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chillin-at-partys-bar · 3 months

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A Red Hair Pirate Birthday Celebration

{Written for all of us Aquarius folks out there. I know there are a few of you here, @sovereigntism (birthday twin~~~), @ladyxamalthea, and anyone else who finds themselves celebrating!

Title: A Red Hair Pirate Birthday Celebration About: A short one-shot featuring a second-person perspective of my HC birthday tradition for the Red Hair Pirates. Characters: you, all of the RHP, mostly Lucky Roux, Shanks, and Benn - others mentioned. Word Count: 1960 Content warnings: Heavy use of alcohol Summary:

The rules are simple. You have one shot of alcohol for every year of life plus one to grow on. They must all be drunk by the time the sun rises in the morning. If not, there's a punishment. The birthday person does not have to drink them all themselves. They merely have to convince enough pirates that their friendship is worth more than their embarrassment. For you, Shanks has a very fitting punishment that has piqued the interest of a few of the other crew.

The man behind the bar that's set up between two palm trees on the the ship gives you a grin that's both exciting and a little bit terrifying. He's lining up shot glasses - one, two, three, five, seven, nine, fifteen, thirty- and some change. He's not taking his eyes off of you. "You said about this, right? That's the number?"

All you can do is nod, yep- that's about it. That's about how many years you've got so far. The man, as round as he is tall, lifts up the peach flavored rice liquor that you mentioned you enjoyed. "And you said this is what you like?"

"Yeah."

You watch as that wide grin never leaves his face and he opens one bottle, pouring it into each shot glass. When that one is done he tosses it and pulls out another. He fills ten more glasses with it. When it's drained he lifts up another. And then another. The last bottle is only out of half of its contents before the last shot glass is filled. Lucky Roux takes the rest for himself as though the bottle itself were a shot glass.

"Now," he says as he tosses the bottle into the barrel serving as a recycling bin. You find yourself a little surprised at the conscious effort of the pirate to not only clean up after himself but also to preserve the planet. He notices your gaze and finishes his thought with a different one. "We don't want broken glass on deck. Hongo's orders."

That makes sense to you.

Satisfied with his own explanation he continues what he was saying before. "Now, the rules are simple." He places his hands on the bar, shoulder-width apart as his goggle-covered eyes bore into you. You're a little scared, but more excited. "By the time the sun comes up tomorrow," he gestures to the sun as it's setting, the sky a blast of pinks and oranges and blues, "all of these drinks need to be gone. All of them. All thirty-plus. We've got one here for each year of your life. Plus one to grow on, you know, for luck."

You look at the clear liquid in each one of them. All of them? You've had maybe two bottles during a night before, but that was with food. And you still remember throwing up most of it later and the headache that came in that darkened room you shared with a friend. They didn't skimp on the quality either, the normal, cheap kind you get clocks in at about 15% alcohol content. You saw the bottle for these. They were over twice that, at 32% at least. If you drank this much in one night, you're pretty sure you'd die. Or pass out before you got through half.

"I have to drink... over thirty shots... by morning?"

Lucky Roux laughs. And you fail to see what's so funny as you think about this birthday being your last due to alcohol poisoning. "Ah, but that's where the fun is." You can see the excitement bubbling and you wondered why the Hell you let it slip to Red-Haired Shanks that it was your birthday. "I said they need to be gone. Not that you needed to drink them." His grin got wider though you didn't know that was possible. "Anyone on this ship can take a shot for you. Just ask. Many will. We all like to drink. Play your cards right and you can get through tonight without taking a single shot yourself. But where's the fun in that?"

Actually, you see in Roux's posture as he straightens and thinks about it - that could be a fun challenge. But it wasn't going to be for today.

Any thoughts on the matter he shakes off and looks back at you. "And they have to be drunk, you can't just dump the drinks out. If we catch you doing that - not that you would - it's an extra ten shots. And your punishment is going to be much worse than if you just accepted your loss."

"Punishment?!" You glance side-long at the setting sun and find yourself very aware of the ticking time. Sunrise was your deadline, and you find yourself thanking your parents for getting busy in spring. At least a winter night offers more time than a summer.

"Don't worry, especially for someone like you it's not gonna be too bad." He laughs. "The Captain picked it. It involves letting us read those little stories you wrote about us."

Suddenly your throat catches and you think to all the sindays you've written. Been a part of. How many times you wrote with Shanks and Benn and others of them in the buff. You remember the imagined trauma you wrote for them, enjoying their suffering. And you look back to the table in front of you with a new determination.

No one here is going to read any of that. Absolutely not.

He must have seen the way your face drained of all color. The way your cheeks burned. The way the fear encompassed you. It's not that you're scared they'd react negatively towards your writing. It's more... how fucking embarrassing.

And the look on his face tells you that he savors that fear. It was almost sadistic, the way he drank up your anxieties. But in the next moment, the grin went from sadistic to... surprisingly gentle. "Have fun with it. You'll do fine. Though I am interested in what you've written about me."

