Super late, but merry Christmas, @empresskira! There is more to this, but I ran out of writing power, so I drew it~
Marco is a fallen angel, Sabo is a warlock, and Ace is a fire nymph! They’re three glowy bois <3
One Piece, LawLu
Word Count: 6313
Rating: T (for language)
Genre: Fluff, Modern!Au, Adventure
Summary: Law will remember the first snow of that year. After all, it’s not everyday you meet a stranger who takes you out for a night of adventure.
Law’s feet pound against the pavement, further aggravating his headache as he sprints towards the train station. He bypasses the security guard, flashing his transport card as he speeds by, barreling through the other pedestrians. The sounds of his own footsteps echo against the bare walls. His teeth ache.
As he flies down the staircase, he looks up long enough to notice the subway doors slowly closing. He wills his feet to move faster, but before he can reach them, the train begins to slide out of the station. He watches his last hope rattle away.
“Dammit!” Law rubs at his pounding headache. At this rate, he’ll have a migraine in no time.
“Miss the train?” a high voice asks behind him. Law refrains from spinning around and decking the stranger in frustration.
“If I take a cab to- no, the main road is blocked off for the night because of construction. Fuckin’ great timing, and the detour adds another two hours. If traffic’s nice. No way I’ll make it in time. How about-” He flicks through his phone, looking up traffic and estimated detour times. As he figured, the recent construction has blocked the only road that would get him there fast enough. The next fastest route will be too late. He might as well wait for the morning train. It might be a long shot, but there’s a possibility he could still make it if he takes the first one. A minute possibility.
“Tryin’ to get to Punk Hazard, huh? You’re probably best off waiting ‘till morning,” the intruder comments, peering over Law’s shoulder. Law grinds his teeth.
“Thank you for stating the obvious. Don’t you have something else to do?” he growls, shrugging his shoulder in an attempt to push the kid away.
“Not really. ‘Sides, you look lost. And lonely. I’ll keep you company!”
Law pinches the bridge of his nose, willing this annoyance and his headache to leave. Do people enjoy making his life more difficult?
“I’m not lost. And I’m not lonely. Go away,” he orders, taking a few steps away from the guy and returning to his phone. He halfheartedly searches the bus times, knowing it’s futile.
“Not sure what you’re expecting from the buses that taxis can’t do. Wanna get something to eat? Food makes everything better. Especially meat! Let’s get some meat!” The stranger grabs his arm, forcefully pulling Law towards some restaurant or cafe or other food location. Law staggers behind, momentarily caught up trying to keep his balance before he manages to pull away.
They’ve made it back to the stairs before Law regains his balance and yanks back, wrenching his arm out of this nuisance’s surprisingly strong grip.
Who is this stranger to just drag him along like that?
“What the fuck?” he asks, not particularly expecting a response. The stranger tilts their head, looking confused.
“You don’t want meat?” they wonder, brow furrowed in confusion. Law finds himself pinching the bridge of his nose again and stops.
“No,” he retorts, putting as much venom into that one word that he can. Unfortunately for him, his stomach decides in that moment to give a loud growl. The stranger turns to take his arm once again.
“Shi shi shi, you’re so weird! If you’re hungry, you eat meat! C’mon, I know a good place!” he offers, holding his hand out like Law’s gonna take it and let himself be whisked away.
“Even if I am hungry, I don’t want to eat with a total stranger. I can find my own place, so fuck off.” Law flips the middle finger and pushes past the stranger. This does not deter the vexation. Instead, he follows along, asking exactly where Law will be going.
“I know all the places here, I’ll tell you if it’s any good! Especially the meat, I know all the meat! C’mon, where you headed? Not that there are many places open now. It’s late! Most of them are closing! Except, the place I know! It’s open, and we’ll get in quick!” He follows behind Law with little regard for personal space, chattering at a speed that doesn’t allow for conversation. Not that Law plans on responding.
The crisp night air greets them as they step onto the street. Despite the late hour, there are still people milling about, guided by the frequent street lamps and humming neon lights. Sabaody is truly a city that never sleeps.
Beside him, Law’s new ‘friend’ continues to babble. Exasperated, Law considers his options. He could try violence, but there’s too many people still strolling about. Running from the police would only further delay him. He could also try slipping away and hoping he loses the pest, but it sounds like that might be difficult. Also a delay he doesn't need. He decides on the only course of action he thinks might succeed.
He points towards the first place with a glowing “OPEN” sign.
“I'm going there. Goodbye.” With that he walks off, headed in that direction.
“You sure?”
“Yes, so fuck off.” Law marches resolutely forward, hands pushed deep into his coat pockets. The few people headed in the opposite direction choose to give him some space, unlike the dolt beside him.
“If you’re sure that’s where you wanna eat?” they repeat, and Law grinds his teeth together. He elects to ignore the meddler, in a vain attempt to dissuade them from following.
It doesn’t take him long to reach his intended location, and he quickly sees why he was asked if he really wanted to eat here. The bar is packed, with people even standing outside holding drinks and trays of chips. Throbbing music fills the night air every time the door opens. There’s a handwritten poster pasted on the door that advertises some event.
Next to him, the stranger grins.
“You suuuuure you wanna eat here? Looks crowded, and the food doesn’t even smell good. No meat. Trust me, the place I know is suuuuper good. Best in town. You’ll wanna go there every time you’re nearby. Can’t say much for the staff, but the food is the best ever! Besides Sanji, but it’s where he learned, so that makes them equal. It’s really good!”
Around them, any remaining restaurants are closing. Law stares at the bar, briefly considering if it would make a better alternative to the incessant nagging. Nearby, a drunk vomits. The stranger continues to pester him about choosing an alternative location.
Law pinches the bridge of his nose.
“All right, already! If I get food, will you leave me the truck alone?” He spits without thinking, then immediately regrets it as the stranger’s face lights up.
“Meat!” With Law’s consent now, the straw hat-wearing stranger grabs him once again and starts winding through crowds and past closed restaurants. Law pulls away once again, but it doesn’t seem to upset his guide. At least they stop trying to grab for him. Eventually the stranger stops in front of a mid-sized family restaurant and pulls the door open, practically shoves Law inside. They follow close behind.
The place has a nice atmosphere,with dim lights and a delicious smell wafting through. It’s fairly busy, considering the hour, though perhaps that’s due to it being the only decent place open for a few blocks. A small queue is lined up along the wall. Law is pushed forward a bit, before the stranger decides he’s being too slow and walks around him.
“Table for two, please!” they announce to the host, who immediately looks alarmed. He finds the stranger and scowls.
“You! I thought you were told not to come alone!” The host growls, pointing an accusing finger.
“I’m not alone! I said, TABLE FOR TWO!” The stranger yells obnoxiously. The host rubs his ear with a grimace and looks uncertainty at Law. When Law doesn’t deny being the plus one, he begins leading them into the restaurant. Strawhat wraps a hand around Law’s arm and forcefully pulls him along with their powerful grip.
To Law’s surprise, they are taken to a private room located in the very back of the restaurant and labeled with a “Reserved” sign. The room is secluded from the rest of the guests, just within sight of the kitchen. Its furniture is a tad better maintained, and there’s a bell for signaling when service is needed. The single light above them is dimmed to a pleasant hue, allowing for intimacy without being romantic or suggestive. As the barrier is put up behind them, the bustle and rumble ebbs to a light murmur.
