Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Grief is exhausting.

Law can’t recall a day in the last sixteen years that he hasn’t felt grief in some form. Grief for his parents, for his sister, for the people of Flevance, for Cora. Grief for the life he could have had if it weren’t for the Amber Lead Disease, or the World Government, or Doflamingo. Those things were all taken from him, and he knows that he will never get them back. 

Lately, though, Law has been experiencing a new kind of grief; the kind that comes with not knowing. 

He can say, logistically, that his crew is still alive; that Blackbeard naturally would have taken them and is holding them hostage, waiting for Law to arrive so that he can proposition him for the Perennial Youth Operation. Blackbeard is a cunning pirate, so Kid and the others are inclined to believe Law’s theory. They’ve never questioned it to his face, or pointed out the possibility of the alternative. 

The possibility that Law’s crew never even made it off that island. 

To the very core of his being, Law believes that they’re alive. Every single one of them. He feels it in his bones, in his heart, in his soul… but in his mind, he’s aware that the likelihood of them being dead isn’t zero. Until he sees their faces, there will be no way of knowing. 

And so, for now, Law has to live with the grief of not knowing. Of half-mourning; of not wanting to commit to the idea of them being gone, but drip-feeding the notion to himself in the hopes that he would somehow be able to adjust to life without them. It’s an incredibly draining way to go about his day. 

Luckily for Law, once they finally set sail and leave the island, he doesn’t have nearly as much time to be in his own head; Kid and his loud-ass crew make sure of that. Now that they’re in a confined space, Law has no choice but to get to know them. Outside of Kid and Killer, Law isn’t sure if he’s ever spoken to another Kid Pirate, let alone formally met them. 

He meets House first, the Kid Pirates’ ‘doctor’. She earned the title not by having any medical expertise, but by having a loose knowledge of forageable herbs and knowing her way around a saw. She shows Law the collection of plants that she gathered from the island, and while a good percentage of them are edible, Law still spends the better part of the morning sorting out the poisonous ones and tossing them overboard. 

When he searches the ship for Bepo, he finds him with Bubblegum up at the helm, charting their journey to Hachinosu. Bubblegum is friendly and outgoing, almost overwhelmingly so, but the two navigators seem to get along well, which Law is thankful for; Bepo has always been good at making friends, but he can be shy around people he doesn’t know very well. Law figures that when you’re around people like the Kid Pirates, there isn’t much room for shyness anyway. 

Law has technically met Heat and Wire before, back in Sabaody, but he didn’t speak to either of them there. He quickly discovers the reason for that; Wire is a man of few words, and Heat is a man of even fewer. In fact, he hasn’t heard him speak a single word. He has a cough as well, sounding unlike any human cough that Law has ever heard. It has a strange echo to it, as if the inside of his throat is hollow. Law makes a mental note to ask Kid about it later.

Killer, Law has found, is a bit of a wildcard. He has regarded Law with nothing less than respect in the past, and while he is quieter like Heat and Wire, he also seems to be a thoughtful conversationalist. Law has no doubt that Killer can handle himself in a fight- he’s seen it firsthand- but outwardly, he appears calm, collected, and kind, despite his occasional uncontrollable laugh. He isn’t what Law was expecting out of a Kid Pirate. 

The rest of the Kid’s crew, however, are exactly what Law was expecting; they’re boisterous and a little bit annoying, but also kind and fiercely loyal to one another. The closeness that everybody shares is palpable, and they don’t hesitate to welcome Law with open arms; fighting Big Mom alongside Kid must have earned him some brownie points, he supposes. With nothing aboard the bare-bones ship to provide them with entertainment, Kid’s crew keeps busy by reminiscing about old exploits. They tell Law tales of their early days as a crew, their triumphs, and the treasure that they’ve pillaged. 

Half-way through one of Quincy’s stories, another Kid Pirate comes out to the deck where they’re all sitting. Law hasn’t had the chance to meet her yet. He’s never even seen her. She’s the shortest member of the crew by far, teal hair tied back in long pig-tails. She doesn’t look older than ten, but she could be even younger. 

“I’m so bored,” she whines. “When are we stopping for supplies?” 

“Well we ain’t stopping yet, brat! We’ve barely left the damn shore,” Kid retorts. 

“Can’t we just sink a ship and take all their stuff?” 

“You see any ships around here? ‘Cause I sure as shit don’t.” Kid outstretches his hand and reaches for her. “Come sit down. You love stories.” The little girl huffs dramatically, but she still settles against Kid’s side. 

Needless to say, Law is astonished. 

“Eustass-ya, why do you have a child on your crew?” 

“‘Cause I found her, that’s why. Finder's keepers, and all that shit. Have you guys not met? Dive, this is-” 

“I know who he is, dummy! Law helped you kill Big Mom. Everybody knows that.” Dive shares her captain’s childlike arrogance, but it’s much more endearing on her. “Kill-chan told me that you can cut off people’s body parts and rearrange them with your Devil Fruit. Is that true?” 

“Among other things, yeah.” 

“Does that mean you can stick Kid-chan’s butt to his head?” 

“I sure can, you want to see me do it right now?” Law smirks and makes a room, just for show, but with Kid’s crew cheering and egging him on, it’s difficult not to give in to the temptation. Kid, on the other hand, looks at Law like he might kill him if he tries anything. Even after hooking up with him twice, Law wouldn’t put it past him. 

