Chapter Text
“What’s the doc up to?”
“Hm?” Ben Beckman, first mate aboard the Red Force, grunted in question. He lifted a cigarette to his lips and sucked in through his teeth. As he followed the cabin boy's line of sight, he noticed the woman in question furiously pacing the deck
“Ah,” He exhaled a cloud of white. “Is it noon already?” Ben hummed, not entirely addressing the boy's query. He raised his tired gaze to the unabashed sun.
Things were about to get interesting.
“Huh?” The boy looked confused as he discarded an empty mop bucket to the floor, wiping the sweat off his brow.
“You must be new, kid.” Lucky Roux chimed in from behind Ben. Apparently he’d been observing the show as well, or at least the precursor to one. “Just sit back and watch.”
A few other crew members followed suit, taking seats along the rigging, atop cargo, or stray barrels.
The boy cocked his head in confusion at the two men leaning against the ship’s sturdy railing. He had been aware of the crew’s less than enthusiastic morale for the mornings. A night of rum and raucous would do that to even the most experienced of drinkers. Honestly, he was surprised the crew managed to function as well as they did, what with their constant alcohol induced binges.
If they weren’t drinking, they were hungover, and on the occasion they weren’t in either of those camps, they were off on some fantastic adventure battling whatever the day had decided to throw at them.
The doc was a bit different though. Not exactly the type of personality one would expect to find on the ship.
From what the boy knew, the doc never drank, didn’t even smoke from what he’d seen during his short time with the crew. She was a bit unusual–a reclusive type with a strange aversion to sunlight. When he’d first witnessed her bounty poster, he assumed her choice of clothing was just for show.
However, that wasn’t the case. She resembled that of a plague doctor. A long hooked beak and round unblinking eyes of her mask accented the floor length black coat and gloves she wore. He wasn’t sure if the fact that she was an actual doctor made her appearance all the more legitimate or all the more terrifying.
She continued pacing, looking life a specter of the underworld, and the boy wondered if she was hot beneath all that fabric. She unhooked a watch from her hip, swinging the object by its chain into her open palm and checking the time.
“Eh, think this ones a squatter? They usually wander out by now.” Lucky mumbled. Ben shrugged and took in another drag of smoke.
“Cal will handle it. She usually does.” Ben waved the woman down and out of her thoughtful pacing. The eyes of her mask settled upon the men. Ben and Lucky seemed used to the specter, but the poor cabin boy felt a shiver run down his spine. “You’re probably gonna have to go in for this one!” Ben called.
The doc rolled shoulders. Her demeanor shifted as she morphed into character.
“Why is she going into the Captain's quarters?” The young boy questioned while looking slightly nervous.
“Like I said, just sit back and watch, kid.” Lucky grinned ear to ear as if his head wasn’t splitting in half from the previous night.
The boy’s abject confusion was broken up by the sounds of high pitched shrieks and yelling. What sounded like chairs being thrown and a scuffle amidst women emitted through the ship. The majority of the crew seemed more then used to the odd happenings, and awaited the scene with bated breath. When the doc barreled out of the Captains quarters dragging a bedraggled woman by the hair a collective attention was placed on the scene.
“Let go! Let go of me, I said! Shanks! Shanks!! Help!!”
“The Captain is presently indisposed. I’m afraid you’ll be dealing with me now.” The doctor deadpanned as she released the woman to the floor.
“Ugh! You absolute freak!” The woman squealed as the crew chuckled around them. They had to give it to the woman. She had guts.
“Go easy on her, doc!”
“Play nice, Cal.”
“Get to the good part!!”
A few mummers and yells emitted from their newly gained audience.
“I’m asking nicely.” Cal sighed. “ Please leave.” She quickly bridged the gap between her and the woman, standing so close that the beak on her mask was nearly touching the woman's nose.
“Hah! No way you crazy, bitch.” She snarled to her face. Your captain invited me so I’ll leave when I want to thank you very much!” She spat in her face.
Cal didn't bother flinching.
“Do you see him around? Did he ask you to stay?” She didn’t give the girl an inch to weave a fib. “I didn’t think so. What you had was a one time transaction, and now it’s over. So please leave so we can set sail and be on our way.”
“Where the hell do you get off talking to me like that!? You think you scare me?!”
