Chapter 1: The first Flame
Chapter Text
Dawn Island smelled of summer after rain, sharp and heavy. Shanks walked the narrow path toward the Vice Admiral’s training yard, a sake gourd swinging from his hand.
On paper, he was there for a courtesy call. Pirates and Marines didn’t share sake often, but Shanks and Garp had their own strange history and enough half-respect to make it possible.
The truth was, whispers had reached him on the sea winds. Whispers about a child. About Roger’s bloodline. Shanks told himself he didn’t believe rumors. He told himself he would leave after one drink.
He just wanted to check if it was true.
The yard came into view with a crack like thunder. It wasn’t the weather; it was Garp’s voice.
“Up! Again! On your feet, brat!”
A tiny body flinched at his boots. The child couldn’t have been more than three, thin arms trembling as he tried to push himself up from the mud. His face was blotchy, red as fire, streaming with tears. He collapsed again, a sob tearing free.
Shanks’ steps slowed. The sake felt heavy in his hand.
“Red-Hair,” Garp rumbled when he noticed him, mouth twisting into a grin that was more teeth than warmth. “What wind brings you here?”
Shanks lifted the sake, an easy smile on his face, as if the sight did not bother him. “The kind that thought you’d appreciate good liquor. But I can see you’re busy.”
Garp snorted, taking the gourd with a nod. “Training time. Builds character.”
“At this age?” Shanks asked before he could stop himself. He knew pirates and Marines started young, but this was different. The boy was too young. Garp and Roger had their complicated history, but Shanks knew Garp had killed his captain. He had never understood why Roger had liked the man. Maybe Roger had thought he was doing the right thing, leaving Ace here with the old Marine.
“He’s already three.”
Shanks took a deep breath. Anger coiled hotter in his chest. He wanted to smash something, but he couldn’t risk a fight with Garp. Not in front of the child. It seemed Roger had made the wrong decision. The little boy should have been anywhere but here.
The boy’s eyes flicked up then, rimmed in red, sharp and terrified. His chin trembled. He struggled upright, collapsed again. Shanks’ heart split clean in two.
He crouched without thinking, pulling a red handkerchief from his sleeve. He held it where the boy could see, then dabbed gently at his mud-streaked face. “Easy there,” he murmured softly. “Just cleaning you up a little. Wanna see those beautiful eyes.”
The child flinched, but didn’t pull away. His cheeks burned hot under Shanks’ touch. Shanks chuckled, voice warm. “Little flame. You’ll set the whole yard on fire with that face.”
The boy hiccupped. His lips moved, but no words came. Instead, his small hand clung carefully to Shanks’ sleeve, as if he wanted Shanks to save him.
“Name’s Ace,” Garp supplied flatly, taking a long pull from the sake. “Portgas D. Ace. But I bet you know his real name. Gol D. Ace. Even looks like his father. God, I hated that man, but then again, who didn’t.”
The name hit Shanks like a cannonball. His stomach turned, his grin fixed harder in place. Roger’s son. Roger’s shadow, thrown onto a child’s back.
“Hm,” Shanks mumbled.
“The whole town hates him. You should see how the other kids throw rocks at him. It’s kinda funny to watch. He’s too slow to even get out of the way,” Garp continued. The anger in Shanks rose in a wave that threatened to choke him.
His chest ached, but he forced a light tone. “Strong name. Stronger than most men I’ve seen.”
“Portgas?” Garp asked.
“No. Ace. It’s a beautiful name for a little firecracker like you.”
Ace just stared, wide-eyed, hand still fisted tight in Shanks’ sleeve as if torn between holding on and letting go.
“Back to it, brat,” Garp barked.
Ace jerked, pulling away. He scrambled upright, swaying like a foal, and dropped again.
Shanks stood slowly, dusting off his knees. His hands curled into fists at his sides. He wanted to take the boy with him then and there, but Buggy’s warning voice played in his head: Don’t pick fights with the whole damn Marines, idiot.
So Shanks forced a grin and clapped Garp’s shoulder. “Drink the sake. I’ll be on my way.”
He walked off, Ace’s tear-streaked face burning into his mind.
Shanks couldn’t leave like this. He couldn’t. It didn’t even matter that Ace was Roger’s child. No child deserved to be treated like that.
Shit.
✦
Night fell heavy and wet. Shanks made his way back down the forest path in the rain, sandals crunching over damp leaves. The redhead had convinced himself to leave it alone. He had done it a hundred times before. The world was full of cruel things; he couldn’t fight everyone. Shanks just wanted to look at him one more time. He had to make sure Ace would be okay.