“This is some high-class treatment for having been nearly kicked out,” Law comments, glancing at the stranger. Their pouring over the menu, though they doesn’t look like they’re actually reading it. Rather, aren’t they just drooling over the pictures? They’re softly whispering “meat,” but Law’s fairly certain they aren’t aware of it.
He takes the time they’re distracted to study the stranger. They look young, at least younger than Law, but if Law had to guess, perhaps not as young as their appearance would suggest. Their straw hat is strapped around their neck, giving them a bit of a farming kid’s vibe, but it’s paired oddly with an red hoodie and a pair of mid-calf length blue pants. The flip flops just add to the oddity, and Law finds his headache returning the more he tries to understand, so he turns to the menu instead. Most of the food on the menu is fairly standard for the area, though Law sees a few items that catch his attention. He settles on the swordfish steak just as the waiter appears, already looking annoyed.
“Strawhat,” he greets, though it’s more of a warning. “What’re ya interested in today? Oh, wait, let me guess: ya want every meat item on the menu, as usual?” he glares, daring the stranger - Strawhat - to agree. Strawhat just laughs.
“See! You understand! Meat is the best!” Obviously they doesn’t realize the waiter is being sarcastic, or don’t seem to care.
“You know the rules! Pick one - ONE - item, Strawhat. One!”
Strawhat pouts, staring down at the menu for a bit, before pointing to a picture. “That one, then! And lots of it!”
The waiter scowls. “No.”
Ignoring Strawhat’s whines and complaints, the host turns to Law, his expression softening into more of an apathetic stare. “And you?”
Law orders the swordfish steak and a glass of wine, and the waiter quickly escapes the barrage of orders for extra meat.
“Would you even be able to eat all of that?” Law asks, setting his menu aside. Strawhat immediately confirms that they would be able to eat it all, and more, and starts to rant about meat and it’s deliciousness. Law lets them talk, not particularly paying attention as his thoughts start to wonder back to his current dilemma. He’s not sure he’ll be able to get to Punk Hazard in time for the surgery, and if he misses this one… He rubs his temple.
“You all right?” Strawhat asks, stopping their monologue to lean over the table until their in Law’s space.
“Yes, I’m fine. Back the fuck off.” Law pushes Strawhat’s face away without much success, as they push back against Law’s hand.
“You sure? You look upset, like you’re worried, or somethin’.”
Law sighs. It’s futile. “I’m fine, and even if I wasn’t, that isn’t your fucking business, is it?”
“Sure it is. You’re my friend!”
That… isn’t what Law is expecting. “You don’t even know me! I’m not your friend!” But Strawhat doesn’t seem to care.
“Do you need some meat? I’ll tell them to hurry up. Meat solves everything.” Before Law can protest, Strawhat is ringing the bell obnoxiously and poking their head out, yelling for the waiter, who immediately scowls upon seeing them.
“What do you want, brat?” He yells as soon as he’s in earshot.
“Meat! Bring it faster!”
The waiter rolls his eyes and leaves, ignoring Strawhat’s cries for their food to arrive more quickly. Strawhat sits back down, to Law’s relief, and pouts.
“How rude, he didn’ even listen.” Law shouldn’t be surprised at them sticking their tongue out in the general direction of the waiter, and yet he still is.
He pinches the bridge of his nose. How did he end up in this mess?
A warm hand suddenly presses against his forehead, and Law looks up to see Strawhat a few inches away, seemingly trying to check his temperature with their hand. They don’t appear to know what their doing, but rather mimicking something they’ve seen done.
“Hm…. You’re warm,” they conclude and pull away. “You should drink something cold.”
Law doesn’t respond for a moment. This random kid whom he’s never met before is suddenly giving him medical advice? He’s so incredulous, Law actually starts to laugh. They must see this as a good sign, because Strawhat sits back looking pleased.
“You finally smiled!”
Law leans his head back, staring up at the wooden ceiling. Yeah, he supposes that he did smile, for a moment. When was the last time he laughed?
When was the last time someone tried to take his temperature with their hand?
Before he can start to become nostalgic and think of the way things were, the waiter arrives with his wine, bringing him back to the present. Strawhat eagerly takes their own drink - a fruit juice, from the looks of it - and begins noisily slurping it down.
“So? What’s gottcha worried?” Strawhat asks again around a plastic straw. In a moment of impetuousness, Law tells him.
“There’s a surgery that’s gonna happen at 7 AM tomorrow, and the kid that’s going into the surgery is a patient of mine. He’s a good kid, and I promised him I’d be there.” Law sighs as he thinks about missing the surgery. His brow furrows as he recalls exactly why he was running late.
There’s a moment of silence, and Law looks up, finally meeting Strawhat’s eyes. Only, they aren’t looking at Law, but towards the kitchen. Probably thinking about the food that hasn’t arrived yet. Law almost laughs again, wondering what he was expecting from this food-obsessed stranger. Sure enough, Strawhat perks up.
“Food’s here!” they announce before the waiter has even arrived. A moment later, the barrier is pulled back and their dishes are placed on the table. Strawhat begins eating before the waiter has even left. Law follows, deciding to enjoy the swordfish steak instead of worrying or getting annoyed.
Unsurprisingly, Strawhat finished their meal in a matter of minutes, and clamor for more food every time the waiter passes by. Law’s fairly certain that whatever mechanism their bell is hooked up to has been disabled, judging by the lack of response to Strawhat’s ceaseless ringing. The chaos is a welcome distraction, and the food is excellent. By the time the bill arrives, Law’s feeling that perhaps letting a complete stranger drag him to an unknown restaurant late at night wasn’t as much of a mistake as he’d been expecting. He’s almost sad to see the odd eccentric go, though not enough to actually stick around.
The waiter hands him the check directly, and partially out of pity for the poor employee, Law decides to cover the whole meal.
“Thank ya for eating at the Baratie. Have a nice day, and please, don’t return," the waiter says as he returns Law’s card. Strawhat ignores the slight and grabs Law's arm, pulling him out of their little room.
"C'mon, we gotta get you to your place before that kid leaves!" It's lacking details, but Law is surprised at the fact that Strawhat was paying attention enough to remember even that.
"Right..." he agrees, trying to pull away as Strawhat tugs him further into the restaurant. Wait, further?
"Why are we doing deeper in?" Law furrows his brow, trying to think of a reason they would be headed towards the back kitchen instead of leaving out the front, like normal customers.
Strawhat isn't going to steal food, is he?
Law stops suddenly, nearly crashing into a waiter who's trying to slip around them. None of them seem to be concerned about Strawhat in the middle of their kitchen, despite the waiter and host's earlier behaviors, so Law reluctantly follows behind. He considers turning around and leaving, but Strawhat notices him lagging and wraps a vice like grip around his wrist.
"C'mon! We gotta hurry!" They urge, pulling Law a bit more insistently. "He’s gonna leave!"
"Leave?" Law wonders, stumbling behind. They head through the kitchen, the cooks greeting them as they pass and occasionally keeping Strawhat's wandering hands from taking more food. The cooks seem quite used to the stranger’s sticky fingers, and laugh as one of the head cooks yells at them for trying to steal food.
Before he realizes it, they've headed out the back of the kitchen towards where the cooks take their smoking break. Strawhat makes a beeline for what looks like the head chef, judging solely by the extremely large chef’s hat, who's crushing a cigarette underfoot..
