling past her fur-covered ears blocked out all but the loudest of the hollers from the mountain base and the snow pack was fast and dry beneath her skis. Hina expertly cut a sharp corner around a scraggly pine tree for the sheer exhilaration of it and continued her headlong descent. With any luck, Aokiji would fall off the ski lift when she restarted it for her return to the top. And maybe Garp would prove useful after all, giving her a chance at solitude in the dazzling sun…
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“The rules are simple!” Garp’s voice boomed out over the assembled throng of marines as he stood on the railing that edged the deck of the massive Navy base cum ski lodge. “Build the best snow man and win this!”
Sunlight glinted off of the glass bottle, made the contrast between container and contents even sharper. Green liquid so dark it seemed black slopped in the bottle, a thin sheen oozing slowly down the interior to rejoin with the bulk of the stuff as Garp waved it around before the gathered crowd.
“Only the finest, lads! Only the finest!” Garp threw back his head and laughed as the gathered men scrambled to obey, none of them hesitating or thinking to ask who would serve as judge. The grizzled Vice-Admiral nimbly leaped backwards, pivoting on his heel just in time to miss Sengoku. The Fleet Admiral shook his head as he looked out at the spectacle. The finest the Navy had to offer and they were digging in the snow like children. Only Garp...only Garp.
The head of the marines spared another glance as the far side of the contest collapsed into a snowball fight and then sighed in relief when he realized Garp had gone inside. Admiral Akainu and Vice-Admiral Tsuru sat before the fire, Garp right next to the sour-faced old woman who was busy scolding him. Garp wasn’t listening, like usual, but at least he was laughing and not out stirring up more trouble. Sengoku sighed and squared his shoulders before he too stepped inside. His ability to handle Garp’s offspring surely would not prove up to the task if he couldn’t handle the old man himself.
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Down on the battlefield made of snow, a white missile whizzed past Coby’s ear but months of training with the thorough and rather sadistic Vice-Admiral had programmed his reflexes and he merely tilted his head and concentrated on the cylinder of packed flakes before him. Garp would want his protégés to do their best and make him proud and Coby was determined not to let the man who’d taken him in and turned him into the marine he’d dreamed of becoming down. There was just one problem. He had no idea what sort of snowman to make. The standard one with a carrot nose and stick arms surely wouldn’t win. The judge or judges, whoever they might be, couldn’t have been impressed by something so simple.
Coby’s first thought was to make a snowman of Luffy but he immediately banished the idea. Garp wouldn’t care but it wouldn’t do to advertise his relationship with the young man who would no doubt soon become the Pirate King and would be expecting Coby to come pursue him, something Coby couldn’t do if he was demoted or even clapped in irons for fraternizing with a notorious enemy. A sidelong glance as he checked for inspiration found his partner and friend Helmeppo busy reducing his gathered snow into small, fist-sized balls, the blond sporting several splotches of white on the side of his face and chest. One more deserter from the game but Coby didn’t really notice. He was too busy staring at the long lines of Helmeppo’s legs in the tight ski gear he’d chosen to wear. And then Coby’s face flushed and he whipped his head back around to stare fiercely at his snow pile and pretend he hadn’t been scoping out the Petty Officer AGAIN. Really, the crush he’d developed on his partner needed to go away. Being a rank above Helmeppo meant there was no way he could risk fraternization and it wasn’t like the taller man had ever shown a hint of interest anyway.
Still, to Coby’s biased eyes, Helmeppo cut quite the fine figure. Coby pushed his glasses firmly back up the bridge of his nose and went to work, doggedly cutting down the width of his snowman until it began to resemble Helmeppo’s beanpole lankiness…
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Across the snowy ground, another pair of marines had no trouble deciding who should serve as a model for their snow sculptures. There was only one creature beautiful enough to be worthy of winning Garp’s prize and they were just the men to prove it. Unfortunately, one of them did not quite have the skills to bring his artistic vision to life. Fortunately, his partner did and was willing to share his gift and the prize, although if their plans should work out, he would ultimately not be so generous. But for the time being, it was them against the rest of the world.
