Chapter Text
Every morning, without fail, Portgas D. Ace will always, always, work out on all types of fitness equipment the Moby Dick has to offer.
From weights to the power generating treadmill. And let's not forget the workouts that don't need any equipment.
Ace does them all. ALL!
Normally, it wouldn't be that big a deal. But when it comes to Ace, 18 years old, tanned, slim yet muscular and let's not forget how adorable he looks while blushing with his freckles! So ya, it's a huge problem.
Especially when he's working on building back lost muscle due to not eating enough from the over 100 assassination attempts against pop's life. He's changed our POV of him -a lot- since then.
His face is flushed from the heat of his blood pumping, bringing out his freckles more, his body is covered in sweat, making it literally shine. His hair, flipped back when it got in the way. And that jucy ass!
It was bad enough he walked around shirtless, wanting to show off his new tattoo. At least he was wearing black cargo shorts, AND NOT SHORTY SHORT SHORTS!
"They're more comfortable." He said.
"They stretch when I stretch." He said.
"At least I'm not naked!" He LAUGHED!
DOES THAT THICK-HEADED DUMBASS KNOW WHAT HE'S DOING TO US SEX DEPRIVED MEN AND WOMAN?!
And the stretching's worst! Why does he have to stretch so thoroughly?!
Muscles ripping, tanned and freckled skin exposed. Is he TRYING to get molested?!
More than half the people in the indoor gym is literally only here to see Ace than actually working out!
Some will denie looking at him as he takes his breaks eyes closed and lying on his back, chest rising up and down. They will denie staring at his perfect legs - ass wait, abs...
Whatever.
But the point is, They. Are. Staring.
And it makes a certain commander mad... Very, very mad.