Cal waited a poised moment. The mummers around them quelled like the quiet before a storm.
“Freak…crazy…bitch…scare you…” Cal drawled, rattling off the list of insults she’d received over the past minute. “Well, if you insist. ”
Cal dropped her hood and unclipped the fastenings of her mask. It happened within seconds, but the results were undeniably conspicuous.
The woman screamed, a blood curdling scream as Cal's face was revealed. At first seemingly normal, until the rays of the sun met her skin and set her face ablaze.
It was grotesque, it was horrifying, and it was hot damn hilarious to the crew as the woman high tailed it away in a rush of self preservation, tripping over her own legs.
“Boo.” Cal smirked to herself as she smothered out the flames with her mask and refastened the object. Ben piped in from the sidelines.
“Nice one, Cal. Must be a new record.”
The woman’s shoulders shook lightly in a soft chuckle.
“Yeah, yeah.” She waved him off before sheathing her weapons and heading back towards the Captains quarters. Duty done for the day.
The cabin boy sputtered wordlessly at what the hell just happened on deck.
“Umm….is the doc alright!? What happened to her face!? And who was the woman-”
“Doc had her shadow stolen by a warlord a while back." Lucky quickly explained. "She bursts into a ball of flames as soon as sunlight touches her.”
“What?!” The boy was flabbergasted. “How is she even alive??” Lucky laughed, the events of the morning never seemed to get old.
“She’s a real lucky one her. She ate the regen-gen fruit. Her body regenerates so fast it can heal just about anything....I once saw her grow back her own head once.” The rotund pirate recalled the events with humor.
The boy was all astonishment.
“As for Captain and the Cal…they just have an arrangement.” Ben clarified, finally finding it within him to hold a steady conversation. “Sometimes the Captain's lady friends don’t feel like leaving in the mornings. Doc takes it upon herself to remove them.”
“And this happens every time we dock?” The boy looked wide eyed. What type of crew had he signed up for exactly?
“More or less. You’ll get used to it.” Ben chuckled softly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me gents, there's a dog whose hair needs chasing.”
Lucky laughed at his crew members' plight, before flinching from his own growing headache.
“This is madness…” The boy muttered picking up his mop bucket, ready to return to the more simple affairs of his business.
“Heh, this is the Red Force. You’ll get your sea legs in time, kid. Don’t you worry. Ah, you don’t got any meat on ya by chance? No? Eh, no matter.” Lucky turned, and headed in the general direction of the kitchen, nursing his own hangover all the while.
“Ah, right...” The boy felt a shiver run up his spine. Yup stark raving madness.
The doc didn't bother knocking before waltzing her into her captains quarters, and was greeted with none other then his naked ass tripping into a pair of floral print pants.
“Oi, Captain.” Despite his undressed state, she didn’t seem fazed, nor he all that ashamed.
“Yes, dear .”
“Very funny, now .” She raked a hand through her cropped locks and adjusted the leather strap of her mask. Wisps of smoke wafted from the eyeholes and the hooked beak making her look like a foreboding specter.
“Come to drag me to the underworld for my crimes against humanity?” Shanks joked. He never hid the fact that he preferred seeing her face rather then the mask she chose to don, no matter what condition it might be in from the sun. In fact, he often enough made it a point to remind her just how fascinating he found her abilities.
“Perhaps another day.” She sounded tired, the sun had that effect on her. She unhooked the leather straps securing the article to her face, bringing it to hang from around her neck.
“Stunning.” The man grinned at her while he secured his pants and rifled around for his discarded shirt.
She considered whether or not it was worth her time to lecture the man before her.
“Ugh, spare me.” She caught a glimpse of her healing face through a small mirror above the wash basin. The cartilage always grew back first, next came the layer of muscle and sinew that stuck to the bones. Lastly, was the skin, which was creeping across her face in layers as it morphed and curled into it’s final form.
In a few words, it was grotesque, and eerie, but Shanks seemed to find it completely interesting.
“Don’t know why you bother with the mask indoors.” He pontificated, still searching for his long lost clothing.
She shrugged while kicking up the offending object with the heel of her boot and tossed it straight at his head. Unfortunately, he caught it with ease, and the doctor was once again reminded that even when inebriated, which she was almost certain he still was, he never truly lost his wits.
