me rendi ao genshin e coloquei na minha cabeça que eu PRECISO pegar a gostosa mulher forte e empoderada que tá no banner, daí agora passo praticamente o dia todo nesse jogo satânico farmando igual uma condenada
e por isso AINDA não consegui finalizar os dois rascunhos que tão nas minhas notas arghhh que raivaAAAAAA
To: @paox
An AU in which Ace has been captured in a battle that doesn’t involve Teach, and Sabo remembers and met up with him right before Ace’s capture.
Or, in which Ace is still being terribly bullied by the world but no longer worries for his life because his dead brother is alive and back to save him. Go Sabo, Go! PLEASE SAVE HIM
(For reference they are not actually in the same place. Also yes, those stick things are bars from wherever Ace is being held. X))
Sabo yawns softly, trying not to interrupt Ace and Marco as they attempted to finish setting up their tree. It was a tiny thing, barely reaching above Ace’s waist and smelling brilliantly like pine and something that made Sabo think of snow days spent by the fireplace.
“We have too many ornaments,” Ace mutters softly leaning over the plastic tub that they had gotten when their collection had gotten too big for the little cardboard box. “We’re gonna have to pick our favorites.”
“Ignore all of the ones we got from the craft store when we first started dating,” Marco answers as he frowns at the star in his hand, trying to make it balance on the top of the tree. “Too much glitter.”
Ace nods shifting those to the side, “Sabo, do you have one that you really want on the tree?”
“Pops, the,” Sabo buries his face into his pillow as he yawns. “One he gave us.”
“That’s a good one. And the one that my mom gave me when I was born,” Ace holds it like it’s something extremely fragile as Marco sets the star to the side, wrapping the string of lights around the top instead. “Marco?”
“That’s as good as we’re going to get for the star,” He nods. “This one.”
Sabo hums, watching them carefully decorate the tree through slitted eyes. He had meant to get more sleep last night, but his brain had been caught up in something and by the time that he realized the time, it had been too late to take one of his sleeping pills. Not that he liked to take them in the first place, but they had made him promise. And Sabo wouldn’t break a promise to them.
“Still tired,” Marco asks suddenly, his hand carding through Sabo’s hair.
“Hm.”
Marco nods, “I’m sorry for that. Do you want to take a nap? I think Ace said he wanted to sleep for a little bit and he loves to cuddle when he can get the chance.”
“Nap?”
“Yeah,” Ace yawns, a shiver making it’s way down his spine and echoing down his limbs. “I’m too tired to stay up unless I take a nap. Do you want to join me? Marco put the heater on the trunk at the end of the bed to keep us warm.”
Sabo nods, “Nap.”
Marco ushers him up, “Come on. Sleep, Sabo. I’ll wake you both up when it’s time for dinner, how does that sound?”
“Like heaven,” Ace answers kissing Marco’s cheek and wrapping an arm around Sabo’s shoulders. “Thank you. For dinner and helping me with the tree.”
“I’m sure you could have done it without me,” Marco teases gesturing at the small tree. “Get some rest. I’m thinking of steak for dinner.”
“Steak is good,” Sabo mutters, pushing his face against Ace’s neck, the light brighter without the throw pillow to hide from it. “And coffee.”
“No coffee,” Marco corrects kissing Sabo’s temple. “Early night tonight, we can make up for it later. Now go lay down, both of you. Before you fall down.”
“I’m as graceful as a butterfly.”
Ace laughs, leading Sabo back to their bedroom, “A drunken butterfly. You couldn’t make it more than a few steps without me to balance you, Sabo. Come on. We’ll nap and then Marco will have dinner ready for us.”
“Food,” Sabo agrees.
“That’s right food.”
Marco shakes his head as they stumble through the door to their bedroom, Ace kicking the door shut behind them. He waits for the grumbling to stop and for the soft sounds of them sleeping to echo out the room. One day, he was going to remember to film them asleep to prove to them how they did in fact snore, thank you very much.
“Alright,” Marco says sighing as he looked over the living room and took in the mess of cups, with differing levels of cold coffee from Sabo’s most recent late night study binge. “I’m going to have to clean this before I do anything else.”
Sabo always put a cup down and never remembered which one he had been drinking from when he was that deep in his work. It always drove Ace and Marco mad because they could never keep enough of their coffee mugs clean and Sabo would even steal the ones that Marco and Ace had written their names
“Sabo,” Marco sighs, smiling softly as he finds his mug half buried underneath the couch, almost filled to the rim. “I should have gotten him one of those heaters.”