A simple chakram on a string and three words served to recruit a small army of workers away from their competitors, the dazed marines shuffling about with heaps of snow to add the monument their master was intent on making. Jango, red-tinted heart glasses more than adequate to block out the sun dazzle, scuttled over the growing pile of snow. He packed it down firmly in some places, carved it delicately in others, and every so often he stopped to check with his partner. Fullbody was all thumbs when it came to building snowmen but he was an expert on their chosen subject and his fist was strong enough to protect it from all the stray missiles that came hurtling toward their frozen creation.
The pair worked diligently even as Jango’s hypnotism wore off and their recruits wandered off towards - or more often into – the increasing hail of snowballs as the fight grew to monumental proportions. Each curve and sharp angle and fingernail and strand of hair was lovingly carved and it seemed to them that they could not fail to impress Garp and his judges nor, even, the woman who served as their shining beacon of inspiration. Indeed it was that thought that sent Jango’s attention towards Petty Officer Shine. He was their immediate commander and a close confederate of their captain’s. Surely he would know where their goddess of the seas had gone and would know how much she would appreciate their homage.
Petty Officer Shine blinked as he ducked a whizzing snowball and then blinked again, thinking perhaps he’d gone snow-blind. But the apparition remained before him, complete with Jango and Fullbody dancing around it with extended arms, somehow their moves managing to fend off all the incoming frozen projectiles. He knew even without their synchronized calls that they wanted Hina to witness their creation and for once he had to agree with the two idiots. It was impressive and the captain wasn’t above vanity nor the amusement that led her to keep the two around. She was no doubt skiing but she would come if he asked, perhaps even join in the mayhem. Shine nodded to the dancing marines and headed in the direction of the ski slope. About the only thing that would ruin the moment was the snowball fight but the duo seemed to be holding their own…
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Poor Coby was not so fortunate. He’d just finished carving out a pair of shades for his Snow Helmeppo’s face when the flesh and blood marine ran headlong into his creation, a barrage of snowballs in his wake. Cold, wet whiteness covered Helmeppo from head to toe and he lay on top of Coby’s crushed creation, panting and squirming and laughingly complaining as frigid melting water ran down his neck. More snowballs came raining down on the prone marine just as Coby had meant to help him up, plastering pink strands to Coby’s cheek with cold efficiency. It was too much to bear and, letting out a yell, Coby knelt down next to his fallen partner and began transforming his creation into missiles of his own. It was too bad that Helmeppo had never gotten a chance to see his likeness in snow but there was something fitting about revenge gained from its toppled, flattened corpse.
Within moments, the real Helmeppo had regained his senses and was busy beside Coby, launching a return assault, the pair of them laughing and romping about as freely as all the other marines. Garp, watching from the window with a mug of cocoa in his hand, chuckled softly to himself before he turned back to his new favorite pastime – harassing Sengoku…
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The sight of Petty Officer Shine waiting at the ski lift caught Hina’s attention and she gracefully carved to a stop, a spray of snow sweeping over Aokiji where he lay flat on his back and still asleep. Nearly two hours of uninterrupted slope time had relaxed the captain and she smoothed her cherry blossom hair back into neatness as she listened to her right hand man.
“Hina must see to believe, hmm? Coming from Shine-san, Hina supposes it must be true. Very well, Hina will come.”
With his usual impeccably annoying timing, Garp chose the moment Hina rounded the ski lodge to emerge and declare the contest over and ready for judging. A collective groan went up from the snow field-turned-battlefield but Garp laughed it off with his usual casualness. Only two snow figures remained standing, the rest having fallen victim to the fight or been cannibalized by their creators when they needed ammunition. One belonged to Admiral Kizaru and it was...a snowman. Large round ball for the base, medium size one for the torso and a small one for the head with two sticks for arms, black rocks for buttons, eyes, and mouth, and the Admiral’s own scarf around its neck. The only deviation from the standard model was the snowman’s nose. Not even Kizaru had been able to come up with a carrot on such short notice but he’d come up with an alternative. The poor interception den den mushi that could normally be found on the Admiral’s wrist blinked miserably at Garp and then sneezed.