“Sometimes I forget I’m wearing it….” Over the past year it had become something of a second skin to her. “You know,” She pulled herself from her strange reverie. “You could just go to the brothel to scratch your itch like the rest of them. If you keep picking up civilians with…. expectations you won’t stop having this problem anytime soon.”
“Eh, it’s more fun when you’re not paying for it. Where's the challenge if it’s paid for upfront at the door?”
“It’s not.” Cal droned. “I’m the one settling your bill the next morning.”
“Oh, do I owe you?” Shanks had the audacity to look nonplussed.
“I take it out of the ship's treasury.” She clipped. Ben would shit a kitten if he ever found out….
“Glad to know my hard earned treasure is going to a worthy cause.” The red head grinned cheekily as he went about readying himself for the day. It took some stumbling effort to locate his sword, and ruffle his hair into unruly submission. Eventually he discovered a leftover bottle of rum near the foot of the disheveled bed which would be acting as his morning coffee.
Coincidentally, he kept the shirt in hand, waiting for the last possible second to dawn the article.
“Honestly Cal,” He sighed dramatically. “It wouldn’t hurt to loosen up. You might even enjoy it.” She couldn’t help but notice the layed out’ view of his torso she was getting, or the way his jaw clenched as he downed a few gulps of poison.
No doubt she would….
Suddenly her mouth felt very dry, and the alcohol as well as its partaker took on a strange sort of appeal.
She grimaced as she tried to push the treacherous thoughts out of her mind.
No. Not now. Not ever.
Tamping down on her cursed biological response, she allotted her more rational side the floor to reason. Her fingers curled around her mask, scratching the edges and pinching the sides.
Her face itched where her hairline had healed and she knew she was staring at him with fresh skin and nothing to hide her expression.
She felt utterly naked.
His easy going smirk nearly disarmed her, but his next set of words was enough to rebuild the wall of her resolve.
“Anyway, I can’t help it if they can’t get enough of me.” He even had the gall to wink at her. The nerve.
“You do realize these civilian women that are falling into bed with you have feelings, right? Emotions? You swoop into town, charm their literal panties off, and then sail away the next morning! The least you can do is make the terms clear for them, instead of having me do your dirty work for you every morning.”
“Hey!” He raised his hands innocently despite benign anything but. “I never asked for you to play chaperone. You took that on all by your lonesome.”
“Because you have no self control!” She tugged at her hair. “If I didn’t kick them out they'd never leave! Honestly, at last when they were coming from the brothel they were at least punctual!”
“So you’re suggesting I go back to the brothel routine?” He hummed, looking far too thoughtful and philosophical for the sordid conversation at hand.
“As your doctor? No . At the rate you’re burning through partners I’m actually surprised you haven’t caught anything yet.” She deadpanned. Shanks had the audacity to laugh.
“Fine. Fair enough. I guess you didn’t seem all that keen when I was frequenting the brothels either.”
“I’m simply suggesting you exercise some prudence in the matter. You are using the contraceptives I handed out right? Because one in five adults suffer from-”
“Oh, I love it when you talk dirty.”
“Shanks.” She very nearly growled.
The man raised a brow. He knew it was serious when she skipped formalities and went straight for his name.
“It is past noon, we are hours behind schedule, Snake is going to have a fit if we miss the Southern winds, and the log pose reset at least a week ago. I just scared off another one of you hussies by burning my face off –-you're welcome for that by the way-”
The unrepentant smirk on Shank’s lips was enough to fuel the mounting rage in her gut.
“Honestly, you exasperating ass! Do you think this is a game? Do you think I do this for my health ?!” By this point she was rapidly pacing his cabin. Murmuring voices could be heard whispering behind the cabin door, listening in on the “thrashing” the captain was enduring.
Upon noticing the loss of Shank’s attention on her, and now exchanging knowing smiles with the handful of crew mates peering through the crack of the door to watch the show, she stomped over in a huff.
“Someone–!” She clipped as she slammed the door shut with her boot, mildly placated at the sound of scattering on the other side. “-has to run this circus, and when you're literally the only sober person for miles in any direction-” She motioned to herself with a tired huff, and continued without losing a beat.
“You move things along the best you can, and unfortunately for you, we can’t lift anchor till all the conquests from the night before walk their pretty little access home.”
“.....You have to admit though, the face burning is impressive. Bit overkill, but impressive.”