"Hey! HEY! OLD MAN! WAIT!" He yells, sprinting forward to catch the departing waiter. Law nearly crashes into another employee, then barely keeps himself from face planting into the asphalt, before managing to pull himself out of Strawhat's grip again. By then it's a moot point anyway because they’ve successfully gotten the head chef’s attention.
"We need a ride! You're going towards Punk Hazard, right? C'mon, it's not difficult, you're headed that way anyway, give us a ride! C'mon, c'mon, give us a ride! Please? You'll give us a ride, right? Thanks, old man!" Without waiting for any sort of confirmation, Strawhat grabs Law's arm again and heads towards the muddy truck several feet away. They throw open the passenger side door and shove Law in, then clamber in after him. Much to Law's horror, it's only a two seat truck, and Strawhat plants themselves firmly in Law's lap, already chattering away about car rides. Law's first instinct is to try pushing the stranger off of him, but there's nowhere for them to go. In the end, he manages to squish himself against the door and the annoyance, sharing the seat between the two of them. It's a tight fit, but it's better than having someone sitting in his lap.
The driver climbs in, already ignoring Strawhat's incessant prattling, and starts up the truck.
"Whatcha going to Punk Hazard for?" he asks, glancing at Law.
"Work," Law offers, then turns to stare out the window. The chef doesn't seem to take offense to his cold behavior, instead focusing on the road.
After a minute or so, the driver turns on the radio and pumps the volume up high enough to drown out Strawhat's rattling, though it’s effectiveness is debatable. Strawhat stops talking, instead singing along with the songs and humming along with the ones they don’t know the words to. At least they’re keeping themselves entertained, for now.
Law isn't sure when it happens, but at some point while he's staring out at the dark landscape passing by, Strawhat falls asleep. Perhaps it was sudden, Law wouldn't be surprised, but he becomes aware of a weight against his shoulder. Pressed against each other as they are, Law isn't surprised to find Strawhat's head resting there, the kid completely passed out. The driver turns the radio down to a low background noise, and Law drinks in the quiet. He realizes that it's the first time since arriving in Sabody that he's had an actual, quiet moment mostly to himself.
Unfortunately, it also means that he has room to think. His thoughts start to wander towards the morning that lays ahead of him. At this rate, even if he makes it on time, he's going to be exhausted. He hasn't slept in nearly 28 hours now, due to traveling all night and conferences and meetings and conventions all day. As he thinks about it, he finds his eyelids starting to become heavy, and the soft breathing of the body against his lulls him to sleep.
He doesn't sleep long. It can't be more than two hours later when the truck jolts, waking Law, and judging by the sleepy babble, Strawhat as well. The streetlamps burn his eyes, seeming too bright in the confusion of being startled awake.
"Are we there?" he mumbles, trying to stretch in the cramped space. Next to him, Strawhat rubs his eyes and yawns.
"As far as I can take ya. Wish I could get ya the rest of the way, but I gotta get home, ya know?" The driver turns off the truck and gets out, stretching as he stands in the crisp night air.
Law grumbles as he opens the door, pulling Strawhat out with him and nearly causing them both to fall.
"Wake up, will ya? C'mon, walk on your own," Law protests as Strawhat leans against him.
"Mmmnnnn... five mor' min'ues..." he replies, latching onto Law's arm. Law pinches the bridge of his nose. What a heavy sleeper.
"There's meat," he says calmly, and watches in slight disbelief as Strawhat immediately perks up, searching around intently.
"Meat! Where?" After a moment, he seems to realize that he's been duped, and he frowns.
"There's no meat!" he complains, glaring at Law. Law shrugs, unconcerned.
"Yeah," he agrees, then turns to the driver. "Thanks for the ride." The driver waves, indicating it wasn't a problem. He crushes his cigarette.
"Don’t mention it. As much flak as we give that one, we owe him a lot. Any friend of his is a friend of ours."
That wasn't what Law was expecting. He thought Strawhat was a nuisance? The driver must recognize his confusion, because he gives a low chuckle.
"He's a brat, for sure, and an annoying bastard, but as much trouble as he causes, he did us one hell of a favor. ‘Sides, you can’t truly hate the kid. Don't worry, you'll see what I mean soon enough," he snorts, patting Law roughly on the back.
"Well, see ya. Brat, take care!" With a final wave goodbye, the driver takes off, leaving the two of them at the rest stop. Only after the taillights can no longer be seen does Law realize that he is effectively stuck in the middle of nowhere with a highly annoying stranger.
"So, what now?" he asks, looking at Strawhat, who's still waving excitedly goodbye.
"Now we wait!" he chirps, heading into the gas station. The single employee sitting behind the counter glances up at them before resuming whatever he's doing on his phone. The two of them pay him about as much attention.
"For?" Law prompts, a sinking feeling settling into his stomach. Strawhat just laughs off his worries and begins perusing the aisles.
Law rubs his temples. He considers buying some aspirin or something, and after seeing Strawhat pick up as many packages of dried meat that he can hold - including in his mouth - he decides to buy two pill bottles, and a cold coffee.
As he's paying, Strawhat arrives with his hoard of dried meat and dumps them on the counter. Law sighs, but is about to hand over his card once again when several packages of sweet buns are added on top. He grimaces at the offending food.
"Absolutely not!" He instructs, gripping his bargaining chip tightly. Strawhat pouts but obediently removes the offensive foodstuffs, placing them back on the shelves, though perhaps a bit haphazardly.
In their place, several candy bars and sweets are brought over. Law can already feel himself regretting this, but he buys all of the items anyway. He downs three painkillers with some coffee and follows them with some of the offered dried meat. It's tough, but Law powers through it anyway. With their snacks procured, they head back outside.
The outside air nips at their noses, and the two watch as the very first snow of the year begins to fall, each snowflake melting before it can even touch the ground.
"Snow! It’s snowing!” Strawhat exclaims, momentarily abandoning his food to dance in the light flurry. He doesn’t stay away long.
"The weather is so tricky! It sneaks up on you, suddenly changing from warm to freezing!" Law decides not to comment on the fact that the temperature has been slowly dropping since they left the train station.
"Yeah."
He shakes his head and leans back, looking up at the stars littering the sky. The moon shines bright, bathing the scene in a soft white glow, even through the glare of the streetlamp. His breath fogs in front of him, momentarily obscuring his vision each time he breathes out. Strawhat munches on his snacks next to him, occasionally talking about whatever crosses his mind. Currently, he's describing some trouble he got into with his older brothers some time ago, though Law's taking it with a grain of salt. Can three people really get into that much 'accidental' trouble? Somehow, Law isn’t sure he is being told the entire story.
It hits him, as he laughs gently as Strawhat gestures wildly and smacks Law in the face, that he's growing less and less annoyed by the strange guy, and a bit more fond of him. Like finding a lost puppy that won't leave you alone. Strawhat shivers again.
“Cold?” he finds himself asking, despite the fact that it’s obvious. Strawhat just laughs.
They're almost entirely through the purchased snacks when headlights split the darkness and Strawhat jumps up, creating a mess of empty packages. Law stands as well, cleaning up he watches Strawhat jump around, waving wildly and occasionally picking up dropped packets of meat. He's still eating them, too. Law briefly wonders if Strawhat’s going to end up choking.
It's only a moment later when the vehicle arrives, a small beat up car that doesn’t look or sound entirely operational. The driver rolls the window down, looking highly annoyed.
"Well, brat. I'm here," they grunt, sounding the opposite of pleased. Law understands. Strawhat looks undeterred, as usual.
