Work Text:
“Captain Buggy!”
Buggy sighed. He had purposefully holed up in his private quarters to avoid his followers today, and yet they still couldn't seem to leave him alone. Buggy was lying across his couch, probably looking like the sad, pathetic clown he truly was. Usually, he loved getting his boots licked, but he was in a bad mood today.
“What is it?” he groaned.
“Uh…” The man looked nervous, and Buggy motioned for him to hurry the fuck up. “Red-Haired Shanks is here and he’s asking to see you, Captain.”
“What?” Buggy scrambled upright and felt his eyes pop out of their sockets. “He’s here?!”
“Yes, Captain.”
If Buggy had written down a list of things he didn’t want to happen, this would have been close to the fucking top.
He didn’t want Shanks, of all people, to learn the truth about his position as Emperor and leader of the Cross Guild. He also didn’t know if he wanted them to see him with Shanks. Buggy tried to think of ways he could get out of this, but they all ended with Shanks flirting his way into getting what he wanted, as usual.
No, no, no! This couldn’t be happening. First Mihawk and Crocodile, and now—
Wait.
Since those two were always so pissy about Buggy being the one in charge…they should be happy to take the lead on this one. They could distract Shanks while Buggy avoided the confrontation altogether!
Plus, it would serve them right for ignoring him today.
Yes, Buggy had made up his mind.
Buggy turned up his crimson nose. “Tell Shanks that I don’t want to see him,” he said cooly, trying his best to sound like he was bored and above it all. “And that he can talk to Mihawk and Crocodile instead.”
Buggy yelped as his bedroom door turned into sand.
It hadn’t even been locked…
Was this what Buggy’s life had become? Would he ever catch a fucking break?
Crocodile sauntered into this room, and Mihawk followed suit.
“Get up, clown,” Crocodile demanded. “Red Hair wants to see you, but you already know that, don’t you?”
Buggy gulped and broke out into a full-body sweat. When would his suffering end?
“Do not try to get us to do your work for you,” Mihawk said. The look in his eyes made a shiver run down Buggy’s spine. “We are not your subordinates.”
Because he didn’t want the end of his suffering to be the end of his life, Buggy didn’t point out that almost everyone on this island thought they were.
Buggy sighed, accepting his fate. There was really no getting out of this, was there?
He skulked through his now-empty doorway, dragging his feet. Crocodile and Mihawk followed him out to the dock to ensure that he wouldn’t try to escape.
Shanks was standing at the very end of the pier where his ship was docked, waving his arm back and forth excitedly. “Hey! Buggy, Mihawk! Long time no see,” he called.
“He’s drunk,” Crocodile grumbled.
“Typical,” Buggy scoffed.
This was good, though. He needed to stay annoyed at Shanks and remember all the things he hated about him. The man was a drunken fool and a sweet talker, which meant that he always knew exactly what to say to get Buggy to—
“Buggy,” Shanks greeted, voice soft. “It’s nice to see you.”
When Buggy finally looked him in the eye, he saw that Shanks had that same stupid grin on his face, looking at Buggy as if no time had passed since they’d last seen each other. Buggy wanted to scream. Here he was freaking out, and that bastard had the audacity to look happy and relaxed.
Buggy cursed inwardly. Shanks was drunk and a little rough around the edges, but it didn’t matter. That smile was genuine.
Buggy flushed and pointedly looked away. “What are you doing here?” he snapped.
Shanks swerved his head from side to side to try and force his way into Buggy’s line of sight. It was annoying, and not at all cute or endearing in any way. “I just wanted to come check on you. Is that so bad?”
Buggy could’ve sworn he was pouting, but he refused to give in and verify it.
“I’m an Emperor now!” Buggy fumed. “You can’t just stop by whenever you want!”
Although that was exactly what he did, and because this was Shanks, there probably wouldn’t be any consequences aside from a news article about them circulating the world the next morning. Which was just great. Like he needed the rumors!
“I wanted to see it for myself,” Shanks said, and Buggy was irritated enough to finally look at him. “I trust Mihawk,” he continued, winking at the swordsman—a display that made Buggy want to throw up and die of secondhand embarrassment—before turning to Crocodile. “But him? Not so much.”
