execution | yo ho ho and a bundle of...rump

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psl,
ship: tangled

yo ho ho and a bundle of...rump

Aside from the fact that Aoba seems to have a penchant for getting kidnapped due to his booty lately, there’s been this new Rhyme gang on the rise in Midorijima, made of a cocky group of scurvy sea dogs who call themselves the Powder Monkeys. Swift are their sails and fiery are their cannons—or at least they’re very good at Drive-Bys and running away. No shame in tactical retreats, and so on.

Most of all, stylized Jolly Rogers have been seen on the walls of Beni-Shigure territory, and that’s something Koujaku can’t stand for. The residents had already been complaining about the vandalism—at least more than usual. At least the Beni-Shigure tag art had some taste to it, but more than that…

They took Aoba.

So Koujaku’s stormed the docks with his gang to an abandoned ship commandeered by the Powder Monkeys as a sort of hideout, their tag art all too confidently emblazoned across its rotting hull. The bastards.

Here’s Koujaku at the fore, rushing at the head of his team of Ribsters with his sword held high and crying his best war cry, which is also his best drunken hippo impersonation: “URRRRYYYYYYAHHHH!!”

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Aoba does not have time for this shit. Bad enough Mizuki keeps asking him to join Dry Juice, bad enough that brat from Ruff Rabbit won’t stop hounding him about a Rhyme battle, now there’s this new team with some grudge against Beni-Shigure and a leader that thinks good battle tactics should include kidnapping a rival team’s close friend. Hostage situations? Really?

Okay, so maybe they roughed him up a little for the fight he put up when they first came to grab him, but overall it’s more been frustrating than frightening. Even including the fact that they’ve trussed him up with a length of rope and left him standing on the end of a gangplank jutting out over the water. Now, aside from the water being ridiculously filthy, it’s not precisely frightening. The shore is right there. Even with his hands tied, he’s pretty sure he can float to safety.

Really, his only worry is for Ren. His beloved Allmate is asleep in his bag, which remains in the hands of one of the Monkeys like a seized trophy.

“L-Look, there’s really no need for all this.” He tries to plead with the Monkey’s leader, who stands at the grounded end of the plank and has a nasty looking cutlass pointed at him. “The only thing you’re going to do here is make Koujaku—”

And there it is, in the distance and rapidly approaching. URRYAH! Sigh.

“…m-mad.” Well, don’t say he didn’t try to warn them.

He’s called Haga-san at work for you, so you can relax for the time being. The old man’s pretty much gotten used to this by now, anyway. But Koujaku’s pretty much wiped the floor with most of the underlings though the burly first mate gave him quite the trouble, so excuse him if he’s looking a tad disheveled and his kimono is in dramatic tatters right now. Koujaku is pissed and just about ready to toss the entire Rhyme team overboard.

“Aoba!”

And then he stops. Aoba may not be in a lot of danger, but he’s still on a gangplank and Koujaku barely even has the time to assess the situation more thoroughly before the “captain” of the Powder Monkeys catches his hesitation and waves that cutlass at Aoba with a meaningful grin. Koujaku halts, lowers his sword, his ponytail long since gone after that battle with the first mate and well…let’s just say he’s got more reasons to be pissed about Rhyme right now.

The bastard snapped his favorite hair picks too.

“Let him go,” Koujaku nearly snarls, watching Aoba all the while. The rest of his gang’s still too busy to provide backup, so until then…

The captain merely prods at Aoba with the damned cutlass—not enough to hurt him, mind. Just enough to make a point ~~heh~~.

“Ye’ll be doing no favors to your friend here, landlubber. If ye’ll pardon the expression, ye’ll lay down yer sword else I gut yer friend here like a bilge rat!”

Well if he expects Aoba to comment on what a hot unkempt manbeast he is right now, he can just keep on waiting. Look, Koujaku, could you stop doing whatever it is you’re doing that makes people think he’s a good target for kidnapping?

You know, besides the, er, well.

Ahem.

But anyway are you serious. Just listen to that guy talk. What is this, an interactive theme park?

Hey! Surprised, he jerks a step away from the point of that cutlass, which equals another step down the gangplank. Ugh but that water looks foul. He’ll jump if he has to but he would really rather not.

He shifts his stance for a moment, testing his ability to balance with his arms tied up and messing with his center of gravity. Aoba could probably roundhouse that cutlass right out of the “captain’s” hand, and you can see him strongly considering it, but—

“Koujaku, I’m fine! I can swim, but they’ve got Ren!”

Well he has a cutlass don’t argue with this. Besides, you’re the one who doesn’t like your mullet trimmed down.