"Dadan! Thanks! We need to get to Pink Hazards by morning!" Strawhat opens the door and climbs in, pulling Law in after him. Nobody bothers to correct the mistake.
"C'mon, hurry! We can't be late! It's super important!" He urges, pulling half his body into the front seat for emphasis.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it, brat. Sit the fuck down, wontcha, and we'll get goin'!" Dadan snaps, but Strawhat just laughs as he sits back.
"'Kay, 'kay!" He squishes himself against Law, looking very pleased. Law kicks him to the opposite side of the back seat.
"Don’t you have any sense of personal space?" Law grumbles. His question is ignored by Strawhat, but their new driver, Dadan, gives him a slight look of pity through the rear view mirror.
"Hey, hey, do you like gummy worms? They're the best! They're sour, and sweet, and they're the best! Well, except for meat. Meat's the best. Then sour gummy worms! Oh, right, they have to be sour. Otherwise they're not sour and sweet, they're just sweet, and those aren't as good. You want some?" Strawhat asks, though Law isn't sure why because he doesn't wait for an actual response before shoving sour gummy worms into Law's face.
"Try them! They're yummy!" Law backs as far away from the sweet as he physically can. He does actually like sour gummy worms, but having them force fed to him is not what he would call a pleasant experience.
"Would you-" he starts, but Strawhat is already trying to feed him a different candy. Licorice, from the looks of it.
"No thanks," he tries, shying away from more sugar. Thankfully, that actually seems to work. With a shrug, the stranger shoves the licorice into his own mouth.
For a blissful moment, Strawhat is completely distracted by the candy, the music, and the snow that’s starting to fall a tad heavier. Law takes a breather, his gaze returning to the passing scenery. Away from the bright city and it’s light pollution, the stars shine bright. The moon lights the path before them, illuminating the nearby trees, lulling Law's thoughts away from the present.
He remembers car rides like this from long ago, his sister curled up in the seat next to him, his parents talking softly in the front seat. Law and his sister would pass the time telling stories about the moon and the stars, like making up their own mythology. Her favorite nights were the ones where the moon shined the brightest.
When Law's attention returns to the present, he realizes it’s because he can feel someone watching him. He turns to see Strawhat studying him, his head tilted slightly.
"Why the fuck are you so weird?" Law comments out, squinting across the seat at him. Strawhat shrugs, still munching on sweets.
"Whatcha thinkin' 'bout?" he asks, mouth still full of candy. That was disgusting. Law suppresses a shudder, turning away from the sight.
"None of your business," he retorts, turning back to the trees. At least the trees don’t care about what’s on his mind.
"Aww, c’mon. Tell me,” Strawhat whines, shifting closer. Law finds himself flinching and mentally curses.
"What’s it gonna take to get you to leave me alone?" he bargains.
Strawhat thinks for a moment, before his eyes light up.
“Tell me a story! A good one!” he demands.
How ironic that just a moment ago, he was thinking of a time his sister said the exact same thing. She’d stared up at him with her dark eyes, pleading for him to tell the same story he always tells whenever they have a long car ride during a full moon.
“I don’t know any,” Law replies, shrugging. Next to him, Strawhat pouts, but he ignores it.
In a shining example of juvenile behavior, Strawhat makes a big deal out of ignoring Law back, while still occasionally looking over to glare at him, then returning to his sulking. It’s almost humorous, it’s so superfluous. They drive in this forced tension for a while, the only sounds coming softly from the radio.
"We're here," Dadan says suddenly as they exit the trees and pull into what looks like an abandoned airport. The snow is cold enough to stick, at least for a moment, giving the giant landing pad a glistening sheen. Strawhat clambers out, shouting his thanks to Dadan and grinning at the insult he receives. Law follows, also giving a light thanks, and receiving a much warmer reply.
Dadan drives off and once again the two are left in the cold. Next to him, Strawhat continues to act petulant as he stubbornly keeps his back to Law.
After nearly ten minutes of relentless moping, during which Law watches Strawhat jump around to keep warm while still adamantly ignoring him, make snow angels while occasionally glaring at him, even play a one-man game of tic-tac-toe while grumbling about promises and hopes, he decides telling one story would be better than dealing with this insufferable annoyance.
“If I tell a story, will you stop?” Law yields, and isn’t surprised when Strawhat immediately runs towards him.
He sighs, regretting this already, and takes a seat on a cold tree stump. Strawhat plops down onto the ground, despite the snow. He’s soaked from snow angels and shivering already.
Perhaps it’s the nostalgia, or perhaps it’s working with so many ill children for so long, but Law finds himself pulling of his coat and dumping it on top of Strawhat’s head.
"Thanks! But won't you get cold?" Strawhat asks as he pulls the jacket on. Law shrugs.
"I'm wearing more layers than you," he points out, referring to the hoodie he wears as a shirt and his longer pants. Strawhat accepts the excuse easily.
"Thanks!" He says again, to which Law just nods.
Staring up at the full moon, Law's pulled back to his previous reminiscence.
"A long time ago, when we used to go on road trips with our parents, my sister and I would make up stories about the moon.This one was her favorite.” He pauses, the wind whipping around the few strands of hair not tucked into his hat.
“There once was a knight that prayed every night to the moon, and the moon heard those prayers and fell in love. She transformed into a human to be with her love, but they were torn apart by the customs and laws of the land. So she learned the rules and the laws, and she became a princess, all for love. Yet it still wasn’t enough. Her love needed more, asked for more, demanded more, until the two of them were on top of the world. Seeing what her love had become, she knew that she could not stay. She returned when the moon was at its fullest, and from above she watched her love die.
During the full moon, when the moonlight is at its strongest, she still cries, and her tears will fall to earth as the first snow of the year." Law looks down to see Strawhat staring at him intently. He turns away.
"Never understood why that one was her favorite," Law shrugs, his reminiscing done for the night.
Before the conversation can move forward, a distant roar draws their attention, and a moment later a helicopter flies into view. As the volume becomes deafening, Law covers his ears, taking cover from the strong wind behind the nearby trees. The helicopter lands and a red haired man steps off with a wide grin. In his right hand are two headsets, which he hands to the two of them, then beckons them into the helicopter. He doesn't attempt to say anything, which Law finds reasonable considering he doubts they'd be able to hear it anyway.
They board the helicopter and don their headsets. The pilot greets them with a simple acknowledgement, and the moment they're strapped in he takes off. It's the red haired man that does most of the talking. Law recognized him as soon as he stepped out of the helicopter, but he hadn't believed himself. Hearing the guy talk, however, there's no doubt this is the millionaire and CEO of RedForce, one of the biggest companies in the world.
Strawhat and Shanks chat over the comms while Law tries to figure out who the person sitting next to him is, if he knows RedForce Shanks. At some point they try for introductions, but with Law not paying any attention to their conversation, they decide to skip those for now.
"You're lucky we happened to be free, brat! It's not easy being the CEO of a major corporation, you know?" Shanks is saying when Law finally tunes in. He hears Strawhat laugh, as carefree as always. After a moment, Shanks joins as well, much to the pilot's - whom Law recognizes as Benn Beckman, Shank's right hand guy - annoyance.
"You really should be doing paperwork, Red," Ben chides, but there's no heat behind it. It sounds like an old argument.
Shanks doesn't respond.