Crocodile took a step forward. “I could say the same thing about you,” he growled.
What the fuck was going on?!
“Buggy, is he threatening you?” Shanks asked. Suddenly the look on his face was a lot more serious than friendly.
It was possible that Shanks was more wasted than Buggy initially thought. That was the only explanation for this ridiculous behavior. He could see Shanks’ first mate, Benn, leaning over the ship’s railing, ready to intervene if necessary.
God, this whole thing was a shitshow.
Buggy scrambled to answer Shanks’ question; he doubted that telling the truth—“They both threatened me, actually”—was the right move.
“He’s not threatening me!” And then, because he apparently didn’t value his life as much as he thought, Buggy continued, “As if he even could! I’m the one calling the shots around here.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Buggy wanted to curl up on the ground and cry, or maybe jump into the sea. He was contemplating both, but any reaction Crocodile or Mihawk might have had was drowned out by Shanks’ loud, obnoxious laughter. They all froze, watching as Shanks bent over and started slapping his goddamn knee.
Clearly, Shanks didn’t believe his lie for one second, but he also didn’t seem concerned about Buggy’s safety anymore. Buggy truly had no clue what was going on in that idiot’s head, and he didn’t want to waste his time trying to figure it out.
When Shanks finally calmed down enough to speak, he straightened and said, “Ah, I see how it is now. Buggy, you haven’t changed a bit.”
And there was that stupid grin again.
“You’re an alright guy, Crocodile,” Shanks went on, and Buggy took a moment to appreciate the way Crocodile’s jaw momentarily dropped.
An alright guy?!
Whatever. It didn’t matter. None of them were morally upstanding citizens. They were pirates, for fuck’s sake.
“Well,” Buggy began, ready for this day to be over. “Now you’ve seen me—”
“Come aboard my ship,” Shanks said. When Buggy started to protest, he added, “Just for a little bit! Come on, it’ll be fun.”
Buggy squirmed. Fuck Shanks and his stupid puppy-dog eyes. This was a terrible idea, and they both knew it. Buggy crossed his arms, staying firm in his refusal.
Shanks pouted again—not that Buggy had looked the first time! “You won’t have a drink with me? Not one drink?”
Buggy heard Crocodile say something under his breath about how Shanks didn’t need another. Buggy, on the other hand, felt like he was entirely too sober to deal with this interaction. He wanted a drink, but first, Shanks had to go.
Meanwhile, Mihawk was frowning at Shanks. “This behavior is unbecoming, even for you.”
“You don’t get it, Hawkeye!” Shanks lamented, but then a sly grin took over his face and he raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe you do?”
“I don’t,” Mihawk said quickly.
Buggy was quickly losing his grasp of this conversation, but then Shanks was grabbing his hand and he was rooted to the spot. “Please,” Shanks begged. He had the most sad, pathetic look on his face, and against his better judgment, Buggy wanted to make it disappear. “I miss you, Buggy.”
Fuck it.
This was a lost cause from the start.
“Okay,” Buggy said.
Shanks’ answering smile was blinding. “Really?” he asked, as if the bastard hadn’t known this was inevitable. He cheered and then tugged on Buggy’s hand that he hadn’t yet let go of, pulling him towards his ship.
Buggy spared one glance at the former warlords behind him, who both looked decidedly unimpressed, before he turned to follow Shanks.
One drink turned into another, and then another after that, until Buggy finally started to relax and accept that he was enjoying Shanks’ company.
After a while, though, he did start swapping the other man’s drinks with cups of water, because he didn’t want him to die of alcohol poisoning. Shanks was so engrossed with everything that Buggy was saying that he either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
It was really nice to swap stories with an old friend—who was unfortunately more than a friend, and also gorgeous, and openly ogling Buggy. This happened every time they got together; it was so easy to fall back into old habits and bask in how good it was to be around him again.