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

Dive is a blessing in disguise. As soon as Law meets her, he’s thoroughly distracted. He had planned on spending the afternoon alone, wallowing in his own anxiety, but indulging Dive’s litany of questions isn’t a bad alternative. 

“What’s your favorite color?” 

“Yellow.”

“What’s your favorite food?” 

“Onigiri.” 

“What’s your least favorite food?” 

“Umeboshi.” 

“Um… if you could be a tree, what kind of tree would you be?” Dive is clearly reaching the limits of her imagination. 

“I don’t know, a birch tree?”

“Hmm… I’m out of questions,” she sighs. “This sucks. I lost my comic collection when our ship sank, and now all of my Sora: Warrior of the Sea books are at the bottom of the sea. The last one left off on a cliffhanger, too!” 

“You read Sora?” Law asks, and Dive’s face lights up when she realizes that they have something so beloved in common. 

They spend the next few hours lounging in one of the ship’s many empty rooms, talking about their favorite characters and coming up with theories, and it reminds Law of mornings when he would lay on the couch with Lami and discuss the latest chapter. It feels so familiar, as if a moment from Law’s old life was cut out and pasted into his new one. It’s jarring, but he smiles nonetheless, and he keeps smiling. 

When the sun is just beginning to set and the sky is mottled with oranges and pinks, Dive and Law are interrupted by Kid. 

“Hey brat, guess who got her wish granted?” He asks, grinning that feral, adrenaline-fueled grin of his. Law knows what to expect as soon as he sees it; Kid is gearing up for a fight. “There’s another pirate ship just up ahead. A big one! Bet they’ll have some good shit.” 

“Finally!” Dive jumps up and races past Kid, already half-way down the hall before Law can even blink. 

“You healed up enough for a raid, Trafalgar? Or are you gonna make one measly room and pass out in the middle of the battlefield?” 

“Who do you think you’re talking to, Eustass-ya? I bet I can take out twice as many pirates as you.” Law is admittedly sharing some of Kid’s excitement; after everything with Blackbeard, he could really use a win. The idea of wiping the floor with an opposing crew and getting their hands on some better supplies has him raring to go. 

“Oh really? Let’s make this interesting, then. Highest kill count wins, and the winner gets whatever he wants.” Kid’s smirk is cocky and contains just a hint of bloodlust. It doesn’t deter Law; he has the inexplicable urge to kiss it right off of his brutish face, but he holds himself back. He knows that if he were to kiss Kid now, it would quickly evolve into something carnal. 

“You’re on. Captain’s head is worth ten points.” 

“Captain’s head is worth three. Their crew looks weak as shit, and I ain’t about to let you win on a technicality!”

Kid’s assessment is accurate; when they reach the deck where everyone else has assembled, Law gets to see firsthand just how inexperienced their opponents are. They have a large ship, intricately carved and adorned with colorful sails, undeniably expensive and likely well-stocked with high quality goods. Their jolly roger- a skull with red and blue roses in the eye sockets- is well designed, but Law doesn’t recognize it, which means that their bounty is probably low. The lack of damage to their ship implies that they haven’t seen much combat, if any. 

Their incompetence with cannons seals the deal. They have a good amount of them- six on each side- but Law has never seen such poor aim in all his years of piracy; their shots aren’t even coming close to making contact. 

“What did I tell you?” Kid’s tone is borderline disappointed. “This’ll be too easy.” 

“Save the confidence for the battle. You’ll need it, if you expect to outperform me.” 

“Cheeky bastard,” Kid mutters, and he smacks Law’s shoulder, but it’s more playful than it is aggressive. Law still feels somewhat out of place, standing beside Kid as allies. As Punk Heart Pirates. It wasn’t long ago that they couldn’t stand to be in the same room as one another without picking a fight, and now Law knows what it feels like to be inside of him. It’s startling how quickly things can change. “Can’t say 'M worried about ‘em hitting us from this distance, but they might actually do some damage if they get too close. Can you ‘scrambles’ us over there or whatever?” 

“It’s ‘shambles’, and yes I can. Bepo can stay behind with Dive, and the rest of us will-” 

“What do you mean?” Kid asks. “Dive is coming with us.” 

“What? Eustass-ya, she’s ten.” 

“She’s also a pirate. You think this is her first raid, genius?” It does nothing to set Law’s mind at ease. In fact, it does the exact opposite; Law is taken back to being ten years old himself, fighting for his life instead of having a childhood. Running from armed men instead of having family dinners. 

Leaving Lami in that closet instead of getting her to safety. 

He can’t watch another child die. He can’t. 

“She’s years away from being as physically capable as the rest of us. Anything could happen to her out there!” Law shouts. The rest of Kid’s crew doesn’t appear to be able to hear them over the sound of cannon fire, but they’re still looking on curiously, probably wondering why Law and Kid are wasting precious time talking. 

“Dive is plenty strong, I’ve made damn sure of that. Don’t sell her short just because she’s young! What the hell are you so afraid of, Trafalgar?!” 

“I’m afraid of you condemning a little girl to her death!” Something in Kid’s expression falters when Law says it. His frustration gives way to something fearful, something hurt, something that Law sees in himself, but it’s quickly replaced with twice as much anger. 