She shot him a dry look. She was actually going to have to spell it out for him.
“Captain.” Her voice lowered, causing him to grimace at the clipped way the title fell from her lips. “Stop picking up crazy, clingy, deranged women at bars.”
Shanks took in her words or advice, as he brought the bottle to his lips once again. He sat on the edge of his bed leaning back in thought.
She perhaps had a point. In fact she usually did. He realized it was probably why he kept her involved with his ‘personal affairs.’ She had the most common sense out of any of them, save for maybe Ben on a good day.
“Alright. You win.”
“I do?” Cal looked surprised. Yet, she covered it well and within seconds. Quick victory….What's the catch?
“Yup!” Shanks grinned as he popped the ‘p’ with his reddened lips. Cal raised a brow–they were definitely smeared with whatever rouge lipstick the woman had from the previous night. She wouldn’t bother telling him of course. Where would the fun be in that?
“Yes, you do! And I'm promoting you!”
“Wow, really?” Her voice dripped heavily with sarcasm. “Ship doctor to first mate, who will break it to Ben?”
“Not quite, you’re still my doc, but you're no longer my ‘chaperone’. I’m upgrading you-”
She felt a blush creeping up her neck as she swore beneath her breath, thankful that Shanks was too steeped in what he thought be the next brilliant idea since the log pose was invented.
“I-” She fucking stammered.
“-to match maker!”
“What?” Cal squinted. Right. He definitely wasn’t sober, but when was he ever?
“Eh, doesn't really have a ring does it…how about wing woman?”
“Pardon?” She couldn't believe this man.
“Listen, doc. If you think I’m that bad at choosing who to bed, you pick em.”
Cal was ready to outright refuse. He had to be joking. The situation was already ridiculous, yet as a moment of thought ticked by and Shanks expression remained neutral, she wondered if this might work out in her favor.
Cal was well aware of the captain's type: both physically and mentally. He definitely liked them petite, long hair, and as far as she knew, the captain was an ass man. She had noticed more blondes lately, rather than brunettes, so he must have been going through a phase. Yet, never once had she seen a red head on his arm. She wondered if that was just too tacky considering the general theme of the ship.
Not everything could match per say.
Unfortunately, he also liked them as crazy as he did attractive. The women he tended to go for were loud unabashed beings. Cal could get behind their confidence, she could even commend it and easily see how Shanks found it sexy, but truth be told, their voices were too loud, their conversation tended to remain shallow, and their big doe eyes far too gullible.
She almost felt sorry for them, and the way that Shanks led them into his den of debauchery with sweet words, and half hearted declarations…..ugh. Come morning they'd be lingering like a ghost, clingy and hooked on the enigmatic captain.
Of course, he'd try to let them down slowly.
"Love, you wouldn't wanna be with a guy like me…"
"I belong out there, and you have a life on the island."
"I'll come back. You never know what the future holds"
And Cal's personal favorite....
"We're both free spirits. Why settle down?"
Ugh. What she saw in this bastard she wasn't sure. By the time he'd finished pontificating and detaching the leeches it would be nearly sunset, and a day had been wasted. Which usually led to the idea of staying another night and repeating the cycle again.
That's when Cal decided to step in. It was for efficiency's sake….or at least that's what she told herself.
At first she did it for all the men on the ship. She would knock out their doors, bright and early, throw in a bottle of her own personal hangover cure, which they took thankfully and without complaint, allowing her to conduct her morning services. She’d pay the woman from the brothels, and show them off the ship with a tight lipped smile and a thank you mam. Eventually she'd even seen some repeats, learned their names, likes and dislikes, along with some unwanted knowledge of the preferences of her crew mates…..
Eventually the majority of the crew had the decency to catch on. Woman out by noon was the consensus, or no hangover cure would be distributed. However, the only exception to the rule seemed to be Shanks.
Of course.
So Cal had to resort to more aggressive methods. Some days she'd walk in and pull the girl out herself. Other days she'd pretend to be his jilted girlfriend. Then some days required a full on brawl, like this one.
It was……undignified…to say the least, but she saved them from an extra heedless day at port day drinking.
She did consider, could this really all be solved by a change of personality? Would it be possible to pick the right type of girl for the captain? One with no expectations and the same devil may care attitude about one night stands?
