theflashyfool | morning after; shanksyourfeels

Entry tags:

morning after; shanksyourfeels

Everything is a bit bleary when Buggy starts to stir, one eye cracking open to see light filtering into the room. There's an unhappy when at the offensive brightness, at the resulting throb in his temples, and then he's squirming his body back around. The sheets brush his bare skin, there's a telltale ache that he'd had a very good night. None of the puzzle slips together until he's half-borrowed against a warm, hard body.

Even then, it doesn't really register at first. He picked up someone at the bar, that's--

Hm.

Shanks comes to mind like a giant, sickening wrecking ball right through the haze of sleep and hangover. Shanks. The stupid steak and the stupid booze, that's right. He'd agreed to that. He'd even made sure he looked impeccable when he showed up and put on his best performance and--

He's sitting straight up in bed, dread settling in the put of his stomach. As if he wasn't already vaguely sick to it enough!

He stares in horror for a moment at the shock of bright red hair, the useless stump closest to him (that he still finds twists something painfully in his chest to look at too long). Hungover or not, it doesn't stop the horrified yell from leaving him as he clutches at the bedding and squirms back against the headrest. It's lucky he didn't land on his ass out of bed, honestly.

"Shanks! Shanks, what the fuck are you doing in my bed?" He probably looks a sight, with mussed up blue hair everywhere and kiss smeared red lipstick --

red that's smeared on Shanks' body too, if the glimpse of skin he can catch is any indication. "Where are your clothes, you idiot?!"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"You shitty bastard, what did you do!" He doesn't even know who he's talking to anymore, not really.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Maybe Shanks holds his alcohol better, or less affected by hangovers, but he doesn't quite have a throb, and isn't as sensitive to the light. It's not even that which wakes him up, it's the movement of the bed as Buggy backs away, and his yelling.

Shanks eyes open blearily, and he breathes in. Instead of answering Buggy, he stretches and notes the soreness of his own body. Oh. Must have been a fun night, then!

He starts to grin and finally corrects, "My bed," not important right now, Shanks. "A lot of last night is absent, but I do remember inviting you to my room." Of course, that doesn't mean they didn't end up in Buggy's. Just in case, Shanks takes a look around to confirm which one they're in.

His stump moves as Shanks tries to lift an arm to put around Buggy, then remembers, oh, right. That's not possible anymore. Oh well. Best keep his tone light lest Buggy panic further.

"Do? I think we both had to do it, Buggy. I would have needed a hand, after all," Shanks laughs at his own joke and gives Buggy a bright smile.

"That's not funny at all!" Actually, it's horrifying in the moment and he tries not to let his eyes linger on that stump moving around, tries not to think about the arm that should be attached there, and stops trying to wonder if Shanks even told him how he was stupid enough to lose an arm--

"Leave the jokes to me!" And stop smiling like that, he wants to add, but he can't quite get the words out. He's flushed almost as red as his nose and he knows it as he looks away from Shanks. Stupid. He's so stupid. Why did he go to--

Yeah, no, this isn't his room. Great. He gets a walk of shame too.

"I can't believe I let you fuck me..." He groans and lets his head thud back against the wall, eyes squeezing shut. Ow, his head.

"Go get me some water, Red." Since he's in such good spirits this morning, he can do the heavy lifting of getting out of bed. He's sore and headachy and he doesn't want to budge.

"Mine aren't that bad." They're terrible, Shanks. Buggy's aren't much better, though.

"Sure we didn't both get a turn?" Shanks asks, amused, as he shifts his weight and is pretty sure it had to go both ways last night.

"That's what happens when you go too long, Buggy. Pent up emotions, needs. Then before you know it, this happens." Shanks gestures to the bed and his state of undress. He has no consideration for the sheet as it falls away from his body, leaving no question he is entirely naked under there. He tries to approach Buggy and calm his friend down. Probably not helping, but Shanks seem to have zero concern for the situation.

"Who told you to go off and lose an arm?" He's being childish and he knows it. But it's-- a lot. All of this is. And either he gets angry or he cries, and he doesn't want to cry in front of this dumbass.