Possibly because of the alcohol, but more likely because he couldn’t help putting his trust in Shanks, Buggy spilled the entire story of how the Cross Guild came to be. Once again, Shanks just laughed.
Buggy pouted. “What the hell?! Don’t laugh, you asshole, what happened to wanting to come check on me?”
“You don’t get it,” Shanks said, chuckling all the while. “Hell, even they don’t understand that you’ve got them wrapped around your finger.”
Buggy just stared at him, completely caught off guard. “Are you delusional? I just told you that wasn’t true.”
“Trust me on this one,” he said, placing his hand on Buggy’s shoulder. “They’ve got your back.”
“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind,” Buggy said dryly. Shanks was crazy, but none of that mattered right now.
They still had a lot more to catch up on.
Buggy woke up the next morning pressed against Shanks’ chest, with the other man’s arm wrapped tightly around him. He closed his eyes, and moments from the previous night came flashing back to him.
“You really missed me?” Buggy asked hopefully between kisses. He wanted to hear Shanks say it again, and again and again.
“Of course I missed you,” Shanks said, brows furrowed.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Buggy said. He really didn’t want to be talking about this right now, but his lips were moving before he could stop himself. “You always say you miss me, and then we fuck, and then you leave.”
He hated how whiny his voice sounded, saying those words, but it was true.
“I still miss you every time,” Shanks said, adjusting Buggy’s position on his lap so it would be easier for them to see each other. “There’s always gonna be a space on this ship saved for you, Buggy.”
That was the problem, wasn’t it? Buggy didn’t know if he would ever be able to swallow his pride and sail with Shanks as his captain, even if sometimes it was all he wanted to do. Besides, it was too late for that now.
“I’m an Emperor now, dumbass,” Buggy told him. “You know I can’t do that.”
Shanks’ voice was soft as he said, “I know.” Then he kissed Buggy on the forehead, and then both cheeks, and finally his nose, and Buggy flushed at the attention and care. “But let’s forget about that for now, okay?”
Buggy nodded and leaned in to kiss him again, picking up where they left off.
Buggy sighed at the memory, basking in Shanks’ warmth and already dreading the moment he had to leave.
No one was ever gentle with him the way Shanks was, and honestly, Buggy preferred it that way. It was something special between the two of them that no one else could ever match or understand.
He already knew Shanks’ sad smile was going to haunt him for weeks. He didn’t want to have to see it again when he left, and he didn’t want to lie here thinking about it any longer.
Buggy slowly sat up, careful not to wake Shanks; thankfully, the man still slept like the dead. He looked so soft and content in his slumber that Buggy was tempted to crawl back into bed and never leave. But instead, he ran his fingers through Shanks’ soft hair one last time and kissed him on the forehead, right on the scars above his left eye. For a moment, Shanks seemed to lean into his touch, before he relaxed once more, sighing softly in sleep.
After that, Buggy forced himself to walk away.
His walk of shame carried him all the way back to the Cross Guild’s shared living space, right in between Mihawk and Crocodile where they were sitting on his giant green couch. Mihawk was reading the newspaper, Crocodile was smoking a cigar, and Buggy sat between them, rethinking his life’s choices.
He put his head in his hands and groaned. Buggy heard Crocodile snort beside him. He really should’ve known better than to go to them, of all people, for what, comfort? As if such a thing could be possible. But being alone in his misery right now sounded even worse, and no one else on the island knew about what had happened, so Buggy would take what he could get.
“Why’d you guys let me do that?” he whined.
Neither of them bothered to answer that question, which was fair, but they also didn’t complain when he split himself in two and his top half, from the waist up, landed on Mihawk’s lap while his bottom half settled on Crocodile’s.
Maybe Buggy really was a masochist who enjoyed pushing the buttons of these two very powerful men just to see how much he could get away with before they snapped at him.
They didn’t snap this time, though. After a moment of stillness, one of Mihawk’s hands was stroking his hair, and not long after, Crocodile’s hand was on his thigh.
Did Shanks…actually know what he was talking about?
No. There was just no way.
Buggy shoved the idea, and Shanks, for that matter, out of his mind.
Or, at least, he tried to.