Somehow.
But then he saw him.
Still in the yard. Alone. A little body slumped in the mud, fists clenched, hiccuping sobs shaking his shoulders. No Garp. No Marines. Just a child and the endless order still ringing in his ears: Up. Again. Don’t stop.
Shanks froze. His gut twisted hard.
Ace lifted his head, eyelashes wet, and saw him. Recognition flickered and then broke wide. With a cry, the boy lurched to his feet and stumbled across the yard. His legs barely worked. His arms stretched forward like a drowning boy lunging for driftwood.
Shanks caught him on instinct. The small body slammed into his leg and clung with feral strength, face buried against his coat. Hot tears soaked through the black fabric.
Shanks’ breath hitched. He knelt down and pulled the boy closer, carefully stroking through the wet dark hair before he stood again, lifting Ace with him.
“P-please, help me,” Ace whispered through his tears, and something inside Shanks snapped. He wouldn’t leave him here. There was no way in hell. He could feel that Ace was underweight, every rib sticking out. His hair was greasy and dirty.
“Don’t worry, little flame,” he whispered, voice rough now. “I’ve got you.”
Ace’s sobs wracked through both of them. Shanks held him close, anger bright and sharp in his ribs. He turned toward the trees, the path, the ship waiting beyond.
And this time, he didn’t stop walking until he could see his ship again, pulling his coat tighter around Ace, who was shivering from the cold.
The Red Force rocked gently in the sea, lanterns swaying like fireflies in the dusk. Crewmen loitered on deck, waiting for their captain to return.
Buggy was the first to spot him striding up the dock. He planted his fists on his hips, mouth curling. “Took you long enough, idiot. What, did you and Garp braid each other’s hair?”
Shanks only grinned wider as he stepped aboard. He leaned in as if nothing in the world had changed and pressed a familiar kiss to Buggy’s mouth. He had missed him.
Buggy spluttered. “What the - don’t just kiss me like you weren’t gone for seven hours!”
Shanks chuckled, supporting Ace with one arm while he brushed a stray hair from Buggy’s face with the other. “Were you worried about me, babe?”
“What? No! Of course I wasn’t!” Buggy’s voice betrayed him, but then he looked down and froze.
Because Shanks was carrying a child in his arms.
A tiny, blotchy-faced boy clung to his captain’s coat, hiccuping sobs rattling his chest now that he felt Buggy’s eyes on him. His fists were balled white in the black fabric. His cheeks were raw with tears, his dark eyes darting wide over the strange deck and stranger men.
Buggy’s jaw dropped. His finger jabbed wildly. “WHAT. IS. THAT.”
Shanks rocked the boy gently, his smile all calm mischief. “A passenger.”
Buggy’s voice cracked into a shriek. “A baby! You went for a drink with Garp and came back with a baby! We’re pirates, not babysitters, Shanks!”
Ace startled at the shout. His tiny hands clenched tighter, and then the wail came - piercing, broken, all lungs and fear. He kicked against Shanks’ hold, shrieking hoarse.
The crew winced as one. A few men muttered that storm warnings were quieter.
Shanks only hummed, rubbing slow circles against the boy’s thin back. “Easy, little flame. You’re safe.”
Ace cried harder.
Buggy flailed in helpless circles, hands grabbing at his hat, the new one Shanks had just bought him on the last island. “He’s screaming like you stole him!”
Shanks flashed him a look, grin crooked. “That’s because I did.”
Buggy nearly fell over. “YOU WHAT-” His voice rose into strangled octaves. “Do you have any idea what kind of death wish this is? You stole Garp’s brat?!”
“Technically, he isn’t Garp’s,” Shanks corrected, swaying gently. “And Ace here asked nicely.”
“HE DID NOT-” Buggy cut himself off with a strangled noise. He pointed again, jabbing at the child’s tiny body half-hidden in Shanks’ coat. “Shanks, he’s- he’s so small! He’s crying! He’s covered in mud! He’s-”
Ace hiccupped so violently it silenced him for a heartbeat. Little fingers knotted deeper into black cloth, knuckles white. His eyes were wild, wet, darting everywhere but never meeting theirs.
Shanks bent his head, whispering into dark hair. “Hey, it’s okay, sweetheart. No more drills, no more shouting or beatings. Just the sea now. Just us.”
The boy whimpered, but his sobs slowed to ragged hiccups, body shivering against him.