"We'll be there shortly. It's a pretty quick ride from that place to the hospital. It's the only place we'll be able to land anyway, so it's convenient that's where you wanna go. Why do you wanna go there? If it's a medical emergency, you shoulda called the police."
"He's a doctor!" Strawhat explains, and then doesn't elaborate. Shanks seems used to his lack of details, or doesn't need the details, because he makes an "aaah" sound and the conversation shifts.
"Your trouble making brothers still kickin'?" Shanks asks, inviting Strawhat to begin more recent tales of the trouble they've gotten into. Law half listens, though his thoughts start to wander away from their conversation again. Just who is this kid that he knows the CEO and founder of RedForce well enough to arrange for a helicopter? As far as Law can remember, Shanks doesn’t have any children, and he certainly hasn’t named an heir.
Also, when exactly did Strawhat call these people? And how? Law hasn't seen him pull out a cell phone or stop by a pay phone or do anything to contact them. Did he use telepathy?
Realizing how ridiculous he sounds, Law forces his thoughts to return back to the realm of possible. Sure, some weird things have happened tonight, but so far it's all been a collection of oddities surrounding one highly odd young man, and nothing that defies logic.
Benn's voice suddenly interrupts Law's thought process.
"We'll be landing shortly. Please be sure that your seat belt is properly fastened and all limbs and extremities are within the helicopter at all times. Please remain seated until I call that it is safe to exit."
After checking his seat belt, Law watches the hospital landing pad grow larger as they approach. He's ridden in many helicopters before, usually with a patient though occasionally on his own, so he's used to the procedure that follows. The moment that they're cleared, Law jumps down, turning to face the helicopter once he’s gotten a safer distance away. Strawhat grins back at him from the seat inside, but doesn’t move. He yells something, but Law can’t hear him.
“WHAT?!”
“WHAT’S YOUR NAME!” Strawhat yells a bit louder, and Law just barely catches the words.
“TRAFALGAR! TRAFALGAR D. LAW!” Law yells back as loudly as he can. The blades of the helicopter begin to pick up speed once again.
“WHAT ABOUT YOU?” he screams.
Strawhat yells something back, but it’s lost to the wind. He’ll never know the name of the mysterious stranger that dragged him along for a wild adventure. The helicopter takes off, Strawhat waving goodbye. Suddenly, Law realizes that his coat is also being carried away, probably never to be seen again.
Well, perhaps the adventure was worth one coat, even if it was his favorite.
@therealblackpearl, Merry Christmas! I’m so sorry this is a bit late, but it’s here! I hope you enjoyed a bit of LawLu fluff, and if I ever write the epilogue, I will tag you as well.
Robin gives her a reassuring smile that makes Koala’s heart speed up. She quickly returns to the mess she’s made. She really doesn’t want to lose this job.
It’s dark, and there’s no one around by the time she reaches the Thousand Sunny. There’s a flickering light on board, so she heads up the ramp and finds the kitchen door open.
“So, hey,” Ace says, fingers twisting together. “You know how you said my crew was welcome to join the Whitebeards too, if they wanted to?”
Marco nods slowly. “We did say that, yoi. We don’t generally take captains, but we’d never separate you from your crew if you didn’t want to go.”
“Right,” Ace says, but he’s still fidgeting. “All my crew, right? You said.”
Marco props his hands on his hips. “What’s this about, yoi?”
Ace takes a deep breath. “I saved him,” he says, spreading his hands. “And he’s very well-behaved, I promise. Mostly sticks with me, you know, because fire, but I just thought I should check because–” he trails off, waving to demonstrate…something.
Marco sighs and does not raise a hand to rub at his head. Ace is still new and tetchy enough that he won’t take well to it, and this is the first time he’s ever asked for anything, or, well, tried to, anyway. “If he’s part of your crew, he’s welcome, yoi,” Marco promises.
“Okay,” Ace says and takes a deep breath. He steps back and opens the door behind him. “Marco, this is Kotatsu.”
Chapter 3: First We Run; Then We Fly Ace is running late. Work had gotten so busy he’d lost track of time and accidentally stayed an extra hour before rushing out the door. He focuses on his breathing, his arms and legs protesting as he pushes them to go faster, to make it on time, come on! He doesn’t see the kid until they’ve collided. Thankfully, his reflexes are pretty good, and the kid’s dark wings keep them from falling. “Are you alright? I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention!” Ace apologizes, bouncing in place as he prepares to take off again. “Y-yeah, I’m fine. Are you taking the exam too?” the kid asks, and Ace has to stop and look him over. They can’t be older than, what, 14? No way this kid is old enough to be taking a University exam! “How old are you?” Ace blurts out.The kid blinks before giving him a shy grin. “Sixteen,” they admit, and quickly add, “but I’ll be seventeen at the beginning of the semester!” Ace nods blankly, trying to associate that baby face with a seventeen year old. Before he can, he remembers why they collided in the first place. “Shit. We’re gonna be late!” Without really thinking about it, he grabs the kid’s arm and hauls them both towards the exam room. They make it just as the instructor stands up, ready to pass out the exam. The proctor gives them an annoyed glare but waits as they grab their seats. Ace heads over to his place next to Sabo, who throws an amused smirk at him. The kid finds the closest empty seat they can, which looks difficult considering how packed the room is. Once they’re settled, the exam begins. ~~~~ “That exam was a breeze!” Sabo comments, shifting his arms behind his head and grinning down at Ace. “Smug bastard,” Ace mutters at him, earning a smirk. Honestly, Ace doesn’t think he did that bad either. Between Sabo constantly talking about Heroes and their study/cramming sessions over the last few weeks, he knew most of the material. He bumps Sabo’s back, not quite willing to admit that he actually enjoys paying attention to the nerd. Sabo laughs and jumps forward, moving so that he’s walking backwards in front of Ace. Ace forgets the rest of the world. Realizing he's staring too much, Ace quickly thinks of a diversion. “Tomorrow’s the physical, right? Luffy kept bothering me if he could come watch. Wanna sneak him in?” Ace keeps his gaze on Sabo. The blonde pretends to think for a moment before giving Ace a wide smirk. “Is that a challenge I hear?” The two share a look, one that promises mischief and mayhem. Oh, Ace cannot wait for tomorrow.
AN: Drunk writing, yay! Unedited, written while completely intoxicated. Hope it’s not a mess.
Marco looks around the abandoned building. Are they really going in here?
“C’mon, Marco, it looks fun!” Ace comments, tugging at his arm.
“Yeah, the perfect way to spend a halloween night!” Sabo agrees, pulling at his other arm.
Marco looks at the decaying wood, and knows that he’s not drunk enough for such adventures. The two mischief makers take him forcefully and drag him inside.
Oh boy.
Their adventure starts out as it usually does - with Marco wondering what the hell he’s gotten himself into this time.
It’s not until they walk through the front door, and Ace, who’s gone first, bends down to pick up something shiny - a quarter, he announced gleefully - and completely missed the blade that nearly chopped his head off. Of course, Sabo, too, had seen the quarter, being only half a step behind Ace, and had bent to see it as well.
Only Marco, reluctantly behind the two, had seen it swing through and nearly decapitate both of them. He tried to point it out, but before he could get a word in, the two had dragged him inside.
His worst nightmares lay ahead.
The shadows move, the floors creak on their own, and the walls seem to breathe. Every turn brings something dangerous that tries to kill them.