"How should I know? I don't remember. I just know my ass is sore and it's your fault." He's also very much naked under the sheets he's clinging to like they're the only things keeping him grounded.

"What are you talking about? Do you think I don't have sex? I'm not pent up." He knows full and well what Shanks is talking about, but he's feeling a little cagey with him approaching him, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"What are you doing?"

Shanks looks at the not there arm, lifts the stump a little, and shrugs.

"It just sort of happened. You know it's a possibility when you're a pirate. Could have been my leg. Or an eye," Shanks points out, tone speaking like it's just part of the profession. At least the anger Shanks can handle. That's just Buggy, after all.

"If you don't remember, and I don't remember, how do you know it's my fault?" Shanks asks, eyes peering curiously at Buggy for an explanation. How did either of them know they didn't invite someone else into the room?

"You're not? Then why would you be so quick to get in bed with me it just takes some beer?"

Shanks pauses to put his hand up. "Just going to give you a hug. You don't mind a hug, do you?"

"Stop it!" He snaps. He knows what their profession entails. Had they not seen their old captain executed in front of everyone? But that doesn't-- mean he can't be angry over this. Or upset at the thought of Shanks out there trying to do this with one arm. Not that he should care.

Dumbass is the reason he can't swim any longer, and try being a pirate knowing you're just one spill into the water away from dying at any given minute.

"Because! Are you trying to say it's my fault?" Because no one else is there besides them! And they're both naked!

"You-- you... ugh, you're such a bastard, Shanks!" Fucking infuriating bastard who should go eat shit and die somewhere.

"You clearly wanted to fuck me too. What, are you so desperate that you'd fuck someone you haven't even reached out to in twenty-odd years? Pent up, asshole?" Maybe they did switch. Maybe they spent all night fucking. Does it matter?

he rolls his eyes when Shanks continues on. A hug? Really? "Is that supposed to fix things?"

"Stop what part?" Shanks asks to clarify. Part of the thrill is knowing what could happen. Not that Shanks went out looking to make trouble for himself - not exactly - he wasn't broadcasting to have been formerly part of Roger's crew, that he grew up under Roger's command. But the adventure, exploration and the danger were part of it, for Shanks. Always had been.

He still doesn't really get the whole devil fruit incident. It wasn't intentional, at least.

There's a soft laugh. "We were supposed to reach out? You seemed so upset with me, I didn't think that would be a good idea. I was pleased to find you here," Shanks assures him. That doesn't necessarily answer the other questions, though. He isn't denying he wanted to have sex with Buggy, or had fun with him. It should go without mentioning - Shanks is down to drink, eat, be merry and fuck anyone, anytime. Buggy might be special, though. He's an old friend!

"No, but I want to." It's not about fixing things, after all.

"Forget it!" He's not sitting here arguing about missing arms and what being a pirate is all about -- Buggy knows full and well what a pirate is supposed to be. Shanks is just awful at it.

"I hate you," he spits out. "Of course I was upset! I still am!"

And maybe there'd be less resentment if Shanks seemed to actually care at all, or maybe there'd be more. Hard to say. He reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose, grinding his teeth.

"You've never asked me before when you've hugged me." So either do it, or don't. Buggy isn't asking.

There's a chuckle. "Then why would you expect to hear from me? You sound like you wanted to." Don't mind him, he's just trying to make sense of that one. Typical Buggy, though. Does he know what he wants, or does he hate admitting it that much.

"You could have just gotten a hold of me." He knows Buggy won't, and Shanks doesn't exactly make himself easy to find, anyway, but why waste a chance to flip this back to Buggy?

As for the hug - "I never asked." Shanks wasn't asking, either. Buggy asked what he was doing, and he explained.

He manages to get beside him and wraps his one arm around Buggy, still trying to get used to using the right one for Buggy.

"As if! Only if you were on your knees!" He meant in the groveling and begging for forgiveness way, not any more lewd way, but he didn't think that needed clarifying. He gives a huff when the wrong arm comes around him, not unwinding his arms to return it. He's still just--

trying to figure out what to do.