Buggy, still frozen mid-flail, dropped his hands to his sides. His throat worked. “You’re- this is… Shanks, we don’t have blankets. Or food for kids. Or… or patience! He’ll hate it here.” But Shanks knew Buggy had heard what he had said to Ace. Buggy swallowed hard.
Shanks grinned at him, cheeky as ever. “Then we’ll steal some.”
The crew chuckled nervously. Buggy only groaned, dragging both hands down his painted face. “We’re doomed. All of us. Doomed.”
But when Shanks brushed a muddy curl from Ace’s forehead, when the boy’s tiny hand wiped across his own dirty face, Buggy’s eyes flickered, soft for half a heartbeat before he snapped them away.
“He was beaten?” Buggy asked softly, and Shanks nodded.
“Garp was already training him for the Marines. Ace had to fight all day, and the whole town hated him. Buggy… I couldn’t leave him there.”
Buggy winced, seeing how Ace hid his face against Shanks’ chest.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered, voice cracking low. “I’m not getting attached.”
Shanks’ grin widened, bright and terrible. “Sure, you won’t.”
✦
The sails of the Red Force were already full by the time Shanks carried the boy below deck. He hadn’t even given the order, his crew had known. Ropes slapped free, anchors groaned, and the ship tilted gracefully into open water before Garp could so much as bellow from the shore.
Ace felt it immediately. The roll of the sea. The thunder of waves under the planks. He stiffened in Shanks’ arms, dark eyes wide with panic.
“Hey, hey, easy,” Shanks murmured, swaying with the motion, so the boy felt steadied.
“That’s just the sea saying hello. Nothing scary here.”
Ace hiccupped hard and hid against Shanks’ broad chest again.
Buggy clattered down the stairs behind them, rant already half-spilled. “We’re dead, Shanks! You hear me? Dead. Garp’s gonna skin us, the Marines will hunt us from here to the Calm Belt-”
“Not tonight,” Shanks cut in lightly. He nosed the cabin door open with his shoulder. “Tonight we’re just sailing.”
The spare room smelled of salt and wood, a small cot shoved against the wall. Someone had already dropped some old blankets there in a hurry. Shanks sat, settling Ace onto his lap instead of the bedding. The boy clung stubbornly, refusing to let go.
Shanks smiled softly. “Alright then. Lap it is. You win, little flame.”
Ace blinked at him, cheeks still blotchy. His lips moved, then, barely audible: “…thank you.”
Shanks’ heart gave a painful twist. He brushed damp hair from the boy’s forehead, voice hoarse. “Nothing to thank me for, Ace. You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”
Buggy hovered in the doorway like a thundercloud, arms crossed, muttering under his breath. “Safe, he says. With Marines on our tail and a screaming toddler in our cabin. Brilliant plan.”
But even Buggy froze when Ace jerked awake hours later with a whimper, then a broken cry.
“No… no… don’t hit me! I’ll be good!” His little fists thrashed, tears spilling again in a rush.
Shanks gathered him instantly, rocking, voice low and desperate. “No one’s hitting you. Not ever, little flame. Not while I’m here.”
Ace sobbed against his chest, tiny body trembling. Shanks hummed tunelessly, thumb rubbing slow circles between fragile shoulder blades.
Buggy paced two steps, useless, gloved hands flexing like he wanted to throw knives at ghosts. “He doesn’t believe you,” he snapped, too sharp, because his voice wanted to break. “He thinks we’re just more monsters.”
Shanks shot him a look over the boy’s head. “So help me prove him wrong.”
Buggy sputtered, hesitated. Then, with a groan like it was the worst decision of his life, he crouched by the cot. “Oi, little boy.” His voice cracked rough. “You’re fine. Hear me? No one’s hurting you. We’ll protect you, I promise.”
Ace’s tear-swollen eyes flicked to him. Shanks felt the child’s small hand twitch, then reach hesitantly toward Buggy.
Buggy froze. His throat worked. Slowly, stiff as iron, he wrapped his fingers around the tiny fist.
Ace clung.
Buggy looked away fast, muttering through clenched teeth. “Great. Now I’m holding hands with a three-year-old. Exactly the pirate life I signed up for.”
Shanks laughed softly, relief hidden in the sound. He pressed a kiss to Ace’s hair, then leaned over and brushed one against Buggy’s temple too.
Buggy hissed in protest, scarlet under the paint. “Shut up, idiot.”
Ace sagged between them, exhausted, little hands gripping both pirates like anchors. His breath evened into hiccuping snores.
Shanks’ chest ached, but it was a good ache. He whispered into the boy’s hair, tender and sure: “You’re safe now, little flame. We’ve got you.”
