silverwolfcc (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
silverwolfcc) wrote2012-02-03 05:35 pm
silverwolfcc) wrote2012-02-03 05:35 pm
Entry tags:
Surf's Up (because I can't edit the old entry)
Pairing: Smoker/Keitha
Chapter: 39 Surf's Up
Rating: PG-13 (and boring, really.)
Disclaimer: One Piece is Oda's, (because I wouldn't kill Ace har har har) and Surf's Up is Jim Steinman's.
Forenote: Wrote most of this without being able to read. Seriously. Like pure instinct and limited one-word-at-a-time-ness. So if it sucks, it's to be expected :P
Keitha had to leave for another two weeks and by the time she returned it'd already started to get cold. Winter was approaching, even as close to the Grand Line as they were. Still, this wasn't enough to deter her from deciding one bored night that she wanted to go surfing. And of course make Smoker take her.
"You're kidding, right?" Smoker stared at her. "That ocean is going to be frigid. And I'm not helping you give yourself hypothermia while I stay on the shore."
"The salt makes the ocean warmer! Come on!" She begged, "It'll be fun! We can set on a bonfire and toast marshmallows."
Smoker decided that she'd gone insane after all and as such she should be ignored at all costs. Of course, being insane, Keitha refused to be ignored and pulled every trick she could think of. "No," Smoker growled, and buried himself behind the newspaper before holding up a hand and ticking down fingers. "One, I can't swim. Two I like to be to dry. Three I don't like the cold."
"That's why the bonfire--" Keitha tried to interrupt, but Smoker over-rode her as easily as if he was on his motorcycle.
"Four, I'm not helping you get sick, five, I don't find any part of this idea as romantic as you seem to think it is, in the crazy red-head brain of yours," Smoker drank his coffee. "Read a book," he suggested.
"I want to surf," Keitha sulked.
Smoker ignored her. She pet his ears seductively. He ignored her more, sipped his coffee, and growled, "Too bad."
Keitha sulked and flopped onto his couch, sulking even more, "Card game?" she begged suddenly getting an idea.
Already spotting her plan Smoker arched an eyebrow, "And when I win?"
"I'll stop bugging you, and do whatever you want," Keitha beamed.
Smoker sighed, but decided it had to be better than listening to her go on and on indefinitely. So far they'd played a half dozen more times and he'd won all but one and the one they tied on. Still, even with the near perfect odds, Smoker didn't like the idea of even gambling a chance that he would be stuck sitting in the foggy cold. "You know you're insane for wanting to be out in this weather, right?" he scowled darkly.
Keitha shrugged and nodded, "I've been surfing in worse. I have a warm suit, it's fine. Besides I hear some of the more badass pirates do it through the Calm Belt even with all the seakings."
That elicited a twitch from the grumpy marine. "Like who?" he scowled in disbelief, as he moved the stack of rocks to under the table.
A shrug, "The badass ones."
"How descriptive," Smoker sarcastically growled as Keitha begin dealing out card hands for them both.
"I know," she smirked, eyes glittering with amusement, "I should be a writer."
He snorted and decided to ignore her in favor of the cards instead. Finally as the hand finished Smoker spoke up, "Are we playing to the usual 500?"
Keitha titled her head, red hair hanging down. "Would you really want it longer? The longer it is, the colder it'll get," she teased.
"Don't care," Smoker growled. "Because there's no way in hell I'm going out there whatever the temperature."
Which just meant that the 20 minutes later when he was stuck putting the helmet on her head as she purred happily and packed a picnic basket all the more irritating. He wondered idly if she purposely lost all their other card games, choosing instead to only win when something was on the line. It seemed like something she would do. Devious witch. "This is stupid," he growled furiously and revved the engine into life.
"You're only saying that because it's fun and you don't know what fun is anymore," she retorted as she snuggled his back.
"I know what fun is, freezing isn't fun," Smoker glowered.
"That's what the campfire is for," she reiterated insistently, a bit of a pout entering her voice. She probably had something else to say, but as the motorcycle engine roared to life, even Smoker's sensitive ears couldn't pick up her words. He drove down the rocky coast, Keitha insisted that the surf there was best at this time year. When it was warmer, it was too dangerous with the rocks, and though it was already November, Keitha claimed it was just shy of being too cold, but cold enough to keep away crabs or turtles. Of course Smoker pointed out that if even shelled creatures found it too cold, there had to be a reason for it, but she ignored this piece of logic. Oh well, at least when Doctor Thanes decided to make Smoker's life hell for letting Keitha give herself hypothermia, Smoker could flaunt in her face that he told her so. Too bad he doubted that would actually be worth the satisfaction. She was too damn stubborn. Once she got it into her mind that she wanted to do something not even the weather could deter her.
After this she owed him a hot shower, and letting him relax with a box of cigars and a book while she sat in his lap and did the damn paperwork. She'd initially promised it and even then it wasn't bribe enough, but losing the game meant he couldn't back out now. Hypothetically he knew he should make the most of it and try to get some sort of enjoyment out of the whole idiotic thing, but Smoker was merely convinced Keitha got some sort of sick pleasure out of the more horrible the weather was. She always did like the rain and fog. Luckily it wasn't either of those just then, just bitterly cold. Which made surfing, of all things, even more ridiculous.
The spot she had in mind wasn't too far away, the hard part was getting down from the cliffs onto the beach, however. The road ran up along the cliffs, complete with railing, just for people like Keitha who were crazy enough to want to go down there anyway. Luckily she gave him enough advance warning and seemed to know where she was going, as she guided him down a side path with her light hand on his large half-smoke leg. Smoker had to slow down and be more careful the closer they got in order to avoid dealing with the sand, which Keitha seemed to notice, fidgeting in her seat to try to get a good look at him -- no easy feat with the back of Smoker's seat in the way.
"Too much sand," Smoker grunted, not sure if she could even hear him. She seemed to though, as she nodded and pet his leg reassuringly. The green-grey haired marine rolled his eyes. He still didn't even want to be out there, so he was determined not to forgive her for it yet.