Sabo stumbles out of bed, his eyes burning as he tried to open them, blinking at the sudden darkness outside their room, the light still on from where he had dragged Ace into the bed with him instead of allowing him to turn it off, the only light coming from the Christmas tree. A small pile of gifts had been added to the scene since he had last seen it.
“Waking up now,” Marco asks, smiling when Sabo jerks to look at him, leaning on the island, a mug in his hands. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Dinner is still in the oven, do you want to eat?”
“Food sounds nice,” Sabo yawns stumbling over to him and shoving one of the stools away from the island to sit down, leaning his head on his arms. “I’m sleepy still.”
Marco brushes Sabo’s hair from his face and rests his palm on his forehead, “Mhm, you don’t feel sick. That’s good, I was worried that you were going to get sick with all the late nights that you’ve been pulling.”
“Feels like ice.”
“That’s because it started snowing about an hour ago and I haven’t upped the heat,” Marco admits setting a plate in front of him. “It’s pretty.”
“Pretty?” Ace grumbles, steadier on his feet than Sabo had been. “W’as pretty?”
“The snow,” Marco answers setting a second plate down for Ace. “It started up not too long after you both went to sleep. News says that it might delay traffic which would get us out of work for a bit tomorrow.”
Sabo pouts, “Not me.”
“That’s what you get for working from home,” Ace yawns, leaning heavily into Sabo’s side, feeling hot enough to almost scald.
Ace always felt too hot to be human when it started to get cold outside. It was like his own personal furnace. Marco too, to a lesser extent. Always warmer than Sabo but never as burning as Ace.
“Don’t have to get dressed.”
Marco smiles, “He does have a point.”
“Clothes are the worst.”
“Only when you have to dress like Marco does,” Ace counters shoving his spoon into his mouth. “It’s d’lcious!”
“Mouth closed when there’s food, light of my life.”
“Sorry Marco.”
Sabo snorts, knocking his knee against Ace’s as he ate. It was nice having this, just the three of them. Christmas was going to be a mess of hurrying from their house early in the morning to get to the Newgate house for the family event and then staying there for most of the day, except for the brief time that they would have to escape to trade gifts with Luffy, who was spending the holiday with his friends instead of them.
“If you two want to stay up a little longer, I can make some hot chocolate. We’ve got some marshmallows and we can watch the snow fall for a little bit.”
Ace nods, eyes glowing, “Do ya think we could have a snowball fight tomorrow after work?”
“I’m sure that we could as long as you both aren’t too tired.”
“Okay!”
“Blankets,” Sabo asks finishing his plate. “We need them if we’re gonna be watching the snowfall.”
Marco gestures over his shoulder, putting the plate in the sink and grabbing one of the newly cleaned mugs, to where a small pile of blankets and pillows were spread around their sliding glass door, the outside light turned off and the only light the distant glow of their neighbor’s Christmas lights glittering on the fallen snow.
“You’re magical,” Sabo says leaning forward to steal a kiss when Marco returned with his hot chocolate. “A being made of Christmas magic.”
“Santa Marco,” Ace adds stealing his own kiss. “Come on, Sabo! We need to get the best spots!” Ace only stops long enough to steal a kiss from Sabo as well before dragging him to the blankets, spreading them out to make it more comfortable.
“I’ve got your mug,” Marco promises Sabo, the drink left behind in Ace’s rush. “Get comfy and I’ll bring all there in just a moment. And Ace, I couldn’t be Santa.”
“You’re right,” Ace says smiling at him. “But Pops would make a good one.”
Marco laughs, balancing the mugs carefully so they wouldn’t spill, “He use to dress up like Santa when we were little, so I would have to agree.”
“Aw, we missed it,” Sabo leans into Ace’s side, humming happily as Marco settled against his other side, sandwiching him between them. “Thank you.”
“Welcome,” Marco mutters softly, glancing out the door to where the snow was swirling to the ground. “It’s suppose to turn into a real storm later.”
“Good, they aren’t as nice to watch.”
Sabo takes a sip of his drink, laying his head against Marco’s shoulder. This was nice, the quiet of the night, watching the snowfall from the warmth that both of his lovers seemed to radiate. It was everything that Sabo wanted out of a quiet evening. There was even hot chocolate.
