**A/N**

Hey everyone, hope y'all are good. So sorry for taking so long to update and I promise they'll be more spice in the next chapter. Thanks so much for sticking around, I really appreciate your patience and support! 🙏❤️

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*Amby's POV*

After a long, exuberant soak in the bath you busied yourself by washing Buggy's gloves in the sink; soaking and scrubbing them repeatedly with soap in order to wash the bloodstains away. In all honesty, the bath had worked wonders to soothe away some of the tension from your aching muscles, so really you ought to have made the most of your time alone and just relaxed. The large bed looked seriously inviting, yet still you felt compelled to devote your energy and attention to doing something for your captain.

You'd been so focused on your task you hadn't realized just how much time you invested in scrubbing them clean. Well, they weren't exactly sparkling white, but still they were infinitely cleaner than they had been. After setting them on the radiator to dry, you walked to the nightstand and used the snail to call down and ask for a first aid kit - more specifically, bandages - as you knew that the wound on Buggy's hand would need redressing soon. You tried not to dwell on what the desk clerk might be thinking. Supposed newlyweds requesting a first aid kit within a couple of hours of checking in. The receptionist clearly knew Buggy by reputation and wouldn't suspect that he could be the one injured due to his chop chop abilities. In fact, you'd been shocked to see it happen yourself.

Soon there came a knock at the door and you opened it to see the concierge, brandishing more than just a first aid kit....

"Champagne, madam. With the compliments of the management" he announced, smiling warmly.

"Oh, uh, thank you. That's very thoughtful and kind"

You stepped aside, allowing him to wheel in the trolley. Fidgeting awkwardly, feeling somewhat self conscious in just your robe, you waited patiently as he took the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket and popped the cork. Once he'd poured you a glass and handed it to you you stopped him before he poured the second one

"It's ok, captain Buggy— uh, that is, my husband, isn't here right now. He's had to run a few errands"

Perhaps it was your paranoia, but you thought you caught the cynical quirk of his eyebrow. But of course being polite and keeping his opinions to himself was a mandatory part of his job description.

"Of course, madam."

After thanking him again, you hurriedly closed the door once he left. You were being ridiculous of course, it didn't matter if the staff were suspicious of your relationship with Buggy. You'd secured the room for two nights, and that's all that mattered.

Still, that didn't stop your nerves from feeling frayed. So much for those 'calming' essential oils you had used in the bath. It had been a very stressful day. First the storm early this morning, then your near death experience when you'd fallen from the rigging, Buggy's violent confrontation with Poppoko and Heppoko, the nerve-wracking ordeal of having to stitch up his hand....and....

.....that kiss.

The kiss you shouldn't be dwelling on, because...it was only meant to be for Alvida's benefit. But, now that you'd had time to calm down after everything that had happened that day, you found your thoughts returning to it, to the way his lips had felt; the way they'd moved against yours, soft yet firm, teasing but demanding....

Shit. You really needed to forget the way that it had made you feel. Because it wasn't real. It was all part of the charade.

Damn. You'd been feeling relatively chill when you'd been languishing in the bath. Now your muscles felt coiled and tight once more. And where the hell was Buggy? He'd been gone quite a while. Surely he wouldn't abandon you. He wouldn't leave behind his best asset, and he couldn't anyway, he was broke!

Without pause you raised the champagne flute to your lips and chugged it down. The liquid tasted sour and reflexively made you grimace, but you didn't care. Right now all you wanted was to settle your nerves. Besides, you should be enjoying this fleeting taste of luxury while it lasted. So you poured yourself a second glass and made yourself comfortable on the bed.

As the minutes ticked by, your thoughts continued to return to what Buggy could possibly be doing. What if he was conspiring with Alvida? He was double-crossing her by striking deals with you, but that didn't rule out the possibility of him double-crossing you. After all, he was a pirate, and what significance did crossing his heart really hold?

You took another gulp of champagne and set the glass down, freeing your hands so that you could massage your temples with your fingertips. Your mind was definitely running away with itself. Buggy was probably just.....

Just what? Window shopping?