Keitha squeezed his leg when she wanted him to stop and bounded off the Billower Bike before he'd even fully finished. As he parked the motorcycle someplace safe from the waves no matter how high the tide got, he watched her run for a surf board she'd stashed up against the rocky cliff -- along with all the makings for a bonfire. Oh yes, she'd definitely been planning this one. He scowled irritably and looked up at the sky, quietly asking the heavens why he put up with her. As expected, there was no answer, but nighttime was fast approaching, and even with it looking to be a full moon, he doubted Keitha would stay in the water too long.
She wasn't the only one to think ahead either, Smoker had brought along a book to read -- a fantasy novel, not one of her crime fics. Of course with the light as dim as it was already, he'd have to set up her damn campfire, but it wouldn't be so bad, he could toast marshmallows and stay comfortable while she ran about like a wild woman. Which suited him just fine.
"Are you sure you don't want to even get your feet wet?" Keitha inquired, bounding up to him with her hair wet already. He hadn't even noticed her go for a dive yet, too focused on her collection of driftwood perhaps.
"Positive," he growled. "Isn't it freezing?" Her crimson hair was dripping and her wet suit clung in all the right places; and yet Smoker still didn't want to touch her. He'd pass on the salt water, thanks.
Keitha shrugged, "The salt water--"
Smoker cut her off, "Makes it warmer. So you said."
She grinned. "It's nice~" she taunted him.
He stubbornly shook his head and pointed a finger at her. "You're insane," he informed her bluntly, but she just laughed and bounded off back to the waves. He watched her get chest deep, laying on top of the wooden board and paddling out further. Even from the distance he could tell she was shivering. Insane.
Satisfied that she was enjoying herself as only a crazy person could, Smoker set up the fire next to the blanket and got himself a metal prong to skewer his marshmallows on. A good ten at a time, and he wasn't going to share them either. She had to toast her own. Punishment for dragging him out there in the first place. He was actually getting quite comfortable in the dark next to the fire. It was almost like being alone, and he couldn't object to the quiet of it, no marines to bug him, no city noises, just ocean and the crackling of the flames. And between the blanket and the spot he'd chosen, it wasn't actually as sandy as the beach usually was, so it was bearable if nothing else. He'd polished off about ten marshmallows and three s'mores before Keitha finally gave up on the pitch black waters and joined him on the blanket; soaking wet and teeth chattering.
"Had enough yet?" Smoker growled, not looking up from his book. Ironically it was about a woman who was secretly a seal devil fruit user. It really didn't seem fair that there could be aquatic zoan fruits out there. Her talking dolphin friend helped her in the water, but that had to be an instance of it being more of a curse than not.
"I-i-it's nice," Keitha insisted, still shivering head to toe.
"Your teeth are chattering louder than the waves," Smoker pointed out as he turned a page with a gloved hand and ate another marshmallow.
"Wi-i-ith ex-ci-i-iteme-e-ent," she lied. Really, Smoker had to wonder sometimes how she even could be a spy. She couldn't lie at all. She couldn't even bluff at poker. Maybe it was different when there were lives on the line, but he rather doubted it. At best she could try to be manipulative.
"Are your lips blue from excitement too?" he asked dryly.
"Y-y-yes," she shivered more and leaned as close to the fire as possible.
Smoker sighed and closed his book after memorizing the page number, "Have you even learned anything from this?"
She leaned close to him and kissed his lips with her blue chattering ones, probably trying to steal his warmth more than anything else. "I love surfing," she answered.
Smoker closed his eyes and kissed her back, obliging her desire for heat slightly by warming her up with a gloved hand on the back of her neck, though he shied away from the wet hair. "I'll take that as a no," he rumbled gruffly.
The redhead sighed huffily and started to undo the zipper on her wetsuit. "Isn't there something you really love that you'd brave any amount of bad situations for? Other than justice."
About to answer curtly 'no' Smoker actually blinked and paused as he thought that over. Justice of course, and beating up pirates, or was that really just part of justice? Rum, telling off people who ordered him around, his motorcycle, all right, there were quite a few things. "What is it you like about it so much?" he asked quietly. He still suspected she didn't understand how irritating it was to be dragged out into the cold so that she could enjoy an aspect of the ocean he'd never been able to try, but perhaps he wasn't understanding her enthusiasm for it either.
"Everything," she laughed, her chest heaving as she slipped out of the drenched swimwear and dove into the bad where she'd brought a warm change. He'd been wondering how she was going to switch, apparently the cold really didn't faze her. "It's a total rush, the waves crashing around you, especially in the dark when it's so dangerous." She shivered, and this time Smoker believed it really might have been with excitement. Steely grey eyes watched her and he reached out a hand under her chin to pull her in for another kiss.
"You're still insane," he informed her bluntly.
She grinned wryly at that and nibbled his lips. "Was it really so bad coming out here? I thought you liked fires." She played with his ears and shivered under the fluffy sweatshirt she tugged over a turtleneck. "Pyro," she stuck a tongue out at him accusingly.
The tall man snorted and adjusted his seat on the blanket. Truth told, the cold could barely affect him, logia devil fruit meant he hadn't even bothered zippering up, and she had to have guessed that much or she wouldn't have pushed so hard. At least, Smoker was pretty sure she wouldn't have. They were both stubborn, but she seemed to try to take him into consideration. "Could have been worse," he shrugged, "Though if you catch hypothermia or even just a cold--"
"I won't, I won't, don't worry so much," she shivered again and attempted to snuggle up against him back to back.
Smoker snorted again and opened his book back up. "See that you don't," he flicked the ash off the end of his cigars.
Keitha took Smoker's hand as he let it fall and laced it with her own tiny one. The shivering seemed to have stopped, so she must have gotten warmer from the fire. "You didn't answer my question though," she quietly reminded.
Quietly grunting in response, Smoker took his hand back to remove the glove, before covering her tiny digits with his own. "There are a few things," he admitted and ran a thumb over her knuckles.
"Like what?" she asked curiously and fidgeted as she looked for the bag of marshmallows.
He passed her his skewer with a marshmallow and stuck an extra on there for himself. "Beating up pirates," he said, back to reading his book.
