#rsc2

It was no secret that Blue Coral Cookie had found himself a sweetheart back on land. He practically wouldn't shut up about them- and for the most part the crew didn't mock him save when he really started to act like a lovesick puppy… but to be fair, the sailor had partially played into the joke.

What they would mock Blue Coral Cookie for was the fact that in his excitement he would slip on a wet patch of pavement and slam his back right into the ground, his legs slipping wide in the air. He swears he saw his ass during the fall but no one would ever believe him.

Luckily for him, he was far from the docks when that happened and the only witnesses were random passerby he'd hopefully never have to see again.

Still, Blue Coral Cookie couldn't quite fully walk off the limp. Maybe his legs had swung too wide open when he fell to the ground, unceremoniously sprawled at his sides in the sort of position one would deem at least a little vulgar- the sides of his foot ached. There was no way they slammed into the pavement, he refused to believe he was that flexible.

Thankfully the rest of the walk to his place was uneventful as long as he ignored the ache and the heaviness of thick mud clinging to the back of his jacket. It could be washed and salvaged unlike his ego. Which is why it was incredibly important to him that he made sure you didn't see the absolute mess he's made of himself- which was easier said than done when he opened the door to your shared home and caught you right in the middle of cleaning.

Before the sailor even had the chance to slip off his jacket and tightly bundle it to hide the stain- which in hindsight he should have done before he even stepped in in the first place- you were already closing the distance, the rag you were using the clean the table almost instantly ditched. Stained, you must have spilled something. He wasn't quick witted enough to think of something to say before your hands landed heavy on his shoulders and Witches your fingers were so close to brushing much just barely hidden out of sight.

"I thought you were going to be gone for at least another day or two, how come you're home early?"

Thank Gods you haven't noticed. He could still save this.

Blue Coral Cookie's jaw shifted around. The feel of the hair that he managed to grow out (which honestly wasn't all that much despite what he might say) caught against the inner material of his high collared coat. What he wouldn't give to just rip the entire thing off and sprint off to the wash room. He missed you. Of course he did, and he's tried to convince you to join the crew at least once. Serious attempts morphing into light hearted jokes as it became more and more clear that you weren't quite built for life on the sea… not that you weren't any good, it's just-

"We got lucky, clear skies and we kept on course," He finally responded after a somewhat drawn out stretch of awkward silence. Maybe the high collar of his coat didn't cover as much of his face as he thought, or maybe there was something in his tone that tipped you off that something was off. Because you made a face back at him- not a bad one. Just… confused. The way your brows knitted together made the back of his neck warm up. "What? Would you rather I come back late and sopping wet? You wound-"

"What's that in your hair?" You cut him off before he could even pull a pout across his face. A second later your hand left his shoulder and hooked onto one of the blue curls on his head. "Did you sleep weird or something? It looks like you didn't bother trying to fluff your hair, were you really that eager to see me?" The purse of your lips stretched into a smile.

Crisis averted.

That is until your face scrunched right back up and you drew your fingers away from him.

Mud.

Blue Coral Cookie's stomach dropped to the floor. He'd been too focused on the fact that his jacket was a total mess that it slipped his mind that he was more than likely dirtied elsewhere. His hair, his hat… he most definitely had mud on his boots but at least that one made sense.

"Ah, well-"

The hand you kept on his shoulder gripped tight, and before he could even protest he was spun around on his heels to turn his back towards you. Clearly, you weren't expecting to see his entire backside caked up in dark mud. The half gasp half chuckle made that more than clear.

"Oh you're kidding me-" You snickered as you pinched the back of his coat carefully between his fingers. "Don't tell me you busted your ass on your way here,"

His ears felt hot. He was grateful they were drowned in the mess he called hair.

"Did you arch your back when it happened?" You teased as you pinched the mostly clean portion in the middle of his coat… still dirty, but the layer wasn't as thick as what was smashed to his behind and shoulders. The back of your knuckle ran across his spine, swiping some of the muck off. "…You're not hurting, right?" Softer this time.

Blue Coral Cookie stammered for a moment as you continued on.

"It's been raining a bit the past day or two," You mumbled as you slid back to stand in front of him- and without any complaints from him you hook your fingers around the buttons. "It wasn't raining while you were walking, was it?"

