Tell me a story.
Dec. 18th, 2005 12:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chibi_trillianYour cracktastical One-Piece related quote of the day, courtesy of ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
plotbunny_tiff:
"Oh shit! That little blond boy is gonna get cut the fuck up! The green-haired dude has three swords!"
"Naw, man, you know those Asians and their crazy-ass kicking skills. Sanji's gonna win. You see, Jet Li, Bruce Lee, San Ji--he's so gonna win."
ETA: This story has been revised so that it's canonically correct and Usopp's sudden bout of precognition has been cured. The author apologizes.
Title: Once Upon a Time...
Series: One Piece
One Piece: Not mine.
Rating: PG.
Summary: Sanji/Usopp shonen-ai. Usopp tells Sanji a story.
It started off as something ordinary gone stupidly wrong.
Sanji and Zoro had gotten into a fight just as the Going Merry was docking at a winter island, the crux of which being that Zoro taking a dip in a frozen river back on Drum Island made him an idiot instead of a stronger man. Zoro had said that Sanji wouldn’t survive the same, and challenged him to take a dive overboard.
Sanji, brain slammed into its usual backseat position by Mighty God Testosterone, had promptly stripped to his skivvies and jumped overboard. Zoro had wound up having to go in after him, and now both of them were down with pneumonia.
More precisely, Sanji was down with pneumonia, whereas Zoro had shaken the worst of it off like he shrugged off most non-goal-oriented occurrences and gone back to training with only a slight cough to show for it. Sanji’s battered, much-abused, highly-polluted lungs had informed him that there were sick of his bullshit and were leaving him, this time for good, and were going to go live with someone more understanding and nurturing to their needs. Usopp didn’t blame them in the slightest.
Chopper had said that he’d had to deal with cases like this back home, but most of them were accidental (he’d glared rather forcefully at Zoro on the word “accidental”). He had asked for volunteers to sit with Sanji and make sure he didn’t die of that great killer of men, Not-Breathing-Anymore-itis. Usopp had put his hand up. Sanji was a very good friend, and his death of stupidity would put a serious stumbling block in their relationship.
Chopper’s instructions had been pretty simple: give him this medicine every four hours, keep him from smoking, make sure he’s still breathing, keep him from smoking, keep him in bed as much as possible, keep him from smoking, wake me if his fever gets any worse, and for the love of medical science keep him from smoking.
Sanji bitched about these instructions whenever he could get the breath to do so. Bitching seemed to be Sanji’s main mechanism for coping with his body not doing what he wanted it to, actually. He bitched about other people’s cooking, being stuck in bed, not being able to get out more than three words without coughing up half a lung, and Chopper being a despotic demon from the nether regions of hell who would be turned into stew as soon as Sanji was let out of this torture-pit. Chopper had the patience of a saint, but even a saint eventually hits a point where he wants to throttle someone with his halo. He’d probably gone to bed for his own sanity.
Fortunately, Sanji seemed to have given up for now. It was about damn time, too. He’d been alternating bouts of complaining with bouts of seriously concerning coughing, hacking, and wheezing for most of the day. He seemed to have coughed most of the fight out of himself at about dinnertime, so about the only thing that could possibly motivate Sanji to action right now would be Zoro sticking his head into the makeshift infirmary and laughing at him.
Usopp knew for a fact that Zoro was under strict instructions to do no such thing, no matter how tempting, or face the wrath of a crew that doesn’t want to piss off their already-grumpy zoanthropic doctor.
Right now, it was just him, Sanji, and companionable silence broken by occasional faint coughs. The sun had set a couple of hours ago, and the single lantern in here was casting just barely enough light to see Sanji’s face by. He wasn’t sleeping, but he did look tired. Usopp wished he could help him, somehow. Well, other than cramming unpleasant-tasting concoctions down his throat at regular intervals and making sure that he didn’t die.
Sanji’s closed visible eye opened a little, and he coughed once, hoarsely, before managing to get speech out of his profoundly unhappy throat.
“Oi. Usopp. Tell me a story. Get my mind off the fact that I can’t smoke in here.” His voice was rougher and scratchier than usual.
Usopp blinked. Weird request from Sanji, he who was King of the Macho Manly Men. Still, his skills had been called upon, and Usopp did love an audience. “What kind of story?”
“Any kind. Whatever pops into your head.” Sanji broke off into a fit of coughing at that point, and Usopp politely waited until it subsided and Sanji had gotten his breath back before starting his tale. He’d had something he’d wanted to discuss with Sanji for a long while, since before they’d gone to Alabasta, actually, and he’d just been handed a golden opportunity to do it.
“Once upon a time,” said Usopp, going into full storyteller mode, “there was a Prince of the Kingdom of Air. He had hair as bright as the sun and eyes as blue as the clear summer sky. The Prince of Air was possessed of a cheerful demeanor and a near-magical skill with food. He was a kind and just ruler to his subjects, and much beloved. But one day, he decided it was time that he shared his happiness with another and found a love to call his own.
“The Prince set off to the Kingdom of Fire to woo the Princess there. When he saw the Princess, he immediately lost his heart to her beauty. She had hair as orange as fire and eyes as dark and hot as coals, and she moved like a flame in the breeze and had wit as bright as a bonfire in the night. Truly, she was lovely. When he asked her for her hand, she smiled at him and said, ‘No, fair Prince of Air, I cannot marry you. Fire needs air, it is true, but I would devour you just as flame does. I am sorry, my Prince.’
“The Prince wept, but accepted the Princess of Fire’s reasoning. With a heavy heart, he journeyed onwards to the Kingdom of Water.
“The Princess of the Kingdom of Water was rumored to be exquisitely intelligent and as graceful as a willow, with eyes of cool blue water and hair that shimmered like the sea in the moonlight, and to have more hands than the oncoming tide so that there was never anyone in need of aid in her Kingdom who the Princess could not help. The rumors did not do the Princess justice, and when the Prince of Air saw her he lost his heart again. He begged her to marry him and be his wife. The Princess of Water only shook her head and said, ‘No, sweet Prince of Air, I cannot marry you. Water and air are not incompatible, it is true, but when water and air mix it brings clouds and storms, and our relationship would be thus. It would spread to our kingdoms and bring a time of great darkness for all. I am sorry, my Prince.’
“The Prince wept again, but accepted the Princess of Water’s logic. There was only one Kingdom left and the Prince knew nothing about it, for the Kingdom of Air had no relations with it. With trepidation and sadness, he set off for the Kingdom of Earth.
“When the Prince of Air arrived at the Kingdom of Earth, he found not a Princess, but a Prince! The Prince of the Kingdom of Earth had a long proud nose that could find its way into any situation and a swift tongue that could get him right back out again, with hair as dark as deep forest loam and eyes and skin as brown as an acorn.
“The Prince of Air gazed upon the Prince of Earth and saw no beauty, no delicacy, no loveliness. His search was done, for there were no more Kingdoms, no more Princesses for the Prince to seek. The Prince of Air despaired. He fell to his knees and cried out that he would never find love and would always be alone.
“Now, the Prince of Earth knew that his own heart belonged to a lovely fairy-girl from the town where he had been born. But when he looked upon the Prince of Air, he felt stirrings within his soul, similar but different, and wondered if perhaps there was room in his heart for more than one love.
“Then the answer occurred to him, and he strode to the Prince of Air and pulled him to his feet. The Prince of Earth then said, ‘There is always love for such as you, handsome Prince of Air. Though earth and air have nothing in common, they still touch each other and one would not exist without the other. If you would have me, I would love, cherish, and marry you, my Prince.’
“The Prince of Air looked at the Prince of Earth and shook his head. ‘I love the Princess of Fire with all my heart and the Princess of Water with all my soul. I have nothing left for you,’ he said sadly.
“The Prince of Earth had thought of this already, though, for he was very clever. ‘Do you love your country and your people with all of your heart and soul?' asked the Prince of Earth of the Prince of Air.
“'Yes, I do,’ answered the Prince of Air. ‘But countries and Princesses are not the same thing.’
“'Neither are Princes and Princesses,’ said the Prince of Earth, smiling. ‘If you have room in your heart for more than one love, do you have room in your heart for me?’” Usopp finished. He was actually rather proud of that story. Almost proud enough to ignore the fact that his cheeks were bright red.
Sanji was quiet for a moment, and then murmured, “How does the story end?”
Usopp wanted to give him a light, flippant reply, one that wouldn’t make Sanji worry or scream or something, but what came out was, “I don’t know. The Prince of Air hasn’t replied yet.”
Silence again. Then…
“I think it has a happy ending,” whispered Sanji as the last of his voice and his energy gave out and his eyelids drooped.
Sanji looked like he was nodding off, but his hand had just sneaked over to touch the fabric of Usopp’s pants. Not enough to impose or demand or offer anything that neither of them was ready for, just enough to say, Message acknowledged and accepted.
Usopp smiled at his dozing cook. “That’s good to hear.”
plotbunny_tiff: "Oh shit! That little blond boy is gonna get cut the fuck up! The green-haired dude has three swords!"
"Naw, man, you know those Asians and their crazy-ass kicking skills. Sanji's gonna win. You see, Jet Li, Bruce Lee, San Ji--he's so gonna win."
ETA: This story has been revised so that it's canonically correct and Usopp's sudden bout of precognition has been cured. The author apologizes.
Title: Once Upon a Time...
Series: One Piece
One Piece: Not mine.
Rating: PG.
Summary: Sanji/Usopp shonen-ai. Usopp tells Sanji a story.
It started off as something ordinary gone stupidly wrong.
Sanji and Zoro had gotten into a fight just as the Going Merry was docking at a winter island, the crux of which being that Zoro taking a dip in a frozen river back on Drum Island made him an idiot instead of a stronger man. Zoro had said that Sanji wouldn’t survive the same, and challenged him to take a dive overboard.
Sanji, brain slammed into its usual backseat position by Mighty God Testosterone, had promptly stripped to his skivvies and jumped overboard. Zoro had wound up having to go in after him, and now both of them were down with pneumonia.
More precisely, Sanji was down with pneumonia, whereas Zoro had shaken the worst of it off like he shrugged off most non-goal-oriented occurrences and gone back to training with only a slight cough to show for it. Sanji’s battered, much-abused, highly-polluted lungs had informed him that there were sick of his bullshit and were leaving him, this time for good, and were going to go live with someone more understanding and nurturing to their needs. Usopp didn’t blame them in the slightest.
Chopper had said that he’d had to deal with cases like this back home, but most of them were accidental (he’d glared rather forcefully at Zoro on the word “accidental”). He had asked for volunteers to sit with Sanji and make sure he didn’t die of that great killer of men, Not-Breathing-Anymore-itis. Usopp had put his hand up. Sanji was a very good friend, and his death of stupidity would put a serious stumbling block in their relationship.
Chopper’s instructions had been pretty simple: give him this medicine every four hours, keep him from smoking, make sure he’s still breathing, keep him from smoking, keep him in bed as much as possible, keep him from smoking, wake me if his fever gets any worse, and for the love of medical science keep him from smoking.
Sanji bitched about these instructions whenever he could get the breath to do so. Bitching seemed to be Sanji’s main mechanism for coping with his body not doing what he wanted it to, actually. He bitched about other people’s cooking, being stuck in bed, not being able to get out more than three words without coughing up half a lung, and Chopper being a despotic demon from the nether regions of hell who would be turned into stew as soon as Sanji was let out of this torture-pit. Chopper had the patience of a saint, but even a saint eventually hits a point where he wants to throttle someone with his halo. He’d probably gone to bed for his own sanity.
Fortunately, Sanji seemed to have given up for now. It was about damn time, too. He’d been alternating bouts of complaining with bouts of seriously concerning coughing, hacking, and wheezing for most of the day. He seemed to have coughed most of the fight out of himself at about dinnertime, so about the only thing that could possibly motivate Sanji to action right now would be Zoro sticking his head into the makeshift infirmary and laughing at him.
Usopp knew for a fact that Zoro was under strict instructions to do no such thing, no matter how tempting, or face the wrath of a crew that doesn’t want to piss off their already-grumpy zoanthropic doctor.
Right now, it was just him, Sanji, and companionable silence broken by occasional faint coughs. The sun had set a couple of hours ago, and the single lantern in here was casting just barely enough light to see Sanji’s face by. He wasn’t sleeping, but he did look tired. Usopp wished he could help him, somehow. Well, other than cramming unpleasant-tasting concoctions down his throat at regular intervals and making sure that he didn’t die.
Sanji’s closed visible eye opened a little, and he coughed once, hoarsely, before managing to get speech out of his profoundly unhappy throat.
“Oi. Usopp. Tell me a story. Get my mind off the fact that I can’t smoke in here.” His voice was rougher and scratchier than usual.
Usopp blinked. Weird request from Sanji, he who was King of the Macho Manly Men. Still, his skills had been called upon, and Usopp did love an audience. “What kind of story?”
“Any kind. Whatever pops into your head.” Sanji broke off into a fit of coughing at that point, and Usopp politely waited until it subsided and Sanji had gotten his breath back before starting his tale. He’d had something he’d wanted to discuss with Sanji for a long while, since before they’d gone to Alabasta, actually, and he’d just been handed a golden opportunity to do it.
“Once upon a time,” said Usopp, going into full storyteller mode, “there was a Prince of the Kingdom of Air. He had hair as bright as the sun and eyes as blue as the clear summer sky. The Prince of Air was possessed of a cheerful demeanor and a near-magical skill with food. He was a kind and just ruler to his subjects, and much beloved. But one day, he decided it was time that he shared his happiness with another and found a love to call his own.