"That doesn't count Taisa," she sulked and toasted the two marshmallows. She only wanted one, but she could tell he meant for her to do his dirty work. Fiend.
"Of course it does," he rested the book in his lap.
She fidgeted and apparently decided the ground wasn't comfortable enough so she moved the book to her own lap and sat in his. Or maybe she was trying to guide some of his attention back to her. "Well fine, surfing's not quite as fun as that, but it's still fun!" she argued and shifted in his lap, turning the skewer so that the marshmallows would be toasted evenly.
All she got was another noncommittal grunt in return. She looked disappointed at the lack of reaction, almost as if she considered their fighting a good thing. She probably did come to think of it. Maybe she figured it released pent up tensions, but Smoker wasn't in a bad mood anymore, even for being dragged out into the cold. At least she'd enjoyed herself. Which meant he probably shouldn't ruin her high now. He waited until she popped the marshmallow into her mouth and gave her another long kiss, stealing some of the taste of it.
It was always gratifying to know how easily she could be distracted just by his kisses. She seemed positively electrified by it, her spine going rigid against his body, and she leaned into the kiss eagerly, left breathless by the end of it. "I'm not coming out here when it snows," he growled and tapped her nose.
She rubbed the tip of her nose -- perhaps the tap had been a bit much in the cold -- but then burst out laughing quietly and ruefully shook her head. "Deal. We can make snowmen instead!"
Smoker stared at her flatly, "Lieutenant," he warned irritably.
"Kidding Taisa, just kidding." He grunted and went back to his book, resting a hand on her waist. She shivered again, either out of cold or delight this time, Smoker couldn't tell. "Well mostly." Bad weather masochist. "There's things you like other than beating up pirates," she decided.
Oh that's right, during her surfing, he forgot how she seemed incapable of sitting in silence. Perhaps it was because of her twin, or that she was a musician. "I'd go to great lengths for good rum," he acknowledged.
"And you run, and spar," she argued.
Another grunt. "It's the aquatic sports I find lacking," he pointed out and ate his marshmallow.
"What about sailing?" she frowned cutely, biting her bottom lip.
"I like sailing, but I don't exactly have to worry about swimming then, do I?" he poked her forehead.
"You fought against seastone," she pouted more.
He closed the book again, "Are you really trying to get me to go surfing?" She was crazy, but not that crazy.
Her eyes widened and she shook her head. Okay good, even she thought that was insane. "I didn't mean for you to feel left out," she hung her head and mumbled.
Damn it. Couldn't she at least stop being cute with it? He tugged her ears affectionately. He was just complaining for the sake of it, but like hell he was going to admit that out loud. "Did you enjoy yourself?" She nodded numbly, even though he still had her ear tips in his hands. "Then stop worrying. No regrets." She laughed weakly, but guiltily glanced away, cheeks red. Damn it she was hard to deal with. Even when she got her own way. "I'm here, aren't I?"
She glanced back at him, emerald eyes meeting his slate grey, only to pull away again. "Sorry I made you come," she mumbled.
Smoker snorted and pulled her chin back up to meet his gaze. "Woman, do you really think anyone could make me do something I'm dead-set against?" She opened her jaw and he popped a marshmallow inside, forcing her to chew it over first. "I'm not going to say I wanted to come out here," though he doubted she knew the real reasons at this point. "But you'll have to trust me to take care of myself. If you were too weak to say what you really wanted, that'd be your problem, not mine. Got it?"
Keitha chuckled quietly, green eyes glittering with amusement and reflecting the starlight. She nodded quietly and laced her arms around his neck. "You're such an asshole sometimes, but thanks for taking me in that case," she grinned and massaged the back of his neck.
He groaned softly and tried not to melt at the touch. Somehow in the last fifteen minutes of sitting near the campfire she'd actually been able to warm her hands up, and it was like she knew all the right muscles to touch. He rolled his neck slightly and tilted it to give her more access, though he personally felt if this was going to be his reward, it'd be better done inside. In a hot shower no less.
"How's the book?" she asked and fidgeted about to give him a proper massage since he seemed so receptive to it.
"Good," he grunted, "About a seal devil fruit user."
"Is she a pirate?" Keitha kneaded her fingers under his jacket over his tense shoulders.
Another snort of derision, "Hardly. Civilian."
"That's rare. Most devil fruit users are marines or pirates, even in stories," she reasoned and massaged the muscles harder.
Smoker let out a small moan through clenched teeth over his cigars and grudgingly took his jacket off and put it over her to keep her warm.
Saucer-like green eyes blinked, astonished at the action, but she grinned, determined not to waste it and went back to her task at hand. At least she'd gotten better at the whole thing. Or maybe she was just less inhibited outside. He'd have to keep that in mind.
"It's more about her dealing with the curse and meeting fishmen and sky islanders," Smoker explained.
"Sounds like chick-lit," Keitha stuck her tongue out teasingly. He was about to object, but she continued on. "What's a sky islander?"
"Someone who comes from a sky island," he explained.
"A what?" the skepticism in her tone was palpable.
"You've never heard of sky islands?" Smoker turned his neck to arch an eyebrow at her.
She shook her head, but eyes glittered with excitement, "Do they have pegasi?"
"There's no such thing as pegasus," Smoker pinched the bridge between his brows.
"Yeah-huh!" she stubbornly insisted.
"I have no idea, go to one and find out," he rolled his eyes, going back to lying down and reading his book.
"I will," she declared, perching on his back though still working on the muscles.
"Send me a postcard," he answered drolly.
"I'll send you a pegasus egg," she put on a few more marshmallows to toast.
"I'm pretty sure they give birth like horses," he turned a page.
He could hear the fiendish grin in her voice, "So you admit they're real."
"I meant if," he scowled.
She folded her legs on his chest, bundling up under his jacket no doubt, "Too late, you said it."
Smoker rolled his eyes. "Where would I keep a pegasus?"
"On the rooftops and then you could fly her out to see me when she's all grown," Keitha informed him as she accidentally burned the marshmallows.