“Don’t fall asleep,” Marco whispers, kissing Sabo’s temple again. “I’m not going to carry you to bed if you fall asleep.”
“Mhm,” Sabo snuggles closer. It was a lie after all, Marco would carry him to bed, even if he complained about it tomorrow. He always did.
all the light we cannot hold; Leafyxtheify's secret santa gift!
For @leafyxthiefy
The sky of the horizon was lit in dull red, muted but still glowing against the encroaching stars, and as a breeze blew across Marco’s face, he could smell smoke. His horse paced restlessly, and it was only Marco’s stern grip on the reins and his mare’s well-trained response that kept them steady. “Easy, Adaline,” he murmured, patting the muscular curve of her neck, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off the sky. For it to be so bright, even so far away…He didn’t want to think about how out of control this fire sprite had gotten. Or how difficult it would be to stop before it reached the border of Whitebeard’s land.
Digging his heels into his mare’s flank, Marco rode for the gathering dusk, years of training keeping him in the saddle even as his mind churned with how to stop the uncontained sprite. For it to be so uncontrollable it had to have been growing for hours, devouring with little regard for the sacrifices made to keep it burning. How cruel did they have to be, to burn for so long and so bright? Did they have such little regard for human life, that the thought of the destruction they wrought seemed inconsequential when compared to the feast they might have from this forest?
Heat began to prickle his cheeks and Marco was sure that if he were not riding then there’d be little to keep him cool; barely a breath seemed to stir the leaves above him.
Then, finally, for all her loyalty, Adaline would go no further. Fire crackled through the underbrush, and she reared back as it leapt for her hooves. Marco only barely kept his seat, turning her around in a tight circle to stop her from bolting.
“Sprite!” he called, knuckles going white in fury as he saw the trees wither and turn to ash before his very eyes. “Show yourself, fireling!”
“I’m here,” whispered the flames, gold and red fire a tangle around wilting tree limbs. Then the fire flared, leaping for the sky, and Marco winced at the boom that echoed the sprite’s voice. “Where else would I be?”
Marco licked his lips, hot air burning the inside of his mouth as he breathed, and Adaline pranced against his thighs, fighting the tight grip he kept on the reins. “Where are you?”
If fire could sneer, he mused, and the second boom of, “Here!” made Adaline bolt before Marco could circle her again, hating the stress he put her under but unable to dismount. He’d need her frenetic speed should the fire turn on him, and she had his spell books stashed in her saddlebags.
Though how much use they would be against a fire sprite of this magnitude…
“If you were here then surely I would be able to see you!” he called, “So if you are, then where are your hands, your eyes, your heart?”
There was silence, suddenly, only sparks crackling as they flew towards the sky, and then so softly that Marco barely heard, “Nowhere.”
He paused, then carefully asked, “Nowhere?”
“Can’t find- can’t see-” the forest fire before him faltered, dropping down till it was only just past the height of the trees it was slowly devouring, and a plaintive howl filled the air, long and echoing though there was almost nothing left for it to echo against. “Where are you?”
“Adaline, forgive me for this,” he mumbled, eyes narrowed at the wavering flames, and he took her reins in a hard grip and urged her towards the fire. She shied away from the heat, but Marco had already begun to cast one of the spells he knew from heart, redirecting the fire and its heat from the both of them. “Here, fireling,” he called as they stepped into the inferno.
The fire seemed to bend down to look at him, arching in a gleaming globe above his head and blotting out the last of the smoky sky. “But how are you so- small?”
“Were you not, before?”
“Always!” said the flames, and even through his spell Marco could feel how the heat jumped. The fire lost form, flames licking for the ground beneath them, and Marco’s heart caught in his throat as he struggled to keep the spell going and Adaline under control. “Always, so small, burning out and out and out!”
“You would not burn out simply from staying small,” he said, turning Adaline to try and keep her to stay, but all that happened was a spinning circle of gold seemed to follow him, till Marco was almost dizzy with the everchanging fire. “And if you’re under control-”
“I will not be controlled,” hissed the fire, the words coming from all around him, and then the fire was growing louder and louder until the boom of its words echoed. “I WILL NOT BE PUT BACK.”
Marco clasped his hands over his ears with a gasp, trying to stop the terrible noise from ringing through his head, but it was too late; his spell shattered, heat rushing over them instantly. It was only the sigils sown into his clothing and Adaline’s saddle that kept them from being burnt to a crisp, but the warmth still pressed against his skin, hotter and hotter till Marco was sure the sigils themselves would catch alight. Adaline, finally sensing that the grip on her reins had faltered, reared with a whinny. Too stunned by his magic breaking, Marco could do little but feel himself fall.
