title: Drunken Lullabies
author:
Fantom Fox===================
Even deep in the hold of the ship, Ben could still hear the voices and laugher from the decks above him. He had left the others to their merriment, and he doubted he would be missed. Mid-afternoon, they had brought in a great amount of treasure, complete with barrels upon barrels of rum and wine. Now past midnight, the whole crew was making the most of it, their drinking and celebrating continuing long into the night.
The partying was well overdue. After too many hard weeks of sailing through storms and treacherous waters, they finally hit a patch of calm, and with it came a heavily-loaded merchant ship. Stress levels among the crew had been rising, so this relief came just in time. The alcohol was enough to relieve them of their worries, and the gold reminded them why they were pirates to begin with. The best spoils were worth the wait.
Ben was glad to see all the ship excited again, joking around and living it up as they loved to do. The festivities had begun just as the sun was setting. With the last light and the first barrel of rum, Ben had beaten Shanks in an epic game of chess and then lost to Yasopp in a marksman contest, shooting empty bottles. As the night grew older and darker, Ben had quit drinking in favor of his smokes, preferring to watch the others with a cheerful gaze. After a while, he had left the top decks completely to get some quiet time alone with his thoughts. Ben figured that if he went below, he might be able to catch up on reading or maybe get a nap before they set sail again.
With a small smile, he realized there was no disappearing into the solitude he sought with the revelry still underway. He set himself up in the hold with a lantern and his book, pulling the tie from his hair and twisting it between his fingers. After forty minutes, all Ben managed was to stare at the words across the pages, not focusing on their meaning. He must have read the same paragraph eight times before he gave up. He retrieved his hammock and secured it between two large crates being stored in the hold. Ben settled in, closing his eyes against the chatter.
He had been laying in his hammock for over an hour now, just staring at the ceiling and listening to the crew above him. Every once in a while he could pick out one voice rising above the others, the gunsmith or the helmsman, the cook or the marksman. Ben caught pieces of drunken conversations about women and treasure, nothing of any importance really. Just listening to them brought a smile to his face. This was a group of men that he would sail with until the bitter end, a captain he would die for. There was no other group in all the world he could say that about.
Ben was startled from his thoughts as a heavy thump hit the deck directly above him. Mumbled curses filtered down through the wood. There was a loud crash as a barrel was knocked over, spilling its contents across the deck. Heavy and fumbling steps cleared a path through the mess, heading for the ladder leading into the hold.
A minute later, the hatch swung open, casting the weak beam of lantern light down into the dark of the hold. A familiar sandal appeared on the top rung, followed soon by the other. Looking over, Ben raised his eyebrows but didn’t move from his position in the hammock. There was a moment of hesitation before the person on the ladder took a slow step. Then another. Then another.
Eventually, the pale yellow light from the open hatch reflected off the captain’s crimson hair. By the time his feet were solid on the deck beneath him, Shanks was fairly clinging to the ladder for support. Ben had seen this type of incident often enough before that he could tell precisely how much alcohol the captain had imbibed. He also knew with a fair amount of certainly just how sick Shanks would be come morning. Staring at his sandals, with a determined look of effort, Shanks put one foot in front of the other, dodging the crates and barrels stored in the hold to move toward his first mate in the hammock.
Ben’s eyes traveled lazily over the red-haired man as he approached. Despite the captain’s clumsiness in his current state, Ben knew full well the strength and cunning that Shanks possessed. It was no short road that lead them to where they were now, and Shanks’ body mapped out that voyage better than any nautical chart. Three scars marred his left eye in a battle that nearly cost him his sight. Shanks had lost his left arm as well while rescuing a young boy. More scars raised over the smooth skin of his neck and exposed chest from countless duels and raids. Even his legs told stories of long years as sea. Those years had made him rugged, but the ruggedness was what made him so handsome. Besides, without those wounds, would he be the same man?
A smile on Ben’s face died half-formed. What was he thinking? Perhaps he’d had more to drink this night than he thought. Ben shook his head to clear it then turned his eyes away. They had been a long time in each other’s company, so perhaps the ocean was finally playing tricks on his mind. There were a dozen excuses, but Ben’s mind kept traveling over the captain’s body just as his eyes had. He closed his eyes to block out the image. The more he tried to push the sight from his mind, the more vivid it became.
The shuffling stopped. After taking a deep breath, Ben opened his eyes again.
Shanks was leaning precariously over the dark-haired man, staring into his face from about 3 inches away. He was staring as if appraising the contents of a treasure chest or trying to determine the worth of a jewel. It was all Ben could do not to jump and jerk away.