"Why a 'she'? He could be a stallion," Smoker took off the burnt part of the marshmallow to get at the gooeyness underneath and squish it in a s'more before handing it back to her.
"No, all pegasus are mares," she told him in between bites.
"Well, since they aren't real, I'll take you word on it," he rolled his eyes.
"They are real! I'll prove it to you someday," she huffed.
"Mm-hm," Smoker lured her closer with a gesture of his fingers and shut her up with a kiss. He could get used to that actually. If only he'd known how easy it was ages ago, he could have saved himself a lot of headaches.
When they finally broke, she laughed softly and ruefully shook her head. "I guess I'm trying too hard."
Smoker blinked in surprise at the brutal honesty of that confession, "Oh?"
She fidgeted, unable to finish the thought, even though she'd impulsively started it.
Thinking it over, Smoker grunted to himself as he debated what advice to tell her. "You know how you say I'm either too wound up or I'm so relaxed I'm practically comatose?"
She nodded, she'd said it quite a bit actually.
"You're always three cups of coffee ahead of everyone else. Which is probably why you're an unholy terror when you've had some," he grimaced.
Laughing softly, Keitha shook her head ruefully. She was about to speak again, but Smoker silenced her with another kiss.
"Relax a little. It's okay to breathe, you're not going anywhere," Smoker lightly shoved her head and took his jacket back.
She laughed some more and kissed him again breathlessly. "Surf's up and so am I," she mumbled. As she got a blank stare in return, she added in explanation, "Song lyrics."
Smoker nodded in understanding and got up to put out the dying fire and pack things up to go back to the base. "You really like being outdoors, huh?"
Keitha nodded, her red hair bobbing in and out of his vision like a flare. "Don't you?"
He snorted quietly and shrugged, "It has its good points I guess." Even if most of them right then happened to be in the opportunity to stretch his legs and present company.
"Beats doing paperwork," she made a face at him.
"And here I thought you liked it, little masochist," he smirked teasingly.
She huffed and folded her arms under her chest as she put the still damp wetsuit in a sealed bag to bring back to the base, "No, I'm just good at it."
"At least someone is," he grumbled and started off walking the Billower Bike to get it off the sand before he was willing to start it up for real.
"You could be with a little practice and training," she insisted earnestly, tagging along like a little kid.
"I'd rather eat sawdust," growled Smoker.
An evil smirk. "That could be arranged too, you have some strange tastes sometimes Taisa."
"Clearly, since I'm dating you."
Keitha blinked, opened her mouth to object, furrowed her brow, and mulled the whole thing over some more. Even without the words, her expressions were a dead giveaway. Smoker could practically hear her gears turning. They were dating was it? Not just sex? Well obviously, this whole thing had been a date in her own way. Probably part of the reason Smoker had been so resistant to it. That and he still suspected she was going to get sick and the Doctor would blame him for it. She started to say something and stopped all over again. Finally, done with trying to figure out the nature of their relationship of whatever kind it was, she clearly went back to focusing on a witty retort.
"Only because you realized having blond bimbos call you Pimp Daddy and sneaking out on Fridays would get too expensive," she floundered, clearly too flustered to put up a good answer.
Smoker grinned in amusement, and that seemed to fluster her even more. "They charge every time they say the name you know. It adds up fast."
She beamed, clearly glad that he was amused, and even more thrilled that he was still playing along. "It could be worse, they could charge by the cigar."
Smoker waved a hand, still walking the bike a little further, though not because of sand at this point. "I charge by the cigar. A man has to supplement his measly marine pay after all."
"Ah yes, that explains how you can afford so many cigars in the first place," Keitha nodded her head sagely.
"That and my roaring side trade as a champion rummy master on weekends," he continued.
Keitha made a face, "Rummy? You'll wind up even more old before your time at this rate. Next you'll start on the hard stuff like Bridge and all your hair will fall out."
"It's okay," Smoker smirked smugly. "I play it strip style to keep it exciting and youthful."
Making a small "O" with her mouth, Keitha feigned shock. "You whore! This is going in my report to HQ." She folded her arms across her chest pretending to be huffy. Then she got a devious grin, "Unless you play with me of course."
Smoker rubbed his chin, "Gee, I usually try not to give into the demands of blackmailers."
"Am I not young enough?" she stuck her tongue out.
"Too young," he stuck his tongue out right back. "I only play with old people, after all, Rummy is just one step away from retirement and mahjong."
The red-head bit her cheek to keep from laughing. "I'll wear a wig to sneak into your nursing home."
"Bring booze," Smoker nodded. "But not Monkey Balls, they're bad for dentures."
She made another face, "They're bad for everything."
Smoker laughed and climbed on the motorcycle, offering Keitha help getting the bags on. She shivered at the laugh, blinked at the offered hand, and while it was hard to tell in the dark, Smoker was quite certain she blushed a little. Hm, chivalry was super-effective on her then. Another thing to note. "One of these days I should drag your brother out for drinks."
She was almost comically stunned by this offer, just holding onto Smoker's hand hand and blinking in surprise before giving one of her rare innocent smiles; the kind that completely melted Smoker's heart and she would never know. "Ah really?"
Her own heart hammered, remembering Aiden's last letter. Would Smoker resent that he gave aid to someone who then became a pirate? He certainly wouldn't want to have drinks with him then... It was such a nice thing and yet...
The older marine nodded, "Why wouldn't I?" he arched an eyebrow, slightly suspicious.
Keitha plastered on her best innocuous face. "No reason. If you think you could handle him, that is."
Smoker's eyes narrowed and he put the helmet on her head, as he lit up a fresh pair of cigars. "Of course I can."
"Think Taisa, it'd be like two of me. But worse," she informed him from behind the face shield.
"No, it'd just be him. We'd make you do something else so that we could commiserate over how crazy you are," he told her and revved up the engine.
"You're evil," she mockingly insisted.
"Yeah, I know, I'm fine with that," he smirked and started up the Billower Bike to go back to the fort.
Keitha wasn't sure how to take it. Pleased by the offer, sad that it could never happen. Oh well, no regrets, wasn't that Smoker's offer? It was a nice thought nonetheless and she decided to treasure it for all it was worth.