Hitting the ground drove the breath from his lungs, head spinning from the steadily growing heat, and he barely had the strength to send a spell after Adaline to make sure that neither of them would be used to feed these flames. “So small, so small,” crooned the fire, and Marco panted as he tried to push back the fire bearing down on him. One touch would burn him far more badly than anything he’d ever felt, and if his concentration broke again, Marco wasn’t sure he could reclaim it fast enough.
That all mattered little, however. It seemed inevitable that his concentration would break, and he had no idea what could defeat a sprite of this magnitude. What spell could he use to stop a fire sprite so big that it’d made Marco’s magic falter?
“I’m not small,” he said, heaving in desperate breaths of the burning air. “If you just came to my size-”
“Can’t make me, can’t put me back, can’t make me go back, can’t keep me there again-“
“I’m not going to put you anywhere!” he cried, his shield shrinking again as fire pressed against it, and his hands began to shake from the strain. All he could see were the flames pressing against his magic, crackling and sparking like electricity. How could it just keep attacking him? Surely it would run out of power. Surely it hadn’t devoured enough to keep it burning so large and for so long. Surely-
His shield flickered, heat pouring over him and chapping his lips to the point where when they parted the skin cracked and bled, and Marco screwed his eyes closed to stop himself from watching the fire creep nearer and nearer. Adaline had made it out, sprinting past the ring of fire, but Marco knew that unless a miracle occurred, he would not.
A boot dug into his side, driving the air from his body in one rush of surprise, and Marco’s shield finally died. Before the fire could rush over him, however, a body fell atop him.
“Hold still,” ordered a blond, his voice shaking as he pressed their foreheads together, and Marco’s eyes went wide at the burn that took up half his face. One sharp blue eye was wide in desperation, but the other was sealed shut by new burn scars, red and swollen. “Just hold still.”
“Did it-,” he croaked, his hand moving to the charred skin and the few wisps of hair that still clung to the right side of the man’s skull, “do this? Did the sprite do this?”
The blond glared at him. Coming from someone two inches from his nose, it was a remarkably scathing glare. “God, you’re thick. Can’t you listen to one instruction?”
“…Sorry?” he offered, and then wondered why he was apologising.
Then, he couldn’t help but wonder how he even had time to apologise. Shouldn’t the sprite have burnt them both to husks by now?
Marco tilted his head to peer around the blond’s body, his eyes going wide as he saw that the clearing had once again emptied of flames, only that same globe blotting out the sky. The fire directly behind the both of them, however, seemed to sway, and as Marco watched it took on a distinctly humanoid figure.
“Move, Sabo,” it ordered, slowly reaching out a long tendril that almost seemed like a hand, but the blond – Sabo? Marco wondered – merely hooked his arms below Marco’s shoulders, pressing his forehead into the crook of Marco’s neck. His frantic breaths washed over Marco’s throat, and Marco felt his own breath catch as the sprite touched Sabo’s back, trying to nudge him aside. However, Sabo’s grip only tightened even as his breath hitched.
“Stop it,” Sabo whispered, and Marco couldn’t ignore the sizzling noise that began to fill the air. The smell of burnt fabric hit his nose, but soon after Marco could only smell overcooked meat and his stomach churned. “Stop hurting people, Ace. I didn’t let you off that candle just for you to burn like this!”
“Never let me off at all-” the spirit began, and the tendril formed into a hand, pressing further against Sabo’s side to get him to move. Sabo’s arms tightened around Marco’s shoulders, his leg sliding under Marco’s to press them closer together.
“I didn’t know you were there!”
“So small, so small, forever- Choking on vanilla and sweetness!”
“Ace, I’m sorry!” Sabo cried, and Marco felt nails dig into the top of his shoulders. He grit his teeth, hands falling to Sabo’s waist.
“Let go,” he ordered, and Sabo looked up at him, eyes wide in surprise. Then, he glared.
“No.“ Sabo said, and then added, "Fuck you.”
Marco spluttered. "Fuck-?” he shook his head, trying to pry Sabo off him, but Sabo stubbornly clung to his shirt. “You can’t let him burn you to death just because he wants to get at me!”
“He’s not trying to hurt me!”