Garp roared with laughter and thumped the lazily grinning Admiral on the back.
“Made one that talks. Now that’s innovation. But there’s one more work to judge.”
Hina had been distracted from her original destination by the appearance of Garp and the sheer destruction – shivering, white-splotched bodies dotted the field and the occasional snowball still flew threw the air in a half-hearted attempt to score a final point. But now she followed Garp’s broad-shouldered figure, her gaze falling on the vivid jackets of her personal fan club before trailing up the sculpted white figure behind them.
Unlike Kizaru, Jango had opted to aim for true art, carving and molding his figure with meticulous attention to every detail. Despite being monochrome, Jango and Fullbody’s snow person had been intricately and lovingly carved in high relief. Garp’s eyes skimmed over the figure, taking in the plush curves, the individually sculpted strands of hair, the delicacy of an ear. And then he moved around to the front and whistled.
A small scar marred the back of the figure below the left shoulder blade and a trio of beauty marks clustered above one sharp hipbone. Hina’s gloved hand came up involuntarily to touch her chest as her eyes traced a matching scar on the snow figure. Her eyes wandered lower and one eyebrow arched and then she finally turned to Jango and Fullbody. Garp, uncharacteristically, was silent although his grin threatened to split his face.
“Hina thinks next time Jango-kun should take up the challenge of sculpting clothes. And that Smith-san needs to make a note to put the privacy shield back in Hina’s bathroom. But Hina impressed.”
And with that she turned on her heel, head high as she headed for the ski lodge. She was impressed. It was gorgeous and that could only mean its model was even more lovely.
Behind her, Garp ruefully shook his head at Kizaru. “Sorry Admiral. But I think you gotta agree that these boys are the winners.”
Kizaru nodded slowly, a trickle of blood pooling in one nostril, as Jango and Fullbody engaged in their victory dance around their sculpture, bodies moving to a tempo only they could hear…
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Several hours later, far too many marines crowded into the covered training ground to mingle, dance, and sip punch, many of them nursing newly sore throats or coughing into their fists. Jango and Fullbody suffered no such fate. Instead they danced attendance on Hina when she finally appeared. But their joy was short-lived, for a call went out for Garp from the communications room, a reply to the call he’d put in to Commodore Smoker two days before.
Hina beat the Vice-Admiral to the door by two steps and smiled winsomely at him over one shoulder. “Hina handle this. The Vice-Admiral should enjoy the party. The last thing the men around her heard was her voice taking on a syrupy sweet tone that brooked no good for the man on the other line.
“Smoker-kun! Hina glad you called. Hina has something to tell you. But put Tashigi-chan on first…”
The ensign on duty in the communications room was herded out and then the lock turned with a definite click. Garp shrugged his shoulders at the pouting Jango and Fullbody and something went * clink * in his pocket. It was the reward bottle, bumping against a small cannonball, and he handed it over to the wilting pair in hopes that it would revive their flagging spirits. They, after all, were some of the few men who still seemed healthy enough to enjoy the party. After a few wails and swigs, the disco duo did indeed regain some life and the rest of Garp’s STRONG but rather vile-tasting prize made its way into the punch…
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Poor Coby had a stuffy nose and his throat was beginning to ache as he circulated awkwardly at the edge of the room. He’d been soaked by the time the snowball fight was over and all the hot water had been used up by those of the higher ranks by the time he finally got into the bathing facilities. He was busy blowing his nose and looking for Helmeppo when Vice-Admiral Garp wandered past with a handful of greenery, stopping just long enough to push a “Cure-All I swear by, made from ground Sea King bones” into the young marine’s hand.