"Surf's up and so am I," she thought quietly to herself.
Chapter: 39 Surf's Up
Rating: PG-13 (and boring, really.)
Disclaimer: One Piece is Oda's, (because I wouldn't kill Ace har har har) and Surf's Up is Jim Steinman's.
Forenote: Wrote most of this without being able to read. Seriously. Like pure instinct and limited one-word-at-a-time-ness. So if it sucks, it's to be expected :P
Keitha had to leave for another two weeks and by the time she returned it'd already started to get cold. Winter was approaching, even as close to the Grand Line as they were. Still, this wasn't enough to deter her from deciding one bored night that she wanted to go surfing. And of course make Smoker take her.
"You're kidding, right?" Smoker stared at her. "That ocean is going to be frigid. And I'm not helping you give yourself hypothermia while I stay on the shore."
"The salt makes the ocean warmer! Come on!" She begged, "It'll be fun! We can set on a bonfire and toast marshmallows."
Smoker decided that she'd gone insane after all and as such she should be ignored at all costs. Of course, being insane, Keitha refused to be ignored and pulled every trick she could think of. "No," Smoker growled, and buried himself behind the newspaper before holding up a hand and ticking down fingers. "One, I can't swim. Two I like to be to dry. Three I don't like the cold."
"That's why the bonfire--" Keitha tried to interrupt, but Smoker over-rode her as easily as if he was on his motorcycle.
"Four, I'm not helping you get sick, five, I don't find any part of this idea as romantic as you seem to think it is, in the crazy red-head brain of yours," Smoker drank his coffee. "Read a book," he suggested.
"I want to surf," Keitha sulked.
Smoker ignored her. She pet his ears seductively. He ignored her more, sipped his coffee, and growled, "Too bad."
Keitha sulked and flopped onto his couch, sulking even more, "Card game?" she begged suddenly getting an idea.
Already spotting her plan Smoker arched an eyebrow, "And when I win?"
"I'll stop bugging you, and do whatever you want," Keitha beamed.
Smoker sighed, but decided it had to be better than listening to her go on and on indefinitely. So far they'd played a half dozen more times and he'd won all but one and the one they tied on. Still, even with the near perfect odds, Smoker didn't like the idea of even gambling a chance that he would be stuck sitting in the foggy cold. "You know you're insane for wanting to be out in this weather, right?" he scowled darkly.
Keitha shrugged and nodded, "I've been surfing in worse. I have a warm suit, it's fine. Besides I hear some of the more badass pirates do it through the Calm Belt even with all the seakings."
That elicited a twitch from the grumpy marine. "Like who?" he scowled in disbelief, as he moved the stack of rocks to under the table.
A shrug, "The badass ones."
"How descriptive," Smoker sarcastically growled as Keitha begin dealing out card hands for them both.
"I know," she smirked, eyes glittering with amusement, "I should be a writer."
He snorted and decided to ignore her in favor of the cards instead. Finally as the hand finished Smoker spoke up, "Are we playing to the usual 500?"
Keitha titled her head, red hair hanging down. "Would you really want it longer? The longer it is, the colder it'll get," she teased.
"Don't care," Smoker growled. "Because there's no way in hell I'm going out there whatever the temperature."
Which just meant that the 20 minutes later when he was stuck putting the helmet on her head as she purred happily and packed a picnic basket all the more irritating. He wondered idly if she purposely lost all their other card games, choosing instead to only win when something was on the line. It seemed like something she would do. Devious witch. "This is stupid," he growled furiously and revved the engine into life.
"You're only saying that because it's fun and you don't know what fun is anymore," she retorted as she snuggled his back.
"I know what fun is, freezing isn't fun," Smoker glowered.
"That's what the campfire is for," she reiterated insistently, a bit of a pout entering her voice. She probably had something else to say, but as the motorcycle engine roared to life, even Smoker's sensitive ears couldn't pick up her words. He drove down the rocky coast, Keitha insisted that the surf there was best at this time year. When it was warmer, it was too dangerous with the rocks, and though it was already November, Keitha claimed it was just shy of being too cold, but cold enough to keep away crabs or turtles. Of course Smoker pointed out that if even shelled creatures found it too cold, there had to be a reason for it, but she ignored this piece of logic. Oh well, at least when Doctor Thanes decided to make Smoker's life hell for letting Keitha give herself hypothermia, Smoker could flaunt in her face that he told her so. Too bad he doubted that would actually be worth the satisfaction. She was too damn stubborn. Once she got it into her mind that she wanted to do something not even the weather could deter her.
After this she owed him a hot shower, and letting him relax with a box of cigars and a book while she sat in his lap and did the damn paperwork. She'd initially promised it and even then it wasn't bribe enough, but losing the game meant he couldn't back out now. Hypothetically he knew he should make the most of it and try to get some sort of enjoyment out of the whole idiotic thing, but Smoker was merely convinced Keitha got some sort of sick pleasure out of the more horrible the weather was. She always did like the rain and fog. Luckily it wasn't either of those just then, just bitterly cold. Which made surfing, of all things, even more ridiculous.
The spot she had in mind wasn't too far away, the hard part was getting down from the cliffs onto the beach, however. The road ran up along the cliffs, complete with railing, just for people like Keitha who were crazy enough to want to go down there anyway. Luckily she gave him enough advance warning and seemed to know where she was going, as she guided him down a side path with her light hand on his large half-smoke leg. Smoker had to slow down and be more careful the closer they got in order to avoid dealing with the sand, which Keitha seemed to notice, fidgeting in her seat to try to get a good look at him -- no easy feat with the back of Smoker's seat in the way.
"Too much sand," Smoker grunted, not sure if she could even hear him. She seemed to though, as she nodded and pet his leg reassuringly. The green-grey haired marine rolled his eyes. He still didn't even want to be out there, so he was determined not to forgive her for it yet.