“You don’t get a say in this, dammit! Dive wants to fight, and 'M letting her fight. You said that you don’t want this to be anything other than a temporary alliance, so you get no control over what happens to my crew!” Kid scowls and turns away from him to regard his men, and Law knows that he’s struck a chord, but he can’t let go of how he’s feeling; of how terrified he is at the idea of Dive getting trampled, or stabbed, or thrown overboard, or worse. “Anyone too injured to fight should stay behind. The rest of you, surround Trafalgar and prepare for battle.” 

They follow Kid’s order; most of them crowd around Law, while a few, including Heat, choose not to fight. Dive stands beside Law, bouncing on her heels and seemingly about to burst with energy. 

“I can’t wait to get a bed! I’m so sick of sleeping on a pile of blankets every night,” she says, twirling a dagger between her fingers restlessly. Law just watches her in silence. How is he going to keep an eye on her and fight at the same time? 

When Kid gives the go-ahead, Law forms a room and sends them all to the deck of the opposing ship. Chaos erupts as soon as they touch down; the enemy crew is naturally caught off-guard, and they draw their weapons for close ranged combat. Kid disappears from sight in seconds, charging ahead, and the ship suddenly begins to creak as nails are pulled from the wooden planks and fly across the deck. A few of them shoot right through the heads of their adversaries and out the other side as they dart in the direction of wherever Kid just went, and if Law wasn’t in such a bad mood, he would find it outrageously sexy that Kid can kill a handful of men without even looking. He dodges a couple of nails that zoom past his head, and when he looks to his side where Dive was standing, she’s nowhere to be found. Shit. 

Law is temporarily distracted when a short, stocky pirate lunges at him with a sword. The man is slow and off-balance, and Law is able to dodge his swing and strike him down with Kikoku without so much as breaking a sweat. He takes a quick survey of his surroundings; the deck is already redder than it is brown, a dozen slain pirates strewn about, but thankfully none of them are his allies. He can hear the clanging of swords up ahead, the air thick with gun smoke and the tang of blood, and Law’s urgency to find her reaches a fever pitch. 

It may be wiser and less stamina-consuming to find Dive the old-fashioned way, but Law quickly resorts to making rooms instead. He teleports to various corners of the ship, slices through any foe he sees, looks around for Dive, and teleports again when he doesn’t find her there. There are a couple of close calls; he gives some Kid Pirates a real fright when he pops up right in front of them and nearly gets a sword or two to the gut in return, but he manages to check the outside of the ship unscathed. 

When Law takes his search inside, he teleports right into the middle of something interesting; a member of the opposing crew shouting into a den-den. He may just be calling for some equally weak backup, but then again, he could also be sending out a distress call to every den-den in the surrounding area.

“They teleported directly onto our ship!” The man cries. “It must be Traf-” 

Law crosses the room in a flash, and the man is rendered silent when he decapitates him. He didn’t get the chance to say Law’s full name, but that probably doesn’t matter; the man said enough that anybody listening would probably know who he was talking about. It isn’t an issue on its own, but Law doesn’t want to risk his alliance being made public. If the world knew that two pirate captains with 3 billion beri bounties were teaming up, it would certainly draw unwanted attention, and the last thing that Law needs is someone getting in the way of him rescuing his crew. 

The receiver is still hanging off of the den-den, meaning that whoever was on the other line is still there. Law takes a moment to hang up the call; just one single moment of his guard being down and his back being turned, but it’s a fatal error. He hears the squeaking of wood just behind him, followed by a woosh of air, and he knows in an instant that a blade is about to make contact with the back of his neck, but his reflexes are slower after using his Devil Fruit ability so many times in such quick succession. He doesn’t have a chance to react. 

Law is going to die here. 

Struck down by a weaker pirate, during a trivial raid, without ever seeing his crew again. 

He hopes that Kid will have the heart to save them. 

He braces himself for the end. 

But then one second passes, and another, and Law isn’t dead. There’s a sickening squelch behind him, and when Law spins around, he comes face-to-face with the pirate who tried to kill him. Law can tell that he’s the captain by his obnoxious, feathered hat, and he stands there, swaying, looking back at Law with a slack jaw and distant eyes that are quickly losing their shine. Standing between the two of them, with her dagger buried in the captain’s throat, is Dive. 

“Hah! I finally did it!” Dive cheers, yanking her dagger out of the man’s throat. He crumples to the ground lifelessly. “I killed a pirate captain! How cool is that?!” She plunks the captain’s hat off of his head and puts it on her own, whooping and pumping her fists in the air with excitement. 

In his state of shock, Law barely even hears her.

The fight is over by the time Law and Dive go back outside; the other crew never stood a chance, and it was bound to be over quickly. As expected, the losing crew was loaded with nice furniture, tons of food, and even a small treasure hoard. Kid is thrilled to double his weapons inventory with the various guns and swords that they find on the bodies of their fallen foes. They really hit the jackpot today. 

As Law uses his remaining stamina to transport supplies from one ship to the other, he tries his damndest to be grateful; nobody was harmed, and they’re far better prepared for the journey ahead now with all of these supplies, but every time he looks at Dive, his stomach churns with guilt. 

He didn’t want her to come along. He argued with Kid over it. He spent all this time worrying about her, convincing himself that he needed to save her… and she saved him. 

Law is loath to admit it, even to himself, but he was wrong. 