That sent Coby in search of liquid to take his medicine but all he could find was the oddly colored punch at the end of the picked-over buffet. Still, it was better than nothing and Coby, perhaps thanks to his clogged sinuses and aching throat, actually thought the punch was pretty good so he had another cup full. It didn’t really soothe his sore throat but it – or the pill – did make his head feel like it was floating rather than stuffed with mucus. Drifting across the dance floor in a warm haze, Coby finally spotted Helmeppo and his eyes lit up behind his glasses. The blond was leaning in a doorway looking bored and like maybe he could use a drink. Coby decided to tell him about the punch.
It was just as Coby drew even with Helmeppo that he finally noticed the stepladder and then the chuckling Vice-Admiral perched on the top step and the sprig of green leaves and colorful berries dangling from his hand over the heads of his recruits. Helmeppo flushed and started sputtering, drawing more attention to them, but Garp just laughed and leered, muttering a quiet “Go on, kid. It’s the rules,” to Coby.
His line of sight narrowed, centered on Helmeppo’s face, shrank even further until all Coby could see was his partner’s mouth. The tunnel vision might have been the fever Coby had coming on; it might have been the punch or Garp’s pill; but it was probably just that now there was no excuse for there were rules after all. And so Coby leaned in and up, rising to his tiptoes, and pressing his lips against Helmeppo’s. Who met him for four long seconds before he tore away, grumbling under his breath about needing a drink. But he kept hold of Coby’s hand and the shorter marine happily let himself be towed along even though Helmeppo was going in the opposite direction from the punch and back towards their quarters…
Garp watched them go smugly and then climbed down from his ladder. “You owe me one thousand berri,” he said to Tsuru and then held a sprig of mistletoe over his head for good measure. He got his money and a fist to the face as his reward but it had been worth it. Rubbing his aching jaw, Vice-Admiral Garp headed for Fleet Admiral Sengoku next with a cup of punch. The man hadn’t been loosened up quite enough yet. Along the way, he passed the still-locked communications room and the writhing forms of Hina’s two lackeys stretched out on the floor in front of it. It was shadowy and quiet at that end of the training ground but Garp tossed a bit of mistletoe on them for good measure. There were rules after all…
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The next day Hina set out from Ever Green Island without Vice-Admiral Garp’s dog-prowed ship in her wake. A farewell chorus of coughs and sneezes and sniffles – the loudest coming from her host, Fleet Admiral Sengoku himself – heralded her departure. She’d had two excuses: the first was that her crew was relatively healthy and needed to avoid contagion. The second she’d chosen to keep to herself until that moment, when she turned to her helmsman and gave him a new log pose pointed in the direction of a much warmer island, an old friend, and his occasionally clumsy second.
And
REQUEST 2: Jango and Fullbody attempt to impress Hina with their snowman(snow sculpture) building skills...and comfort each other when it most likely fails
Title: Winter Interlude - Navy Style
Rating: PG
Pairing: Coby/Helmeppo, Hina/Tashigi
Word Count: 3,506
Hina rolled her eyes behind the shield of her ski goggles, grateful to the tinted glass for both the protection it provided from the snow glare and from all the idiots rolling, sledding, skiing, and snowballing away from her. Damn Vice-Admiral Garp for being so predictably unpredictable. She had had every intention of skipping the annual Marine Holiday Party but the wily old bastard had come across her bow just three days ago with Admiral Aokiji in tow. There had been no escape after that, no excuse. And why did Fleet Admiral Sengoku insist on having a party anyway? She suspected it involved the lanky, lazy man who’d spent the trip to Ever Green Island – a misnomer if ever there was one – lounging and snoring on Garp’s ship, and almost certainly Garp himself.