Shanks’ voice was slurred, further proof of his night’s activities. His face was completely serious as he loudly whispered, “I tripped.”
The smile finally cracked on Ben’s face. “I heard that.”
Narrowing his eyes suddenly, Shanks raised his head and looked around. He held out his hand as if to stop Ben from saying anything. There was a long pause as the stillness settled again, the noise from top deck barely reaching them now as the partying died down.
Shanks leaned in again, though not nearly as close as before. “No one knew where you went.”
With a soft laugh, Ben turned his head. He didn’t quite know how to explain his sudden urge to retreat from the others. It was just a whim that he left the alcohol and merry-making to hole himself up here. Taking a few seconds to choose his words, he turned back to Shanks just in time for his eyes to widen.
The words caught in Ben’s throat as Shanks crawled into the hammock with him, nearly toppling them both onto the wooden deck below. Shanks’ eyes were narrowed in intense concentration as he fought to keep them from flipping. Once his body was stretched the length of the larger man, Shanks collapsed against Ben, sending the hammock swaying gently.
“They didn’t know, so I came looking for you,” Shanks mumbled into Ben’s chest. His fingers curled in Ben’s loosed hair as he cuddled down against his first mate. He pressed his shoulders against Ben in a manner of a hug. Had he both arms, Shanks would have them wrapped around Ben in a very intimate embrace. Shanks hummed softly in approval of his position.
Ben could barely breathe as Shanks got settled, let alone form the words to ask the million questions that ran through his mind. He had to swallow the lump in his throat before he could even think clearly enough to free the hand that Shanks had between their bodies. Ben’s heart was racing in his chest as he laid a hand on the smaller man’s shoulder.
“Shanks....” Ben whispered softly.
He was answered with a small snort and shallow breathing. Shanks had fallen immediately asleep.
Ben coughed out a laugh, releasing all the tension that had built up in his body. The poor drunken fool had no idea. Patting Shanks’ shoulder lightly, Ben smiled and shook his head.
“This guy....”
~~~
A warm breeze blew across the water and caught the sails in the early morning, straining lightly against the anchor. All was quiet as the sun rose over the ship with a golden light. It illuminated most of the crew that was sleeping on top deck, passed out where they had fallen.
Deep below was no exception. The soft rocking of the ship set the hammock in motion, swaying with the familiar movement of a beautiful morning at sea.
Shanks woke slowly with a dull ache growing between his eyes. This was a very familiar feeling too. He opened one eye carefully, gauging his location based on the condition and grain of the wood above him. Slowly he opened the other eye. His vision seemed to dip and twist in the way that only the morning after rum does. Shanks reached out to catch himself from the spinning room and flipped the hammock completely, sending him crashing to the floor.
But he didn’t hit the floor.
Ben jolted awake as Shanks’ shoulder hit him in the chest. It knocked the wind out of him for a handful of seconds before he knew what was going on. The soft moan, more so than the weight, alerted him to the fact that Shanks was once again laying across his chest.
Unfolding his hands from under his head, Ben lifted Shanks upright gently by his arm. He spoke softly, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Shanks flinched against the volume of his own voice. He raised his hand to rub his eyes, letting himself be supported by the hand holding him. Shanks’ next words were whispered, “And you?”
“Just startled me.” Ben’s voice was growing breathy again. Earlier, as he watched Shanks sleep in the hammock above him, Ben had decided that whatever thoughts had been in his mind when the captain entered were a mistake. It was too much rum and too much time at sea. They had been crewmates for so long they were like brothers. Besides that, they were leaders. The rest of the crew looked up to them and took orders from them. What would they think if--?
Caught in his train of thought, Ben hadn’t noticed Shanks calm on top of him. In one moment, Ben’s attention was completely on the fire-haired man pressing down on him, staring back at him. As they lay together, they became very aware of the other’s body. Each saw in the other’s face a look of pleasant surprise. Their faces slowly drew close.
In an uncertain whisper, Shanks mumbled, “Ben, I--”
Shanks clamped a hand over his mouth and his eyes widened. He rolled off Ben abruptly and stood up, still covering his mouth and reeling from the pain in his head. With an apologetic look, Shanks took off up the ladder so he wouldn’t be sick in the hold.
Ben just watched him go from the floor. As the captain disappeared through the hatch, Ben sighed heavily. After a moment, it was a curious smile that spread across his face, one that even Ben was unsure of its meaning. A low chuckle rumbled from his chest that grew into a full throated laugh. He had to sit up to get enough air to breathe.