But tension’s thick in the air like the salt sea breeze and Koujaku’s seeing the captain’s remains duly splattered against the deck but in a metaphorical way (you know, like how Rhyme’s some sort of metaphorical battle).

“Ren?” He hears Aoba all the same and his gaze immediately shifts to one of the gang’s underlings, who promptly freezes at his gaze and clutches Aoba’s bag even tighter, before immediately scrambling away. The captain laughs, lifting his eyepatch to give Koujaku a proper wink.

“What’ll it be, ye bleedin’ son o’sea wenches? Yield, I say!”

Thereupon Koujaku must make an executive decision.

He’s also bruised and half-naked and in a really shitty mood right now. A more level-headed Koujaku would’ve believed Aoba and gone after the Allmate but well…

He drops his sword, and roars.

Then it’s a straight charge to the captain with fists raised and the leader of the Powder Monkeys feels his courage fail him then and there—he drops his cutlass and ducks…Koujaku tackles into Aoba instead…

Let’s just hope Aoba’s memorized Davy Jones’s locker combination.

What the hell does a locker have anything to do with—

“Ren!” Oh you scurvy shitheads you do not come between a boy and his superego. The sight of that one deckhand scampering off below decks with his bag is more than enough to get Aoba daring to approach the shipside end of the gangplank again, his tied-up hands clenched in useless fists in the small of his back.

The captain has his back turned now to face the approaching Koujaku, just one good kick to the back of his skull and—before Aoba can act on the impulse, the captain has suddenly hit the decks, dropping out of the way of Koujaku’s charge.

Oh shit.

“Kou-!”

Not even time enough to protest. There is one saving grace in all this. The direction Aoba falls is backwards and there’s still plenty of gangplank behind him…for now. His back hits wood and his arms scream in agony, not to mention the back of his head striking plank and the weight of Koujaku crushing him all of a sudden and the way the gangplank jolts and bounces from the impact, secured at only one end as it is….

Koujaku may be on top of him right now but guess who’s not getting laid for like a month after this. Go on guess.

And let’s just state for the record that they’re all dressed in kerchiefs and those stripey shirts too. Just ‘cause.

And more importantly, CHARGING HIPPO: “URRRYYYAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!” until the battle haze clears just in time for him to see Aoba on the end of his charge and he barely even has the time to yell out a “Shi—!” before he slams into the BFF and then…

A creak, a crack…

A fissure lazily snakes its way across the inner end of the gangplank, the wood creaking, straining under the weight of them both…

Koujaku peers into Aoba’s eyes, hair messy and falling on both sides of their faces, shadowing them from the world for one instant, his mouth agape…

And then, SNAP!

In which case Koujaku promptly grabs Aoba in a bear hug AND WHATEVER ELSE HAPPENS he’ll at least try to twist his body so that Aoba will land on him instead of the other way around. Can’t you give him that much credit?

A creak, a crack.

That ever familiar tone of exasperation and the deadpan expression that Aoba pulls off best, looking up at Koujaku from the shade of his hair.

“…you idiot.”

SNAP!

Also it’s water down there it makes no fucking difference!

SPLASH! Cold, filthy water all around them and they’re sinking like a depth charge, at least to start.

Aoba instinctively managed to catch a breath in time and his cheeks bulge almost comedically with the effort of holding it inside. It’s also by instinct that he starts to thrash, his mind registering the weight and restriction of Koujaku’s arms as an obstacle to breathing as the flickering surface of the water taunts him from above.

Look just don’t let him drown and maybe Koujaku can get a surly handjob by next year but no promises.

And Koujaku with the most helpless expression in the world as they plunge into the abyss and all he can yell is the first syllable of that beloved name—

“Aobaaaaa…” What is his life.

But a one-way ticket to a really messy kind of hell anyway but at least it’s—ick—bilgewater instead of blood and Aoba’s kind of safe—ow, elbow in his side and his jaw stings from where Aoba’s hit him and okay, so he deserved that but he’s only just barely managed to hold in his breath as they sink into the filthy deeps and he’s fighting to open his eyes despite his body complaining that that’s kind of stupid right now and pointless besides.

He doesn’t even think about how filthy the water is right now. Only…

He gasps and gross water rushing into his mouth and okay he’ll let your fine ass go, sheesh!

In the meantime one of his lackeys—namely Kou—has already apprehended the deckhand sometime earlier and retrieved Aoba’s other booty and now he and Ren are sort of just peeking over the deck of the boat after them.

“Hey, Koujaku!”

Dumping Koujaku for Kou, got it. An easy name change to adapt to, even!