Heck, if she was lucky the girl would leave before the sun was up, without needing to be asked.
If she were to say yes, it might guarantee them those wasted hours of the morning, and a couple less headaches for paying his dalliance's or mercilessly manhandling them off the ship.
A part of her, the sensible part of her was saying, ‘Terrible idea. Wash Your hands of this man right now and bury your head in your medical books.’ Yet…..the other side, the curious side was saying-
‘Give it a shot. This could be interesting….’
“Alright.” Obviously one side had won out. “I’ll do it. I’ll pick your woman, under one condition.”
“And…that is?” Shanks had looked surprised he’d even gotten this far.
“We stop running like wolves at night and pissing like puppies in the morning. I’m all for a good time, but I can’t be giving hangover cures and IV drips every morning because you found another reason to party the night before.”
“Ah, you want moderation.”
“Precisely.”
“....I suppose we could do with a bit of that around here.” He grinned albeit begrudgingly. The manner in which he scratched at the back of his head did an all too good job of outlining his biceps.
Shit.
Cal swallowed.
“So deal?” She tried to bury her discomfort.
“...Sure, Why not?” His smile was infectious, and no one had the right to look that good after going on a bender and rolling straight out of bed. Cal sighed and turned to leave the room. Stopping at the doorway she muttered.
“And put on a shirt already. Are you shameless?”
“Only with you, doc.” Shanks retorted as Cal secured her mask and stuffed her hands deep within her coat pockets with a huff.
Shanks…..
Fearsome Captain.
Philanderer.
Ass.
And world renowned flirt.
“Her?”
“Yes. Her.”
“......are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“How sure.”
“Very.”
“But-”
“No buts. Remember the deal?”
Cal was unrelenting in her resolve. She was sure, the blonde bombshell at the edge of the bar was the right pick. Mid 20’s, possibly a pirate or at least some type of farer by the looks of her clothing. Already a good sign, because it likely meant she had no roots. She looked relaxed enough to be open to conversation, and was on her second whisky, straight–which told Cal she was a decisive woman who knew what she wanted and practical enough about the methods of achieving it.
"But she looks…" Shanks muttered with a wary frown.
" What? Not hot enough for you?"
"No, no she's plenty….hot…she's got an ass like-"
"Spare me the description, I'm looking at her too."
"Heh. Well, it's just." Shanks nursed his drink while scratching at the back of his head.
"Well what?" Her impatience was beginning to bleed into her voice, and the more the plan went forward the more she wished she actually drank.
"She looks….smart."
Cal sported a deadpanned look.
"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware a low IQ was a prerequisite in your mating choices.” Shanks grimaced at the choice of words.
“Hey now-”
“ -I'm sure after she talks to you she'll lose a few brain cells anyhow."
"Bit rude don't ya think?. You’d really talk to your captain like that.” He practically whined.
“In a heartbeat.” She smirked, the jabs never seemed to run out with her. “Now are you taking my advice or not?”
The captain pouted, but leaned in nonetheless. He whispered in her ear while casting furtive glances at the woman in question. "Alright, fine. It’s not that I don’t trust your judgment, it’s just that…I…what I mean is, I tend to…"
Cal knew exactly where this was going, and she was probably being unusually cruel in making him explain it, but one look up into her captain's eyes and she could see a world of vulnerability he rarely showed around the crew.
He was nervous. About talking to a girl.
Hah .
"Yeah," She sighed, putting him out of his misery. "I get it. You're used to the lovesick doe eyed chicks who don't ask too many questions." Cal waved the bartender over and asked for a pint.
Shanks eyed her oddly for a moment in confusion, before she slipped the extra drink into his free hand.
"Trust me. She's the type of girl not looking for anything serious. She's self aware, and probably is gonna do what she wants in spite of you. She won't take an ‘I love you’ or any of your forever flirty bullshit, so take her for what she is. A female version of yourself looking for a fun night, now," She straightened the straw hat above his head, turned him around, and pushed him off the barstool the direction of the woman.
"Get at it tiger." Shanks could hear the smirk in her voice as he made his way to the woman.
It had been quite a while since he had felt his heart beat this way in his chest. For being his doctor Cal didn’t seem all that concerned.
No turning back now though.
Shanks approached the table with as much swagger as he would have had he chosen the woman himself. The only difference was the reception he received.
