patience.

“This is stupid.”

Draped over the rowboat dramatically, one would’ve thought that Carlisle had just been informed of a deceased relative, but no, this grievance was something far greater. There was no familial emergency and business was doing well. So what could possibly be ailing him? It was an incurable plague, one that bore the name Boredomus bacterium. He had both discovered and diagnosed it himself just mere moments ago. It was epidemic, it was contagious, and it was spreading rapidly—

“You insisted on tagging along,” came the gruff reply of his company. He’s immune.

That was not how the preceding events had transpired. Carlisle remembers it much differently. He was tired of being cooped up in the Admiral’s stuffy office at headquarters and had asked but a simple request: to go out, to have fun. Almost like a date, something that normal people did. Apparently, this “normal” concept did not register for this military mutt. His idea of a good time was rowing out to a lake, baiting a line, and sitting. Sitting for hours, just to maybe catch a fish or two.

What a boring hobby for an equally as boring man.

Carlisle rises from his soggy grave to look out onto the lake. This was nothing like the swampy bogs back home. The water surface was clear and pristine, the body cushioned by flora that bore beautiful blueish buds in the shape of bells. Perfect, Sakazuki can bury those with him after he has fully succumbed to Boredomus and perished. What a waste of such beautiful scenery. A better use of their time would have been shedding all their clothes and taking a dip, but Sakazuki had made a grimace at that suggestion. Some dogs really don’t like baths.

“Be honest, did you take me out here to drown me and hide the body?”

“I might, if you keep talking.”

Carlisle jerks upwards, briefly rocking the boat. “You’re horrible at this, I want to leave.”

“Then leave,” the marine snorts, gesturing to the water surrounding them on all sides. “Just walk on water.”

Haha, very funny. He crosses his arms as he plops back down, pursing his lips. What a rude little man. He should be basking in his presence, putting those hands to good use by servicing him. Instead, he remains gripping his pole tight, his gaze having not left the line since they arrived. Not once did he spare a glance in Carlisle’s direction.

Resigned to his defeat — to a bunch of brainless gilled creatures no less — Carlisle manages to refrain from any more verbal complaints. He follows suit, resting his chin on his hand and peering out to where the bait disappeared into the water. Maybe if he just sat through this hellish test of patience, there’d be a reward for his efforts. A nice, rough massage. The thought is enough to satiate him, and Sakazuki finally gets the peace and quiet he was waiting for.

They stay like that for another forty-five minutes, with only the occasional sigh or yawn from the broker, indicating he was indeed still here and terribly under-stimulated. This really was divine punishment for pursuing an old man with an even older heart. He is in the middle of blowing a stray strand of his hair out of his face when Sakazuki stirs. Carlisle perks up at this, finally abandoning his armrest.

It’s only when the rod bends violently that his interest is piqued, and he’s at full attention now as he leans over the side of the boat. “You got something?”

Sakazuki grunts. “Don’t lean in too close.”

Too bad for him, Carlisle never listened to orders from someone else. Instead, as if to prove a point, he pushes more of his body over the edge. He wants a better look at this fish that’s wrestling with Mr. Muscle next to him. It’s big, that’s for sure, but the boat’s violent movements could have told him just as much. If Sakazuki was struggling, he wasn’t showing it, reeling it in with practiced ease. Finally, some excitement.

When the fish breaks the surface, splashing him in all its vain flailing, Carlisle gasps. “Wow that’s huge—”

He did not see it coming.

The fish snapped out of the water and into his face, where his mouth was agape, leaving behind a resounding wet smack. In its haste, it’s released from the hook and makes off with the bait.

Perhaps more noticeable was the booming wheezes coming from the man beside him, as he erupted into… was that laughter? He clutched his stomach as he eased back, heartily expressing joy at what he had just bore witness to.

Stunned, Carlisle runs a gloved hand over his face, lips pressed into a firm line. “Okay, it wasn’t that funny.”

This just made it worse. Sakazuki pounds his fist on the rim of the boat, trying but failing to muffle the sounds entirely. He lets him get it all out, watching as the barking laughter slowly becomes a faint chuckle. His shoulders were still shaking when he was finished.

“You let the fish go,” Carlisle finally observes, disappointed but not shocked at this revelation. It was his reaction, full of genuine mirth, that still stuck out of the ordinary with him.

Sakazuki swipes a finger under his eye. “I had to. That… That was justice.”

Haha, very funny. Carlisle turns away from the other man, trying to get himself under control. He felt light-headed, and he wasn’t so sure if it was due to the fish incident. It didn’t hit him that hard. But no, something had seized his chest, and he felt sick to his stomach like he would throw up, but in a good way. Must have been his stupid, disgusting laughter. Who would have guessed the guy had a sense of humor?

There’s a hand on his shoulder, amusement in his tone. “Oh no, are you mad at me?” 

He isn’t budging. Unfortunately, he should have learned by now that this wouldn’t deter a man of Sakazuki’s strength. Not only does he pivot Carlisle around to face him but he also captures his lips with his own, surprising him for the second time today. 

Delayed as his brain was, he reciprocates almost immediately, instinctively, trapping him between his arms. Long lashes flutter as he bats his eyelids shut, adjusting his position to climb into his lap. This isn’t their first kiss, not by a long shot, but it feels different somehow. There’s no suffocating intensity, and there isn’t any anger or show of dominance. No rough bruising or clashing of tongues and teeth. That gross stomach churning he had been feeling had evaporated, leaving behind something lighter and airy.

He wants to chase this good feeling, so he plans on deepening the kiss. Just as he slackens his jaw, Sakazuki’s mouth twists into a smile, and he breaks the kiss to laugh again. In a poor attempt to mask it, he tries to stifle the laughter into the crook of Carlisle’s shoulder, tickling the skin there. This inadvertently has him wriggling in the marine’s grasp, giggles escaping his lips.

“Stop that you oaf!” He weakly pushes at the other’s head, halfheartedly trying to pry him off.

“You smell like fish.”

“Okama can only dream of serving these levels of fish queen,” he turns his nose up, a scoff, before he asks a bit more quietly, “Is it really that bad?”

His laughter has dwindled down to barely stifled chuckles. “No, I like it.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’d rather smell like you.”

He pulls his oversized mutt down by the collar of his suit to steal another kiss and isn’t met with any resistance. 

No bait necessary to hook him in.