![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dethoratsRequest: Zoro and Usopp on a reality game show.
Rating: G
Pairing: Zoro + Usopp
Word Count: 875
Nami had a distressing gift for understatement. It’ll be easy, she’d said. Get Zoro to beat up a few guys, break down a couple of crazy giant machines while you invent whatever you need to do to win the challenge. Spend two weeks in close quarters with him, she’d added with a disturbingly unsubtle wink, all alone without the rest of the crew to get in the way and adrenalin and plenty of enemies colluding to keep you together. End up with an enormous wad of cash, an edge in negotiations with the navigator next time around, and pride in a job well done. Yeah, it had sounded good but the coy picture Nami painted neglected to mention the round-the-clock snail-monitoring, the truth about the ‘death traps,’ the insanity of their fellow contestants, and the fact that it turned out Zoro snored like a goat with a sinus infection when he had to sleep on the ground inside a damp tent. Overall, Usopp had questioned his sanity, the value of Nami as a nakama, Zoro’s unshakable stubborn refusal to know fear, and the very gods themselves at least eight times a day over the course of the game.
But, despite flame throwers, bearded behemoths that turned out to be touchy females, an unfortunate argument over who had farted in the tent after the night of the failed chili star cooking experiment, and more near-death experiences than even a typical half-month stretch on the Grand Line as a Straw-Hat pirate brought, they had lasted until the final day, the final challenge, the final round. It involved a boiling lake of acid, crumbling stone pillars, three pieces of a grappling line, strange bloodthirsty bat-penguins, and their greatest rivals, an obnoxiously arrogant set of twins from North Blue who were probably a quarter giant and had a relative in Vegapunk, albeit as an uncle twice removed.
They’d been working well until the final stretch. Zoro was on the only really solid ground between the start and the finish, an island of sharp obsidian three yards across, busy fending off the twins while Usopp had leapt out to a pillar to get the last piece of the grappling line. He had assembled it, fired it off successfully to the goal, and had turned to yell for Zoro to hurry up and get down there when the pillar began to pitch and buckle. Chunks of stone hissed as they met the acid, melting away as Usopp quivered and tried not to fall. For an instant, he met Zoro’s eyes, saw for the first time a glint of fear, and then his shaky foundation crumbled and Usopp was falling, the grappling line clenched in his fist for dear life and his eyes closed against the inevitable burn of acid.
Air beneath his feet and fingers over his own were the absolute last things he expected but they were what he got as the line retracted, snapping Usopp forward towards the goal with almost as much force as one of Luffy’s arm-slingshots. He hit the ground hard, breath knocked out of him, and before he could so much as get in even an emergency gasp for air, rough lips stole what little oxygen he had left.
“Idiot,” Zoro had grumbled, grudgingly letting the sniper breathe only after Usopp had whimpered beneath his mouth and tentatively opened to a demanding tongue. “Why didn’t you go?”
“Couldn’t leave you behind.” His response was breathless, weak, but it was the truth. How could he have abandoned Zoro to the twins and the acid? Without the grappling gun, how could the swordsman have made his way to the goal?
“Moron.” Zoro’s voice was fond even though the knock he gave to Usopp’s head wasn’t very gentle. “What did you think those flying pests were for? Stepping stones.”
Giant bat-winged penguins with claws and razor-sharp teeth were in no way stepping-stones but Usopp wisely decided persuading Zoro of that fact wasn’t worth it. Especially not when they had a prize to collect. They might have been a little worse for wear as they stumbled across the goal line and into a pile of gems, gold, and cash, but they were victorious all the same, proud of their win and of each other and, as the confetti and streamers came raining down upon them, Usopp couldn’t resist the swell of his emotions or the temptation to return the kiss, properly this time and for a much more satisfying duration.
Too bad he’d forgotten about all the camera snails and recording dials. The next day’s paper had a 4-color image in case he could have possibly forgotten. And too bad that those camera snails HAD been able to see some rather embarrassing moments in the dark that he had thought had been private. Zoro was exonerated from the chili-tent incident. And too bad Nami took all of Zoro’s share of the winnings and a major chunk of his – in the name of being a supporter of the debtor in question. But in the end, despite the entire Grand Line knowing every intimate detail about his experience on the show and nearly dying far too many times, getting Zoro as a bonus prize made the whole crazy thing worthwhile.