"It was just sex. Don't get any weird ideas, Red Hair." Just sex. It doesn't mean anything and it won't mean anything.

"How are you not hungover and miserable?" He might just tip his head in against the other's shoulder, frowning slightly to himself. He also lets go of the sheets finally, letting them pool around his waist as he presses his face in against the other's neck.

"You got taller, too. Asshole." And filled out.

Well, so did Buggy, kind of. But Shanks still has a couple inches on him.

There's an easy-going laugh.

"Then why would I contact you if it would just upset you?" Of course, now, Shanks knows to contact Buggy later, and stay in touch better. Apparently it really affected him Shanks didn't.

"Of course it was, Buggy," Shanks agrees. He wasn't the type to make much more out of a kiss, or sex, or even continued sexual experiences. Easy come, easy go.

There's another chuckle. "I'm hungover. The trick is to just act like you're not hungover." He gives a shrug. "Yes. You got taller, too. I think most people do that when they age."

But he is taller, yes. He's not going to rub it in, though. Buggy will likely let that bug him all on his own.

To work things out? to say 'Buggy, you were right and you were the best thing I ever had, come back!'? He doesn't voice that though, just rolling his eyes.

Why Shanks agreeing with him irritates him more about the sex, he isn't dissecting that. Good thing the idiot keeps saying painfully stupid things anyway. He huffs quietly, rolling his eyes.

"You can't just pretend you're not hungover and not be hungover! That's not how any of this works, you dummy."

Buggy could have just said that, but no. He doesn't. Shanks has already read into it enough to at least touch base, but he's not a mind reader. Granted, he was never going to tell Buggy he was right.

Shanks remains smiling, his arm tightly around Buggy's shoulders, to keep him close. A little post-snuggling is nice, sometimes.

"But I am. And it is working. It doesn't work for you?" He might be earnest about that question, he might be full of shit. Maybe it's a combination of both, but if Buggy looks at him, he'll just get that infuriating smile.

He could at least say he wants him back. Would he actually come back? Probably not. But it would be something to be wanted, missed. Either way, he huffs out a sigh and gives Shanks a look.

"You always say such weird things!" Of course that doesn't work. Getting scared shitless apparently gets him over the 'I'm dying' part real fast though, so he guesses he owes that one to Shanks' bare ass.

"You're still so clingy..." Not that he's moving. Why should he? "How can you be just as clingy with one arm?"

But there's no reason to say that. Far as Shanks can tell, Buggy going off on his own was for the best, and did Buggy a lot of good, allowed him to be a captain in his own right. Why take from that?

"Why is it weird?" Shanks has to ask, nudging against Buggy as he does. He probably owes a lot of things to Shanks' bare ass, but neither of them can remember.

"Well, but I was only using one arm in the first place," Shanks points out. "You weren't paying attention then, were you?"

"No one pretends to not be hungover to magically cure their hangover!" How can he not tell that's weird? It's super weird. And people call him the freak. He shifts a little to look at Shanks properly, frowning.

"Everyone paid attention to you, dumbass. Of course I did. You wouldn't have it otherwise."

He reaches up after a moment, after some deliberation, to trace a fingertip over those three scars. New too. Dumbass. "Figures. I leave you alone and you fall apart. Did you forget that only one of us is chop proof or what?"

"It's not pretending. It's determination. My determination is winning." Yes, Buggy is probably still the freak in the shounen world they hail from.

The next part at least catches him somewhat off guard. He doesn't so easily flow to the next words out of his mouth, but they still sound natural, at least.

"Then you should have noticed it was always one arm." Shanks clear his throat, and he looks down, but the smile doesn't waver. Buggy noticed him.

There's a laugh. Shanks can't point to his face, like this, but Buggy knows what he means at least.

"Those? That what happens when you face a worth foe."

"See? Weirdo." But there's maybe just a little hint of exasperated amusement. Unbelievable dumbass... No one thinks like that!