Goggles are over his eyes but you can still see him wink as he picks up a shot glass and gestures to you. You pick one up yourself. Lucky straightens, raising the glass above his head as his voice amplifies over the large deck to the cheering, partying pirates below. "AHOY!"

"AHOY!" Everyone shouts in response.

"This here is a day of celebration! Thirty-some years ago, a friend was born! And because of that, I raise my glass! Do you wish to join me?"

"AYE!" The entire ship seems to rumble under the weight of their cry. Or maybe that's the Captain's doing as he sits on a barrel, one leg crossed over, one hanging down, a full saucer of clear liquid in his hand. Beside him is the vice captain with one arm over his stomach, and one hand holding a mug of what looks to be an ale. They both are smiling. Both have crinkles in the corners of their eyes.

"Then share this, the first drink of the night! And be sure to lend your aid to our friend through their challenge!" Suddenly he's raising the shot glass to you. "Happy Birthday!"

"Happy Birthday!" Pirates who clearly had not only just started drinking chorused. Following that, some of the pirates began a very lyrically and melodically creative version of Happy Birthday as your attention went back to Lucky Roux.

He holds out his glass for you. "Cheers." You tap your glass on his and you both take the shot. You place it back on the table and move to the next one. You run through four shots and start to feel it.

And you realize you're going to need help.

"Captain Shanks." You walk down the stairs to where he is, holding onto the railing for dear life as you feel those shots working to take you out more than you thought they would. "Wanna take some drinks for me?"

But he just offers you a grin that you've seen in threads and never realized how annoying it could be in real life when your dignity was on the line. "I want to read what you've written, friend."

"We're not friends, pal." You say. He throws his head back and laughs and you turn to the vice captain. "You wanna help?"

He sets his mug down on another barrel and nods and you find yourself thinking that God must look like a silver fox of a pirate. "Aye. I can help."

"Beck! What?! Mutiny!"

"How many shots do you need me to take?"

You count on your hands but the math is fuzzy. "Twenty-seven?"

"I'll take five of them for you."

And he moves up the stairs, to the bar, throwing five of them back like they were water before he returns, resuming his work on his own mug of ale. "Good luck with the rest."

The rest of the night sees you going through the throngs of pirates as they laugh and cheer you on. The conversations follow a similar pattern to your one with the Chief and the Vice Captain. Yasopp refuses for the same reason that Shanks cited, wanting to read what you've written about them. Hongo and Limejuice both agree to take three each. Six down. How many did that leave you? Sixteen?

It was so doable. It felt so doable. There were so many pirates. You just started heading into the crowd with shots in your hands and handing them to people. You gave one to Bonk Punch and another to Building Snake. Gab refused and Monster is a monkey so you felt perhaps you shouldn't offer him alcohol.

By the time the moon was directly above you, you had only five shots left. Enough to take on your own but you find yourself almost sad that it was this easy. Maybe because the pirates were being nice to you they accepted the drinks without much convincing.

You return to the bar and see one left. You approach Lucky who's got some meat on bone in his hand. "I thought I had five?" You say.

"Some of the crew came by and wanted to help you out. You're done and it ain't even barely tomorrow yet. Good job! Want to take the last one?"

You look to it and then look to him and then out to the party below. It was still going, drinks were flowing, everyone was a little flushed but no one showed signs of slowing down.

"Lucky," you start. You have his attention. "You said if a shot is poured out, it's an extra ten?"

He knew what you were doing immediately and the grin just stretched across his face. "That's what I said."

You drink some of that last shot, so as to not waste too much and then dump out the last third.

"Oops."

His laughter stretches over the ship as he pulls out another bottle of your chosen drink and lines up ten shots. "I like your style."

Over the course of the second half of the night, you speak to shipwrights and musicians, amateur marksmen and women, you speak to fishmen and humans and even animals. The magic of the challenge has worked on you, you realize. It's more than a silly game the pirates play. Through the night you had spoken to just about everyone on that crew. You laughed and drank and partied in a way you never thought you would.

You had kept yourself ten shots deep until you realized the sky was getting lighter.

You have one more shot to take.

You hesitate a moment, as the stars begin to shimmer out of sight. Would it truly be so bad for the Red Hair Pirates to read your latest writing on them?

"Hey, you need to drink that now or you're gonna have to show us that smut!"

Oh yeah.

Yeah it would be so bad.

You take that last shot as the sun breaks over the horizon. The crowd cheers. Shanks cusses but his false anger melts into laughter. You've won.

You're a year older.

You'll never forget this night.

But most importantly....

The Red Hair Pirates will never read your thirst posts about them.

Whew.

#{my stuff}#((i was going to just write up a post about this but then I felt like this would be more fun #so here enjoy a little mini fic about these pirates celebrating a birthday #((if it's your birthday #happy birthday!!!))#because why not))#op fanfic #op fanfiction #one piece fanfic #one piece fanfiction #((The drink is a peach soju because that's what I like loool))

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