“Oh, he’s not?” Marco said, and Sabo only backed up the accusation in his tone by letting out a loud cry as the sprite tried to roll them both over. “If I can just cast a spell-”
“And you’re certainly not allowed to hurt him!”
“Well than what are we supposed to do?” Marco demanded, and Sabo gave a soft grunt.
“You can shut up and let me think?” he offered, tone snapping like ice shards, “Rather than jumping straight to self-sacrifice.”
“You’re the one who fell atop me!” Marco said, “I’d say that was closer to self-sacrifice than refusing to see you burn to death!”
“He won’t hurt me,” Sabo hissed, “and if you just gave me a minute to think-”
“Oh, you can do that?” Marco retorted, “I’d thought perhaps a fire sprite burning you would make such a thing difficult.”
“Fighting, fighting, so easy to fight…” crooned said sprite, and Marco’s eyes widened at the sight of the long tendril hovering just above his nose, “but you cannot fight inevitability.”
With a yelp, Marco hooked his leg around Sabo’s and rolled them away from the sprite’s questing touch, barely avoiding the sparks that flared before his eyes. Sabo let out a grunt as Marco landed on top of him, but his eyes went wide as soon as they’d stopped moving, caught on something behind them. He quickly rolled them again, and Marco watched as the fire parted around them like water around stone.
But Marco had seen just how easily water could wear away even the most durable stones, and he could spot the cracks in the tight lines around Sabo’s eyes.
“At least let me shield us,” he said, and Sabo bit his lip.
“…Don’t hurt him.”
“It doesn’t exactly have the same qualms,” Marco said, but nonetheless once Sabo freed his hands, he wrapped one around Sabo’s waist and used the other to press at the air around them, his blue shield flickering to life again and pushing the heat away. The sudden temperature drop was bliss against the sweat beading at his temples, and Marco felt Sabo slump against him. “What happened here?” he asked, trying not to jostle Sabo too badly, mindful of his burns, but Sabo took a deep breath and pushed himself off Marco’s chest, eyeing the fire that curved around the domed edge of Marco’s shield.
“I wasn’t- I didn’t realise Ace wouldn’t know what was right and what wasn’t. That after years of only having one thing to burn he wouldn’t realise that the world wasn’t like that.” Sabo cast Marco a pointed look, his lips pursed tightly. “He had been kept on this candle wick, for so long-”
“Didn’t you think there was a reason for that?” Marco mumbled, and Sabo growled low in his throat.
“Cruelty.”
Marco frowned, Sabo’s sharp, quick answer rankling. “If he was kept on a candle wick than maybe they knew he’d do this. Sometimes sprites – fire sprites, especially – have to be kept under control.”
“Had he been given the chance to learn how to stay under control rather than just kept prisoner for most of his life I’m sure such an argument would be valid!” Sabo snapped, vicious fury making his voice shake, and Marco reeled back, shocked by that sudden piece of information. “As it is, I’m afraid that when people keep you hostage and barely feed you, you learn to appreciate food. And as his food is in no short supply now, considering that fire sprites can eat anything flammable, it’s no wonder he lost control!”
“Since when?” Marco asked, voice dropping into a dangerous growl, and Sabo’s own rage seemed to subside, replaced by confusion.
“What?”
“Since when was he kept prisoner. On that- you said, candle wick?”
Sabo blinked slowly before his eyes narrowed. “I don’t know. But just as long as I’ve been alive – maybe longer.”
“And those who kept him-?” Marco said, and Sabo’s lips quirked into a vicious, bitter smile.
“He already burnt them,” Sabo said, and the deep breath he took seemed to strengthen something in his eyes. “And he burnt them because they hurt me.”
“Polite of him, to protect his- saviour.”
“Had I saved him he wouldn’t be hurting now,” Sabo whispered, and Marco moved his hand from the small of Sabo’s back to pat him gently. Guilt rested heavy in the furrow of Sabo’s brow, and Marco instead turned to look at his shield, strengthened by his rage at the injustice committed against Ace. As a Paladin, his defensive magic was already strong, but when it was for the protection of another it was unbreakable. The fire swirling along the outside of the shield couldn’t even make it waver, and Marco’s eyes were drawn into the hypnotic patterns as flames curled around each other.
By the time it started, it was far too late for him to realise that they’d all begun to gather in one spot. “Sabo,” he said cautiously, his hand digging into the last remains of Sabo’s shirt, and Sabo shifted to look at him. “Is that- Ace?”