And Ace believed him enough to fall asleep again.
✦
The lantern in the little cabin burned low, throwing gold across the cot where Ace lay curled. His breath had finally steadied, lashes damp against his cheeks. One fist was tangled in Shanks’ coat; the other hovered near his mouth until, shy and exhausted, the boy gave in and sucked his thumb.
Buggy nodded toward the door. He probably wanted to rip Shanks’ head off. So Shanks sighed and carefully tried to free himself from Ace’s iron grip. In the end, he shrugged off the cape and left it in the cot with Ace before he followed his partner outside.
The door stayed propped open. Shanks sat down just outside on the narrow bench, shoulders against the wall, a pirate captain who suddenly looked every bit the guardian. Buggy paced the hallway like a caged animal, muttering curses under his breath until his voice dropped into a whisper.
“I can’t do this,” he hissed. “I don’t know how to handle kids. He cries, he screams, he looks at me like I’m about to hit him, Shanks. I’m a clown, not a…” His throat closed.
Shanks reached out, tugged him close, and pressed a soft kiss to his painted mouth. “You’ll be wonderful,” he whispered. “You’ve always had a softer heart than you admit. And we’ve talked about it before, haven’t we? We wanted children, someday. Maybe this is the world’s strange way of giving us one.”
Buggy’s eyes went wide, then narrowed as he pulled back. “We’re pirates, Shanks. Not parents.”
Shanks’ smile turned quiet, tender. “That’s not true. We’re free men and always fought for people who couldn’t fight for themselves. We’ve always done good, whether or not you like to say it out loud. That’s not what bad men do, Buggy.” He brushed his thumb across Buggy’s cheek, smearing a bit of paint. “And this boy, this little flame, deserves that freedom too. Especially with the name he carries.”
Buggy let out a sharp laugh that wasn’t really a laugh. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It is,” Shanks said, turning to glance into the room again. “Look at him. He’s a child. He should be sleeping and playing, not training until he breaks.” His voice softened. Shanks knew Buggy was more affected than he let on. They both had pretty terrible childhoods themselves.
“Do I even wanna know what Garp did to him? I’ve never… he was so scared,” Buggy muttered, and Shanks sighed.
“I don’t think you want to hear all of it. It’s just… I don’t regret saving him. I know he doesn’t trust us yet, but we can make this good for him,” Shanks continued, and Buggy nodded slowly.
“Fuck you, Red-Hair. Making me a parent at this young age,” Buggy grumbled, but Shanks got up and pressed another kiss on his lips. Buggy let himself be kissed happily, especially when Shanks turned his head a little and deepened it.
“I love you,” Shanks said, and even after all those years, Buggy blushed under those words.
“Yeah, I love you too, asshole.” Shanks’ smile grew wider before he looked back at the sleeping boy.
“I’ll make him a bed. Proper, next port. New pillows, blankets, everything he needs.”
Buggy rolled his eyes, arms crossing tight. “Or he could just sleep with us until then. Better than the dirty thing he’s lying on now.”
Shanks’ grin spread, bright and wild. He kissed Buggy again, longer this time, until he had to grip his sleeve for balance. “Can you believe it?” he laughed against his mouth. “We’re going to be parents!”
Buggy groaned, glaring half-heartedly. “With you as my partner, I’ll believe anything. It fits you, doesn’t it… bringing strays home.”
But when he leaned back, peering into the dim cabin, his face softened despite himself. Ace had shifted in his sleep, thumb still at his mouth, small chest rising and falling steady at last. For a long moment, Buggy just stared.
“…Tch,” he muttered, turning away, ears burning red. “Don’t get used to it, brat.”
Shanks chuckled, pulling him close again, both of them listening to the ocean’s hush beyond the wood. And inside, between lantern glow and shadows, Portgas D. Ace slept safe, for the first time in his life.
Chapter 2: A growing Spark
Notes:
Hey, I’m back with a new chapter!
Thank you all so much for the kind words on chapter one! It honestly means the world to me. I hope you’ll enjoy this second part just as much.
For now, I’ve planned the first five chapters to focus entirely on little Ace and his first steps into this found family. After that, in chapter six, there will be the next addition to the family but I won’t spoil who just yet. ;)
Love,
HeartinShambles 𖹭
Chapter Text
Shanks woke to warmth.
For a moment, half-asleep, he thought it was just Buggy’s heavy blanket on top of him or maybe even the clown himself. Then he shifted and realized there was a different weight on his chest, small and solid, with the faintest puff of breath against his collarbone.
