Spark
Oh look, it's Franky and he's writing another MarAce. Oh look, it's Franky, using his husbands to get out his feelings.
Ace x Marco [implied, the start of Ace's interest in Marco] TW: blood, injury, age gap. Word Count: 1,972
Another failure, the same outcome time and time again. Someone once told Ace the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Insane wouldn’t be the worst thing someone had called him, he thought bitterly as he sunk to his knees, grazing them on the deck as his palms slapped against the wood.
The shadow that Whitebeard had cast across his form slowly crawled off his panting figure, the laugh that filled the air as the captain left Ace to wallow in another defeat. Whitebeard glanced over his shoulder at him, the crew amused as he handed Ace another defeat.
Their reaction did little to ease the enraged fire inside, the laughter simply fanned the flame, keeping the embers that slowly died in the chill wind of self-pity and loathing alive. The way the crew stood around him would nudge one another, chuckling and snickering stoked those embers back into a wildfire, burning with rage and searing malice as Ace picked himself off the deck, bones aching, cuts singing in the salty air as he dragged himself to his feet.
Spitting blood off to the side, Ace let the fire burn brightly, showing in his eyes as he wiped his blood-smeared lips with the back of his hand, the anger colling tightly, his fists balled up, nails pinching into the skin of his palms.
He ignored the pain take as it tried to tug at his senses, the small voice drowning in the sea of adrenaline and determination to wipe some of those smug bastards smiles clean off their damn faces.
His breath was ragged, working himself up into an emotional frenzy as legs wobbled, feet refused to work and the loud grumble echoed in the air, the white flag of surrender in the form of hunger pangs sent Ace back down onto his knees with a defiant grunt and a mumbled threat to those around him.
It had taken everything within him to not set the entire ship on fire in that moment of ridicule. Would they laugh when their skin felt the scorching heat of his anger? Would they grin at one another when flames chased them across the wooden deck, would they still point and throw their heads back and laugh when the sails caught alight?
When the ship became a beacon of flames in the middle of the sea for the world to gaze upon and the stars to look down on in pity. Would it all be so funny then?
Ace closed his eyes as the laughter died down, the sound of footsteps on all sides as he bit the inside of his cheek to calm himself, the taste of copper he’d created simply mingled together with the rest of the metallic that drenched his tastebuds.
He heard the laughter vanish, just the flapping of the sails in the breeze as he settled back, ass hitting the deck as he drew his knees to his chest and forehead pressed against his folded arms as he worked on controlling his breathing, as he battled the very real desire to burst into tears.
Wanting an anchor to fix himself to before he floated away in his own thoughts before he let those miserable instructions threaten to drown him once again he sank his teeth into his arm, the painful pinching sensation caused tears to prick the corner of his eyes. Ace considered tears of physical pain more acceptable to and easier to swallow than ones of misery.
And if he couldn’t hurt someone else he’d have to settle for himself to stifle the desire for destruction.
He closed his eyes and focused on the everything around him, the sounds of the sea, quelling his anger to a low thrum of annoyance. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he heard the clicking of heels across the deck, he peered over his makeshift shield when the steps stopped in front of him.
A scowl peeked up from the balled-up mess of a human, his brows furrowed and the fire in his eyes threatened to burn anyone who got too close. Something interrupted his thoughts, the soft smell of a homecooked stew as he blinked and stared at Marco who was offering him a lazy smile.
“Hungry?” no response, Marco hadn’t really expected one as he set down the bowl as an offering to Ace.
Marco sat down next to Ace, giving him enough space, knowing how volatile he could become in the blink of an eye. He stretched out his legs and stared at the sky, watching the stars twinkle as he leaned against the railings. He didn’t shift his attention at the sound of the bowl being dragged closer, picked up, and followed by the sounds of Ace scarfing down the stew.
“You look like shit yoi.” Marco chuckled and leaned his chin on his shoulder watching as Ace paused eating to give him the finger in response.
“Some of those cuts look nasty you should let me check them out.” Marco scooted closer, just for Ace’s body heat to rise, a sneer on his face as he shot Marco a filthy look, a clear warning.
“Look, not that you can kill Pops but don’t you think you’d have a better chance if you weren’t slowly bleeding out over the deck?” Marco reasoned and nodded to a particularly nasty gash on Ace’s side, the blood seeping onto his shirt.
Ace shoveled the stew into his mouth, glaring at Marco, his face a tight ball of anger as he muttered little curses and insults in Marco’s direction – although– he did hurt all over, everything stung like a bitch and certain wounds didn't cease in their bleeding and that wasn’t something Ace’s pure will of spite could fix.
“And what, you're the ship's fuckin’ doctor or somethin’?” Ace spat though he did recall Marco pottering around with a handful of papers, and always fussing and clucking at the old geezer like a mother hen.