He looks across the way at Kid, silently willing him to make eye contact or give him a cocky smile, anything to assure him that Kid isn’t still angry, but he doesn’t return Law’s gaze. He keeps his eyes downcast instead, brows furrowed as if deep in thought. Once Law moves a bed and a few pieces of furniture into the crow’s nest, Kid climbs the ladder without another word, and Law is left feeling totally lost; he’s never been good at confrontation, or apologizing, or talking, but if he’s upset Kid, he has no choice but to speak up. 

What the fuck is he supposed to say? Law spends the rest of the evening in miserable deliberation; he hopes that it was just a fluke, that Kid will come down the ladder at any second, rambling on as if nothing ever happened. 

But when Law is done cleansing his body of the blood and viscera of battle, he finds that Kid hasn’t left the crow’s nest. When he helps Dive set up her bedroom the way that she wants it, he still sees no sign of him. When everybody gathers for dinner, and Law sits between Dive and Bepo, he thinks that surely Kid will make an appearance now, but to his disappointment, Kid never comes down. 

Once dinner is through and Dive is ready for bed, she asks Law to bring her to her room. He tucks her in and reads her a story; they were lucky enough to find a collection of Sora: Warrior of the Sea comics amongst the enemies’ books, and Dive makes him do all of the sound effects during the action sequences. He reads them the same way his parents used to when he and Lami were young, and his heart aches with remembrance, but there’s catharsis in being able to share part of his past with her. He reads her two of them, and then one more because she saved his life today, and by the time he’s done, she’s half-asleep. 

“Goodnight, Dive.” Law gets up to leave, keeping his steps light so as not to disturb her, and when he reaches the door, he hears her quiet, sleepy voice call out to him. 

“Goodnight, big brother Law.” 

Ouch. 

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

The ship is silent. 

A few lights remain on, but it seems that most of the crew has gone to sleep. The light in the crow’s nest is on as well, indicating that Kid is still awake; Law still hasn’t spoken to him, and he isn’t sure what to say, so he chooses to avoid him. He sits at the empty dining room table instead, staring blankly at the map, as if he can will the ship to get to Hachinosu faster if he just keeps looking at it. 

“Are you alright?” Law turns towards the sound of Killer’s voice; he’s standing in the doorway, bundled up in Kid’s fur coat, holding a plate of food in his hands. 

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he says, and Killer laughs in response. 

“I borrow Kid's coat on cold nights.” Killer takes a seat beside him, and for a few moments, neither man says anything. Law feels the strangest urge to tell Killer what’s on his mind; he has an inexplicably calming presence, even when he says nothing at all, but he speaks before Law has the chance to.

“When Red-Haired Shanks attacked Kid, I tried to jump in front of the hit… and I didn’t make it in time. It made contact with both of us, and I watched him go flying from one end of the ship to the other. As I laid there, losing consciousness, I wasn’t thinking about the crew, or about survival; my one and only thought was, ‘if Kid dies here, it’s my fault’.” 

“That isn’t fair, Killer-ya. You shouldn’t blame yourself for things outside of your control.” 

“You’re right, it isn’t fair. I shouldn’t blame myself for everything that happens to him, but it’s just the way that I am. I didn’t always used to be this way… but then I lost someone precious to me. It changed the way that I look at things, and how I handle my relationships with other people. I don’t know if that makes any sense, but-” 

“It does. I would be lying if I said I haven’t experienced the same thing.” It’s all that Law is willing to say on the matter, and it still feels like an astronomical effort to get the words out. He’s relieved that Killer doesn’t expect any further explanation; he simply nods in understanding.

“It changed Kid too, but in a different way. I want to protect everybody, but Kid wants everyone to be strong enough to protect themselves. Even someone as young as Dive.” 

“You heard Eustass-ya and I arguing earlier?” 

“He told me about it, while you were putting Dive to bed. Kid means well, but he isn’t the best at communicating his side of things.” He isn’t, but Law knows that to agree would be the pot calling the kettle black. “You want to keep Dive out of harm’s way, and Kid wants to teach her how to survive being in harm’s way. I don’t think that either of you are wrong, per se, but if you have a guilty conscience, I think that you should talk to him.” 

“I wouldn’t know where to start.” Law is used to being on Kid’s bad side, but not like this. Until recently, a typical interaction between them was almost exclusively made up of shouting and cursing, but this silence is uncharted territory. Law doesn’t know how to break it. 

“Just speak from the heart, Trafalgar. You wear it on your sleeve, after all.” Killer stands and removes Kid’s coat, draping it over Law’s own shoulders. It’s nice and heavy, and it reminds him of the months he spent traveling with Cora, when he would snuggle up in his coat to stay warm. He wraps it tighter around himself and hopes that Killer doesn’t notice. “If you’re really struggling to find something to say, you could just tell him that you’re there to give him his dinner. But I think you’ll feel a lot better if you go up there.” 

“I might as well.” Law is thankful to have a potential out in case this goes sour. He takes the plate of food from Killer, and with a wave of his hand and a flash of blue light, he’s off to the crow’s nest. 

When Law lands, Kid doesn’t immediately notice his presence; he’s sitting at his desk, deeply engrossed in something. There’s a small object between his much larger fingers, glinting in the lantern light, but Law can’t tell what it is from where he’s standing. 