Ace.
The boy was curled there like he belonged there, fists bunched in Shanks’ shirt, thumb tucked in his mouth. His dark lashes fanned over cheeks still blotchy from tears. Shanks stared down at him and felt a strange ache in his ribs. Something he hadn’t known he could feel.
He had never thought he would get to hold a child like this. Never thought he would want to. Roger’s laugh echoed in his memory, foolish and fearless: Take care of yourself, brat. Shanks huffed softly, brushing his thumb across Ace’s messy hair. “Guess I’m taking care of someone else now, old man.”
Behind him, Buggy groaned. “If you don’t get him off me soon, I’m throwing myself overboard.”
Shanks turned his head. Buggy was sprawled at his side, blanket twisted around his legs, red nose peeking from under the pillow he had dragged over his face. Ace bare feet were pressed against Buggy’s hips.
“Good morning, my love. Did you sleep well?” Shanks asked sweetly.
“I didn’t,” Buggy snapped hoarsely. “In fact, I didn’t sleep at all. He cried all night. Do you know how many times I thought he was dying?”
Shanks bit down a laugh, shoulders shaking. “You cared.”
“I did not!” Buggy yanked the pillow lower, and Shanks could finally see the blush that went down to his neck. “I just- who can sleep through that?!”
Shanks leaned over Ace’s head and stole a kiss anyway, firm and unapologetic. Buggy sputtered into the pillow, shoving weakly at his shoulder. “Stop kissing me when I’m complaining!”
Shanks’ grin widened. “Can’t help it. You’re cute when you’re cranky.”
A faint giggle startled him. Shanks looked down. Ace was peeking up at him, thumb still half in his mouth, eyes wide and glassy but no longer afraid.
“Morning, little flame,” Shanks whispered, brushing hair back from his forehead.
Ace blinked, then pressed closer, burrowing into Shanks’ chest with a sigh.
Buggy lifted the pillow just enough to watch, brows knitting. “Great. He’s obsessed with you already.”
Shanks’ chest swelled. He stroked Ace’s hair, as gentle as he could. “Can you blame him?”
Buggy groaned and flopped back, muttering about cursed captains and doomed ships.
By the time they made it on deck, the crew had gathered. The main mast creaked, sails snapped in the wind, but most eyes were on the tiny figure clinging to Shanks’ shirt.
“Told you,” one men muttered. “We’re a kindergarten now.”
Hongo grinned. “Better start building a playpen.”
Shanks only laughed, swaying Ace lightly in his arms. The boy hid his face, small fingers fisted tight in the dark cloth, but Shanks felt the hitch of his breath ease against his chest.
Buggy trailed behind them, scowling at the whispers. “Don’t you lot have work? Or do you want me to make you babysit?”
That scattered them fast enough.
Shanks kissed Buggy’s temple, ignoring the crew’s snickers. “See? Natural parent already.”
Buggy shoved him off, hissing under his breath. But his eyes lingered on the child pressed safe against Shanks’ chest.
“Shut up.”
“Actually, Buggy, could you change his diaper? I think he needs a new one,” Shanks said, far too casually. Buggy exploded immediately, storming off in outrage. Shanks only laughed, settling back as Ace curled closer against his chest.
They really needed to find a harbor soon to stock up on supplies; right now Ace had nothing, only scraps of old cloth they used as makeshift diapers and the oversized shirts they wrapped him in.
Shanks didn’t regret saving him for a second, not when Ace looked up at him with that impossibly sweet little smile.
✦
In the days that followed, Ace stuck to Shanks like a shadow.
Wherever Shanks went - deck, galley, captain’s quarters - tiny footsteps followed. At first, it was silent trailing, a little shadow gripping the hem of his coat, eyes darting to every loud sound. Then came the whisper of small words, shy but steady, until the crew got used to hearing an extra voice when the captain moved about.
Shanks felt relieved. Ace didn’t speak much, but every time that tiny voice came out, it made his chest ache in the best way. With Garp, Ace had spoken more, but since then he had grown quieter. He stumbled over words and seemed endlessly intimidated. He wasn’t sure how much a child his age should be talking, or whether it was normal that Ace still sucked his thumb so often.
At least he could use the bathroom with help, though accidents still happened now and then. Shanks worried, of course, but after everything Ace had been through he wanted to give him all the time he needed. Maybe, he thought with a quiet chuckle, he should pick up a parenting book on the next island.
Benn Beckman was the first to comment. “Looks like you picked up a little koala, Captain.”