At one point, Ace nearly falls down the stairs thanks to a trip wire, though he and Sabo blame his own clumsiness. Sabo catches Ace, lightning fast reflexes as usual.
Marco tries pointing out the wire, but it’s disappeared into the wall, the house already having taken back the evidence.
He just sighs at their obliviousness.
In one of the rooms, a hand reaches out through the darkness and grabs for Sabo’s arm; just in time, Ace pulls him aside, pointing out this ‘wicked painting’ that’s obviously bloody lettering spelling out ‘R U N’. Marco doesn’t think it’s a prank, but when he expresses this, the two just chuckle and go on their merry way. Really, how they haven’t noticed the obvious fact that this house or someone in it is trying to kill them is beyond Marco.
Why is he in love with them again?
Ace turns, flashing him that brilliant smile, and Sabo grins as he takes Marco by the hand, and Marco remembers. Oh yeah, they’re both the cutest and most caring people he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting. Right.
He couldn’t find two more oblivious or caring individuals if he tried.
Marco pulls a knife out of the wooden pillar.
“You guys realize this is a death trap, right?” he growls halfheartedly, waving the knife at them.
“Oh, cool, a knife!” Sabo says, taking it out of Marco’s hand. Ace looks it over, giving Sabo a grin. Sabo closes his eyes and tosses it behind him.
It hits a painting right between the eyes, probably killing someone. Sabo doesn’t even look to see where it lands.
Marco’s pretty sure that was the owner of the house. Was, because whoever happened to be behind that poster is dead. No doubts about that. Not that Sabo even realizes this.
He gives an exasperated sigh and follows the two through the rotting door frame. They’re gonna be the death of him, no doubt about that.
“Can we go home now,” he whines, hoping that he’ll eventually wear them down. Ace just gives him an amused smirk.
“Afraid, are we, Marco?” he teases, stepping up close to him. Marco feels his breath catch. They never cease to amaze, nor fluster, him. Ace leans closer, his breath ghosting over Marco’s lips.
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe,” he whispers, and Marco’s heart nearly stops. He almost misses the axe that swings behind Ace, past Sabo who’s studying some carved letters. Almost.
“Seriously, can we go?” If his voice is higher than usual, Marco feels it’s justified. He’s never been so worried for his two loves; not even the time where they were actively running from law enforcements.
They must sense something in his voice, because after a little bit more teasing (and another axe followed by a couple of darts) they give in and the three of them head out of the ‘abandoned’ house.
“What a fun halloween night!” Sabo comments to Ace as a guillotine falls from the entrance and slices cleanly into the floor behind him. He doesn’t even turn around.
“Right, fun,” Marco mumbles behind him, stopping a swinging hatchet from impaling Ace. He doesn’t even point it out, knowing it’s useless at this point. He’s just glad the three of them have made it out alive.
That is, until they enter Ace’s old pickup and the thing refuses to start.
“C’mon, Spade, babe, please, I’ll do anything,” Ace pleads with his truck. Marco just stares out of the window, unsurprised by the turn of events. Really, Ace’s truck hardly starts on a good day. Why had he let the two convince him that it was a ‘great idea’ to bring Spade out on this ‘adventure’?
Right, because he can’t fucking say no when they turn those stupid puppy dog eyes on him. He should work on this weakness.
He really should.
Eventually, the two convince him to give the truck a look. One of the wires has obviously been cut in half, and he spends about half an hour welding it back together.
At least nothing tries to kill them in that time.
Spade eventually starts up, complaining the entire time with loud noises and sputters. Ace happily applies the gas.
Nothing happens.
“Empty? But I was sure we just filled her up,” he comments, frowning at the gas tank meter.
“I’ll see if there’s any gas in the shed,” Sabo volunteers, but Marco quickly stops him.
“No, no, I’ll do it. Gotta prove I’m not scared, right?” he boasts, hoping it works. It does, and his boyfriends let him go, teasing smirks on their kissable lips.
Now’s not the time to be thinking about kissable lips, though.
He searches the barn for gasoline. It’s dark, and for once he’s alone. The chill of the October night is setting in, and Marco feels himself shiver. He hopes it’s only the cold.
Ah, there’s some gasoline. Right next to a tank reading ‘flammable’ and another reading ‘kerosene’. Fantastic.
He grabs the small jug of gasoline, running as the rest of the flammable liquid lights up. The barn is entirely on fire; Marco focuses on getting outside. He has to reach them, has to bring this gas to them so they, at least, can escape.
He can’t let anything happen to them.
A hand reaches out and grabs at his ankles. Blood runs between his attacker’s eyes, a sloppily patched-up wound dripping blood down their nose. Marco’s blood runs cold. He’s on the floor, the hay around him quickly lighting up; the heat is growing intense, and it’s becoming difficult to breathe. Gasping for air, he lashes out with his free foot.
The attacker howls in pain.
Covered in dirt and soot, Marco crawls out of the barn, barely missing the flames as the engulf the building. The gasoline in his hands is untouched, and he thanks whatever deity is watching over him for that. He pulls himself to his feet, stumbling back towards Spade.
Sabo reaches out for him.
“Marco? What happened?” he asks, taking the container from Marco and handing it to a worried Ace.
“Fire, in the barn,” Marco forces out past his burning lungs. He fights down a cough. He can’t worry them any more than he already has.
“Ace, we need to get him home. Quickly!” Sabo says, turning towards Ace. Ace is already filling the tank with the gas.
“Yeah, I know,” he replies, his voice oddly stoic.
“Yeah, I know,” Ace repeats, more to himself than Sabo, who’s helping Marco inside the truck.
The drive home is quiet. Marco would try filling it with sarcastic phrases if his lungs would cooperate. Instead, every time he tries opening his mouth, a rattling cough shakes his entire body. Sabo gently rubs his back; Ace faces forward, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are turning white.
Marco keeps quiet.
They reach home fairly quickly - much quicker than Marco expected, though he’s pretty sure Ace hadn’t bothered with speeding limits. He wants to tell his boyfriend off for this. His body can’t spare the energy.
They tuck him into bed, but before they can leave him alone, Marco grabs at their hands. One hand on Ace, one hand on Sabo. Just where they belong.
“Don’t go,” he whispers, his voice unable to project any longer. They exchange worried glances before caving in and curling up beside him.
“We’re not going anywhere,” Sabo says, his lips brushing against Marco’s collerbone.
“We promise,” Ace finishes, his words ghosting over Marco’s shoulder.
With a smile, Marco lets himself fall asleep between them. Yes, this is where he belongs. Nothing, not even an odd Halloween night, can change that.
It’s raining when the two of them return; Ace limping alongside Marco, who’s carrying someone on his back. They’re both soaked, and Ace looks like he’s taken a real beating.
Thatch spots them first and rushes forward to help. The kid on Marco’s back is briefly introduced as Luffy, Ace’s younger brother, as Thatch takes him gently from Marco. Divisions One and Two encircle the two commanders. Division One is checking Marco for injuries and asking what happened and why he was away so long. Division Two is more chaotic. They seem torn between making sure that Ace is okay and gets help from the nurses, and demanding to know why he stabbed Sabo and left. Ace doesn’t really seem to notice any of this. He’s looking off towards the stern. Thatch glances over and sees Sabo, hair sticking to his face, standing perfectly still. The two just stare at each other for a long moment, and Thatch fears he won’t see their reaction when Sabo starts towards Ace, his movements careful but determined. Once he’s a few feet away he stops and reaches out for Ace, who closes the distance in two quick strides. Their embrace is strong, though it’s obvious that Ace is careful of Sabo’s injuries. Thatch leaves them with a smile, relieved that things will work out between them. They’re all such stubborn people, but they love each other. At least they know that much.