“Look, Eustass-ya, I-” Law blurts out, and Kid jumps a mile, nearly falling out of his chair in surprise. 

“Fucking hell Trafalgar, are you trying to scare me to death?!” Kid whips his head around, but his frown and furrowed brows quickly disappear as soon as they make eye contact. His expression transforms into something lustful. “Well don’t you look cute?” 

“Huh?” Law feels himself blush from his cheeks to his toes. Everything that he had debated saying dies on his tongue, rendering him utterly speechless as Kid comes near. He takes the plate out of Law’s hands and places it on the desk. Then he grabs him by the chin and pulls him into a kiss that’s all tongue, wet and eager, leaving Law completely defenseless against his own arousal. Fuck. It wasn’t supposed to go this way, but Law momentarily forgets why he even came up here in the first place. 

Kid walks him backwards toward the bed, and Law groans when his back makes contact with the mattress; not only from Kid’s heavy weight pinning him down, but also from how nice it feels. It’s the softest, squishiest mattress Law has ever laid on, and if his mouth wasn’t currently being ravaged, he imagines that he could easily curl up and fall asleep on it.

“Here I was thinking you were avoiding me, when you were planning to seduce me all along.” Well… Law had sort of been avoiding him, and he was pretty damn positive that Kid was doing the same, but now he’s not so sure. He should probably put this on hold and tell Kid how he’s feeling. “You can have me however you want, but the coat stays on. Got it?” 

Or not. 

“Sit on my face.” 

“Good choice.” Kid undresses himself quickly and without an ounce of grace, but it draws Law in all the same; he's immature, goofy, inelegant, and it makes Law throb.

As soon as Kid’s thighs are bracketing his head, Law licks a path from his entrance, through his folds, up to his clit. Law hasn’t gotten to taste him since they fucked in Wano, and he’s already aching in his jeans, but he can tell that Kid is holding back. He makes an awfully pretty sound, but he doesn’t drop his full weight onto Law’s face. 

“I said sit on my face, not straddle it.”

“I’ll break your flimsy little neck, Trafalgar.” Law nips him on his unbandaged inner thigh for that, and Kid jolts a little. It’s cute. He does it again, in the same spot, and when Kid moans, he bites down harder, and harder, and harder. 

“O-oh, fuck,” Kid whines, “keep biting me, Law. More.” Law nearly gets whiplash from how quickly Kid is able to switch gears; he goes from a rival to a lover in seconds, from ‘Trafalgar’ to ‘Law’ as soon as Kid wants something. Law isn’t about to complain about it, and neither is his cock. He sinks his teeth into the soft skin of Kid’s thigh and leaves purpling welts in his wake, over and over again until Kid trembles around him and his breath comes in quick gasps. 

“Could you cum just from this?” 

“What do you think I am, a virgin?” Kid snarks, but his body language says ‘maybe’. It’s a tantalizing idea and Law is tempted to put his theory into practice, but he wants Kid’s cunt in his mouth now. He teases Kid’s clit with the tip of his tongue, and the hold that Kid’s thighs have around his head tightens as his entire body goes taught. “Don’t be a tease, you dickhead-” 

Law seals his lips around Kid’s clit and gently grazes it with his teeth, and Kid devolves into a mass of moaning putty in his hands, finally dropping his weight onto Law’s face. 

“Fuck!” Kid grips the wooden headboard to steady himself, and Law knows that it’s only a matter of time until Kid breaks it. Under Kid’s strength, the thick oak headboard might as well be made of brittle twigs, but Law couldn’t care less if he splinters it now; he can barely breathe with Kid on top of him, and he can’t get enough of it. He takes his time, savoring the feeling of Kid’s engorged clit against his tongue; hard and warm, twitching in his mouth, and Law can’t stop himself from groaning. 

“You’ve got a wet spot on the front of your jeans already,” Kid purrs. “Are you gonna cum from this?” 

Law slides his tongue inside of Kid, and his cock twitches desperately. He could. He might, but he doesn’t understand why. He’s always gotten a little tingly from the sensation of having his mouth filled, but it’s never felt the way that it does with Kid. When he thrusts his tongue in deeper and Kid clenches around him, heat blooms in Law’s chest. His hips buck of their own accord, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“I don’t know if that’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, or the most pathetic,” Kid moans. He grips Law’s hair and grinds down onto his tongue, and Law feels floaty and lightheaded, so fucking good. He strokes Kid’s clit with his thumb, and pleasure rolls in his stomach when Kid cries out, cock pulsing in his jeans, and Law can’t believe it, but he really is going to cum from this. From Kid sitting on his face, thighs shaking, chest heaving, drooling like a fucking animal. Law can feel it drip onto his forehead, into his hair, and if he could speak, he would tell Kid that it’s disgusting, but it wouldn’t be the whole truth. 

In all honesty, it drives him wild. 

As soon as Kid starts to cum, Law follows him. His eyes roll back, and he whimpers against Kid’s pussy, body practically vibrating with pleasure. 

“Fuck, you’re actually fucking doing it.” Kid reaches back and gropes him, squeezing him through his pants as he orgasms, and it’s so overstimulating in the best way. He clamps his thighs around Kid’s hand and rocks against it until he’s done, and he feels like such a whore, but he’s beginning to realize that letting loose with Kid in the bedroom has its benefits. He pinches one of the hickies that he left on Kid’s thigh, mostly to make him get up, but Kid’s low groan is an added bonus. 