But swimming without arms proves rather more difficult than expected, especially since Aoba didn’t get to just jump straight down into the water. He may have spent a good portion of his childhood along a beach, but he’s no Olympic swimmer and he’s having a little trouble getting his orientation.

Thankfully he manages it at last, scissor-kicking those strong legs of his until he breaches the surface of the water, gasping and hacking and bobbing along like a blue-haired buoy.

But while Koujaku may be an ass that won’t be getting any for the foreseeable future, that doesn’t mean Aoba wants him drowned. His hair clings to his face and eyes and he can’t even brush it aside, but he looks around anyway, mirroring Kou’s shout with his own spluttering.

“Koujaku?!”

What hey, no that’s mutiny, Kou!!

But Koujaku manages to break the surface himself, coughing out gobs—fucking gobs—of water before catching his breath and yep, he’s going to scrub that part of him so vigorously he might as well give up on making out with Aoba for like a month. Frenching will probably take longer than that.

More importantly, “I got you!” Oh hey there, Kou’s already leaving with Ren to get the rest of Beni-Shigure on this shitty-ass HQ and maybe toss them a couple of life preservers—if there are even any on this bleedin’ ship. Koujaku for his part will just catch Aoba by the waist in the meantime and hold onto a rusted old anchor nearby until they can get themselves fished out of here—or until one of them gains a foothold on the mucky shore, why not.

“Aoba! Are you all right?”

Oh thank god. Koujaku reappears and this time Aoba doesn’t fight when his friend throws an arm around him. He does what he can to kick at the water and help them both move aside, too, to that anchor chain dangling from the boat’s side.

Fuck this water is cold. So there’s another reason to be glad for Koujaku’s nearness and the little bit of warmth it offers. But don’t think you’re out of the doghouse that easily, buddy, oh no.

Aoba’s face twitches back and forth between irritation and relief until he finally sighs. “Except for being wet and gross, I’m fine.” He might have some bruises swelling here and there from the roughing-up he got, but Koujaku doesn’t need to know that. “Are you?”

Well Koujaku’s hair is pretty much ruined and he’ll probably need Tae-san to look over those cuts and bruises and whatnot but he’s just dandy, really. A real dandy man o’ the sea.

“I’m fine, just…” Yeah, he got them into this mess and his hair is ruined and Aoba’s hair is ruined and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to forgive himself for that. Even if he is blissfully unaware that he won’t probably get laid for a while, sob.

There’s his hand and that lock of hair…

Cough.

He’ll just. Wind his arm a bit tighter around Aoba, muscles straining against his grip on the alarmingly rusted anchor, his hair plastered to his face and neck in a gross, inky black mess.

“I’m really sorry about this; I got the ransom note late and I…”

“R-Ransom?” Koujaku who have you been talking to. Or has the rest of Beni-Shigure been talking, or has he been a little too obvious with all his visits to Koujaku’s place or—

Cold water all around them and still that telltale blush of Aoba’s still manages to crawl up his cheeks. If only his hair had grown out enough to cover them a little better.

“Che. If making me walk into the water was all they were going to do to me, I was never in any real danger.” And this is Aoba not precisely making eye contact because sometimes he still has trouble with this whole being friends and being lovers thing. “I mean I’m glad you came, but you could have been a little more…careful….”

AKA not a blindly charging hippo, you hippo.

Well someone’s bound to find out sooner or later and there have been those times when they’d forgotten to put Ren and Beni in sleep mode before they went at it but—

Right. Yes. “He had a cutlass.” Also a gang, and who the hell in their right mind would even kidnap some guy for a fucking Rhyme game? These kids need to git offa his lawn, damnit.

He does have the grace to look embarrassed after Aoba’s so graciously pointed his stupidity out, though. He even colors a little, but well, what’s done is done, right? All they have to do now is await rescue and hope the boat and anchor don’t fall apart again. Despite the mess they’d landed in Koujaku can’t help but feel a little giddy all the same though.

This is oddly intimate. “I wouldn’t let anyone go after you like that, all right?” Sigh. “But I got you.” Always.

Dammit, it’s hard to keep being annoyed when Koujaku’s being so sincere and acting out of worry. This cold water is miserable and his arms are really starting to hurt all twisted up behind him, but Koujaku’s proving a poor outlet for his irritation after all. It’s like he tried to kick a hippo off the bed and it turned out it was just a little puppy after all. A little fluffy one that only wants to make him happy.

And that also isn’t his superego of course.

“…Thanks, Koujaku.”

It’s not Koujaku’s fault that Aoba has an incredibly poor sense of self-preservation, anyway. Seriously, make a few wrong selections on the choose-your-own-adventure and there’s no telling where he’ll end up.

