One Piece One Shots (Requests: Closed)

Stutter (Caesar)

Requested by: NdragonEyes
I had fun with this one! Y'all need to think... who never gets enough love.
I hope you all enjoy it!
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  (Y/n) stands there trying to concentrate, but she just couldn't when he was staring at her so intently. The beaker she was holding falls out of her hand and smashes into the floor.
  Her face flushes as she tries to ignore his gaze. She runs over and grabs the broom and dustpan. She starts to sweep up the broken glass. The man just shakes his head and walks away. He can never watch her work without her getting anxious.
  It isn't like he's gonna kill her, yet. No, he likes her brain too much; if that's all. If he was going to kill her, he would've already.
  She knows this, but she can't help it if her heart races everytime she sees his intelligent face. Man, did she love working for him; if that was all she loved, it'd be easy to keep a straight focus on the job. The worst part is that she always stutters when she speaks to him. She knows these 'symptoms', it's simple she's lovesick.
  She won't tell him though. It could ruin... everything. She sighs as she starts over. She's running out of beakers. That's the fifth one she's broke this week.
  Monet watches as Caesar pours himself another cocktail. She raises an eyebrow, how blind can one be when they claim to be a 'genius'. She turns away to just leave it be, but she hears a crash. She looks back at the gas-man.
  "What is wrong with you today?" Monet looks at the shattered glass, the liquid that was in in seeping into the cracks on the floor, "I hope you know, I'm not cleaning that up..."
  He frowns, "I'm just trying to figure out how you can drop something so many times over and over again..."
  "You do know... that a breaker... and a cocktail glass-" Monet sighs as he drops another one, "Are made differently... maybe her hands are always sweaty."
  "Not all the time," Caesar's frown deepens, "Just when I'm around."
  "Yeah... I don't see anything out of the ordinary," Monet stops herself from saying anything further, he needs to see it for himself, "That's natural when your boss is breathing down your neck."
  "But she's been working for me since... forever... she should have gotten used to it," he thinks of when she first approached him, "And she wasn't nervous for the longest time..."
  "Well aren't you just the genius," Monet says sarcastically and he gushes... That wasn't a compliment. Idiot, "Some feelings just develop."
  "But why would she just suddenly start to fear-wait," Caesar stares at the green-haired woman as she starts to write again. He knows he's not going to get anymore help from her, but he doesn't need it. He now understands.
  He goes back to (Y/n)'s workshop and watches her concentrate on her work. She's so focused the she doesn't notice his presence until he clears his throat. She jumps, pouring more of a solid into the liquid, causing the substance she was working on to foam up and sizzle out of the beaker.
  She looks over at him and smiles before rushing around trying to find something to clean up the liquid. His distinct laugh fills the room.
  "I just got the idea, (Y/n), that you like me," he says from the doorway, "Could it be true?"
  "O-of course M-master... I w-wouldn't work f-for you i-if I d-didn't like y-you," she blushes and hurriedly looks around again, "Wh-"
  "Not that way," he folds his arms, even though she's not looking at him to see his expression, "A different way, (Y/n)."
  "O-oh... really n-now?" she pushes her goggles up before taking them off to help her look, "How d-different is i-it?"
  "It's more than like," he hums, "I don't know the right word for it."
  Her face ignites, but she just continues looking for something. She finally finds a towl and soaks up the now pinkish substance. She feels him tap on her shoulder, she turns around and his face is literally just inches away from hers.
  "I asked you a question, (Y/n). I'd very much appreciate it, if you'd answer," he growls getting annoyed of being ignored, "Truthfully."
  "W-well... uhm... y-you see... I-I don't know... what you m-mean," she tries to turn away, but he catches her chin, "W-wha-"
  "I think you know very well what I mean, (Y/n)," he kisses her lips, "Now. Kindly answer me."
  Her eyes widden and she nods her head, "Y-yes... I... do... l-like you... m-more than like... a-a c-crush maybe..."
  "See. That wasn't so hard," he leans in and presses his lips against hers.
  "W-what do you mean? I practically had a heart attack," she pouts.
  "You stopped stuttering," he whines, "And here that was one of the things I like about you..."
  "That's just plain rude."

~Stutter End~