“You gonna be able to get it up again, old man? Or are you one-and-done tonight?” 

“If that’s your way of asking for dick, you’re failing, Eustass-ya.” It’s a lie and they both know it. Kid kneels beside him, smirking, naked and glistening with sweat, and Law would kill a man if it meant he could shorten his refractory period. He creates a small room for the sake of removing his jeans, and sighs when the cool air hits his soft, wet cock. “Give me five minutes.” 

“Ugh, fine,” Kid sighs dramatically, standing up and stretching his limbs. “I should probably eat, anyway.” The way that he shovels onigiri into his mouth isn’t particularly sexy, but Law gets a great view of his ass, so it isn’t a total loss. 

Maybe it’s the post-nut clarity, but Law suddenly feels levelheaded enough to speak up. 

“I didn’t actually come up here to seduce you.” 

“What d’you mean?” Kid asks, rice flying out of his mouth when he speaks. “Why’ve you been acting all weird, then?” 

“Well, I felt… bad, about shouting at you earlier, and when you didn’t come to dinner, I thought for sure that you were upset with me. I decided to just keep my distance.” 

“Oh.” Kid swallows loudly, and he scratches the back of his head in embarrassment. “Shit. I was never really upset… I understood where you were coming from, worrying about Dive like that. I guess I shoulda said something, huh?” 

“Then why have you been up here all night?” 

“Well, I was uh. Making something. For you.” Kid reddens like a tomato when he says it, and Law has a feeling that his own face looks similar. “It’s not a big fucking deal or anything, okay?! If you don’t like it or whatever, I don’t give a shit-” 

“Well can I at least see it first? Don’t make stupid assumptions.” Kid scoops something up off the desk and tosses it to him. 

It’s an earring. It looks almost identical to the ones that he’s already wearing; a small, golden hoop, but it’s encrusted with tiny rubies. He can tell that it was masterfully made. No wonder Kid has been distracted for so long. 

“I noticed that one of yours fell out, so I figured… y’know.” 

“Hmm?” Law reaches up to feel his ears, and lo and behold, Kid is right; his bottom-right piercing is missing. He wonders when he lost it. Law puts the new earring in its place, and it fits just as snugly as the other three, as if it was meant to be there all along. “It’s… it’s beautiful, Eustass-ya.” 

“Tch, yeah, well. Of course it is. I made it.” Kid’s cheeks are so red that it’s almost alarming, but he looks precious, and Law is suddenly rock hard again. “Really, Trafalgar? If I knew you were materialistic enough to pop a stiffy over a gift, I woulda gotten you something sooner.” 

“It’s not because of the earring, it’s because of your face!” 

“Hah?! What about my face?!” 

“Don’t play dumb with me, you know you’re being cute! You’re doing it on purpose!” 

“Me?! You’re the one who came up here in my coat, so don’t go accusing me of being cute on purpose!” Kid climbs back on top of him, glowing crimson with bashfulness, and he gives Law no opportunity to refute his claim; he grabs him by the base of his cock and sinks down without warning, not stopping until their hips are flush. 

“You say you came up here to talk, but I think that’s bullshit,” Kid hisses in his ear. “Your pretty little body, in my clothes? You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“Ah, I didn’t,” Law moans, and he can’t stop the full-body shiver that Kid evokes when he licks the shell of his ear. He nips Law’s earring, and it makes a little metallic tink. Everything that he does makes Law’s hips jump, and he feels high on oversensitivity. “Killer-ya gave it to me.” 

“He did, did he?” That seems to turn Kid on even further, his hips speeding up at Law’s words. “What a good first mate. You should let 'im have a turn with you.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means you should let 'im fuck you. What else would it mean?” Law has never seen him without his mask on, but it’s still easy to imagine Killer’s larger body leaning over his, whispering dirty things to him in that deep, velvety tone. His hands are calloused from years of fighting and cooking, and Law is sure that they would feel nice against his skin. 

Kid must fuck Killer sometimes, Law thinks, in order for him to be suggesting it in the first place. He feels no pangs of jealousy at the thought of the two of them together; he only wonders what it would feel like to be between them. Three hands on him, two mouths, two voices praising him. Fuck. 

“Heh, you’re thinking about something naughty, I can tell,” Kid says, between the open-mouthed kisses that he’s leaving all over Law’s throat. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you baby? We could fuck you together, fill you from both ends. I could take you from behind, while Kil’ fucks your mouth.” Kid swipes his thumb across Law’s bottom lip, and Law catches it between his teeth before he can pull it away. He sucks it into his mouth, and Kid groans, pressing down on his tongue.

“Or he could fuck you, while you fuck me. Or you could both stuff my pussy at the same time.” The thought of Kid in the middle of them, sobbing and overstimulated, has Law’s balls tightening dangerously fast. “Or I could-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Law gasps out. “I’ll fucking cum if you keep talking.” Kid laughs at him and sets an absolutely vicious pace, a pace that Law is helpless against when he’s already so sensitive and right on the edge. Kid pulls his spit-slick thumb out of Law’s mouth and brings it down to his clit, and the sight of it has that tight coil in Law’s belly snapping as he cums with a shout. Kid isn't far behind, and he collapses on Law as soon as he’s done, smushing him underneath his weight. It’s less arousing when Law is sweaty and overexerted.

