“This should not be digging into your skin like that,” Franky said when Usopp finally managed to stop wheezing.
Franky tugged at the strap of Usopp’s binder, scowling. Usopp tried to bat his hand away, but it hurt to breathe, let alone reach up to push Franky off him. Straining himself was how he ended up gasping for air on the workshop floor in the first place.
“You need to ditch this thing. Waaay too tight.”
“I’m well aware,” Usopp gritted out.
Usopp knew he needed a new binder. He’d known for a while. His current binder had started to pinch somewhere between Little Garden and Alabasta. Usopp had ignored it. He hadn’t had time to fix it, and even thinking about what it meant made him want to crawl out of his skin. Sometime between having it on in Skypeia, taking it off for burn treatment, and recovering enough to wear again, the straps had started digging into his shoulders, the wrap around his ribcage preventing deep breaths.
It was obviously too small, but he had ignored it. Tighter was better, right? Tighter meant flatter, and flatter meant less time spent wondering if it was enough, worrying that anyone could see the suspicious lumps under his overalls.
Water Seven… he didn’t want to think about Water Seven. His body had been too broken to handle wearing a binder (he tried after Chopper left, but his ribs hurt too much to keep it on; it was another misery on his personal mountain of rash decisions and self hatred). He’d had nothing but bandages and the cloak to hide his chest at Enies Lobby. This was actually only his second day of wearing it again, after the last of the bandages had come off, and Water Seven was thankfully, blessedly, left far behind them.
Even with his ribs fully healed, it hurt. He felt like his lungs were being squeezed, and when he moved too quickly spots danced across his eyes. Now Franky was telling him he couldn’t wear it at all, and Usopp, as much as he hated to admit it, had to agree.
“I don’t have another one,” Usopp muttered. He’d looked, but no stores on any of the islands they visited seemed to carry binders. Every fruitless search made him wonder just how many catalogs Kaya must have gone through to find this one.
“Don’t sweat it, little bro,” Franky said. He pulled Usopp off the workshop floor with one easy motion, setting him back on his feet. “I’ll make you a super new one.”
“You know how to make them?” Usopp asked, righting the straps of his overalls from where they’d fallen down his arms. Usopp had tried making binders, but nothing he made ever turned out quite right. They always turned out either too loose for Usopp’s standards or too tight for Chopper’s (Chopper had burned his first few attempts, labeling them health hazards).
“Sure I do. I’ve been where you are, and had to make my own,” Franky said. Usopp blinked. There was no way. Did he really mean…? Franky caught his expression. “Yeah, I had a body like yours once. Didn’t fit. After the sea train hit me, I got to rebuild myself from the ground up,” Franky said, knocking against his sculpted, weldedchest. “But I remember how it was back then.”
Usopp stared at him, awed. This musclebound, intimidating, brilliant man had been like him, trapped in the wrong body. Franky was big and fierce. He wasn’t afraid to tell the world how he felt, and had the strength to back it up. Franky was a man, and no one could question it. Usopp wanted that so badly he could cry.
“As someone who knows, trust me,” Franky said. “Tighter ain’t better. No matter how much you feel like you need it, you have to do this properly and avoid hurting yourself.”
“Do you think I, or you, we could build…” Usopp tripped over his words, barely listening to Franky as his mind spun with possibilities. He gestured to Franky’s body.
“What, build you a body like mine?”
Usopp nodded. Not exactly like Franky’s, of course, but replacing his breasts with steel pectorals would be awesome on so many levels.
“Sure we could. It’ll hurt like hell, but I rebuilt myself from scratch out of what I found in a junk heap. With the right supplies, we could plan something real super for you too, in a few years.”
Usopp sputtered. “A few years!? Why not now?”
“You ain’t done growing yet,” Franky said. He laughed when Usopp slumped, disappointed. He slapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, cheer up! Those years are gonna fly by. In the meantime, I can set you up with some new binders. I’ve made tons of ‘em, between me and the Franky Family.” He pointed at Usopp’s chest. “Take that off. We’ll get your measurements and I’ll get started on some right away.”
Take it off right now? In front of Franky? Usopp hesitated for a second, but then undid his overall straps, letting the bib fall to his waist. It was just Franky. They were cool now, after Franky had apologized for what happened at the Franky House. Even though he had only been part of the crew for a few weeks, and was nine kinds of weird, he wasn’t a total perv like Sanji. He was always looking out for Usopp, teaching him how to fix things, and listening to his fears and hopes. And now Usopp knew they were alike. Franky could be trusted.
Usopp started to tug the binder off. It hurt. He hissed as the tight material dug into his skin, struggling to pry it over his head.
“You know, you ain’t gonna need this anymore when I’m done,” Franky said after a few moments of watching him struggle. “Let me cut it off and be done with it.” He held up a pair of shears.
“No, I’ve got it.” Usopp was not cutting up his binder. Along with the Merry, it was a parting gift from Kaya. Even when he was too injured to wear it, just holding it and knowing someone out there loved and supported him so much was enough to ward off some of the worst of his dysphoria.
Usopp finished removing the binder and handed it over. Franky examined it, testing its stretch and rubbing the fabric through his fingers. He muttered, almost to himself, “Nah, we can do better than that.”