Thatch brings Luffy into the infirmary. He tries to stay, but the nurses kick him out with glares and threats, so he heads back to the bow. Marco is corralling his two lovers towards his bedroom when Thatch intercepts them. They don’t say anything, but then again, they don’t need to. Thatch catches Marco’s eyes and they hold a small conversation without words. Marco looks tired, in a way that Thatch hasn’t seen in a long time. Not since he took over running the ship while managing Pop’s declining health. Thatch tries to reassure him, and gets a fond eye roll in return, but it doesn’t seem to help.
They pass by, and Thatch worries for his brothers. For his friends. They’ll be okay, right?
He does the only thing he can: he cooks. He makes a large meal just for the three of them, full of their favorite foods, as well as nutritious items that will help facilitate healing. It takes him a few hours, which he hopes is enough time for the three to have worked through their issues. The meal completed, Thatch knocks softly on Marco’s bedroom door.
“Marco?”
After a moment, a puffy-eyed Marco pops his head out. He somehow looks… worse. Thatch represses a cringe at his disheveled appearance.
“I brought food,” Thatch says, gesturing at the large tray. Marco stares at it for a long moment before turning inside the room. A muffled reply later he opens the door and allows Thatch to push the cart inside. Sabo and Ace are curled on the bed, their eyes also puffy. Ace’s wounds are already looking better, thankfully, and he seems to have dried off. Sabo also looks considerably better. Thatch realizes that Marco’s clothes are still damp, which is both odd and concerning. He places the cart near the bed and turns to Marco.
“You should change,” he orders, his voice soft but unyielding. Marco glances down like he forgot he was wearing clothes at all. He shrugs and moves towards the food, but Thatch intercepts him.
“Change, Marco. Now.” Marco gives him a grumpy glare that’s extremely ineffective and obeys with a huff.
Ace and Sabo haven’t moved. Thatch waits until Marco returns wearing dry clothes, and is about to leave when he notices Marco’s plastered hair. Marco makes an startled noise that reminds Thatch of his phoenix form when Thatch places a towel on his head and begins to dry his hair. After a moment, though, his brother relaxes into his touch, eating the offered food almost absently as he starts to drift off. Satisfied with his work, Thatch hangs the towel to dry and moves to leave the three alone. As he’s on his way out though, Sabo catches his eye with a small pout that makes Thatch stop. Does Sabo want something from him? He turns back, walking up to the bed where the two are intertwined.
“Yes?” he asks, his voice gentle. Sabo doesn’t say anything for a moment, just pouts at the wall. When Thatch goes to leave again, however, he gives a quiet, “hungry.”
Thatch almost laughs, but stops himself just in time. He can’t quite hide his smile, however, and Sabo pouts further at the sight of it. Thatch makes a plate of food for both Sabo and Ace.
“You’re going to have to move, you know,” he teases, holding the plate above them. Sabo frowns and looks down at Ace, who’s awake but willfully ignoring everything. Thatch sighs.
“Ace, you need to move. At least let Sabo eat. He needs the energy to heal,” he chides, gambling on bringing up Sabo’s wounds. Ace flinches but moves, allowing Sabo to sit up a bit and take the plate from Thatch.
“You should eat too,” he directs towards Ace before walking back to Marco, who’s falling asleep in a nearby chair. With a shake of his head Thatch wraps a spare blanket around his brother. These idiots. Really. All three of them are such a handful.
He actually makes it to the door before he’s stopped this time.
“Thank you,” someone whispers so quietly Thatch is sure he wasn’t supposed to hear. He smiles.
“Sleep well,” he says to the room and closes the door quietly behind him.
Sabo groans softly, his eyelashes fluttering against his pale cheeks, and Marco feels like he can breathe again. He has to resist reaching out, not wanting to startle Sabo as he slowly wakes.
It takes a few minutes, but Sabo gets his eyes open and manages to focus on Marco. Marco smiles softly down at him, knowing that his relief must be evident. He doesn’t get the sleepy smile he was expecting.
Instead, Sabo frowns at him.
Marco blinks, taken aback by the reaction. Why would Sabo frown?
“Wha…,” Sabo starts, but his voice doesn’t want to form the words. He coughs, winces, and rubs at his throat. Marco hands him some water, which he takes gratefully and downs quickly.
“What are you doing here?” It’s still scratchy, but at least it’s audible.
Marco blinks. Twice.
What? Does Sabo not want him here?
“Do you remember what happened, yoi?” Maybe he’s confused? Marco places the back of his hand against Sabo’s forehead. He can’t blame him for blocking the memory. Marco wishes he could forget.
“Yes. Ace. So why are you here? Why haven’t you gone after him?” Sabo sounds so frustrated, like he’s saying things plainly and Marco just isn’t understanding. Maybe that’s what he thinks - to him, it’s so obvious that Marco should be elsewhere.
To Marco, though, his place is right here, by Sabo’s side.
“We lost track of him. I wanted to be here, wanted to make sure you’re okay.” Marco brushes a strand of hair from Sabo’s forehead.
Sabo sighs, but it’s more fond than frustrated, so Marco consideres himself forgiven.
“Alright, alright. But I’m fine, I’m awake. Go. Get. Him,” Sabo demands. There’s something almost desperate in his voice, but he’s keeping it carefully hidden. Mostly.
“Okay, love. Okay.” He leans over, kissing Sabo’s forehead once, before heading out.
He feels himself lose control. It’s odd, kind of like time is slowing down, or maybe he’s speeding up. Everything happens too slowly and all at once - there’s a quiet much like the calm before a storm, then an explosion of noise.
It's getting colder and they’re losing light, but Sabo and Ace hardly notice. The abandoned building they're hiding in is more of a home than where either have come from. Sabo has his binder open, spread in front of him with several notebooks scattered around it. He’s very organized, Ace knows, despite the messy look of it all.
Sabo’s holding his newest card out, admiring it with bright eyes. He's rattling off facts and stati- static- numbers. Lots of numbers. None of which make sense to Ace, but he's not really paying attention anyway.
Ace is watching how the dying light makes Sabo’s whole face light up. It creates an outline around him. Ace listens to the way Sabo’s voice gets higher as he gets more excited. It’s one of those quiet nights, just the two of them hanging out. He knows that it won’t last forever - Sabo has to return eventually - but for a moment, time stops. For a moment, the two of them are happy.
“...heroes,” Sabo concludes. Ace blinks, a little dazed from the relaxed atmosphere, and realizes he has no idea what Sabo just said.
“What?” he asks, stretching.
Sabo turns to him, eyes still shining. “I love heroes! They’re so cool! They protect the citizens, and take down the bad guys, and they’re all so unique. Every day they put their lives on the line for us! Heroes don’t discriminate. They’ll save anyone, even street kids like us.”
Ace doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t say anything. Sabo tucks the new card - Phoenix, Ace reads - carefully into the binder. He puts all the books except that one away, curling around it as they lay down for the night.
Just before he falls asleep, an idea hits Ace. If he became a hero, Sabo would look at him like that too, right? He could make Sabo really notice him, make him proud and happy.
He makes his decision. He's going to become a hero.