The old man was always up for mischief and, if the scuttlebutt making the rounds was true, he’d passed the trait on to some truly troubling offspring. Then again, what else could one expect from the man who’d brought the Pirate King himself to justice? He wasn’t around at the moment, much to Hina’s relief. For some reason, the Vice-Admiral had always enjoyed trying to get her to move beyond her usual steely exterior and air of detached amusement and he was one of the few who had – rarely – succeeded. There was some sort of contest going on further down the mountain, out near the frigid bay where a fleet of naval vessels that should have been looking for pirates now sat uselessly at anchor. It had been Garp’s idea and most of the rest of his fellow marines had gone tearing done the mountain in order to win some vaguely promised prize. Hina wasn’t against vacations and breaks from the hard task of meting out justice on the Grand Line but it seemed rather foolhardy to bring so many of them in. Then again, most of her fellows consisted of fools so perhaps it wasn’t so unexpected after all. Especially if they were inclined to trust Garp’s promise of a reward for victory when they could have been making a REAL attempt at relaxation like she was trying to do.
At least with so many upper ranked marines busy one-upping each other at the contest, no doubt expending far too much testosterone and stupidity in the process, the ski slopes were almost entirely empty. Aokiji remained, snoring from his slouch on the stopped ski lift in nothing but his shirt sleeves, and Vice-Admiral Strawberry, usual stern countenance flushed with irritation as he struggled with his skis, but the snow fields spread out before her remained empty. They were somewhat disturbed by the earlier mass migration of marines but that just meant more of a challenge and Hina smiled as she popped her spine and plotted her path.
The brisk wind whistling past her fur-covered ears blocked out all but the loudest of the hollers from the mountain base and the snow pack was fast and dry beneath her skis. Hina expertly cut a sharp corner around a scraggly pine tree for the sheer exhilaration of it and continued her headlong descent. With any luck, Aokiji would fall off the ski lift when she restarted it for her return to the top. And maybe Garp would prove useful after all, giving her a chance at solitude in the dazzling sun…
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“The rules are simple!” Garp’s voice boomed out over the assembled throng of marines as he stood on the railing that edged the deck of the massive Navy base cum ski lodge. “Build the best snow man and win this!”
Sunlight glinted off of the glass bottle, made the contrast between container and contents even sharper. Green liquid so dark it seemed black slopped in the bottle, a thin sheen oozing slowly down the interior to rejoin with the bulk of the stuff as Garp waved it around before the gathered crowd.
“Only the finest, lads! Only the finest!” Garp threw back his head and laughed as the gathered men scrambled to obey, none of them hesitating or thinking to ask who would serve as judge. The grizzled Vice-Admiral nimbly leaped backwards, pivoting on his heel just in time to miss Sengoku. The Fleet Admiral shook his head as he looked out at the spectacle. The finest the Navy had to offer and they were digging in the snow like children. Only Garp...only Garp.
The head of the marines spared another glance as the far side of the contest collapsed into a snowball fight and then sighed in relief when he realized Garp had gone inside. Admiral Akainu and Vice-Admiral Tsuru sat before the fire, Garp right next to the sour-faced old woman who was busy scolding him. Garp wasn’t listening, like usual, but at least he was laughing and not out stirring up more trouble. Sengoku sighed and squared his shoulders before he too stepped inside. His ability to handle Garp’s offspring surely would not prove up to the task if he couldn’t handle the old man himself.
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Down on the battlefield made of snow, a white missile whizzed past Coby’s ear but months of training with the thorough and rather sadistic Vice-Admiral had programmed his reflexes and he merely tilted his head and concentrated on the cylinder of packed flakes before him. Garp would want his protégés to do their best and make him proud and Coby was determined not to let the man who’d taken him in and turned him into the marine he’d dreamed of becoming down. There was just one problem. He had no idea what sort of snowman to make. The standard one with a carrot nose and stick arms surely wouldn’t win. The judge or judges, whoever they might be, couldn’t have been impressed by something so simple.
Coby’s first thought was to make a snowman of Luffy but he immediately banished the idea. Garp wouldn’t care but it wouldn’t do to advertise his relationship with the young man who would no doubt soon become the Pirate King and would be expecting Coby to come pursue him, something Coby couldn’t do if he was demoted or even clapped in irons for fraternizing with a notorious enemy. A sidelong glance as he checked for inspiration found his partner and friend Helmeppo busy reducing his gathered snow into small, fist-sized balls, the blond sporting several splotches of white on the side of his face and chest. One more deserter from the game but Coby didn’t really notice. He was too busy staring at the long lines of Helmeppo’s legs in the tight ski gear he’d chosen to wear. And then Coby’s face flushed and he whipped his head back around to stare fiercely at his snow pile and pretend he hadn’t been scoping out the Petty Officer AGAIN. Really, the crush he’d developed on his partner needed to go away. Being a rank above Helmeppo meant there was no way he could risk fraternization and it wasn’t like the taller man had ever shown a hint of interest anyway.
Still, to Coby’s biased eyes, Helmeppo cut quite the fine figure. Coby pushed his glasses firmly back up the bridge of his nose and went to work, doggedly cutting down the width of his snowman until it began to resemble Helmeppo’s beanpole lankiness…
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Across the snowy ground, another pair of marines had no trouble deciding who should serve as a model for their snow sculptures. There was only one creature beautiful enough to be worthy of winning Garp’s prize and they were just the men to prove it. Unfortunately, one of them did not quite have the skills to bring his artistic vision to life. Fortunately, his partner did and was willing to share his gift and the prize, although if their plans should work out, he would ultimately not be so generous. But for the time being, it was them against the rest of the world.
A simple chakram on a string and three words served to recruit a small army of workers away from their competitors, the dazed marines shuffling about with heaps of snow to add the monument their master was intent on making. Jango, red-tinted heart glasses more than adequate to block out the sun dazzle, scuttled over the growing pile of snow. He packed it down firmly in some places, carved it delicately in others, and every so often he stopped to check with his partner. Fullbody was all thumbs when it came to building snowmen but he was an expert on their chosen subject and his fist was strong enough to protect it from all the stray missiles that came hurtling toward their frozen creation.
The pair worked diligently even as Jango’s hypnotism wore off and their recruits wandered off towards - or more often into – the increasing hail of snowballs as the fight grew to monumental proportions. Each curve and sharp angle and fingernail and strand of hair was lovingly carved and it seemed to them that they could not fail to impress Garp and his judges nor, even, the woman who served as their shining beacon of inspiration. Indeed it was that thought that sent Jango’s attention towards Petty Officer Shine. He was their immediate commander and a close confederate of their captain’s. Surely he would know where their goddess of the seas had gone and would know how much she would appreciate their homage.
Petty Officer Shine blinked as he ducked a whizzing snowball and then blinked again, thinking perhaps he’d gone snow-blind. But the apparition remained before him, complete with Jango and Fullbody dancing around it with extended arms, somehow their moves managing to fend off all the incoming frozen projectiles. He knew even without their synchronized calls that they wanted Hina to witness their creation and for once he had to agree with the two idiots. It was impressive and the captain wasn’t above vanity nor the amusement that led her to keep the two around. She was no doubt skiing but she would come if he asked, perhaps even join in the mayhem. Shine nodded to the dancing marines and headed in the direction of the ski slope. About the only thing that would ruin the moment was the snowball fight but the duo seemed to be holding their own…
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Poor Coby was not so fortunate. He’d just finished carving out a pair of shades for his Snow Helmeppo’s face when the flesh and blood marine ran headlong into his creation, a barrage of snowballs in his wake. Cold, wet whiteness covered Helmeppo from head to toe and he lay on top of Coby’s crushed creation, panting and squirming and laughingly complaining as frigid melting water ran down his neck. More snowballs came raining down on the prone marine just as Coby had meant to help him up, plastering pink strands to Coby’s cheek with cold efficiency. It was too much to bear and, letting out a yell, Coby knelt down next to his fallen partner and began transforming his creation into missiles of his own. It was too bad that Helmeppo had never gotten a chance to see his likeness in snow but there was something fitting about revenge gained from its toppled, flattened corpse.
Within moments, the real Helmeppo had regained his senses and was busy beside Coby, launching a return assault, the pair of them laughing and romping about as freely as all the other marines. Garp, watching from the window with a mug of cocoa in his hand, chuckled softly to himself before he turned back to his new favorite pastime – harassing Sengoku…
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The sight of Petty Officer Shine waiting at the ski lift caught Hina’s attention and she gracefully carved to a stop, a spray of snow sweeping over Aokiji where he lay flat on his back and still asleep. Nearly two hours of uninterrupted slope time had relaxed the captain and she smoothed her cherry blossom hair back into neatness as she listened to her right hand man.
“Hina must see to believe, hmm? Coming from Shine-san, Hina supposes it must be true. Very well, Hina will come.”
With his usual impeccably annoying timing, Garp chose the moment Hina rounded the ski lodge to emerge and declare the contest over and ready for judging. A collective groan went up from the snow field-turned-battlefield but Garp laughed it off with his usual casualness. Only two snow figures remained standing, the rest having fallen victim to the fight or been cannibalized by their creators when they needed ammunition. One belonged to Admiral Kizaru and it was...a snowman. Large round ball for the base, medium size one for the torso and a small one for the head with two sticks for arms, black rocks for buttons, eyes, and mouth, and the Admiral’s own scarf around its neck. The only deviation from the standard model was the snowman’s nose. Not even Kizaru had been able to come up with a carrot on such short notice but he’d come up with an alternative. The poor interception den den mushi that could normally be found on the Admiral’s wrist blinked miserably at Garp and then sneezed.
Garp roared with laughter and thumped the lazily grinning Admiral on the back.
“Made one that talks. Now that’s innovation. But there’s one more work to judge.”
Hina had been distracted from her original destination by the appearance of Garp and the sheer destruction – shivering, white-splotched bodies dotted the field and the occasional snowball still flew threw the air in a half-hearted attempt to score a final point. But now she followed Garp’s broad-shouldered figure, her gaze falling on the vivid jackets of her personal fan club before trailing up the sculpted white figure behind them.
Unlike Kizaru, Jango had opted to aim for true art, carving and molding his figure with meticulous attention to every detail. Despite being monochrome, Jango and Fullbody’s snow person had been intricately and lovingly carved in high relief. Garp’s eyes skimmed over the figure, taking in the plush curves, the individually sculpted strands of hair, the delicacy of an ear. And then he moved around to the front and whistled.
A small scar marred the back of the figure below the left shoulder blade and a trio of beauty marks clustered above one sharp hipbone. Hina’s gloved hand came up involuntarily to touch her chest as her eyes traced a matching scar on the snow figure. Her eyes wandered lower and one eyebrow arched and then she finally turned to Jango and Fullbody. Garp, uncharacteristically, was silent although his grin threatened to split his face.
“Hina thinks next time Jango-kun should take up the challenge of sculpting clothes. And that Smith-san needs to make a note to put the privacy shield back in Hina’s bathroom. But Hina impressed.”
And with that she turned on her heel, head high as she headed for the ski lodge. She was impressed. It was gorgeous and that could only mean its model was even more lovely.
Behind her, Garp ruefully shook his head at Kizaru. “Sorry Admiral. But I think you gotta agree that these boys are the winners.”
Kizaru nodded slowly, a trickle of blood pooling in one nostril, as Jango and Fullbody engaged in their victory dance around their sculpture, bodies moving to a tempo only they could hear…
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Several hours later, far too many marines crowded into the covered training ground to mingle, dance, and sip punch, many of them nursing newly sore throats or coughing into their fists. Jango and Fullbody suffered no such fate. Instead they danced attendance on Hina when she finally appeared. But their joy was short-lived, for a call went out for Garp from the communications room, a reply to the call he’d put in to Commodore Smoker two days before.
