Gerald had a day. A short fic!
Hi! I wrote a small companion piece about Doctor Gerald :D It's a day in his life as the Arlong Park doctor, you don't need to have read any other parts of my ongoing fanfic, you can just enjoy a day with the fishman pirates :D
Word Count : 1500 Content warning : very low, mentions of sound sensitivity, alcohol, bandaging wounds and sex.
Tell me what you think or read it on AO3
Gerald woke up grumpy. There didn't seem to be a reason today. No one was banging on the door of the infirmary. No musician to practice under the window. And no one cooking that heinous spice he hated.
No, today just seemed to be bad for no reason. He checked the time. 11 am. Lunch wouldn't be ready for another hour. He could get tea if he went to the kitchen now. He shook his head, his thigh curls moving around him, messy again. He couldn't deal with the kitchen noise this early. Maybe he should get Biri to bring him tea here... Every day. Would that be too much?
Instead he turned on the kettle to make some hot water with lemon.
Gerald struggled with mornings (that's why he skipped most of them). His body took a long time to wake up, his joints and legs were stiff and his noise sensitivity was always the worst during those times. He felt old. He sighed, remaking the bed he'd slept in. Arlong had all but begged him to take one of the rooms if he couldn't sleep in the barracks, but he liked it here. He'd spent most of his life in an infirmary, having this clean and silent one was his version of a cosy bedroom.
After the warm infusion and some good stretching, he felt a bit more ready to go into the world.
And not a second too soon. Someone knocked on the door.
"Come in," he said, sitting in one of the chairs in the main room. The main room was the infirmary itself, a door to the right led to his office.
"Hi, Doc," a dark blue-skinned fishman answered.
Tachi looked sheepish but wore his usual toothy smile. He showed him cut on his thigh. Pretty deep once again, Gerald sighed.
"Maybe wear longer shorts next time," he grumbled as he got his station ready. Then he said, clearer towards the corridor, "Tarao, you can come and sit here while you wait."
"No," a sharp voice answered, "I'm not here to coddle him."
"He is," Tachi whispered, never losing his smile.
Gerald always found it hard not to join in Tachi's mirth. He made him sit on a bed and inspected the cut to his thigh.
"It's deep but too thin to be a sword. What did you do this time?" As he spoke, he began to clean the wound.
"Right Tachi, tell him. Make us laugh," sneered Tarao, who had silently moved close to them.
"'Ro you're making it sound..." But before he could finish, his man caught his collar and growled.
"The cook told him not to fuck around with all the freshly sharpened knives. Especially the fish ones cause, you know, Hatchan sharpened even the points of those."
"Hey! I was careful. And the blades were clean."
Well that would explain such a precise cut and how it penetrated flesh that easily. But the two fishmen kept going on, apparently Pyke had taken that as a challenge and this seemed to have turned into some sort of competition. He couldn't imagine Biri was happy about this.
"-fucking played cowboys and-"
"Okay, all bandaged up. Please take your flirtatious bickering somewhere else."
"Our-?" Tarao choked on the words, his cold blue skin turning an interesting purple. Gerald couldn't say he didn't find enjoyment in making him blush. First, his whole shoulders, neck and face turned bright and it was just an interesting painting with all his tattoos and scars. Second, it was so easy.
"Okay, 'Ro, let's not bother the doctor longer. Thanks Doc, need anything?"
"If you're heading back to the kitchen, get me some coffee."
The men were off, Tarao trying to rein in his mate, now openly trying to touch him in very inappropriate ways. By the Seas. But not long after, Biri walked in with a platter full of his favourite breakfast food.
"Did you know Hachi kept a list of food you specifically like, Doc?" the human asked, a knowing smile on that tan pointed face, "I thought he had one for everyone but not as detailed as yours. I've added it to my own notes."
He thanked her, and her fellow cook. Hatchan was the type to do so. These two had become very complementary partners in that kitchen. Sometimes he wished Biri wasn't trying so hard to fit in. That she'd still have some anger somewhere. Nami had that, even if they all trusted her by now. Seemed healthy.
