Pirate Professors

The gun barrel was well-oiled, black iron feeding back into a maple stock. One of the newer models that could handle the pointed bullets rather than the rounded shot his own weapon took. Ben took in all of the gun's details before he finally ran his eyes over the rough hands holding it steadily pointed at his chest and then up to look the other pirate in the face. Lifeless eyes, flat and pale and gray like the late autumn sky overhead, met his own. They held no spirit, only the promise of death. Ben raised both hands slowly above his head and waited for whatever was to come next. Shanks was running late and it looked like this particular play was going to continue whether the captain was there to perform his part or not.

He gave fond farewells and private best wishes for the drive home and pressed the squirmy younger boy into his seatbelt and handed off a game of magnetic travel checkers to the older boy (he'd learned and he could only hope that the tiny plastic and magnetized game pieces wouldn't hurt TOO much when they bounced off the unfortunate woman's head) and waved until the station wagon disappeared around the corner all by himself. This aspect of his life was one he'd never imagined, had considered it briefly and written it off as something that would be a nuisance and a wear on his patience. But having it thrust unexpectedly and unavoidably upon him, he found the notion of family to be something to embrace, to hold on to and never let go. The visit, as hard as it had been in some regards, had been wonderful but it hadn't been quite enough.

Swallowing back a sigh, Ben turned to go back into his apartment, eyes tracking over to the third window from the left. The curtains were drawn and he had no way of knowing if his partner had watched him send Makino and the boys off. Shanks was civil most of the time, able to interact with the world again even if he didn't throw himself into it with his old exuberance, but he still wasn't smiling. The dark cloak of depression he'd wrapped around himself in the aftermath of his heroics was still about his shoulders, heavy and confining. Ben had hoped getting to see Luffy and Ace, the two boys not hesitant for even a second about getting up to their usual mischief with their 'uncle,' would have brought Shanks forth from his shell but it hadn't been enough. The history professor was at the end of his list of ideas, only one last and unlikely thing to try.

It took effort to smile but he tried, calling cheerfully out to the unmoving man curled up with a book at the end of their sofa. Shanks didn't bother with more than a grunt and Ben left him in silence to go examine the damage two hyperactive elementary schoolers had inflicted on their bedroom.

Sitting on the edge of Shanks' messy and unmade futon, Ben watched as the younger man rummaged through his closet. The grinning redhead held up yet another, albeit more subdued than his earlier selections, brightly patterned shirt. It was too much for the history professor to bear and he gave in to the urge he'd been fighting for the last ten minutes and smacked his palm against his forehead.

"Shanks, you just CAN'T go before the review board like that. You can not. Well, certainly you can, but I should say that your odds of attracting a position at the school will take a sharp nosedive no matter how brilliant your thesis defense might be. Don't you have anything that's a little more, that is to say, professional? Professorial even?"