He had no berry, so what could he possibly be doing? Renewing old acquaintances in this little port village that he didn't even know existed until just a few hours ago? Unless he'd lied about that. He wouldn't be socializing with any of Alvida's crew, that was for sure, he seemed to have nothing but disdain for them.

But what if they were baying for his blood, angry and wanting justice for their injured crew mates? He could be in danger! But no, he was more than capable of taking care of himself. Having now seen him in action it hadn't left any room for doubt. Unless he was dumped in sea water, he'd be fine.

So what other possibilities did that leave?

Women.

The negative, intrusive voice of doubt resounded around inside your head.

Damn that voice. You didn't want to think about your captain charming the locals and then hooking up with some eager, star-struck, woman. He was a man with a man's needs and all that...ugh, you'd always hated that phrase. Besides women had needs too, didn't they?
But you weren't naive. Having grown up in a port town you'd heard enough talk and seen enough drunken, horny sailors in action; attempting to hit on whatever female paid them the slightest bit of attention. Sometimes even if they didn't pay them attention too, which is what really made your skin crawl and your blood boil. You then idly found yourself wondering what that must be like. To attract that kind of attention from a man, a man that you wouldn't mind receiving attention from.

You'd always specifically taken every precaution in order to avoid attracting unwanted attention, but now it had been so long since Narvi, since you'd known the excitement of how it felt to want and to be wanted in return. But somehow that was different. Being childhood sweethearts wasn't the same as meeting a man and him finding you attractive enough to tempt him into a fling, a one night stand, whatever. Not that you were the tempting kind anyway.

As you continued to sip your champagne you tried to console yourself with the belief that it sounded way too exhausting and time consuming being the kind of woman who stirred men like Buggy into wild states of uncontrollable passion. The very thought made your body feel weirdly hot and wired, then your guts churned as your mind was suddenly invaded with the unwanted image of the clown captain getting down and dirty with some curvy, beautiful, sultry-eyed seductress.

Ugh.

You were now on your third glass of champagne when a hard knock rang out against the wooden door, followed by a muffled exclamation, and then the door swung open almost violently. It was Buggy of course, looking thoroughly pissed for some unknown reason, though undoubtedly you were about to find out the reason.

"Why is the door unlocked?" He demanded gruffly as he swept inside like the wild force of nature he was; slamming the door behind him, "It's safer if you keep it locked at all times, and you shouldn't have let that shidiot concierge in! Sheesh. Did your folks never teach you about stranger danger?!"

Opting to ignore his lecture on personal safety and not caring at all for his tone, you resisted the urge to ask him where he'd been, opting instead to defend the hapless concierge, "Actually I called down asking for a first aid kit, you know, for your injured hand. So he was just doing his job. Why does that make him a shidiot?"

"Because.....he forgot the strawberries...to go with the champagne!" Producing a silver dish containing strawberries from behind his back, as if wanting to surprise you with them, he set them down on the trolley with a flourish, "......the weasel on reception gave them to me on the way in, said they should've been sent up with the champagne but the concierge didn't bring them. So, that's why he's a shidiot" he smirked triumphantly.

You suppressed a huff and resisted the urge to roll your eyes, "you're not cute when you're acting smug"

"Is that a fact? Hm. I'll make a note of that. So....that means I'm cute the rest of the time then?"

Your face grew hot but you did your very best to appear totally unfazed by his teasing, "that's not what I meant, captain, and you know it"

Chuckling to himself, he poured a glass of champagne and raised it in a toast, "If you say so, Blue. Anyhoo, here's to wedded bliss. I guess this fake marriage gig does have its perks. Who knows, maybe if I drink enough tonight it'll even take the edge off sleeping on the floor"

"Maybe. You'll have to let me know tomorrow how that works out for you" you shot back, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from smirking.

"Ouch. That's cold. You know, you're pretty sassy, Blue. I'm still your captain don't forget."

"Aww. So you think I'm pretty?"