The blonde looked him up and down in appraisal, rather than abject awe. He was renowned enough, especially around these parts, for people to know who he was. The red hair was a hint, the distinct crew behind him was a giveaway.
Apparently, the woman had liked what she had seen, because she was accepting the extra drink within seconds of Shanks taking the seat beside her.
Shanks wracked his brain. Cal had implied his previous methods to be lacking, yet she’d pushed him into the abyss with a twig for a raft and hollered ‘swim!’ How he should go about this, he wasn’t entirely sure. He felt strangely out of depth.
Thankfully, the woman spoke first.
Thank the heavens.
“I’m Maya.”
“Shanks.” He greeted, flashing her a charming smile.
“ The Shanks I’m presuming? Of the Red Haired Pirates?” Shanks sucked in a breath through his teeth, finally finding it within himself to loosen up. Maybe a bit notoriety would help in this situation.
“The one and only.” She smiled with an understanding nod, before Shanks continued. “What about you? A beautiful girl like yourself have a crew?”
“Something like that. I’m part of a merchant ship. We’re restocking on supplies before hitting the next port tomorrow.”
Huh…Perhaps Cal really did know how to pick'em.
Shanks realized his expression must have looked far off for a moment, because Maya’s gaze had wandered behind him to the doctor herself, who’d found her way back to the crew to snack on whatever savory food the table had ordered.
“So what's the story there?”
“Huh? Oh, with the crew?”
“The girl.”
“Sister.” Shanks had answered far too quickly, and with something resembling a defensive reflex. The blonde didn’t look convinced.
“Really now? Adopted I’m assuming?” It was meant to be a joke. By no stretch of the imagination could the two have been mistaken for any type of relation. Even cousins might have been a stretch, but Maya had thrown him a softball and a teasing smile.
“Sorry.” Shanks muttered, setting his drink down. “I must be off my game tonight. Not sure why I said that…Uh, well, that's Cal. She’s our crews doctor.”
“And?”
Shanks shrugged, glancing back to the table as if the answer were to be found in that general directions. Lucky had made a show of stealing a leg of meat off of Yassops plate, while the sniper had gone off on another rant about proper firearm care. Cal was situated in the midst of it all. A soft smile and wide eyes observing the chaos around with amusement.
Nothing out of the ordinary there.
“I mean you looked pretty cozy at the bar earlier. Are you and her going through a…..lovers spat?” She trailed off, leaving Shanks to fill in the blanks.
Oh. ohhhh….
“No, no. We aren’t.” It felt strange to consider. Cal…she was…she was… He wasn’t quite sure actually. So he went with the simplest of answers because at least it was true. “Like I said, she’s the crew's doctor–She’s nakama.”
Maya’s smile widened and her shoulders seemed to relax at this.
“Good,” She sipped her ale and ran and tapped a few pointed nails against the counter. “Because I never sleep with taken men. A little too complicated for my taste.”
“Pardon…?” Shanks hadn’t meant for that to come out as dumbfounded as it probably had, but in his own defense, he was still new to this method of pick up artistry. Perhaps he hadn’t expected Cal to be so on the money with this.
“Oh don’t act like a blushing virgin all of a sudden” Her laugh was weathered, and echoed of experience. “Your reputation precedes you, and not just as a pirate. Word is you’ve broken nearly every eligible blushing heart from Sabody to the New World. I assume you didn’t just come over to offer me a free drink.”
“Ah, heh, when you put it like that-”
“It sounds exactly like it is.” Her voice took a low, strangely seductive turn. Shanks smirked at this.
This part. This part he could navigate with ease.
“Well, in that case. Would you like to come back to my ship?”
The only answer he received was a knowing smile, before the woman closed her tab and led him out of the bar with a sordid promise she had no intention of reneging on.
Shanks could only follow, with excitement coursing through his veins. As they passed the table with the crew a few of the drunker men hooted and hollered a few sentiments of encouragement to their captain. Cat whistles and yelps echoed off the bars walls. Shanks remembered to check for one reaction particular.
Cal leaned back, tucked in the booth between her crew mates. The general cheering didn’t seem to affect her, but she offered him a quiet two fingered salute and a small grin.
Somehow her approval felt better than the cheers, but he’d stew on that later.
He was in for a wild night.