Shanks only grinned, bouncing Ace lightly on his hip. “Cutest koala I’ve ever seen, if you ask me.”
The boy blinked up at him, lips twitching as if he almost wanted to smile.
Buggy groaned loudly enough for the entire deck to hear. “He’s going to trip you and going to fall overboard. He’s going to choke on hard tack. And when he does, we’ll all be cursed!”
“Buggy,” Shanks said cheerfully, “you worry too much.”
“I do not worry!” Buggy shot back, throwing his hands up. “I complain. Big difference.”
But when Ace’s little fists curled tighter into Shanks’ shirt at the sharpness in his tone, Buggy froze. He cleared his throat, scowled at the floor, and muttered something about “annoying brats.”
Shanks smoothed a hand over Ace’s hair. “Don’t mind him. He’s all bark, no bite.”
Ace tucked his head under Shanks’ chin, muffling a tiny, tired: “...bark.”
Shanks barked a laugh. “That’s right. He’s harmless.”
Buggy sputtered, red ears hidden under his bandana. “I am not harmless!”
The crew, of course, ate it up. Pirates who had once followed Shanks into bloody battles now lounged on barrels to watch their captain teach a child how to hold a spoon.
At meals, Ace was hesitant. That evening he sat rigid in Shanks’ lap, staring at the bowl in front of him as if it were a trap. So Shanks took a spoonful himself first and exaggerated every bite with small “mmmhhm” noises, rolling his eyes back like it was the best thing he’d ever eaten.
Ace blinked at him. Then he scooped the tiniest bit onto his spoon, copying him.
Shanks’ grin was so wide it hurt his cheeks. “See? It’s all safe, nothing is poisoned or anything, and it tastes better when you eat with me.”
Buggy, sitting across the table, nearly dropped his fork. “Are you kidding me? You’re training him to only eat if you do? He’s obsessed with you already.”
“Or maybe he just has good taste,” Shanks teased, licking his spoon with a wink, watching Buggy squirm.
Ace startled at Buggy’s sharp voice, thumb twitching toward his mouth, but Shanks stroked his back until he relaxed again. By the end of the meal, half the bowl was gone. It was a victory.
✦
The next day, Shanks carried him out on deck. The sun was warm, wind tossing Ace’s hair as he clung to the dark coat. The boy’s gaze followed the waves, the sails above, the gulls flying above them.
“Water,” he whispered.
“That’s the ocean,” Shanks said. “Big enough to swallow kingdoms, but gentle when it wants to be.”
Ace pressed closer. “Safe?”
The word was so small it nearly broke him.
“Safe,” Shanks promised, kissing the crown of his head.
Buggy leaned against the rail, arms crossed. “You’re spoiling him.”
Shanks glanced over, grinning. “That’s the point.” He shifted Ace higher on his hip. “He deserves it.”
Buggy rolled his eyes skyward. “We’re pirates. Spoiling children isn’t exactly our brand.”
Shanks crossed the deck in three strides and kissed him right there, quick and sure. “Guess we’re rebranding.”
The crew hollered. Buggy flushed scarlet beneath the paint and shoved him off, sputtering, “Don’t do that in front of them all the time!”
Ace’s tiny giggle startled them both. It was muffled against Shanks’ chest, shaky and unsure, but a giggle nonetheless.
Shanks’ heart nearly stopped. He hugged the boy closer, eyes burning. “See? Ace likes it when I kiss you. He really has taste.”
By evening, Ace was worn out from shadowing him all day. He climbed into the captain’s chair and curled up, Shanks’ coat bunched in his fist, thumb tucked into his mouth. Within minutes, his lashes fluttered shut.
Shanks brushed a hand through the boy’s hair, gentle, steady.
Buggy appeared in the doorway, arms folded, watching. “He’s totally in love with you,” he muttered.
Shanks looked up, grin slow and warm. “Can you blame him? I know a clown who’s in love with me too”
Buggy groaned. “Idiot.”
But when Shanks tugged him close for a kiss, Buggy let him, even leaning in until he had to brace himself on Shanks’ shoulder. And in the chair, Ace sighed in his sleep and clutched the coat tighter, as if he knew he was safe.
✦
The afternoon sun washed the deck in pale gold. For once, there was no storm on the horizon. They had anchored at a small island, the ship resting quietly in the harbor, and Shanks had spent hours shopping for new supplies.
Buggy had complained the whole time, of course, but in the end he was the one who bought Ace far too many clothes. The boy was already dressed in a new dark-blue shirt with tiny matching pants, white dots scattered across the fabric like stars. He looked adorable, especially with the little hat Buggy had insisted on, especially on a hot day like this, so Ace wouldn’t get a sunstroke.