But now he’s starting to shiver, growing far more aware of how heavy his shoes and jacket feel now that they’re so terribly waterlogged. Also god help him his arms. As the chill leeches the color from his cheeks again, Aoba turns his head upwards to see if anyone’s lowering them a rope or a lifeboat or something.

“You idiot.” Still, fond smile, and he can almost be glad that most of his kimono’s ruined before he’d made the leap, anyway. Doesn’t really do anything for muscles straining as they hang from the anchor, but hey, he’s content enough to just keep Aoba close and totally ignore the smell of muck and rotting fish.

He actually looks up for a moment before ducking low to press his nose against Aoba’s cheek. Can’t kiss him as he is now after going through all that, but…no reason why he can’t still be totally into him despite the circumstances, and all.

Not that anyone’s caught them in the act, anyway. Soon rescue arrives in the form of a hastily procured lifeboat and they’re all brought to shore, with Benishigure’s gang members tossing their jackets over the shivering pair as they sit out at the docks, watching the sunset over the horizon.

And Beni has been regaling Ren with tales of his part in the rescue attempt: —then the fucker actually asked me if I wanted a cracker! Can you believe it? So I flew over and pecked at his d…

Koujaku peels something goopy and sticky and possibly sticky off of Aoba’s hair. “Ahh, shit. That really did a number on your hair, even.” But he’s smiling, because hey.

…!!! Koujaku you sneaky little—

But then rescue arrives and they’re brought ashore at last, Aoba stripping off those waterlogged boots and jacket, and left to shiver in their coating of grease and filth. While he can understand the need to drip-dry a little before they leave this place good and well behind them, it does not help make Aoba any less cranky.

At least his hair doesn’t hurt anymore. He can feel Koujaku pull that…whatever…from his head more distinctly than a normal person would, but the nerves in his hair aren’t hypersensitive anymore. It feels no worse than it would had Koujaku been peeling that bit of trash off his arm or cheek instead.

Aoba still wrinkles his nose, though, and avoids looking to see whatever it might have been. “It’s just hair,” he mutters, though perhaps not with quite as much vehemence as he would have some time ago. “Just wash it and throw some conditioner on or something. It’ll be fine.”

But Koujaku’s welcome to notice that Aoba didn’t specify he’d do it himself. Or not. Whatever.

Koujaku’s feeling the crazy of the day beginning to weigh down on him as well. What he needs right now is a nice warm bath and gallons of mouthwash and maybe take the rest of the day off to just cuddle Aoba and repeatedly tell him how much he loves him or something.

Or fix his hair. They can do that too.

“Don’t be an idiot,” he scolds him, still playfully. “You’re getting a full spa treatment. It’s on me.” Because he’s not missing out on Aoba’s little cues, oh no, and does that mean he’s forgiven and won’t be banished to the doghouse?

One can only hope.

He wrings out his hair with a wince and a smile, watching the filthy water drip down to his jeans. “That was some adventure, huh? Wouldn’t mind doing it again.” If it’s for you goes unsaid.

Alright everyone, say it with us now.

“…says the hippo.” Aoba pulls that loaned jacket tighter over his shoulders (it’s not Kou’s, is it?) with a huff, glancing across the water at Powder Monkeys’ ship. He wasn’t captive there for very long, all things considered, but he would rather not repeat it.

He shifts his weight a little, testing one of the spots where…yes, ouch. He’s definitely got bruises.

But he doesn’t want Koujaku to hover more than he already is, so instead Aoba continues with: “How about next time I get the ransom note and come save you, instead.”

(Psst Aoba you basically did that already, remember? Iiyo iiyo iiyo….)

At least the hippo will take extra care to kiss those rope burns away when they’re in a more private setting, cough. As they are, Aoba’s still as beautiful to him all icky and wet and grimy as he is lying on his bed and listening to Goatbed the night Koujaku couldn’t quite contain his boner for him.

“It’s all right.” What else can he even say to that? He’s not even sure if Aoba means that time but…he’s grateful. He’s forever grateful for that anyway, and Koujaku will save him from a million billion gangs if he has to.

You know the thing about Rib teams? They’re like family, compared to the Rhymers. And Koujaku…well, he’s always been a bit of a family man to begin with, especially when all of it’s encompassed in the 80s reject.

“You don’t have to. Not anymore.”

Aoba wasn’t thinking of that time, in fact, but he remembers it right quick when Koujaku says that. And, ow, right in the feels. Of course, Aoba hasn’t forgotten any of that—how could he ever?—but when all he’s wanted is for every day to be good things for them….