“I sure fuckin’ am yoi.” Marco’s lopsided smile grew into a cheeky smirk.
Ace seemed disarmed at the growing smile and the humor in Marco’s tone. He chewed his lip and mulled over his options, he did feel a little less pissed off now his belly was full and he’d been given a few hours to simmer in his pity.
“Fine, grab your stuff but it better not hurt or I’ll set fire to that dumb sprout you call hair.” Ace huffed and jutted his chin in the direction of Marco’s messy tuft.
Marco laughed, it didn’t sound teasing like everyone else, in fact, Ace decided Marco had a nice laugh –not that he’d tell the doctor this– but he found himself wanting to hear more, a little seed of pride in his heart that he’d made Marco make such a delightful sound.
“I don’t need tools, you just have to trust me alright, Freckles?”
Ace gave him a once over, checking to see if he had any means to cause him harm, he didn’t seem to have anything, and besides, he’d watched Marco from afar and he didn’t seem the type to needlessly attack someone.
Marco took the silence that stretched between them as enough permission to approach him. He moved closer and cautiously –worried he’d startle the coiled-up ball of misplaced anger and he’d strike– and brushed the fabric of Ace’s shirt out the way.
He whistled when Ace flinched and a trickle of red made its way down from the gash, a piece of wood must have gotten lodged and instead of turning into fire Ace must have yanked it out in his haste.
His keen eye roamed over the mark, tracing up Ace’s body and looking for others before he concluded this was the worst one and needed his attention first. Marco held out his hand, Ace was confused at the gesture, did he want to hold his hand or something?
“It won’t hurt, it’s not like your fire yoi.” Marco said and before Ace could snap in reply Marco’s and lit up blue.
The colours danced across Ace’s face as his eyes widened, the brilliant blues reflected in their depths as he stared at the fire, mouth failing to form words as he stammered and watched, never blinking as Marco brought the hand of fire towards his side.
For a moment Ace was about to cower away, flinch, even kick Marco and ask him just what the fuck he was thinking bringing fire to his injury. His protest died when the hand touched him, the cool palm cupping the wound, and Ace let out a sigh, shaky and unsure as he relaxed his posture.
He tried to manuever his body in such a way he could watch what Marco was doing, he focused on the connection between his body and Marco’s fire. He didn’t get a good look at what was happening but his eyes traveled from the fire to Marco’s face where a half-lidded gaze and lazy smile met him.
Marco quirked a brow in question before Ace’s inquiry died on his lips when the teal flames grew, flickering across Ace’s body, seeking out every cut, graze, bruise, and soothing it with a cool breeze. Ace sighed and melted into the sensation, he didn’t dare close his eyes, he didn’t want to miss the spectacle of the healing flames.
His body no longer screamed in agony, he could stretch his legs without the nagging protest of his muscles begging him to remain still for once in his life. Ace sucked in a breath through his teeth when Marco moved his hand, still ablaze as it came to rest on his freckled cheek.
Ace’s heart sped up, thumping against his ribs as Marco got closer, his smile growing along with Ace’s flushed hue across his cheeks, a bashful tinge traveling to the tips of his ears, even Marco’s cooling touch did little to quench the embarrassed heat that spread through him at the closeness.
“It doesn’t hurt…”
“I’m the Phoenix, I heal, and not every flame is designed for destruction,” he explained pulling away.
Ace was convinced the touch had been lingering, maybe that was his wishful thinking –a figment of his imagination– it had taken more self-control than he’d thought he possessed in his entire being not to lean into Marco’s touch.
He stopped himself from chasing the fleeting connection as Marco moved away, giving him a nod, signaling he was finished. Ace tried not to let the sigh of disappointment seem to obvious as he cleared his throat and mumbled his thanks.
“This should last until tomorrow, I expect to see you in my office after breakfast yoi.” Marco ruffled Ace’s hair, making the already disheveled locks a complete mess.
The smile Marco gave Ace did things to him, it made him happy to be privy to it. His heart carried on beating harder than before, this emotion was something he wasn’t used to, he couldn’t comprehend what Marco was doing to him –what that smile was doing to him– and he simply nodded like an idiot.
“Goodnight Ace.” Marco waved him goodbye and all he could do was nod, slack-jawed like a total dumbass.
Is this what love felt like? The blossoming warmth bursting through self-contempt? He took a breath staring into the sky, watching the stars as he tried to organize the thoughts that raced through his mind, palms sweaty and cheeks remaining flushed.
Ace had never had a crush before –then again– there was a first time for everything right? Maybe this crew wasn't so bad he mused, head falling back and hitting the side, he hissed and rubbed where his skull had connected to the thick wood and he sighed.
He had a lot to think about.
