Weirdest Ship in the 'Verse.
Feb. 27th, 2006 04:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chibi_trillianSince people don't save me from my own plotbunnies, they get this instead. Told you all it was a bad idea.
Title: Acquired Taste, Chapter One: Not a Good Day
Series: One Piece.
One Piece: Not mine.
Rating: PG.
Summary: A hop into the One Piece Wayback Machine. When a pirate chef meets a Marine, a bad time is had by all. Light Zeff/Smoker overtones. Probably to be continued (unfortunately) if people don't beat me to death for desecrating the characters like this.
Zeff supposed his captain had had a logical point, and they had needed supplies rather badly. The captain had a way of making stupid things sound reasonable, which was how Zeff had wound up on board his ship in the first place. He could almost hear Captain Lawson’s smooth tenor asking, “Seriously, who’s going to look for pirates on the same island as a Marine base?”
The answer was “Marines,” apparently.
At least they were baby Marines. The day he, Zeff, pirate chef of the sea, couldn’t kick the shit out of and outrun a bunch of dumb eggplants like that without so much as bruising an apple was the day he ate his cutting board.
The weirdly grey-haired boy with the cigar scrambled up onto the rooftop after him, and Zeff contemplated the fact that his cutting board might taste all right with a nice red wine sauce. How the hell had he gotten up here that fast? Well, however he’d done it, he was up here, he’d drawn his weapon, and he looked determined to prove that those muscles weren’t just for show.
Zeff kicked at the Marine. The boy swung his jitte to meet it, and, to his credit, only got knocked back a few feet and didn’t fall completely out of fighting stance. Though his foot was still tingling from the force of the Marine’s counterstrike, Zeff followed up with a kick that came so close to hitting that square-jawed face that it put the cigar out. He wished he dared set his bags down long enough to get a proper windmill kick off. The flour was really unbalancing him, and rebounding off of the jitte had almost knocked him on his ass.
Scraping noises from the side of the building told Zeff that at least one other of the baby Marines had peeled themselves off of the street. Two (or more) on one when he was carrying things and lacked the element of surprise was not good. One could not hunt for All Blue from prison.
It was time for a strategic advance to the rear. Zeff launched a quick kick at the Marinelet and bolted.
The jitte hit roofing slates behind him.
****
Smoker frowned as Hina finally made it up onto the roof, slinging his jitte into its holster on his back. Shit. The blond had gotten away without losing so much as a head of cabbage. It would have to be a windy day today, wouldn’t it?
“Hina was too slow. Hina apologizes.”
“It’s okay.” Smoker toed the cracked tile where his jitte had hit. It promptly broke off and went clattering down the roof, pinging into the gutter before dropping to the street below with a spectacular smash. There went his hopes of getting off of half-pay this month.
“Today has not been a good day,” Smoker sighed, relighting his cigar. The wind whipped the smoke away, giving a lovely demonstration of what would have happened to the amateur Logia user if he’d attempted to give chase in his far quicker smoke form. Stupid wind. Stupid blond guy. Stupid Smoker, for not being good enough to hold his form in inclement weather yet. He’d practice twice as hard…somewhere in his infinite free time between chores and weapons practice and patrols and lessons.
“You don’t need to tell me twice.” The pink-haired girl rubbed her bruised arm. She looked quite vexed. He supposed she looked beautiful when she was angry, but it was kind of academic for him. Then again, Hina spent time with him because he didn’t hit on her, making him one of maybe five males on base that she didn’t despise.
“Do we even bother reporting him?”
“Hina doesn’t think so. What do we say? ‘We saw a man buying produce in a suspicious manner. When we inquired as to his business here, he handed our entire cadet patrol their collective ass on a platter. We don’t know where he went or who he was, but he was last seen carrying a bag of flour.’ That will look fantastic on Hina’s record.”
“Hn. You’re probably right. I guess officially this didn’t happen.” At least their mystery vegetable man had been good-looking in a hawk-nosed kind of way, so the day had not been utterly wasted. Those legs, long and fast and so damn strong…Smoker mentally reminded himself to spar with Hina soon. He needed to learn how to effectively combat a kicking fighter, because he had a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was going to see that man again.