“The Prince set off to the Kingdom of Fire to woo the Princess there. When he saw the Princess, he immediately lost his heart to her beauty. She had hair as orange as fire and eyes as dark and hot as coals, and she moved like a flame in the breeze and had wit as bright as a bonfire in the night. Truly, she was lovely. When he asked her for her hand, she smiled at him and said, ‘No, fair Prince of Air, I cannot marry you. Fire needs air, it is true, but I would devour you just as flame does. I am sorry, my Prince.’
“The Prince wept, but accepted the Princess of Fire’s reasoning. With a heavy heart, he journeyed onwards to the Kingdom of Water.
“The Princess of the Kingdom of Water was rumored to be exquisitely intelligent and as graceful as a willow, with eyes of cool blue water and hair that shimmered like the sea in the moonlight, and to have more hands than the oncoming tide so that there was never anyone in need of aid in her Kingdom who the Princess could not help. The rumors did not do the Princess justice, and when the Prince of Air saw her he lost his heart again. He begged her to marry him and be his wife. The Princess of Water only shook her head and said, ‘No, sweet Prince of Air, I cannot marry you. Water and air are not incompatible, it is true, but when water and air mix it brings clouds and storms, and our relationship would be thus. It would spread to our kingdoms and bring a time of great darkness for all. I am sorry, my Prince.’
“The Prince wept again, but accepted the Princess of Water’s logic. There was only one Kingdom left and the Prince knew nothing about it, for the Kingdom of Air had no relations with it. With trepidation and sadness, he set off for the Kingdom of Earth.
“When the Prince of Air arrived at the Kingdom of Earth, he found not a Princess, but a Prince! The Prince of the Kingdom of Earth had a long proud nose that could find its way into any situation and a swift tongue that could get him right back out again, with hair as dark as deep forest loam and eyes and skin as brown as an acorn.
“The Prince of Air gazed upon the Prince of Earth and saw no beauty, no delicacy, no loveliness. His search was done, for there were no more Kingdoms, no more Princesses for the Prince to seek. The Prince of Air despaired. He fell to his knees and cried out that he would never find love and would always be alone.
“Now, the Prince of Earth knew that his own heart belonged to a lovely fairy-girl from the town where he had been born. But when he looked upon the Prince of Air, he felt stirrings within his soul, similar but different, and wondered if perhaps there was room in his heart for more than one love.
“Then the answer occurred to him, and he strode to the Prince of Air and pulled him to his feet. The Prince of Earth then said, ‘There is always love for such as you, handsome Prince of Air. Though earth and air have nothing in common, they still touch each other and one would not exist without the other. If you would have me, I would love, cherish, and marry you, my Prince.’
“The Prince of Air looked at the Prince of Earth and shook his head. ‘I love the Princess of Fire with all my heart and the Princess of Water with all my soul. I have nothing left for you,’ he said sadly.
“The Prince of Earth had thought of this already, though, for he was very clever. ‘Do you love your country and your people with all of your heart and soul?' asked the Prince of Earth of the Prince of Air.
“'Yes, I do,’ answered the Prince of Air. ‘But countries and Princesses are not the same thing.’
“'Neither are Princes and Princesses,’ said the Prince of Earth, smiling. ‘If you have room in your heart for more than one love, do you have room in your heart for me?’” Usopp finished. He was actually rather proud of that story. Almost proud enough to ignore the fact that his cheeks were bright red.
Sanji was quiet for a moment, and then murmured, “How does the story end?”
Usopp wanted to give him a light, flippant reply, one that wouldn’t make Sanji worry or scream or something, but what came out was, “I don’t know. The Prince of Air hasn’t replied yet.”
Silence again. Then…
“I think it has a happy ending,” whispered Sanji as the last of his voice and his energy gave out and his eyelids drooped.
Sanji looked like he was nodding off, but his hand had just sneaked over to touch the fabric of Usopp’s pants. Not enough to impose or demand or offer anything that neither of them was ready for, just enough to say, Message acknowledged and accepted.
Usopp smiled at his dozing cook. “That’s good to hear.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-18 10:42 am (UTC)That's a brilliant fairytale. Makes me all warm and smushy inside as if I just ate a really good cookie.
Okay, you've convinced me. Usopp, totally gay for Sanji. And Usopp's pants make Sanji happy. OTP.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-18 05:24 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-02-04 09:55 pm (UTC)Sick!Sanji was brilliant, fed-up Chopper too, as well as Dumb Macho Zoro for getting them all into that mess.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-02-05 08:53 pm (UTC)The way I look at it, Zoro/Sanji is quick like fire--hot, fast, angry, and passionate.
Sanji/Usopp is slow like honey--sweet, thick, romantic, and delicious when brushed in a thin layer over everything.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-25 09:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-23 07:18 am (UTC)