"Well Hatchan knows how to keep people happy," he told her.
"Should I add to his paper "breakfast delivery"?"
Gerald grumbled something about being too nice.
He spent the rest of the morning going through the crew's files. Yearly exams were almost here and he had to make sure he had all the supplies he needed. It was almost three when he went up to the hall to have some lunch. What was nice about being the last one to show up for lunch was that is was a quieter time. Damn, he really had timed most of his days around that, hadn't he?
"Gerald," Take called for him, "here."
"Quite late to find you here," he said in a hoarse voice.
"There was an incident in the kitchen, I stayed to clean up."
"Yeah, I've heard about that." They chuckled together. "No Captain? He's usually here at this time."
Lunch were also rare moments when you could have a proper and calm conversation with their captain. That was something nice to look forward to, a sober Arlong. Not always rested, Gods knew he struggled to sleep. And refused to do anything about it.
"Nah, he went for a nap."
"He'll end up glued in that chair one day."
"Oh no, he's upstairs." There was something in Take's voice Gerald couldn't exactly place.
Take kept him company while he finished eating and invited him for coffee under the porch. They talked about sending Biri to the Hospital Island to get their supply in a couple of weeks. It would mean having to see all the doctors or healers in the territory to find out what was needed in each of their villages. They couldn't have humans dropping dead from a cough or spreading illnesses.
"Wouldn't be good for business," Arlong used to say. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, Gerald had another agenda. He just couldn't let them die. Not of sickness, wounds or childbirth at least. At the hands of his brothers, for the proper crime, he had no qualm with dead humans then.
The afternoon passed in a comfortable routine. Just a couple of little ouchies (except for Armel who had managed to suck algae in his gills ) and already the sun was setting. There was no birthday or parties planned tonight yet his brothers and sisters found something to celebrate anyway.
The Arlong Pirates got instruments and dials out, more booze and dessert than needed for the crew and made good on their reputation. Candles were lit, darts were shot and shots were drank. The Doc reclined in his chair, watching, listening, his sensitivity finally under control. This was what made life worth living. All the people he held dear laughing and dancing around him.
Arlong popped an arm around his shoulder, "Sha ha ha Doc! Come with us now! This isn't going to drink itself!"
"I trust you'll manage!" he smiled back but followed anyway. He took a drink, and a fourth, before someone, Shioyaki probably, handed him a tankard of water. Whatever they were drinking, consciousness was already fraying at the edges. Some of his brothers had chosen garden chairs to lay down and play cards or chat calmly. Not the officers. Kuroobi, Hatchan and Arlong were all still going. It was fine, he laughed, his heart singing.
Whenever Kuroobi drank this much, something relaxed in the rest of the crew. Kisses were exchanged in the pool, more than chaste kisses, men disappeared inside to reappear not long after, their clothes backwards, to enjoy a midnight swim. If you weren't careful, you might even get a free show. Or maybe if you were careful? Gerald couldn't say.
Biri came to sit next to him as the night dragged on.
"Shouldn't you be in bed?" he asked, teasing. She was up at six. Seven thirty on a good day.
"Mmh, aren't I?" Her words slurred together. She was high as a kite. Gerald fluffed her short hair affectionately.
"I thought Chew never shared."
"He does sometimes. Plus I bake for him."
Gerald nodded. "Not a bad trade. Waiting for Take?" The fishman was still going from group to group, drinking and smoking, making sure anyone still up was having a good time. If she was intending to spend the night with him, she was going to be patient.
"Would be nice if he carried me to my room, my legs gave up," the cook giggled before launching into a proper fit of laughter. Given the love bites the doctor just noticed on her, he supposed the joke was funny. Maybe it was the season. Spring or something.
"You're all too old for that," he laughed in turn. But then again, wasn't that just another joy of a good pirate life?
Gerald sighed, lying down in the grass. A wonderful life under the Sun.