"I noticed. It was the other arm because this one always had a bottle in it." Don't act like he's not observant, especially with the guy he grew up around! He knows him like the back of his hand, probably.

"Stop trying to sound cool, dumbass!" He huffs. "It's fine-- if you were hurt or scared or whatever!"

Buggy's often those things, actually. "You're so obnoxious. Who thinks you're actually cool anyway?"

"Okay, maybe you're a little funny," Shanks grants him as this conversation has him laughing, again. He does shrug at Buggy calling him a weirdo. If that's what he thinks, that's what he thinks.

"Well, maybe you can hold the bottle for me, now. Or us. We can share." Because his arm isn't going to be doing it if he's too busy hugging Buggy.

He laughs and shakes his head. "But, Buggy, I was thrilled. It was exciting."

Shanks shakes his head. "I don't need anyone to think I'm cool. Some people think I'm a washed up has been." And he...is disturbingly fine with that. He can't, after all, make them change their minds. Maybe that is more what he's fine with, them thinking what they want, not what they think.

"I'm hilarious." He'll accept not criticisms, Shanks.

"Depends. Did we bring a bottle? I'm not going down to the bar to get a bottle naked and messy, Shanks. I have dignity." Some may argue not really, but. Whatever.

And maybe just for a laugh, even if it's not really funny at all-- "Want an arm? We both know I can hand it over."

He rolls his eyes. Anyone dumb enough to think Shanks could ever be washed up deserves whatever they get. He knows Shanks. He knows he won't let losing an arm slow him down or stop him. "You're just lazy. There's a difference."

"That's up for debate," Shanks counters. "But maybe you'll win me over before the day is out." Or maybe they will end up debating about it all day. Still to be seen.

"You could put on clothes, first," Shanks points out to him, but shakes his head. "I still have a little booze in reserve, though." The not great stuff. He shared a bottle of the better stuff with Buggy and saved the other bottle to just drown himself in for the next day.

Is it funny? Maybe not, but Shanks still laughs.

"See? You understand me. I have a great friend who will lend me his arm!" His other arm tightens around Buggy, snuggling him close when he says that. He leans over to kiss Buggy's cheek. And this goes for the lazy comment, as well.

Great friend. Dumbass.

Why does he smile about it though? The idiot should be on his knees apologizing before he even gets the privilege of seeing that. But there's always been something about being the one to make Shanks laugh, honestly, and the kissing isn't-- bad.

Stupid, affectionate bastard.

"Shut up, idiot." He huffs out a sigh and looks around the room. When he thinks he's spotted the bottle, he's sending a hand over to fetch it. Don't make him get up yet.

"Let's see what swill you have." And belatedly-- "You could also put clothes on, but I don't see that happening."

The worst part was, if Buggy told Shanks to get on his knees and apologize, he probably would. Maybe not for the things Buggy wants him to apologize for, and maybe he wouldn't take it seriously enough, but he would. Humbling himself isn't an issue. He's just not sure he understands why Buggy is so mad and just thinks that's how Buggy is.

"Oh, it's pretty bad. I shared the good stuff with you," he assures Buggy.

He almost looks confused by the clothes comment.

"But I wasn't the one talking about going down to get more drink. So, no, I don't need to."

"You did?" The little things that please Buggy, honestly. He'll be annoyed with himself later, being swayed by the fact that Shanks thought of him enough to share the good booze with him.

His hand reattached with the bottle soon enough and instead of bringing it up to his own lips when he takes off the cap, he holds it up for Shanks to take a drink from. No moving the arm from around him just yet.

"We have to get dressed eventually. And clean up. Not in that order."

Shanks looks perplexed why Buggy needs to clarify, but he still answers the question with an affirmative, "I did," and gives him a smile.

That smile finally falls when Buggy gives Shanks the first drink, which he, of course, takes, but he stares at Buggy as he drinks, and after, expression going soft. He hadn't expected that, no, but that's on him. Maybe he should have.

"Of course we do. But yeah. You want to do the cleaning up part first, not second."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject