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dethoratsRequest: Either Zoro or Usopp come out of the closet (for lack of a better phrase). Can be deliberate, casual, or a slip up.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Zoro + Usopp
Word Count: 517
Sanji kept his in the pantry on the highest shelf, on top of the cans of emergency rations that he found so lacking in taste and nutritional value that he prayed he would never have to open one while he lived. Luffy kept his beneath a cushion on the couch, because, he said, that’s where Ace had always kept his and it was just so convenient and that way everybody could share if they wanted. Nami kept hers under lock and key at the foot of her bed but one time she took one with her for a long bubble bath and forgot it and everyone on board got an eyeful. Zoro didn’t seem to have any but even money was on some sort of clever compartment in his sword-cleaning kit or else he was just too poor to have any. Usopp kept one or two with Luffy’s for appearance’ sake but his real stash was hidden in the storage hold in a locker where they kept the spare anchor chain and the fuses for the cannons. These were the ones that probably only Nami could have appreciated and that was embarrassing and made Usopp a bit uncomfortable so he was glad he had such a great hiding space. His secret was safe.
Safe, though, wasn’t the same thing as secure, and Usopp wasn’t exactly secure in himself. The fact that watching Zoro work out in the morning was getting to be even more effective than his stash was a problem. The sniper felt lonely and self-conscious and nobody knew if Zoro even thought about sex seeing as how they’d never found his spank bank. And if he made a move, Zoro could easily kill him or, more likely, never REALLY talk to him again or exercise without his shirt on. So Usopp kept his distance and his cover porn and did his best not to stare at the way Zoro’s throat moved when he ate dinner or how damn strong he was or what a softy he seemed to be at heart.
Until one day he went for his hidden stash and found only a single magazine and a note instead. In sharp but neat handwriting, it read:
Turn to page 18.
If you like what you see,
come and tell me.
The magazine was battered, the corners folded or torn off and the front cover faded but Usopp was familiar with the title. Page 18 was, as he’d suspected with growing astonishment, part of the monthly amateur contest. And there, in black and white, was a blindfolded, naked figure. The hair color was impossible to make out and the earrings were missing but Usopp knew that scar that skimmed a hip bone, the puckered flesh on the inside of the flexed right bicep from an old bullet wound. The final pieces of evidence were the names listed: Photo of Z, submitted by J and Y of East Blue.
Usopp, a lightness flooding his body along with a not-terribly-surprising rush of blood south, had carefully replaced the pornography and went off to find the real thing.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Zoro + Usopp
Word Count: 517
Sanji kept his in the pantry on the highest shelf, on top of the cans of emergency rations that he found so lacking in taste and nutritional value that he prayed he would never have to open one while he lived. Luffy kept his beneath a cushion on the couch, because, he said, that’s where Ace had always kept his and it was just so convenient and that way everybody could share if they wanted. Nami kept hers under lock and key at the foot of her bed but one time she took one with her for a long bubble bath and forgot it and everyone on board got an eyeful. Zoro didn’t seem to have any but even money was on some sort of clever compartment in his sword-cleaning kit or else he was just too poor to have any. Usopp kept one or two with Luffy’s for appearance’ sake but his real stash was hidden in the storage hold in a locker where they kept the spare anchor chain and the fuses for the cannons. These were the ones that probably only Nami could have appreciated and that was embarrassing and made Usopp a bit uncomfortable so he was glad he had such a great hiding space. His secret was safe.
Safe, though, wasn’t the same thing as secure, and Usopp wasn’t exactly secure in himself. The fact that watching Zoro work out in the morning was getting to be even more effective than his stash was a problem. The sniper felt lonely and self-conscious and nobody knew if Zoro even thought about sex seeing as how they’d never found his spank bank. And if he made a move, Zoro could easily kill him or, more likely, never REALLY talk to him again or exercise without his shirt on. So Usopp kept his distance and his cover porn and did his best not to stare at the way Zoro’s throat moved when he ate dinner or how damn strong he was or what a softy he seemed to be at heart.
Until one day he went for his hidden stash and found only a single magazine and a note instead. In sharp but neat handwriting, it read:
If you like what you see,
come and tell me.
The magazine was battered, the corners folded or torn off and the front cover faded but Usopp was familiar with the title. Page 18 was, as he’d suspected with growing astonishment, part of the monthly amateur contest. And there, in black and white, was a blindfolded, naked figure. The hair color was impossible to make out and the earrings were missing but Usopp knew that scar that skimmed a hip bone, the puckered flesh on the inside of the flexed right bicep from an old bullet wound. The final pieces of evidence were the names listed: Photo of Z, submitted by J and Y of East Blue.
Usopp, a lightness flooding his body along with a not-terribly-surprising rush of blood south, had carefully replaced the pornography and went off to find the real thing.