Having just taken a sip of champagne, Buggy made  a choked noise which sounded suspiciously like a suppressed burst of laughter that bubbled up in his chest and made him cough. He quickly attempted to silence it by taking another huge gulp of the alcohol,  and you had to bite your lip to keep from giggling. It was kinda fun, this teasing thing. You were actually beginning to enjoy the banter, and the alcohol definitely helped.

But as so often when around the pirate clown, any giggling or lighthearted moments were soon expelled by his next actions catching you off guard; completely blindsiding you. As nonchalantly as you like, he eased out of his coat and began the lengthy task of unfastening the various buckles on his striped shirt.

"W-what are you doing?"

"Taking a shower" he enunciated slowly, as if you didn't fully understand English, "is that ok with you, wifey?"

"Of course it is......just....uh, be careful. That is, don't slip. The floor may still be wet in there" you rambled, having to find an excuse for having blurted out words that betrayed your alarm at seeing him shrug out of his shirt.

"It's so sweet that you care" he taunted, but you barely heard him. Your attention was solely focused on the fact that he was now standing there, all bare chested and beautiful.

You tried hard not to stare, you really did, but your traitorous eyes had other ideas, as they lingered on his broad shoulders....and the expanse of toned chest that looked muscular and firm, and alarmingly you found your fingers practically twitched with the impulse to reach out and touch him.

You swallowed hard and hastily averted your gaze; pretending to find your fingernails fascinating and you had to resist the urge to chew on them nervously.

"Uh, the bathroom is right there" you somewhat stupidly and needlessly pointed out.

Buggy sat on the chair so he could remove his boots, and just like that, your eyes were glued to him again. Miserably you tried - and failed - not to notice the way the defined muscles in his shoulders worked and flexed with each movement. It was worryingly mesmerizing.

He shot you a somewhat curios, confused look, "so it is. Where else would I be taking a shower? It's where I'm headed right now"

"Good" you wheezed, forcing a tight smile.

The pirate clown then smiled knowingly at your forced smile as he stood, or perhaps it was the deep blush now tinging your cheeks that he found amusing. Maybe it was both, but either way it was like he knew you were all up in your head over him simply removing his shirt, so he thankfully retreated to the bathroom.

You breathed a huge sigh of relief, only to have all the air whoosh right out of your lungs at the scuffling sound of his rapidly moving feet, as he swung the bathroom door open again.

"You sure you don't want to scrub my back for me, Blue?"

"Yes! I mean, no!" Damn this clown for getting you all flustered. And damn that devilish, sexy little smirk that should come with a health warning! "And please stop calling me Blue!"

Taking in the fact that his pants were still on but now half unfastened, you didn't have anything left to say. But actions spoke louder than words, so the saying goes. So instead you grabbed a pillow and threw it at him with all the force you had. It was a good throw and the aim would've been perfect, but it was a wasted effort as he closed the door before it hit him, and you could hear the muffled sound of his amused laughter bouncing off the tiled walls.

Hmf. Smart ass. You'd love to teach him a lesson somehow. To make him just as flustered as he made you. Now that would be all kinds of satisfying. But what were the chances of that? Slim to none.

You hastily took another long sip from your glass; hoping to numb the jangling of your nerves. Dammit, why did you have to find him attractive? You did not want to find him attractive. It wasn't meant to be this way. It was never a part of your plan. Admiring Buggy the clown was one thing. Finding him undeniably hot was another.

Deciding now was a good opportunity to get dressed whilst he was preoccupied taking his shower - just wearing a bathrobe made you feel exposed somehow and kind of vulnerable - and once you'd hastily pulled on your clothes you drained your glass of champagne much more easily than the last. The taste had grown on you, and you rather liked the slightly tipsy feeling that seemed to have snuck up on you all of a sudden. It made you feel a little braver. A little more carefree. A little more daring.

The muffled sound of Buggy's voice was echoing around the bathroom. You couldn't make out exactly what he was singing, but you got the gist of it.....some kind of sea shanty, though in all honesty you found it more amusing to have learned that he was a singing in the shower kind of person. Nothing should surprise you where he was concerned, but you wouldn't have pegged him as that type of guy.

