Chapter Text
The lack of sleep is killing you. You find that each night the hours seem to get shorter – your eyes shut, but your body doesn’t rest. Your dreams wake you up and you spend the morning trying to convince yourself that they’re only the mind’s way of showing you what you lack in the waking life. You know this, but you don’t plan to act on it.
At first the dreams come as wisps of memories. You see yourself with him – Portgas D. Ace. The day you met him aboard Whitebeard’s ship for the first time; the two of you smile at one another. And even the time he says goodbye to you after the Captain sends you away to the 16th division. Even though you don’t see the mannerly young man very much since then, you see him plenty enough in your dreams. But only in more intimate settings. Talk is usually rare, but the sex is plenty.
You are not sure why you have these dreams. Never have you thought of Ace in such a way – a comrade maybe, but never as a lover. He’s always been so kind to you, making you feel included whenever you feel left out. So why then do you wake every morning with his name on your breath and a wetness between your legs? It irritates you, but you do confess, the end result is nice. And it’s not like you plan to tell him. Your dreams are harmless, so why not enjoy them while you can.
The next morning, you wake with a content sigh. Your lower body hums in the aftermath of your release, and as you pull yourself from the confines of your duvet, you swear that your head feels faint.
The sky is still dark outside the porthole in your room, but you can see the waves curling across the ocean. You laugh irritably at this, knowing that you are the first one awake. The rest of the crew is due up at any time, so you decide to bathe and get a head start on chores. The lewd meaning behind your dreams of Ace will have to wait for another time.
After you have a bath, the rest of the crew is awake. You finish up the first of your chores; swabbing the deck. It’s already wiped down, considering you did it yesterday morning after the rough night of bad weather finally broke.
Rumor has it that the Commander is meeting with important allies, so the ship has to be in perfect shape.
You are in the galley, helping the cook when a cabin boy fetches you. He informs you that the Commander needs to speak with you; he’s on the deck. You thank him for passing along the message, and return upstairs. Izo is waiting for you, staring out at the open sea.
“Commander.” You formally bow to him, but Izo quickly dismisses it.
He gives you a gentle smile, and returns to his sightseeing. “[Y/N], did you sleep well?”
“More or less,” you admit. You decide not to mention the dream, not because you don’t trust your commander, but because he will tease you about it; your attraction to Ace is obvious to some of your crew. You quickly change the subject before he notices your odd behavior. “We’re moving already?”
“Pops called a summit meeting. All of the commanders were asked to attend,” he tells you.
You hum in eagerness. It’s been several years since the last meeting; nothing too serious. Pops likes to have them every few years to discuss matters you assume have to deal with territories and such. The truth is you don’t care, but you’d like to see Marco and Thatch again. Ace will be there too, but you don’t plan to speak much to him unless he speaks to you.
“When are we expected to arrive?”
Izo gives you a coy smile. His painted lips open to bear his white teeth. “Someone is excited. Is it because of the 2nd commander? I know you’ve been dying to see Ace for some time now.”
You snort in annoyance. “Not at all. I hope to not see him this entire trip, actually.”
“That’s a shame,” Izo purrs. “I know he’ll be eager to see you. The sexual tension between you two is rather cute.”
A genuine scowl appears on your face. You’re in no mood to deal with his teasing this morning, especially after the explicit dream you woke up with. It’s embarrassing to admit, but you generally enjoyed it. The sudden thought brings a pleasant tingle to your body; goose pimples litter your skin. You lace your arms beneath your chest and play like nothing is wrong.
“If I may ask, sir? Did you need me for something?”
Izo chuckles quietly and places his hand on your shoulder. “Relax. I’m only teasing.” His expression then becomes rather somber as he looks at you. “But, there was one thing I wanted to ask you.”
You fear how grave the question is, but you urge him on anyway, nodding your head.
“When are you and Ace going to do the deed?”
Annoyance flashes through you. Rolling your eyes you have every intention of returning back to the galley, but the hand on your shoulder stops you.
He again laughs. “Last time; promise. I won’t annoy you, but I want you to come aboard the Moby Dick with me. There’s going to be a huge feast, and … I may have bet Vista some belly that you can beat his no spin record in knife throwing.”
“Why put that kind of pressure on me, sir?”
Izo smiles. “Because I have no doubt you will beat him, and who knows, you might hit it off with Ace while you’re at it.”
“Don’t count on the latter,” you snort in annoyance. A gentle sigh leaves you. “But I will win that bet.”
And yeah … maybe you will hit it off with Ace; hopefully anyway.