Meanwhile, Benn and Yasopp were in Shanks and Buggy’s quarters, hammering together a small bed, a changing table, and a shelf for toys. Shanks couldn’t stop smiling. It felt good, better than anything, to spoil the boy rotten.
Now Shanks sat cross-legged near the mainmast, Ace balanced on his lap. The boy’s head rested against his chest. He’d shadowed Shanks for days now, a quiet, stubborn little flame who would rather cling than be pried away.
But today, his wide eyes weren’t on Shanks at all.
They were fixed on Buggy.
The clown stood a few paces away, juggling three battered leather balls. His painted face wore its usual scowl, but his hands moved fast, tossing and catching with practiced ease.
The crew lounged nearby, whistling and chuckling, more entertained by the absurd sight of their sharp-tongued first mate playing circus for a baby than by the trick itself.
“Show-off,” Shanks teased, bouncing Ace gently on his knee.
Buggy tossed one ball higher, snatched it neatly, and sneered. “Jealous you can’t do it, Captain?”
“Not really. I enjoy watching you as well, Buggy,” Shanks answered easily.
Ace’s lips parted. A tiny gasp. His eyes followed the balls in wonder, round and shining. His thumb slipped from his mouth as he leaned forward against Shanks’ chest.
“Bu…ggy.”
The word was soft, halting. But clear.
Shanks froze. So did Buggy.
For a moment, the only sound was the thump of the waves against the hull.
Then Shanks saw it, the way Buggy’s shoulders went rigid, the sudden glassy shine in his eyes.
“Did you hear that?” Shanks whispered, grinning like the sun itself. He tipped his head down to Ace, voice warm and teasing. “Say it again, little flame. Say Buggy.”
Ace tucked his chin, shy. But then he peeked up again, cheeks flushed, and repeated: “Buggy.”
Buggy made a sound halfway between a laugh and a choke. His hand shot up to rub furiously at his face, smearing a bit of paint, before he threw the balls again. “Damn kid, shit there is dust in my eyes, or it must be the sea breeze-”
Shanks’ grin widened wickedly. “Are you crying?”
“I am not!” Buggy barked, juggling faltering for just a second. “Shut your mouth, Red-Hair.”
But his voice was rough. His eyes shone.
Ace clapped his hands together, delighted by the trick and the squabble. “More!”
Buggy straightened instantly, pride flaring like a banner. “Hah! You want more? Watch this.”
He added a fourth ball, his hands a blur of motion. The crew whooped. Ace squealed softly, clapping again.
“Look at that,” Shanks murmured, heart aching in the best way. “Our little flame’s impressed.”
Buggy puffed his chest out, juggling faster. “Of course he is. I’ve got talent.”
Ace slid off Shanks’ lap before he could stop him. His bare feet pattered across the deck, unsteady but determined. Every eye followed him. Shanks rose halfway, ready to catch him if he tripped, but the boy didn’t falter.
He came to a stop in front of Buggy, tilting his head back to watch the balls spin through the air. His mouth hung open in awe, when Buggy sat down in front of him, while never stopping his trick. He watched him for another minute.
Then, slowly, Ace lifted a hand. Tiny fingers brushed the red nose and squeezed the tiniest bit.
Silence slammed over the deck.
Every pirate froze. Suddenly it was quiet.
Shanks shot to his feet again, heart lurching, ready to snatch Ace back before Buggy exploded. But Ace spoke first, voice soft, shy as dawn around his thumb.
“Wike your nose. It’s pwetty.”
The juggling balls tumbled forgotten to the deck.
Buggy stared down at him, mouth open, eyes wide and wet.
And for once in all the years Shanks had known him, Buggy was speechless.
Something cracked open in Buggy’s chest, sharp and terrifying. He wanted to laugh, to snarl, to demand why this brat could say something no one else in the world had ever dared. Instead, he heard his own voice rasp: “Pretty? You… you think so?”
The crew snickered behind him. Someone whispered, “Looks like the kid’s got the same taste as the captain.”
Heat burned under Buggy’s paint. His throat went tight. Damn sea breeze. Damn dust in the air. He blinked furiously, swiping at his eyes. “Tch - stupid brat. Doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
But when Ace giggled and clapped, Buggy’s heart stumbled.
Then Shanks was there, grinning like a fool, pulling him close just to press a kiss against his temple. “See? He’s smitten with you now.”