Pouring yet another glass of champagne, you reached for a strawberry. Without a doubt it was the best thing you'd tasted in what felt like forever and you hadn't realized just how hungry you were until you'd swallowed it.

Around twenty minutes went by before the bathroom door opened, and when it did you almost choked on the strawberry you were eating.

Buggy had instantly quietened down, as if only just remembering that he wasn't alone. It took a few seconds for the mist to disperse, but he appeared in a shroud of steam like some kind of glistening, fallen angel.

And holy hell, he was alarmingly underdressed; only wearing a white towel which hung dangerously low on his hips.  His damp skin glistened with tiny droplets of water, and his wet hair clung around his shoulders like a blue shawl.

In spite of his indifference to being semi-naked, you knew you ought to maybe go into the bathroom and allow him privacy in order to dress. But you didn't always do what you knew you ought to, even though the sight of his smooth chest, sinewy arms, solid shoulders, and stomach that bore the etchings of lean abdominal muscle, was wreaking havoc with your hormones.

"......can you please put some clothes on" you blurted, instantly aware of how your words came out sounding like a demand rather than a request.

Picking up his coat, he took something from the inside pocket, and sighed wearily "I think you're taking this marriage thing just a little too seriously now, trying to order me around"

Fighting the impulse to grind your teeth in annoyance, you decided to take a different approach, "I didn't mean to order you, captain. It's just.....inappropriate"

"Ugh. You and your professionalism" he clicked his tongue disapprovingly, looking mildly vexed, but he strutted back into the bathroom...though this time he left the door slightly ajar.

Damn him. He always had to be so awkward. And why was it he always seemed to get a kick out of rattling you? You were convinced even more so of this when he finally emerged once again - at least wearing his pants - but annoyingly still minus his shirt.

Pfft. Who cares if he doesn't have a shirt on. You told yourself, it really shouldn't bother you at all.

And yet......it did.

Even more noticeably was the striking effect of his reapplied makeup. The painted crescent moon shapes above and below his eyes, glittering blue eyeshadow made his already striking green eyes pop, and the detail of the black mascara accentuated the length of his already-scandalously-long lashes.

And in that moment you were struck by how he resembled a living, breathing work of art. So, that's what he'd taken into the bathroom. A makeup compact. Well, Buggy was nothing if not a perfectionist. Of course he'd want to touch-up his makeup as soon as he had the opportunity.

"Something wrong, Blue?" He inquired casually as he turned his body towards you where you sat on the bed, though his head was tilted back now as he used a towel to dry off his neck and chest, "It's just....you keep staring at me"

"...oh, sorry...no, there's nothing wrong...you.....I just noticed you have limbal rings" you proclaimed, not bothering to try and hide your fascination with his eyes.

"I have what?"

"Limbal rings. The dark rings that encircle the iris. Most people lose them as they grow up, they fade, but you still have them"

"Oh. Ok.....and what does that mean?"

"Oh, uh. Nothing. Just they're rare. And pretty"

Buggy stilled and looked up at you, "You find my eyes pretty?"

"Yes. They're gorgeous. Just your eyes though. I'm not referring to the rest of you at all. Just so we're clear, oh....and again with the shirtless thing..." you threw in for good measure, before taking another gulp of champagne, "...why are you still half naked? Are you doing it deliberately?"

Tossing the towel aside, he ran his hands through his wet hair and scraped it back; tying it into some form of messy bun. Once again you found your eyes roaming over his fine physique, and by the time they made it up to his face where they belonged (which took an embarrassing amount of time) you noticed he was smirking again.

"It's funny how you're complaining even though you appear to be enjoying the view"

You felt your face instantly heat with embarrassment, but stood from the bed; snapping your spine straight and placing your hands on your hips.

"So it is deliberate"

"Is what deliberate? It isn't my problem if you're offended by my chest—"

"Put your shirt on" you snapped; cutting him off, "I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you"

The smirk transformed into a grin, "About Limbus lines"

"Limbal Rings!"

"But you can't concentrate on how pretty my eyes are because you find my