After a huge win against one of the four emperors, nearly every member of the Whitebeard Pirates celebrating on the deck. with hearty laughs and filled kegs, it’d be hard for anybody to shy away from a celebration like this. Pirates screaming sea chanties at the top of their lungs with arms over shoulders and feet marching around in circles—it was certainly a heartwarming scene.

Ace watched as you sauntered away from his side at the ship’s rails and towards Marco. He had called you over for a dance, and you just couldn’t say no with your head swimming and body feeling so light.

His hands gliding down your upper torso to your hips with a firmness, yours hands limp on his shoulders as you leaned into him, and if you were in your right mind, it’d be too close. His lips were suddenly inches from your ear, mumbling about slowing down on the alcohol, but you just laughed at that, just like you did at everything else he said; he couldn’t have been that funny. You tried to match his steps as he twirled you around with ease, only for you to come stumbling back into him without much grace, and his hands came back on your hips, a stronger hold than he had the first time.

A spark of jealousy rose through Ace’s spine and burned his chest, but you were having fun, and he’d never put his feelings above your happiness.

When Marco walked you back to Ace’s side, all smiles and giggles, your mind went to the last few sips of your drink. Curse your depth perception: you reached for your cup and spilled the drink on your shirt. Your late reaction made you bump into Ace and knock whatever empty and abandoned cups were on the rail onto yourself.

“Okay,” Ace’s sweet voice called you away from trying to bend down and pick up your cup, his hand holding onto your elbow to keep you from falling. “I think you’ve had enough for tonight.”