“You’re crushing me, you asshole.” Kid makes no effort to get up; he pretends to be asleep instead, complete with obnoxious, fake snoring. Stupid, silly bastard. Law pokes and prods at him to no avail, until he finds a spot on Kid’s side that elicits a strong reaction; Kid shudders against him and giggles. He freezes as soon as the sound leaves his mouth, as if he’s been caught in the act of doing something far more heinous than being adorable, but he still makes no move to get up. Law attacks both of Kid’s sides with feather-light touches until he has no choice but to move, but instead of getting off of him, Kid decides to fight back. 

“Eustass-ya, no. I’ll kill you-” Kid doesn’t heed the warning, but Law’s threat lacks heat to begin with; Kid is tickling his stomach before he can get the words out, and a threat made while laughing isn’t much of one at all. 

How did Law end up here? He’s naked, in bed, with Eustass Kid. He’s tickling him, and he’s being tickled, and he’s laughing. Not just a chuckle, not just an amused exhale through his nose, Law is full-on belly laughing, and it feels so foreign, but it isn’t unpleasant by any means. He wonders how long it’s been since he last felt this lighthearted, and he feels near hysterical at the fact that it’s because of Kid. 

Their horseplay eventually ceases, and they’re both left breathless and exhausted. Kid had rolled off of Law at some point, and now they’re side-by-side, but he finds himself missing the weight now that it’s gone. 

“I feel like a kid again.” 

“I feel like Kid all the time.” 

“Ugh, that’s so fucking stupid,” Law groans, but he can’t stop the corners of his lips from curving into a small smile. “I hate you.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I hate you too,” Kid says, grinning back at him. Law isn’t normally one to initiate things, but he can’t let the moment pass him by; he leans in to kiss him, and Kid reciprocates happily. It isn’t the kind of kiss that will evolve into anything more. It’s simple, and soft, and laced with tiredness on both sides. 

Just like yesterday, when Kid embraced him in the old woman’s house, Law feels a trickle of fear at being handled so gently. At Kid’s fingers tenderly tracing his tattoos, sliding down his shoulder to his arm, and then to his hand. He doesn’t intertwine their fingers, but he still takes Law’s hand in his own, stroking his smaller tattoos with his thumb, and he doesn’t let go when he’s finished. His touches are exploratory, and despite Law’s apprehension, it encourages him to do the same; he experimentally traces the scars on Kid’s arm with his free hand, feeling the rough skin beneath his fingertips, and even though it’s nothing profound in concept, Law still feels like he’s doing something so intimate. He doesn’t think that he’s ever taken the time to just… feel somebody else. 

“How many pirates did you kill today?” Kid asks, voice thick with fatigue. 

“I may have forgotten to keep track,” Law admits. “I guess that means you win.” 

“Nah, I lost count. My plan was just to say that I killed one more pirate than you did.” 

“You fucking cheater.” 

“Well I admitted it, didn’t I? I think I should get bonus points for honesty.” 

“You don’t get shit. We’ll just have to call it a tie,” Law says, and Kid is surprisingly content with that option. 

“Yeah, alright. That means we both get whatever we want. You should start mentally preparing yourself for that, Trafalgar.” Law had forgotten about that part of the bet. He wonders what Kid will choose, but he isn’t half as afraid of the outcome as he would have been before. Lying next to the man who just came on his face and around his cock, who handmade him an earring, who’s still holding his hand, Law doesn’t feel as though he’ll do anything too harmful. 

In fact, Law feels something akin to trust. 

Chapter Text

Law awakens with a jolt, the tail end of a gasp leaving his lips as he snaps into consciousness. His nightmare was nothing new: sickening scenes of his crew, broken, bloody, torn apart, staining the green grass of Winner Island red, or sometimes the rocky coast of Hachinosu. Uni’s mangled visage still stains the inside of his eyelids, and Law knows that it isn't real, he knows it, but sometimes dreams feel realer than reality. The dark wood ceiling of the crow’s nest feels almost fictional in comparison as Law stares up at it, silently counting the spaces between the planks as he attempts to steady his breathing. He tries to kick the blanket away, needs to free his sweaty skin and cool it with the crisp, early dawn air that filters in through the windows, and only then does it register that he isn’t alone in this bed. 

Kid is thoroughly tangled up in him. His arm is nestled beneath Law’s back, curling around him, large hand resting in the center of his chest. Both of Law’s comparably much thinner legs are sandwiched between Kid’s muscular thighs, halting his movement entirely, and his cheek is squished against Law’s shoulder. He snores softly, and with every exhale, Law feels wetness on his skin; Kid is drooling on him, and it’s pooling in his collarbone. 

“Kil’...” he mumbles in his sleep. Law doesn’t know if Kid is dreaming of combat or of his first mate, and the frown that accompanies the word gives nothing away. He spends a few prolonged moments gazing at Kid’s half-bandaged face, at his furrowed brow and little pout, at the strands of ungelled hair that fall over his eye, until the memories of last night bubble up to the surface. It isn’t the face sitting or the cock riding that gets to him, but the soft touches that they exchanged after the fact; the way Kid laughed when Law tickled him, the way Kid made him laugh, the gentle caressing of Law’s tattoos and Kid’s scars and the fact that Kid is just as vulnerable now as he was then. 