Sabo turned, and Marco watched as his eyes went wide. “No.”
An open mouth, paused as though screaming, feet that hovered a few inches above the ashen ground, and then the outstretched column of flame that slowly sucked the forest fire into the figure’s midst. Every burst made it fluctuate wildly before it settled, more features picked out in sharper clarity. The last of the fire made a soft whoomp of displaced air as it was drawn inside the sprite, and Marco watched as it landed on the barren ground beneath its feet. Fire sprung up around its feet as it walked closer to them, and Marco found his heart thumping in his throat as he watched those slow, inevitable steps towards where he and Sabo lay.
His shield would hold. It had to hold.
“Ace, don’t do this,” Sabo warned, his hands fastening even tighter around Marco’s shoulders, and Marco couldn’t deny how those nerves seemed to affect him too, making him swallow hard to get past his heart in his throat.
Ace raised his arm, the features at first indistinct, but then it began to solidify, gaining separate fingers, then the bend of a wrist and the crook of an elbow. It would have been fascinating to watch had that outstretched hand not begun to slowly turn blue, even brighter than Ace’s earlier flames, burning so hot that Marco could once again feel it through his shield. Ace’s palm met Marco’s shields, and for a moment, Marco was sure that his shield was going to hold out.
Then, Ace’s fingertips flared brighter, and the very tips poked through. The rest of his palm followed suit as the holes widened like melting butter before Ace’s touch, and though most of the shield still hung strong, Marco couldn’t do anything but watch as Ace’s hand headed for Sabo’s head. “No,” Marco whispered, frowning as he tried to close the hole, but there was little he could do but watch the fire’s steady descent. “Don’t do this.”
“I’m not going back.”
“You don’t have to,” Sabo said, pressing himself off Marco’s shoulders and even closer to the blue flames with little regard for what the heat would do to him. “Ace, I swear it. On my life, I swear it! You killed anyone who would’ve tried, and I would never imprison you.”
“Won’t go-” Ace started, and then grunted, his open palm shrinking like a burning life, fingers curled towards his hand. “Sabo, I don’t- I can’t go back. I can’t be- so small, so weak, again-”
“You won’t,” Sabo declared vehemently, and he took his hands from Marco’s shoulders to reach out for Ace. Soft sizzling met Marco’s ears, and Marco tilted his head back to see what’d caused it before giving a soft gasp of surprise. Ace’s shoulders were shaking, and small tendrils of steam rose from his face.
“Can’t say that, can’t be sure it’s true, can’t-”
“You are never, ever going to be hurt like that again, Ace, I promise. Were you ever to be that small again it would be of your own choosing. I would make sure of it.” Sabo stretched out his arms again, expression set with determination and longing, his body coiled tight, and it was only through Sabo’s thighs around his stomach that Marco could tell he was shaking. “Ace, please. I promise I’ll protect you, just like you protected me. I promise.”
Ace gave another sob, his shoulders hitching high, and the steam that rose from his face almost blocked out Marco’s view of him.
And then suddenly a young man stood in the place of the sprite, skin dark brown and freckled instead of gleaming fire red, and he was falling into Sabo’s open arms, burying his face into Sabo’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice cracking, and his nails dug into Sabo’s back with how hard he tried to pull them together. “I’m so, so sorry, Sabo. I’m so sorry.”
“We’re okay,” Sabo said, running his hand along the curve of Ace’s skull, his own head bowed, but Marco could see how his knuckles were white. Ace was pressing right against one of Sabo’s new wounds, and yet Sabo still refused to say a word. “Thank you.”
Ace pulled away, and Marco’s breath caught. For all that he had skin like a normal man, and the heat that came off him was no longer deadly, Ace’s eyes still looked like smoke and ash. “What are you thanking me for? I hurt you!”
“Not on purpose.”
“That doesn’t excuse it, Sabo,” Ace hissed, his cheeks turning white. “These scars-” Ace leaned even further back, biting his lip and letting his hand skim Sabo’s side, finally realising what he’d been touching while he and Sabo clung to each other. “Fuck, Sabo. I hurt you so bad.”
“And you won’t, ever again.”
“But what if I-!”
Sabo cast Ace a glare that had Ace’s mouth clicking closed, and Marco almost laughed, were it not for the fact that Ace had proven his shield useless, and that if Sabo’s glares could shut up someone so powerful, he didn’t want to see them turned on him. “You won’t.”