Hina beat the Vice-Admiral to the door by two steps and smiled winsomely at him over one shoulder. “Hina handle this. The Vice-Admiral should enjoy the party. The last thing the men around her heard was her voice taking on a syrupy sweet tone that brooked no good for the man on the other line.
“Smoker-kun! Hina glad you called. Hina has something to tell you. But put Tashigi-chan on first…”
The ensign on duty in the communications room was herded out and then the lock turned with a definite click. Garp shrugged his shoulders at the pouting Jango and Fullbody and something went * clink * in his pocket. It was the reward bottle, bumping against a small cannonball, and he handed it over to the wilting pair in hopes that it would revive their flagging spirits. They, after all, were some of the few men who still seemed healthy enough to enjoy the party. After a few wails and swigs, the disco duo did indeed regain some life and the rest of Garp’s STRONG but rather vile-tasting prize made its way into the punch…
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Poor Coby had a stuffy nose and his throat was beginning to ache as he circulated awkwardly at the edge of the room. He’d been soaked by the time the snowball fight was over and all the hot water had been used up by those of the higher ranks by the time he finally got into the bathing facilities. He was busy blowing his nose and looking for Helmeppo when Vice-Admiral Garp wandered past with a handful of greenery, stopping just long enough to push a “Cure-All I swear by, made from ground Sea King bones” into the young marine’s hand.
That sent Coby in search of liquid to take his medicine but all he could find was the oddly colored punch at the end of the picked-over buffet. Still, it was better than nothing and Coby, perhaps thanks to his clogged sinuses and aching throat, actually thought the punch was pretty good so he had another cup full. It didn’t really soothe his sore throat but it – or the pill – did make his head feel like it was floating rather than stuffed with mucus. Drifting across the dance floor in a warm haze, Coby finally spotted Helmeppo and his eyes lit up behind his glasses. The blond was leaning in a doorway looking bored and like maybe he could use a drink. Coby decided to tell him about the punch.
It was just as Coby drew even with Helmeppo that he finally noticed the stepladder and then the chuckling Vice-Admiral perched on the top step and the sprig of green leaves and colorful berries dangling from his hand over the heads of his recruits. Helmeppo flushed and started sputtering, drawing more attention to them, but Garp just laughed and leered, muttering a quiet “Go on, kid. It’s the rules,” to Coby.
His line of sight narrowed, centered on Helmeppo’s face, shrank even further until all Coby could see was his partner’s mouth. The tunnel vision might have been the fever Coby had coming on; it might have been the punch or Garp’s pill; but it was probably just that now there was no excuse for there were rules after all. And so Coby leaned in and up, rising to his tiptoes, and pressing his lips against Helmeppo’s. Who met him for four long seconds before he tore away, grumbling under his breath about needing a drink. But he kept hold of Coby’s hand and the shorter marine happily let himself be towed along even though Helmeppo was going in the opposite direction from the punch and back towards their quarters…
Garp watched them go smugly and then climbed down from his ladder. “You owe me one thousand berri,” he said to Tsuru and then held a sprig of mistletoe over his head for good measure. He got his money and a fist to the face as his reward but it had been worth it. Rubbing his aching jaw, Vice-Admiral Garp headed for Fleet Admiral Sengoku next with a cup of punch. The man hadn’t been loosened up quite enough yet. Along the way, he passed the still-locked communications room and the writhing forms of Hina’s two lackeys stretched out on the floor in front of it. It was shadowy and quiet at that end of the training ground but Garp tossed a bit of mistletoe on them for good measure. There were rules after all…
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The next day Hina set out from Ever Green Island without Vice-Admiral Garp’s dog-prowed ship in her wake. A farewell chorus of coughs and sneezes and sniffles – the loudest coming from her host, Fleet Admiral Sengoku himself – heralded her departure. She’d had two excuses: the first was that her crew was relatively healthy and needed to avoid contagion. The second she’d chosen to keep to herself until that moment, when she turned to her helmsman and gave him a new log pose pointed in the direction of a much warmer island, an old friend, and his occasionally clumsy second.