Ace feels bile rising up and swallows, refusing to give in. His hands shake, but he keeps walking, walking away from everything. Sabo’s words echo in his head.
“I lo...ve you.”
What right did he have to say that as Ace stabbed him, as Ace betrayed him, as Ace broke every promise he’d ever made?
Why did Sabo have to understand? Wouldn’t it have been so much easier if he’d been mad, outraged, betrayed like he should have been? Then Ace wouldn’t feel this guilt, this longing for home.
Home.
He doesn’t have a home anymore.
It’s not like he wanted this. He feels anger fueling him, anger at Sabo for being so kind and forgiving, anger at Marco for not noticing, not stopping him soon enough, but most of all anger at the person who put him here.
He takes that rage and moves forward without looking back. Never look back, he reminds himself. Never look back, never turn back, never turn your back. No regrets.
Well, it’s too late for that.
With hands balled into fists, he can pretend they aren’t shaking. He can pretend they’re steady, confident, determined.
Someone is going to pay.
It doesn’t take him long to reach the small island. The greasy man before him grins smugly. It’s disturbing. And infuriating. Ace’s hands tighten as he attempts to keep himself calm, neutral if possible, though he knows his fury must show in every line of his body.
“Where is he?”
It’s barely a question. More of a demand than anything, but the disgusting pig lets it slide. He laughs boisterously, then points in the direction of a dingy shed. Ace’s outrage flares again, but he keeps himself under control. Sure enough, behind the door is Luffy, bruised and broken, reminding Ace of ten years ago. Of Bluejam. The thought makes him seethe at his own helplessness. Has nothing changed?
He reaches for Luffy, but a hand stops him, dark eyes glinting with amused malice. Ace gets the message. No touching.
No helping.
It makes him furious. How dare they treat his little brother like this! How dare they blackmail him into betraying his lovers, hurting his best friend, and leaving his home! How dare they have the audacity to think they can control him!
He forces himself to calm, keeps his flames from doing more than licking at the man’s hand, feeling a sense of satisfaction at his jerk away. He can send a message too. No touching.
Everything in him screams to stay right there, between Luffy and these men. Everything in him screams to stand and fight, to not turn his back on Lu and walk away. He hesitates even as the leader of the group becomes more annoyed with his lack of response. Could he? Could he just stay, fight, refuse to bow, as he’s done so many times before?
If only Luffy would open his eyes.
Then Ace would know for sure.
A hand grabs his shoulder roughly and on instinct Ace lets his flames engulf it. His small triumph at the ensuing yelp is short lived. Cold metal wraps around his upper arm and his flames die.
Ace feels like his very soul is being sucked out.
He closes his eyes, briefly picturing Sabo’s pale face as he pulls away. Remembers the anger, the burning hatred. He opens and looks down at Luffy, lying motionless at his feet. Rage.
His fingers twitch for a pipe he hasn’t used in years.
The words echo in Sabo’s head. Ace stands above him, hiding tears, his face set in determination. Sabo can’t even feel the dagger going through is stomach. Somewhere in the back of his head, he thinks he might be in shock. There’s something more important pressing against his thoughts.
Ace is breaking his promise.
Ace never breaks promises.
Distantly, Sabo hears Marco screaming, but isn’t sure what he’s saying. Everything outside of this moment sounds like white noise. All he can hear is Ace’s breathing. Can feel Ace’s heart beating from where his hand is pressed against Ace’s neck in a final, loving touch. He swipes his thumb across Ace’s cheek almost reflexively, brushing away a stray tear.
“I love you,” Sabo says, trying to smile up at him.
Ace looks so betrayed. Which is ironic considering who’s holding the knife. Sabo watches the emotions that flit across his face. Anger. Hurt. Desperation. Confusion? Perhaps a brief moment of love. He settles again on anger. Sabo almost laughs. Of course Ace is angry. He always was such an angry child. He feels his consciousness starting to slip. Ace pulls away. His face is too blurry.
“I lo...ve you,” Sabo calls after him.
Marco appears then, too loud and too sudden. Sabo’s attention is pulled away from Ace. When he looks again, Ace is gone. Marco is yelling something. Sabo can’t tell if it’s to him or to someone else. He coughs and the pain nearly sends him into darkness. Marco is warm. It’s comforting despite the heat radiating throughout his abdomen. Marco takes his fallen hand, grasping it nearly painfully tight. His other arm wraps around Sabo’s shoulders. Sabo looks up at him. There’s so much pain in Marco’s eyes. Things finally sink in.
Ace betrayed them.
Ace broke his promise.
By stabbing Sabo. That’s probably concerning. And important. Sabo isn’t really sure anymore. Whether being stabbed is good or bad. Perhaps it’s both?
It’s probably bad. Marco seems very upset.
Sabo’s having trouble seeing him. All he can see are brown eyes, flecks of copper hidden by regret. Darkened by determination. There’s something wrong with Ace. Sabo tries to tell this to Marco. His voice, however, only comes out as a gurgle. There’s a metallic taste filling his mouth. He hadn’t noticed that before. Marco hushes him. But Sabo swallows and tries again. This is important, damn it!
“Ace…” he manages to force out.
Sabo thinks Marco makes a noise in response. Something pained and angry and hurt. Which is understandable.
“Hush now, love. Ace is gone.”
Sabo shakes his head. Yes, Ace is gone. Yes, that’s what he is talking about. But Marco doesn’t seem to understand. Fuck. His head feels fuzzy. He coughs again, cringing at the pain and the sound. It’s very… wet.
“Ace… wrong. Wrong,” he mumbles, hoping that Marco can hear him. That Marco understands.
That Ace never breaks promises.
There’s a quietness that’s calling to him. It’s gentle. Comforting. He isn’t sure he can resist anymore.
With a final mumbled, “Ace,” Sabo closes his eyes.
It’s the quiet that gets to him. Ace always spent his days in a whirlwind of chaos, with a few moments of peace. Now, though, there’s little to pass the time with. Well, time works differently, but it still passes, slowly and quickly all at once. Slowly when he’s alone.
Quickly when they’re here.
Sabo and Marco walk up and Ace smiles at them. It’s always good to see them, even though they have to come to him now. He hates it here, but what can he do besides wait.
“I missed you too,” he says, grinning up at them. They smile back, and Sabo hands him some flowers. They look lovely, pristine as the moment they picked them up from the store. Sabo’s always careful about that.
“I knew you would,” he responds when Sabo tells him about the promotion. Of course Sabo got the promotion. Ace never had any doubts.
Marco promises to visit more often. Ace doesn’t say anything - doesn’t have time to, as Sabo cuts in with biting words and angry looks. He waits for them to work through their small spat. Ace hates it that they’re fighting over him, hates that he’s stuck here while they travel the seas.
Hates that he has to watch as they leave him behind.
They work through the argument and Marco pulls Sabo in close.
Ace grins up at them, excited about what’s to come. “Our anniversary is soon, do you remember?”
Marco reaches out, tracing his name gently. Of course they remember, how could they forget?
“I miss you guys, when you’re not here.” They miss him too. Ace won’t admit that he worried they wouldn’t; that he’s relieved they still miss him. Marco mentions it’s about time they head out and Ace frowns. Why does time always pass so quickly when they’re here?
They look at each other, reluctant to go, and whisper words of love. Ace watches the exchange from his place above the tombstone. He refuses to look away as they leave. His voice is nothing but a whisper lost to the wind, and he knows they won’t hear him, but he says it anyway.