“If you do, you can also do a lot of begging, because he refused to even entertain the thought of hurting you while you burnt his back.” Marco said, his lips twisted into a frown. “I think he’ll forgive you for anything.”
“Not everything,” Sabo said, looking down at him, and a smile tugged at his cheeks. “For one thing, he knows not to touch my books. That will get him disowned.”
“How terrible,” Marco muttered. “Speaking of separations, however.” He pointedly looked to everywhere they were entangled, and Sabo rolled his eyes before lying back down, making himself comfortable on Marco’s chest. “Hey!” Marco said, and Sabo tilted his head slightly to glare.
“I am in no rush,” he declared. “And I just saved your life, so you can hold still as repayment, and let me rest. In case you couldn’t tell, these injuries are a little bit fucking painful, and I got them saving your stupid ass.”
“You are so very rude,” Marco said, shifting to try and shove Sabo off him, but Ace moving to gently run his hand over Sabo’s cheek made him pause.
“I know you know I didn’t mean it, but I’m still sorry,” Ace said, swallowing hard. “I never-”
“It’s fine,” Sabo said curtly, reaching up to snag Ace’s wrist. His eyes, now closed, seemed to soften as he managed a teasing smile. “Just don’t do it again.”
Ace groaned. “Fuck you.”
“I can’t tell who got the language from whom,” Marco muttered, and Sabo elbowed him.
“Quiet, pillow.”
Marco glared, wincing at the bruise he was sure formed on his side, and his temporary distraction gave Ace time to lie down and curl into Sabo’s side.
“Hey wait, don’t you-!” Marco said, but Ace ignored him, hand draped over Sabo’s – and consequentially Marco’s – side.
“I’m still sorry,” Ace mumbled, and Sabo’s hand came to rest in Ace’s hair, his fingers running through the dark strands.
“You won’t do it again.”
“But what if I-”
“You won’t. So it’s fine. I’m fine.”
Ace sighed, and Marco almost felt like sighing along with him, lifting his head from the dirt to glare at them both. “Hello, excuse me,” Marco said stiffly, his gaze very pointedly on the fact that they were both laying on him. “Do I not get a say in this?”
“No,” said Sabo, snorting haughtily. “They’re Ace’s powers, and it’s my apology to be accepted, not yours.”
“I meant-!” he tried to defend, and Ace patted his cheek. His hand lit a warmth along Marco’s face, tiny sparks reminiscent of his earlier flames, and Marco found himself stunned into silence when Ace said,
“I’m sorry to you, too. Even if someone doesn’t think I have to be. I still tried to hurt you, without thinking, or asking why you were here. It was wrong, and I shouldn’t have let the fire overtake me like that. I should’ve-” he trailed off, guilt swimming in his eyes. “I should’ve stayed on the candle wick,” he mumbled softly, bowing his head. Then, a loud thwap! filled the air.
“Hey!” Ace cried out, rubbing the back of his head and glaring at Sabo. “What was that for?”
“You made a mistake, because you weren’t allowed off that fucking wick. You being kept prisoner is not an excuse for what you did, but it damn sure is a reason as to why you couldn’t control yourself! You didn’t know any better, and now you do, so you won’t do it again.”
“You hope,” Ace said, glaring stubbornly, and Sabo peeled his eyes open to fasten Ace with one sharp blue eye.
“I know,” he said simply. “Now would you please shut up so I can take a fucking nap?”
Ace rolled his eyes but patted Sabo’s chest softly, and Sabo seemed to take it as agreement, closing his eyes and pressing his cheek to Marco’s chest again before Marco could protest.
“Thanks for letting us stay,” Ace said, just as Marco was going to start pushing at the two of them, regardless of Sabo’s injuries, and Marco felt his breath catch in his throat at the expression on Ace’s face.
”…You’re welcome.”
Ace’s smiled widened, somehow as bright as his fire, yet Marco only felt warmth spread through him instead of that earlier burning pain. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was some fire sprite ability he’d never heard of as Ace yawned and curled even closer to Sabo’s side, his own eyes flickering closed.
Before Marco knew it, he had two sleeping men on his chest and very little in the terms of physical comfort under his head. “Great,” he muttered, resigning himself to being used as a temporary bed until they felt like moving. His eyes moved down to Sabo’s parted lips, and how his cheek was all squished up against Marco’s chest, and Ace’s wrinkled nose and slack jaw, and he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his cheeks.
…He supposed there were worse ways to recover from a fight.