Dropping the binder on his desk, Franky snatched up the measuring tape. He glanced at Usopp, and turned back to the desk to shove some of the junk on its surface aside. “Sit up here so I can reach,” he said. Usopp obliged, hoisting himself up to sit on the edge of the large desk.
“Look here,” Franky said. Usopp, who had been trying not to look down at his chest, reluctantly followed Franky’s pointing finger. A few inches under his breasts, where the edge of the binder wrapped around his ribcage, the skin was irritated and red. Some areas were already starting to bruise.
“This is what we’re trying to avoid. Wear a binder too small for too long, and you can crack ribs. Trust me bro, it ain’t fun.”
Usopp nodded. Franky stretched the tape. It was one of the soft, flexible measuring tapes, meant for rounded surfaces and fabric. He measured the length of Usopp’s torso, then looped the tape around his back and under his arms to take the size of his bust and rib cage. Usopp stared at the wall over Franky’s shoulders, letting Franky move him as needed with quick, clinical touches. He absently wondered how Kaya had figured out his measurements.
They were almost done when the door to the workshop opened and Sanji walked in.
“If you two think I’ll let you skip lunch, you’ve got another…” Sanji’s voice trailed off.
Usopp looked over at him. Sanji was frozen in the doorway. His mouth hung open with surprise, cigarette barely clinging to his lip. As Usopp watched, Sanji’s face turned red. His expression changed, morphing from shock to a deep, startling anger.
“You.” Sanji snarled.
For one terrifying second, Usopp thought Sanji was talking to him. Then he suddenly became aware of their positions. Usopp, naked from the waist up, sitting on the desk. Franky standing almost between his legs, enormous hands level with Usopp’s bare breasts.
“You fucking pervert! Get your filthy mitts off of him!” Sanji flew across the room.
“Bro what the fuck—” Franky deflected Sanji’s first kick. Usopp yelped, scrambling backward across the desk. Sanji fired off two more kicks. Franky blocked one with his massive arm, only for the second to catch him square in the chest and send him flying across the workshop. He crash landed in a pile of scrap, sending boards and buckets flying.
Sanji stalked toward him.
“Sanji! Sanji, wait!” Usopp squawked. “It’s not what it looks like!” He fell head first off the desk in his haste to go after them. He quickly jumped up and ran after Sanji.
“Stop!” Usopp said, putting himself between Sanji and Franky.
“Move, Usopp!” Sanji said. “I’m going to flambé this shitty bastard.”
“Would you just hold on a second? I told you, it’s not what it looks like!”
“Then what is it,” Sanji said, glaring over Usopp’s head at Franky. “Because from where I’m standing it looked like he was feeling you up.”
“He was taking measurements.” He grabbed a fistful of Sanji’s suit to keep him from surging forward. “For a new binder! Calm down!”
For a moment it seemed like Sanji wouldn’t listen. But then he subsided, not losing an ounce of tension even as he stopped pushing forward. The room went quiet, with the exception of Usopp’s panicked breathing, which slowly eased.
“You good, Franky?” Usopp asked. He heard the clatter of scrap as Franky picked himself up.
“I’m super. Glad I reinforced my ribcage, though. Cook bro’s kick packs a punch… so to speak.”
Sanji huffed, still glaring. His cigarette was a stub, bitten in half by his clenched jaw.
“Nothing weird was going on,” Usopp soothed, patting his lapels. “He was just helping me, since my old binder is too small.”
Sanji glanced down at Usopp, then looked back at Franky. Almost immediately his eyes flew back to Usopp, a wide eyed expression wiping the surliness from his face. Sanji flushed, a bright pink slowly spreading over his cheeks.
“I’m the Great Captain Usopp, you know,” Usopp said. “I’m a little insulted that you think I can’t handle one measly cyborg. Didn’t you know I’ve fought giant killer robots before?”
“I— Th— you…” Sanji made a choking noise, and Usopp blinked. He expected Sanji to tell him off or insult Franky some more. Instead, he looked like he was having an aneurysm.
It took him far too long to figure out what was causing Sanji’s issue. Usopp was pressed up against him, hands braced on Sanji’s chest to keep him from pushing past. The straps of his overalls dangled at his thighs, held up only by the sash around his waist. He hadn’t had time to pull the top back on.
As Usopp watched, a small line of blood dripped from Sanji’s right nostril.
Franky chuckled darkly. “I ain’t the one perving on Uso-bro here.”
Sanji stiffened. His spine went ramrod straight, and he took a pointed step away from Usopp. Usopp half expected him to leap at Franky again, but instead he stiffly marched toward the door.
“Lunch is ready. If you’re not there to defend your food from Luffy, then don’t expect to get any.” He said before leaving the room.
Usopp watched in stunned silence, struggling to understand what just happened.
“That guy needs to get his act together,” Franky said, coming to stand by Usopp.
“Yeah.” Usopp sighed. Sanji usually tried not to be weird about Usopp’s body. He was a man, and Sanji treated him as such, but a pair of boobs were a pair of boobs to Sanji, regardless of who they were attached to. “He’s so weird about bodies. I don’t know how Nami puts up with it.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Franky said. He gave Usopp a look that he didn’t understand. When Usopp asked what he meant, he only ruffled Usopp’s hair. “You’ll figure it out. Hopefully before he stops having a crisis. Now put your top back on. I’ll have your new binder whipped up in no time.”