Chapter Two: Not a Good Night
Title: Acquired Taste, Chapter One: Not a Good Day
Series: One Piece.
One Piece: Not mine.
Rating: PG.
Summary: A hop into the One Piece Wayback Machine. When a pirate chef meets a Marine, a bad time is had by all. Light Zeff/Smoker overtones. Probably to be continued (unfortunately) if people don't beat me to death for desecrating the characters like this.
Zeff supposed his captain had had a logical point, and they had needed supplies rather badly. The captain had a way of making stupid things sound reasonable, which was how Zeff had wound up on board his ship in the first place. He could almost hear Captain Lawson’s smooth tenor asking, “Seriously, who’s going to look for pirates on the same island as a Marine base?”
The answer was “Marines,” apparently.
At least they were baby Marines. The day he, Zeff, pirate chef of the sea, couldn’t kick the shit out of and outrun a bunch of dumb eggplants like that without so much as bruising an apple was the day he ate his cutting board.
The weirdly grey-haired boy with the cigar scrambled up onto the rooftop after him, and Zeff contemplated the fact that his cutting board might taste all right with a nice red wine sauce. How the hell had he gotten up here that fast? Well, however he’d done it, he was up here, he’d drawn his weapon, and he looked determined to prove that those muscles weren’t just for show.
Zeff kicked at the Marine. The boy swung his jitte to meet it, and, to his credit, only got knocked back a few feet and didn’t fall completely out of fighting stance. Though his foot was still tingling from the force of the Marine’s counterstrike, Zeff followed up with a kick that came so close to hitting that square-jawed face that it put the cigar out. He wished he dared set his bags down long enough to get a proper windmill kick off. The flour was really unbalancing him, and rebounding off of the jitte had almost knocked him on his ass.
Scraping noises from the side of the building told Zeff that at least one other of the baby Marines had peeled themselves off of the street. Two (or more) on one when he was carrying things and lacked the element of surprise was not good. One could not hunt for All Blue from prison.
It was time for a strategic advance to the rear. Zeff launched a quick kick at the Marinelet and bolted.
The jitte hit roofing slates behind him.
****
Smoker frowned as Hina finally made it up onto the roof, slinging his jitte into its holster on his back. Shit. The blond had gotten away without losing so much as a head of cabbage. It would have to be a windy day today, wouldn’t it?
“Hina was too slow. Hina apologizes.”
“It’s okay.” Smoker toed the cracked tile where his jitte had hit. It promptly broke off and went clattering down the roof, pinging into the gutter before dropping to the street below with a spectacular smash. There went his hopes of getting off of half-pay this month.
“Today has not been a good day,” Smoker sighed, relighting his cigar. The wind whipped the smoke away, giving a lovely demonstration of what would have happened to the amateur Logia user if he’d attempted to give chase in his far quicker smoke form. Stupid wind. Stupid blond guy. Stupid Smoker, for not being good enough to hold his form in inclement weather yet. He’d practice twice as hard…somewhere in his infinite free time between chores and weapons practice and patrols and lessons.
“You don’t need to tell me twice.” The pink-haired girl rubbed her bruised arm. She looked quite vexed. He supposed she looked beautiful when she was angry, but it was kind of academic for him. Then again, Hina spent time with him because he didn’t hit on her, making him one of maybe five males on base that she didn’t despise.
“Do we even bother reporting him?”
“Hina doesn’t think so. What do we say? ‘We saw a man buying produce in a suspicious manner. When we inquired as to his business here, he handed our entire cadet patrol their collective ass on a platter. We don’t know where he went or who he was, but he was last seen carrying a bag of flour.’ That will look fantastic on Hina’s record.”
“Hn. You’re probably right. I guess officially this didn’t happen.” At least their mystery vegetable man had been good-looking in a hawk-nosed kind of way, so the day had not been utterly wasted. Those legs, long and fast and so damn strong…Smoker mentally reminded himself to spar with Hina soon. He needed to learn how to effectively combat a kicking fighter, because he had a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was going to see that man again.
Chapter Two: Not a Good Night
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-19 03:02 am (UTC)We saw a man buying produce in a suspicious manner. *snerk*