Keitha squeezed his leg when she wanted him to stop and bounded off the Billower Bike before he'd even fully finished. As he parked the motorcycle someplace safe from the waves no matter how high the tide got, he watched her run for a surf board she'd stashed up against the rocky cliff -- along with all the makings for a bonfire. Oh yes, she'd definitely been planning this one. He scowled irritably and looked up at the sky, quietly asking the heavens why he put up with her. As expected, there was no answer, but nighttime was fast approaching, and even with it looking to be a full moon, he doubted Keitha would stay in the water too long.
She wasn't the only one to think ahead either, Smoker had brought along a book to read -- a fantasy novel, not one of her crime fics. Of course with the light as dim as it was already, he'd have to set up her damn campfire, but it wouldn't be so bad, he could toast marshmallows and stay comfortable while she ran about like a wild woman. Which suited him just fine.
"Are you sure you don't want to even get your feet wet?" Keitha inquired, bounding up to him with her hair wet already. He hadn't even noticed her go for a dive yet, too focused on her collection of driftwood perhaps.
"Positive," he growled. "Isn't it freezing?" Her crimson hair was dripping and her wet suit clung in all the right places; and yet Smoker still didn't want to touch her. He'd pass on the salt water, thanks.
Keitha shrugged, "The salt water--"
Smoker cut her off, "Makes it warmer. So you said."
She grinned. "It's nice~" she taunted him.
He stubbornly shook his head and pointed a finger at her. "You're insane," he informed her bluntly, but she just laughed and bounded off back to the waves. He watched her get chest deep, laying on top of the wooden board and paddling out further. Even from the distance he could tell she was shivering. Insane.
Satisfied that she was enjoying herself as only a crazy person could, Smoker set up the fire next to the blanket and got himself a metal prong to skewer his marshmallows on. A good ten at a time, and he wasn't going to share them either. She had to toast her own. Punishment for dragging him out there in the first place. He was actually getting quite comfortable in the dark next to the fire. It was almost like being alone, and he couldn't object to the quiet of it, no marines to bug him, no city noises, just ocean and the crackling of the flames. And between the blanket and the spot he'd chosen, it wasn't actually as sandy as the beach usually was, so it was bearable if nothing else. He'd polished off about ten marshmallows and three s'mores before Keitha finally gave up on the pitch black waters and joined him on the blanket; soaking wet and teeth chattering.
"Had enough yet?" Smoker growled, not looking up from his book. Ironically it was about a woman who was secretly a seal devil fruit user. It really didn't seem fair that there could be aquatic zoan fruits out there. Her talking dolphin friend helped her in the water, but that had to be an instance of it being more of a curse than not.
"I-i-it's nice," Keitha insisted, still shivering head to toe.
"Your teeth are chattering louder than the waves," Smoker pointed out as he turned a page with a gloved hand and ate another marshmallow.
"Wi-i-ith ex-ci-i-iteme-e-ent," she lied. Really, Smoker had to wonder sometimes how she even could be a spy. She couldn't lie at all. She couldn't even bluff at poker. Maybe it was different when there were lives on the line, but he rather doubted it. At best she could try to be manipulative.
"Are your lips blue from excitement too?" he asked dryly.
"Y-y-yes," she shivered more and leaned as close to the fire as possible.
Smoker sighed and closed his book after memorizing the page number, "Have you even learned anything from this?"
She leaned close to him and kissed his lips with her blue chattering ones, probably trying to steal his warmth more than anything else. "I love surfing," she answered.
Smoker closed his eyes and kissed her back, obliging her desire for heat slightly by warming her up with a gloved hand on the back of her neck, though he shied away from the wet hair. "I'll take that as a no," he rumbled gruffly.
The redhead sighed huffily and started to undo the zipper on her wetsuit. "Isn't there something you really love that you'd brave any amount of bad situations for? Other than justice."
About to answer curtly 'no' Smoker actually blinked and paused as he thought that over. Justice of course, and beating up pirates, or was that really just part of justice? Rum, telling off people who ordered him around, his motorcycle, all right, there were quite a few things. "What is it you like about it so much?" he asked quietly. He still suspected she didn't understand how irritating it was to be dragged out into the cold so that she could enjoy an aspect of the ocean he'd never been able to try, but perhaps he wasn't understanding her enthusiasm for it either.
"Everything," she laughed, her chest heaving as she slipped out of the drenched swimwear and dove into the bad where she'd brought a warm change. He'd been wondering how she was going to switch, apparently the cold really didn't faze her. "It's a total rush, the waves crashing around you, especially in the dark when it's so dangerous." She shivered, and this time Smoker believed it really might have been with excitement. Steely grey eyes watched her and he reached out a hand under her chin to pull her in for another kiss.
"You're still insane," he informed her bluntly.
She grinned wryly at that and nibbled his lips. "Was it really so bad coming out here? I thought you liked fires." She played with his ears and shivered under the fluffy sweatshirt she tugged over a turtleneck. "Pyro," she stuck a tongue out at him accusingly.
The tall man snorted and adjusted his seat on the blanket. Truth told, the cold could barely affect him, logia devil fruit meant he hadn't even bothered zippering up, and she had to have guessed that much or she wouldn't have pushed so hard. At least, Smoker was pretty sure she wouldn't have. They were both stubborn, but she seemed to try to take him into consideration. "Could have been worse," he shrugged, "Though if you catch hypothermia or even just a cold--"
"I won't, I won't, don't worry so much," she shivered again and attempted to snuggle up against him back to back.
Smoker snorted again and opened his book back up. "See that you don't," he flicked the ash off the end of his cigars.
Keitha took Smoker's hand as he let it fall and laced it with her own tiny one. The shivering seemed to have stopped, so she must have gotten warmer from the fire. "You didn't answer my question though," she quietly reminded.
Quietly grunting in response, Smoker took his hand back to remove the glove, before covering her tiny digits with his own. "There are a few things," he admitted and ran a thumb over her knuckles.
"Like what?" she asked curiously and fidgeted as she looked for the bag of marshmallows.
He passed her his skewer with a marshmallow and stuck an extra on there for himself. "Beating up pirates," he said, back to reading his book.
"That doesn't count Taisa," she sulked and toasted the two marshmallows. She only wanted one, but she could tell he meant for her to do his dirty work. Fiend.