The first button was pulled open, and the second followed shortly after. Blue Coral Cookie's throat bobbed slightly. He really did expect you to at least lean into the teasing. He'd given you more than his fair share of jests when you did something a little stupid.

Maybe it was the potential injury that silenced any lingering comments you haven't said, or perhaps haven't even thought of.

"…I wanted to get home to you quick,"

Blue Coral Cookie felt so silly saying it. He never hid his yearning for you. Sure, it was usually wrapped in his love language- being a general annoyance. Lingering close to you in your personal bubble, swapping out his usual endearments for you for something cheeky or simply calling you his honey in a sickeningly sweet tone. Lightly pinching your cheeks, maybe even puling them to make that weird sloppy wet sound. Things like that.

It made him feel a bit like an ass when he thought about whether or not he'd cut the shit if you were in his shoes. Because he couldn't say for sure if he would. Not out of malice. Never out of malice.

Your fingers stilled to a stop, the thick and somewhat stiff material of his coat held in your fingers. The stare you gave him was soft but fleeting, it only lasted for a second, maybe two seconds; before you pushed his coat back. Blue Coral Cookie shifted his arms to make it easier for you to drag the thing off of his shoulders, revealing the light gray top he sported underneath- faint stains where his sweat seeped through still lingered, another piece of proof that he really did rush home as quick as he could.

The coat is folded so that the mud doesn't stain your own shirt, and you steal a second glance up at his face.

"I'll go draw you a bath so you can wash yourself off," It's quiet. But you don't sound as conflicted as you did a second ago, and Blue Coral Cookie pounced on the chance to kill off the tension in the air.

"…You're not going to help me clean? I think I might need a hand or two in case I trip into the tub!" His grin was lopsided and toothy, the gap in the front on full display.

You make another face- scrunched like you just bit into something really sour. "You probably have swamp ass."

But despite the scent of sweat and earth clinging onto him and mixing in with his natural salty smell, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. "You really ought to shave soon too… feels like I kissed a kiwi." Your tongue flicked through your teeth with a grimace.

A gasp from the sailor.

"Well I think it looks amazing!"

"Mhm… whatever keeps your ego afloat," You snickered.

You turn on your heel, and he was just about to follow behind you before you suddenly spun back around, an accusing finger pointed right at him before slipping down to his-

Oh so his shoes were absolutely caked in mud and grass. They looked at least twice as thick as they actually were.

"Take. those. off. I just finished mopping the floor an hour ago."

And he did, because even if you returned his grin the worried knot remained firmly settled between your eyebrows. He didn't make too much of a fuss as you drew the water- where he normally would go on about how the water needed to be just right (when in reality he wasn't all that picky, he just loved having the extra time with you), he took what you gave him the first time. He didn't make much of a comment either when you watched and made sure he managed to climb into the tub without falling… maybe his joke had stroked some anxiety in your gut. Blue Coral Cookie mentally slapped himself for that one.

"When was the last time you let me wash your hair?" You mumbled as he leaned his head back against the edge of the tub as you worked your fingers through his dampened hair to work the dried pieces of mud and dirt out, torn and crushed blades of grass floating lazily in the water. He did not at all miss the way your fingers carefully spread the locks apart and checked the crunchy dough of his head. He didn't feel any cracks, and you didn't make a fuss. Once you were fully satisfied you doused him.

He could go for a haircut as well as a shave.

"Too long," He sighed as your fingers rolled gently through his hair. Intentional or not your fingers working in his scalp did wonders for the dull ache in his head. "Maybe I should fall on my ass more often if it means getting some special treatment,"

His bangs were slipped back and lathered with the rest of his hair. "I'd wash it without you making yourself look like an idiot,"

Blue Coral Cookie cracked his dull yellow eyes open. "Hey! No one saw!"

That was a lie and you both knew it.

He was about to make another remark to defend himself, to back up his statement; he could only muster a pout as you pressed a kiss to his temple. "At least your idiocy makes you charming,"

"Damn right it does." He huffed.

…This was nice.

"You think my ass left a mark in the mud?"

Your mouth stretched into a tight line.