WBM Earthquakes

"Pops."

"Yes, Marco?"

"I was just saying your name."

Whitebeard exhaled with measure, opening one gently closed eye just enough to survey the small creature nestled between his arm and chest. Both of the first division commander's eyes showed every sign of alertness, staring up at the ceiling with unusual wideness. A vague smile played across his lips making his overall expression a strange mix of contentment and anticipation.

The Strongest Man in the World let yet another deep breath escape through his nose as he allowed his general weariness to bring both lids down again. Such were the challenges of having a lover with markedly less years and markedly more energy. On nights like this Marco could lay awake for hours 'just saying his name' at random intervals. The best strategy by far that Whitebeard had discovered was to man up and tire him out with idle conversation. The main problem with this course of action, however, was finding the power to decline sleep's invitation.

The massive brow furrowed in deep concentration. With a final grand sigh, Whitebeard opened up heavily-lidded eyes and focused on the petite form resting just beneath his gaze.

"Marco..."

"Yes, Daddy?" The eager but nonetheless gentle response earned a soft stroke of the chest with a massive finger that lingered on one tiny shoulder.

"Whatever are you thinking of, my dear?"

The smile blossomed into a radiant beam that was quickly hidden in a tight embrace of the finger, prompting the cession of the entire hand to the mercy of the unrelinquishing arms.

A muffled "It's nothing," made its way around the lax fingers and up to their drowsy owner. Whitebeard's thin brows lifted in loving exasperation as he attempted with little success to uncover his partner's face.

"Nothing? Clearly it must be something, my sweet, if it is keeping you awake so late."

Where Whitebeard's digits had failed, the tanned hands that were mere fractions of their size managed to part the giant fingers and uncover the cached countenance.

"Pops."

"Hm?"

"Have you ever thought about what it would be like if we were the same size?"

"What?"

A small fit of shyness involving mild flailing of limbs and much concealing of the face followed in response. Whitebeard couldn't help but smile through his weariness as he waited for the wiggling to abate and give way to a verbal reply.

Above considerably rosy cheeks, the Phoenix's gaze softened impossibly to form his infamous 'bedroom eyes' expression.

"You know, Pops..." He pet the nearest finger gently. "Like if you were small like me."

"Gurarara!" Whitebeard let his hand slip around Marco's relaxed form and pulled him close. "How funny..." he murmured, breath ruffling Marco's hair. "I was imagining you at my height instead."

"Don't be ridiculous, Pops." The first division commander managed to extract enough of his torso to fix his captain with an excellent attempt at his 'serious face', but failed to completely banish the humor from his features. "My way is much more plausible. You were actually close to my size at one point in your life."

"Yes! Before your conception was even conceived!"

"And besides, I'd just look stupid if I were your size."

"Stupid? Hardly! A bit on the thin side, perhaps, but-"

"Shush!" Marco squawked condemningly as the previously docile fingers turned deviant, tickling, teasing, and tormenting in any way they could.

"Gurarararara!" By the time the affectionate melee was over, Marco had been removed from his nook and relocated to Whitebeard's now more rapidly rising and falling chest. "Mmm..."

For the second time that night, Whitebeard's fabled strength was put to the test in his battle with sleep, heavy lids drooping as he attempted to read his tiny mate for any signs of a similar inclination. But it appeared he had not yet reached the core of Marco's hyperness. An open, unwavering gaze was waiting to meet his bleary one when at last his eyes overcame the gravity of fatigue.

He lifted a finger to rub a thoughtful line down Marco's spine, preparing to make a second attempt, but was spared the trouble by an intently spoken "Pops."

"My love."

A slight squirm brought Marco into the range befitting conspiratorial whispers.

"What if our powers were swapped?"

"Oh goodness-" the first division commander, eyes sparkling, lunged forward to curtail the complaint with a face-embrace.

"You would be such a huge phoenix, Dad! Just huge! And with a mustache!"

"What?" Excited wiggles brought some warble into the interrogative.

"It would be so amazing! I bet you wouldn't like flying though..."

Whitebeard narrowed his eyes suspiciously, effectively communicating enough of his thoughts in the distrustful glance to elicit further explanation.

"Because you're no fun!" The Phoenix avoided a classic Newgate glower by fondly wrestling his father's nose just long enough for Whitebeard to deem his attempt to admonish futile.

"But you would make fantastic earthquakes, I'm sure," sighed the earth-shaker with more than a little mocking in his tone. "Comes with being so blasted fun, I imagine."

"Mmmm!"

Sarcasm shifted to surprise as a kiss-attack was suddenly launched upon the many wrinkles at the corner of his deeply set eyes to the fight song of a purr.

"Yup."

Assault finished, Marco flopped over his massive partner's facial features with a satisfied smile. He pat the equally creased forehead. "You're exactly right, Pops. How astute."

"Bah!" Whitebeard lifted the small belligerent abruptly, hoping to incite some flailing, but only eliciting flopped but resolutely crossed arms. Defeated, he returned the Phoenix to his perch.

"Don't be jealous, Daddy. It's so attractive."

"Hmph!"

Marco was forced to find purchase on an ear as Whitebeard turned his head to the side in faux contempt.

"But I don't even need your power to make earthquakes, Daddy."

"Hmp."

Marco began to caress the ear that had saved him from an untimely meeting with the bed, pulling himself up to balance on his jawline, legs dangling over the stubborn scowl.

"I'm just that fun."

"What nonsense is this now?" Whitebeard cut skeptical eyes up to his slyly smiling partner.

"I'll show you."

The calculating gaze continued to follow the first division commander as he dismounted and alit with his peculiar, avian grace. He gently kneed the giant nose, directing, "Roll back over, Pops, and close your eyes."

Marco could not have issued a more appealing command. Without a single word of protest, Whitebeard obliged, shutting his eyes with a sense of definity. The rest of his senses were only too glad to follow, every fiber of his being relaxing into the lull of impending slumber. An unmeasured interval of time was spent enjoying the sweet reward of repose before Whitebeard's fuzzying thoughts returned to the question of Marco and his mysteries.

Previous order forgotten, Whitebeard was about to slit an eye in search of his smaller, better half when a whisper so close he could feel it forced both eyes fully open.

"Hey, baby."

A shiver rocketed up his spine in response to the sensation, and a hand instinctively went in search of the wily whisperer, finding him just as he leaped on the world's strongest bicep in order to deliver a fierce nuzzle along with sporadic kisses to the clavicle. Whitebeard's breath caught and he found himself unable to do more than watch mutely as a radiant and triumphant Marco hoisted himself up and onto the now shakily expanding chest.

"See, Daddy? Earthquake!"

He pecked a lifeless lip before roosting proudly on the powerful pecs.

"G'night, Pops."

"Now you're ready to sleep?!"