"Of course it does," he rested the book in his lap.
She fidgeted and apparently decided the ground wasn't comfortable enough so she moved the book to her own lap and sat in his. Or maybe she was trying to guide some of his attention back to her. "Well fine, surfing's not quite as fun as that, but it's still fun!" she argued and shifted in his lap, turning the skewer so that the marshmallows would be toasted evenly.
All she got was another noncommittal grunt in return. She looked disappointed at the lack of reaction, almost as if she considered their fighting a good thing. She probably did come to think of it. Maybe she figured it released pent up tensions, but Smoker wasn't in a bad mood anymore, even for being dragged out into the cold. At least she'd enjoyed herself. Which meant he probably shouldn't ruin her high now. He waited until she popped the marshmallow into her mouth and gave her another long kiss, stealing some of the taste of it.
It was always gratifying to know how easily she could be distracted just by his kisses. She seemed positively electrified by it, her spine going rigid against his body, and she leaned into the kiss eagerly, left breathless by the end of it. "I'm not coming out here when it snows," he growled and tapped her nose.
She rubbed the tip of her nose -- perhaps the tap had been a bit much in the cold -- but then burst out laughing quietly and ruefully shook her head. "Deal. We can make snowmen instead!"
Smoker stared at her flatly, "Lieutenant," he warned irritably.
"Kidding Taisa, just kidding." He grunted and went back to his book, resting a hand on her waist. She shivered again, either out of cold or delight this time, Smoker couldn't tell. "Well mostly." Bad weather masochist. "There's things you like other than beating up pirates," she decided.
Oh that's right, during her surfing, he forgot how she seemed incapable of sitting in silence. Perhaps it was because of her twin, or that she was a musician. "I'd go to great lengths for good rum," he acknowledged.
"And you run, and spar," she argued.
Another grunt. "It's the aquatic sports I find lacking," he pointed out and ate his marshmallow.
"What about sailing?" she frowned cutely, biting her bottom lip.
"I like sailing, but I don't exactly have to worry about swimming then, do I?" he poked her forehead.
"You fought against seastone," she pouted more.
He closed the book again, "Are you really trying to get me to go surfing?" She was crazy, but not that crazy.
Her eyes widened and she shook her head. Okay good, even she thought that was insane. "I didn't mean for you to feel left out," she hung her head and mumbled.
Damn it. Couldn't she at least stop being cute with it? He tugged her ears affectionately. He was just complaining for the sake of it, but like hell he was going to admit that out loud. "Did you enjoy yourself?" She nodded numbly, even though he still had her ear tips in his hands. "Then stop worrying. No regrets." She laughed weakly, but guiltily glanced away, cheeks red. Damn it she was hard to deal with. Even when she got her own way. "I'm here, aren't I?"
She glanced back at him, emerald eyes meeting his slate grey, only to pull away again. "Sorry I made you come," she mumbled.
Smoker snorted and pulled her chin back up to meet his gaze. "Woman, do you really think anyone could make me do something I'm dead-set against?" She opened her jaw and he popped a marshmallow inside, forcing her to chew it over first. "I'm not going to say I wanted to come out here," though he doubted she knew the real reasons at this point. "But you'll have to trust me to take care of myself. If you were too weak to say what you really wanted, that'd be your problem, not mine. Got it?"
Keitha chuckled quietly, green eyes glittering with amusement and reflecting the starlight. She nodded quietly and laced her arms around his neck. "You're such an asshole sometimes, but thanks for taking me in that case," she grinned and massaged the back of his neck.
He groaned softly and tried not to melt at the touch. Somehow in the last fifteen minutes of sitting near the campfire she'd actually been able to warm her hands up, and it was like she knew all the right muscles to touch. He rolled his neck slightly and tilted it to give her more access, though he personally felt if this was going to be his reward, it'd be better done inside. In a hot shower no less.
"How's the book?" she asked and fidgeted about to give him a proper massage since he seemed so receptive to it.
"Good," he grunted, "About a seal devil fruit user."
"Is she a pirate?" Keitha kneaded her fingers under his jacket over his tense shoulders.
Another snort of derision, "Hardly. Civilian."
"That's rare. Most devil fruit users are marines or pirates, even in stories," she reasoned and massaged the muscles harder.
Smoker let out a small moan through clenched teeth over his cigars and grudgingly took his jacket off and put it over her to keep her warm.
Saucer-like green eyes blinked, astonished at the action, but she grinned, determined not to waste it and went back to her task at hand. At least she'd gotten better at the whole thing. Or maybe she was just less inhibited outside. He'd have to keep that in mind.
"It's more about her dealing with the curse and meeting fishmen and sky islanders," Smoker explained.
"Sounds like chick-lit," Keitha stuck her tongue out teasingly. He was about to object, but she continued on. "What's a sky islander?"
"Someone who comes from a sky island," he explained.
"A what?" the skepticism in her tone was palpable.
"You've never heard of sky islands?" Smoker turned his neck to arch an eyebrow at her.
She shook her head, but eyes glittered with excitement, "Do they have pegasi?"
"There's no such thing as pegasus," Smoker pinched the bridge between his brows.
"Yeah-huh!" she stubbornly insisted.
"I have no idea, go to one and find out," he rolled his eyes, going back to lying down and reading his book.
"I will," she declared, perching on his back though still working on the muscles.
"Send me a postcard," he answered drolly.
"I'll send you a pegasus egg," she put on a few more marshmallows to toast.
"I'm pretty sure they give birth like horses," he turned a page.
He could hear the fiendish grin in her voice, "So you admit they're real."
"I meant if," he scowled.
She folded her legs on his chest, bundling up under his jacket no doubt, "Too late, you said it."
Smoker rolled his eyes. "Where would I keep a pegasus?"
"On the rooftops and then you could fly her out to see me when she's all grown," Keitha informed him as she accidentally burned the marshmallows.
"Why a 'she'? He could be a stallion," Smoker took off the burnt part of the marshmallow to get at the gooeyness underneath and squish it in a s'more before handing it back to her.