Oh ho ho, and to the root of the problem we arrive. Because who was the original idiot that went and got kidnapped? And made Koujaku freak out? And got all of Beni-shigure involved with a brawl with pirates?

And Aoba couldn’t even pull himself together enough to just Scrap the lot of them and stop it all before it got this far.

Aoba averts his eyes, deflating entirely. Stupid hippos and their honest feelings.

“…Are we dry enough to go home, yet?”

Hey, the Powder Monkeys may be dumb, but they know a sweet ass when they see it. That, and they’re smart enough to figure out how to really hurt Koujaku had they been a little more ambitious about their challenge.

Still, Koujaku allows himself a soft little smile at that and ruffles at Aoba’s hair—even if, yes, even if it messes up the already wet strands of them. He can’t get tired of playing with his hair too, anyway, even if it’s all covered up in thick layers of mud and grime.

“Yeah. Let’s go home.”

Funny how “home” ends up meaning “Koujaku’s place” without anybody having to specify anything, eh? No wonder the Powder Monkeys had such an easy time pinning Aoba down as a person of interest given how often he frequents the place, yet is neither a member of Beni-shigure nor a woman. Not that women come around anymore, either, given that Aoba does.

The lovebirds just may be a whole lot less subtle about things than Aoba likes to pretend.

But it’s also true that he doesn’t want to show up back at his home looking like this. Granny would have a fit. So to Koujaku’s place it is, with a hasty bee-line to the bathroom with as little dripping on the floor as is possible. There’s no awkward remarks about ‘you can come too if you want’ this time around, either, because they are both atrociously filthy. Between that and the soreness from being tied up and kicked around, sex is pretty far from Aoba’s mind right now.

The second best feeling in the world right now is when he’s finally able to strip everything off in the changing room, amid great insistence that he’ll help clean the mess up afterwards. The actual best feeling in the world comes when he turns on the shower and gets to step underneath it at last. Hell, he doesn’t even sidetrack to the tub to start filling it, barely gives the shower time to warm up past ‘slightly warmer than ice’. He gasps a little when cold water strikes chilled skin, but after that, it’s heaven, especially when the hot water starts to kick in.

Grime and filth sloughs off like a second skin, revealing pale skin…and the red welts of ropeburn around his arms, and some darkening, heel-shaped bruises. Aoba, however, doesn’t even feel them at the moment. The water drowns out everything else.

It would’ve been Tae-san instead, but let’s be real. No one’s going to be that stupid. The yakuza trash baby wondertwins had merely been very, very, extremely persuasive is all.

Besides, something like this…it’s bound to get out eventually, even with Koujaku exercising all his powers of discretion. He’d done a full one-eighty from chasing skirts to following his childhood friend around like a lovestruck puppy, after all, and he doesn’t even need to be bribed with Tae-san’s cooking for it.

But off to his home they go, and Koujaku’s following behind Aoba right then and there, after making sure their Allmates are deposited on their bed as always. At least those two escaped the worst of it. Kou needs a medal. Or a promotion.

Okay, maybe just a drink.

In any case, he drifts back in not long after—hell, it’s his house anyway and Aoba hasn’t really protested those…other times… Not that he’s in any particular mood for going at it then, not when getting Aoba cleaned up and bandaged if necessary is foremost in his mind. Cuddling him isn’t far behind though, and that’s what Koujaku does, as he steps into the shower behind Aoba, putting his grimy arms up about the other’s waist and pressing his lips against the back of the other’s shoulder.

Now this is the best feeling in the world.

…touché. Stupid romantic sparrows.

Aoba hears Koujaku enter the bathroom as expected and does not react initially, however he’s so focused on getting off all that grime that the surprise comes when the other man wraps around him without warning. In itself it is not unpleasant, of course, but he’s dirty and Koujaku’s dirty and we’re not even talking about that kind of dirty!

“Koujaku…!” It’s an awkward kind of protest as he glances down and sees the muck on the other’s arms start to smear and run in the water, and thinks about the filth in his hair and dripping down his shoulders, and winds up with: “Don’t, that’s gross!”

And having cast unwitting aspersions on his lover’s kisses this way, he reaches out for a cloth and the soap, hastily working the two together until he’s got a thick lather of suds built up. Then he physically lifts one of Koujaku’s arms from his waist and puts great focus into washing it clean. Mind, he does not dislodge Koujaku’s other arm from his person in the process, and his scrubbing is vigorous but gentle at the same time.

Rest assured that if he’s not interrupted, he’s going to give both arms the same treatment before turning around to address everything else.

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