Rating: G
Pairing: Zoro + Usopp
Word Count: 875
Nami had a distressing gift for understatement. It’ll be easy, she’d said. Get Zoro to beat up a few guys, break down a couple of crazy giant machines while you invent whatever you need to do to win the challenge. Spend two weeks in close quarters with him, she’d added with a disturbingly unsubtle wink, all alone without the rest of the crew to get in the way and adrenalin and plenty of enemies colluding to keep you together. End up with an enormous wad of cash, an edge in negotiations with the navigator next time around, and pride in a job well done. Yeah, it had sounded good but the coy picture Nami painted neglected to mention the round-the-clock snail-monitoring, the truth about the ‘death traps,’ the insanity of their fellow contestants, and the fact that it turned out Zoro snored like a goat with a sinus infection when he had to sleep on the ground inside a damp tent. Overall, Usopp had questioned his sanity, the value of Nami as a nakama, Zoro’s unshakable stubborn refusal to know fear, and the very gods themselves at least eight times a day over the course of the game.
But, despite flame throwers, bearded behemoths that turned out to be touchy females, an unfortunate argument over who had farted in the tent after the night of the failed chili star cooking experiment, and more near-death experiences than even a typical half-month stretch on the Grand Line as a Straw-Hat pirate brought, they had lasted until the final day, the final challenge, the final round. It involved a boiling lake of acid, crumbling stone pillars, three pieces of a grappling line, strange bloodthirsty bat-penguins, and their greatest rivals, an obnoxiously arrogant set of twins from North Blue who were probably a quarter giant and had a relative in Vegapunk, albeit as an uncle twice removed.
They’d been working well until the final stretch. Zoro was on the only really solid ground between the start and the finish, an island of sharp obsidian three yards across, busy fending off the twins while Usopp had leapt out to a pillar to get the last piece of the grappling line. He had assembled it, fired it off successfully to the goal, and had turned to yell for Zoro to hurry up and get down there when the pillar began to pitch and buckle. Chunks of stone hissed as they met the acid, melting away as Usopp quivered and tried not to fall. For an instant, he met Zoro’s eyes, saw for the first time a glint of fear, and then his shaky foundation crumbled and Usopp was falling, the grappling line clenched in his fist for dear life and his eyes closed against the inevitable burn of acid.
Air beneath his feet and fingers over his own were the absolute last things he expected but they were what he got as the line retracted, snapping Usopp forward towards the goal with almost as much force as one of Luffy’s arm-slingshots. He hit the ground hard, breath knocked out of him, and before he could so much as get in even an emergency gasp for air, rough lips stole what little oxygen he had left.
“Idiot,” Zoro had grumbled, grudgingly letting the sniper breathe only after Usopp had whimpered beneath his mouth and tentatively opened to a demanding tongue. “Why didn’t you go?”
“Couldn’t leave you behind.” His response was breathless, weak, but it was the truth. How could he have abandoned Zoro to the twins and the acid? Without the grappling gun, how could the swordsman have made his way to the goal?
“Moron.” Zoro’s voice was fond even though the knock he gave to Usopp’s head wasn’t very gentle. “What did you think those flying pests were for? Stepping stones.”
Giant bat-winged penguins with claws and razor-sharp teeth were in no way stepping-stones but Usopp wisely decided persuading Zoro of that fact wasn’t worth it. Especially not when they had a prize to collect. They might have been a little worse for wear as they stumbled across the goal line and into a pile of gems, gold, and cash, but they were victorious all the same, proud of their win and of each other and, as the confetti and streamers came raining down upon them, Usopp couldn’t resist the swell of his emotions or the temptation to return the kiss, properly this time and for a much more satisfying duration.
Too bad he’d forgotten about all the camera snails and recording dials. The next day’s paper had a 4-color image in case he could have possibly forgotten. And too bad that those camera snails HAD been able to see some rather embarrassing moments in the dark that he had thought had been private. Zoro was exonerated from the chili-tent incident. And too bad Nami took all of Zoro’s share of the winnings and a major chunk of his – in the name of being a supporter of the debtor in question. But in the end, despite the entire Grand Line knowing every intimate detail about his experience on the show and nearly dying far too many times, getting Zoro as a bonus prize made the whole crazy thing worthwhile.