Buggy shoved him off, spluttering, “Shut up!” But his voice broke, traitorous. His eyes stung worse.
He didn’t get the chance to argue further.
The world cracked apart with a roar.
A cannonball smashed into the stern, splinters flying. The deck lurched violently beneath them. Pirates shouted, scrambled. The smell of gunpowder filled the air.
Shanks scooped Ace up instantly, the boy’s scream so loud in Buggy’s ears. His eyes darted to the horizon. There was another ship, bearing down, guns smoking. Not Garp. Just scavenger scum. But dangerous all the same.
“Buggy!” Shanks barked, already moving. He pressed Ace against Buggy’s chest, fast and fierce. “Hold him. Don’t let go.”
“Wait, what? Shanks, I-”
Another cannon blast cut him off. Buggy staggered as the deck bucked. He clutched Ace on instinct, arms tight, even as his boots skidded across the planks.
And then he went down.
He hit the deck hard, shoulder first. Ace cried out, his small body jostled. Buggy tried to shield him, but the boy’s chin struck wood with a sickening noise.
For a second, everything was too loud, the screams, the gunfire and the rush of blood in his ears. Then Ace’s wail cut through it all. High, broken, endless.
Buggy lifted his head. Blood smeared the boy’s chin, a bright streak against pale skin. His little fists trembled, reaching blindly.
“No, no, no! Shit, kid, I’ve got you!” Buggy hauled him close, voice cracking. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean, damn it-” His hands shook as he tried to press his scarf to the wound, but Ace only sobbed harder, tiny body trembling against him.
Buggy glanced over his shoulder, heart racing, and spotted the gangplank. Clutching Ace tightly against his chest, he hurried down the wooden slope just as another cannonball thundered overhead. The deck behind him shook with the impact, but he didn’t slow.
At the bottom, he bolted across the quay to the shadow of a stack of barrels near a building, close enough that Shanks would see him at once, but far enough from the ship to keep Ace out of immediate danger.
Shanks was with them in a heartbeat, crouching beside them, fury in every line of him. He pressed a quick, desperate kiss to Buggy’s mouth, then gentler to Ace’s hair. “What happened?”
“I fell!” Buggy spat, guilt twisting like knives. “He hit his chin, I swear I didn’t… Shanks, I didn’t mean-” He had known that he would fuck this up, so he hastily pressed Ace into Shanks’ arm.
“I know,” Shanks cut him off, calm and steady even with rage burning in his eyes. He pressed another kiss gently against Ace’s chin, murmuring, “Easy, little flame. Just a scratch. You’re safe. Buggy loves you, he didn’t mean to let you fall.”
Buggy swallowed hard, watching Ace cry into Shanks’ shoulder, every sob another reminder: my fault, my fault, my fault.
Shanks lifted his head, gaze hard now. “Love. Listen to me. I have to finish this. I won’t let them sail away after hurting him.” He glanced at the enemy ship. “I’ll hunt them down and make sure they never come near us again.”
Buggy’s chest clenched. “Then I’m coming with you-”
“No.” Shanks’ voice was iron. He pressed Ace back into Buggy’s arms, firm. “You stay with him. He needs you.”
Buggy’s throat closed. “He needs you more! Shanks, I let him get hurt! I can’t-”
“You can.” Shanks cupped his cheek, paint smudging under his thumb. His eyes softened, even as fury rolled off him like fire. “You’re the one I trust most. Keep him safe for me.”
Buggy’s vision blurred. Damn tears. Damn Shanks.
“Daddy loves you two. So much!”
Before he could argue again, Shanks stood. He gave Ace one last kiss to the hair, whispered something soft Buggy couldn’t hear, then spun on his heel, yelling orders.
The Red Force set out from the harbor, guns blazing, in pursuit of the scavenger ship.
Buggy stumbled forwards, Ace clutched against him, still sobbing, blood staining his scarf. He watched Shanks at the prow, hair wild in the wind, sword flashing in his hand.
“No!” Ace screamed, voice breaking, tiny arms straining. “Shanks! Don’t go! Please, Shanks! Nooo!”
Buggy felt the boy’s tears soak his shirt, hot against his chest. His own eyes burned.
Shanks turned once, just long enough to blow them both a kiss, grin bright even in fury. Then he was gone, swallowed by smoke and sea spray as the Red Force gave chase.
Buggy held Ace tighter, heart splitting. For the first time in years, he had no jokes left. Only the sound of a child’s sobs and the echo of Shanks’ trust in his ears.
“It’s okay, buddy,” Buggy whispered, even as his own tears fell.