"No, all pegasus are mares," she told him in between bites.
"Well, since they aren't real, I'll take you word on it," he rolled his eyes.
"They are real! I'll prove it to you someday," she huffed.
"Mm-hm," Smoker lured her closer with a gesture of his fingers and shut her up with a kiss. He could get used to that actually. If only he'd known how easy it was ages ago, he could have saved himself a lot of headaches.
When they finally broke, she laughed softly and ruefully shook her head. "I guess I'm trying too hard."
Smoker blinked in surprise at the brutal honesty of that confession, "Oh?"
She fidgeted, unable to finish the thought, even though she'd impulsively started it.
Thinking it over, Smoker grunted to himself as he debated what advice to tell her. "You know how you say I'm either too wound up or I'm so relaxed I'm practically comatose?"
She nodded, she'd said it quite a bit actually.
"You're always three cups of coffee ahead of everyone else. Which is probably why you're an unholy terror when you've had some," he grimaced.
Laughing softly, Keitha shook her head ruefully. She was about to speak again, but Smoker silenced her with another kiss.
"Relax a little. It's okay to breathe, you're not going anywhere," Smoker lightly shoved her head and took his jacket back.
She laughed some more and kissed him again breathlessly. "Surf's up and so am I," she mumbled. As she got a blank stare in return, she added in explanation, "Song lyrics."
Smoker nodded in understanding and got up to put out the dying fire and pack things up to go back to the base. "You really like being outdoors, huh?"
Keitha nodded, her red hair bobbing in and out of his vision like a flare. "Don't you?"
He snorted quietly and shrugged, "It has its good points I guess." Even if most of them right then happened to be in the opportunity to stretch his legs and present company.
"Beats doing paperwork," she made a face at him.
"And here I thought you liked it, little masochist," he smirked teasingly.
She huffed and folded her arms under her chest as she put the still damp wetsuit in a sealed bag to bring back to the base, "No, I'm just good at it."
"At least someone is," he grumbled and started off walking the Billower Bike to get it off the sand before he was willing to start it up for real.
"You could be with a little practice and training," she insisted earnestly, tagging along like a little kid.
"I'd rather eat sawdust," growled Smoker.
An evil smirk. "That could be arranged too, you have some strange tastes sometimes Taisa."
"Clearly, since I'm dating you."
Keitha blinked, opened her mouth to object, furrowed her brow, and mulled the whole thing over some more. Even without the words, her expressions were a dead giveaway. Smoker could practically hear her gears turning. They were dating was it? Not just sex? Well obviously, this whole thing had been a date in her own way. Probably part of the reason Smoker had been so resistant to it. That and he still suspected she was going to get sick and the Doctor would blame him for it. She started to say something and stopped all over again. Finally, done with trying to figure out the nature of their relationship of whatever kind it was, she clearly went back to focusing on a witty retort.
"Only because you realized having blond bimbos call you Pimp Daddy and sneaking out on Fridays would get too expensive," she floundered, clearly too flustered to put up a good answer.
Smoker grinned in amusement, and that seemed to fluster her even more. "They charge every time they say the name you know. It adds up fast."
She beamed, clearly glad that he was amused, and even more thrilled that he was still playing along. "It could be worse, they could charge by the cigar."
Smoker waved a hand, still walking the bike a little further, though not because of sand at this point. "I charge by the cigar. A man has to supplement his measly marine pay after all."
"Ah yes, that explains how you can afford so many cigars in the first place," Keitha nodded her head sagely.
"That and my roaring side trade as a champion rummy master on weekends," he continued.
Keitha made a face, "Rummy? You'll wind up even more old before your time at this rate. Next you'll start on the hard stuff like Bridge and all your hair will fall out."
"It's okay," Smoker smirked smugly. "I play it strip style to keep it exciting and youthful."
Making a small "O" with her mouth, Keitha feigned shock. "You whore! This is going in my report to HQ." She folded her arms across her chest pretending to be huffy. Then she got a devious grin, "Unless you play with me of course."
Smoker rubbed his chin, "Gee, I usually try not to give into the demands of blackmailers."
"Am I not young enough?" she stuck her tongue out.
"Too young," he stuck his tongue out right back. "I only play with old people, after all, Rummy is just one step away from retirement and mahjong."
The red-head bit her cheek to keep from laughing. "I'll wear a wig to sneak into your nursing home."
"Bring booze," Smoker nodded. "But not Monkey Balls, they're bad for dentures."
She made another face, "They're bad for everything."
Smoker laughed and climbed on the motorcycle, offering Keitha help getting the bags on. She shivered at the laugh, blinked at the offered hand, and while it was hard to tell in the dark, Smoker was quite certain she blushed a little. Hm, chivalry was super-effective on her then. Another thing to note. "One of these days I should drag your brother out for drinks."
She was almost comically stunned by this offer, just holding onto Smoker's hand hand and blinking in surprise before giving one of her rare innocent smiles; the kind that completely melted Smoker's heart and she would never know. "Ah really?"
Her own heart hammered, remembering Aiden's last letter. Would Smoker resent that he gave aid to someone who then became a pirate? He certainly wouldn't want to have drinks with him then... It was such a nice thing and yet...
The older marine nodded, "Why wouldn't I?" he arched an eyebrow, slightly suspicious.
Keitha plastered on her best innocuous face. "No reason. If you think you could handle him, that is."
Smoker's eyes narrowed and he put the helmet on her head, as he lit up a fresh pair of cigars. "Of course I can."
"Think Taisa, it'd be like two of me. But worse," she informed him from behind the face shield.
"No, it'd just be him. We'd make you do something else so that we could commiserate over how crazy you are," he told her and revved up the engine.
"You're evil," she mockingly insisted.
"Yeah, I know, I'm fine with that," he smirked and started up the Billower Bike to go back to the fort.
Keitha wasn't sure how to take it. Pleased by the offer, sad that it could never happen. Oh well, no regrets, wasn't that Smoker's offer? It was a nice thought nonetheless and she decided to treasure it for all it was worth.
"Surf's up and so am I," she thought quietly to herself.