In the small handful of nights that Law has spent with Kid, he’s never woken up the next morning with Kid still by his side. He has a sudden, unexpected desire to remain in Kid’s embrace, wrap his arms around him, maybe even fall back asleep, and the realization startles him into motion.

He creates a small room, swapping his position with a sock that rests atop their pile of clothes. Law strips off Kid’s fur coat and dresses himself quickly, still feeling naked without the added warmth that his hat once provided and takes one final glance over his shoulder at Kid’s sleeping form before slipping out the door. 

The early morning sky is light gray, the sun hidden from sight behind a curtain of clouds. Their unnamed ship is encased in a layer of fog, obscuring Law’s view of the deck below. It curls around him as he descends the ladder, dampening his skin; it’s almost calming, Law thinks, being hidden away like this. If he weren’t so precariously perched up here, he would be inclined to stay awhile. 

When Law’s feet make contact with the wood of the deck, he plans to stay there. He doesn’t imagine that anyone is up at such an early hour, and he would prefer to make himself scarce, lest he disturb anyone’s slumber, but then he sees a flickering light through the window that leads into the kitchen: a lit stovetop, heating up the contents of a pot. He can just barely make out the soft acoustics of a song playing from a den-den mushi on the countertop. 

One large room greets Law when he wanders in: the kitchen, dining room and lounge, all unseparated by walls to form a spacious living area. The kitchen to his left is coming along nicely thanks to their pillaging, and the lounge that takes up most of the right side is set up with a gaudy collection of couches and chairs. The velvet upholstery is deep navy and maroon, their wooden frames painted gold; it appears that their downed adversaries had a taste for the ‘finer things’, if ugly and over-expensive are synonymous with ‘fine’. 

Nestled in the corner of one of the couches, book in hand, is Killer. He’s reading the book aloud and there’s an ever-present lilt to his voice, as if always on the verge of laughter. Given the pillow and blankets beside him, it seems as though he slept out here rather than in one of the many bedrooms down the hall. 

“You’re up early,” Killer says in greeting. 

“I could say the same to you.” 

“Bad dreams make for poor sleep,” he laughs, a hollow, forced sound. He places whatever he was reading on the side table and stands, making for the pot on the stove. “Take a seat. I don’t bite.” 

Law is unwittingly reminded of the words that Kid moaned into his ear last night: ‘You should let ‘im have a turn with you’. He avoids looking directly at Killer’s thick, golden hair, or his tiny waist, or his big hands, or his toned ass as he sits down on the couch. When he moves the pile of blankets to the side to make more room, he finds that it’s peculiarly heavy. A bit lumpy, too. When he pokes one of the protrusions, the blankets shake and giggle. Ah. That explains it. Law smiles to himself. 

“Here.” Killer returns with three mugs, placing one on the table for himself and extending another to Law. “My mother used to make this for me when I would have nightmares. It’s nothing special, just some milk with honey and cinnamon.” 

It’s a suiting drink for a cool, foggy morning; sweet, but not overly so, and the first sip warms Law from head to toe. “Thanks, Killer-ya. It’s nice.” 

“Here’s yours.” Killer lifts a corner of the blankets, revealing a little head with mussed, teal hair. Despite the bedhead, bags beneath her eyes and dried drool in the corner of her mouth, Dive accepts the mug with enthusiasm. 

“Thanks, Kill-chan!” She crawls out of the blankets and snuggles up next to Law without any concern for personal space, much like her captain. There’s a sinister concoction churning in Law’s stomach; one of adoration, and also of woe. Just like Lami, Dive is outgoing and full of charm, but when Law looks at her now, all he can think about is her blade sinking into that captain’s throat. He feels a lingering wave of guilt from putting her in such a position. “Are you awake ‘cause you had a nightmare too?” 

“Well, I uh…” Law isn’t the type to offer up that kind of information on his own, but he seems to be in like company this morning. It would be rude to lie. “Yeah. I did.” 

“It’s commonplace, in this crew,” Killer empathizes. “Unfortunately, this has become something of a ritual for the two of us.” 

“Hey! What do you mean ‘unfortunately’?!” Dive pouts. “You don’t like hanging out with me?” 

“No,” Killer laughs, “I love you. But I don’t love that either of us are up before dawn most days.” His reply placates Dive, and she happily returns to her mug. The three of them spend a moment in collective silence, still stirring into full awakeness, until Dive asks something that shocks Law into nearly choking on his beverage: 

“Do you have a mom, big brother Law?” 

“I did, yes.” 

“Did she ever make stuff like this?” 

“Sometimes… my parents were busy most days. They were doctors.” Law isn’t sure what possesses him to include the latter portion of his answer; he prefers to keep these things to himself, but then again, nobody ever asks. 

“My mama was a baker!” Dive says with fondness. “Kill-chan’s mom had the coolest job, though.” 

“Mmhmm, she sure did,” Killer agrees. “She was a pirate captain: Captain Yuki of the Solstice Pirates.” 

Law recognizes that name. ‘The Northern Wind’, they called her; though she had no devil fruit, she was well-known for her efficiency with a blade, and her observation haki was on another level. He admittedly feels a little starstruck with the newfound knowledge that Killer is her son.

“I remember reading about her. She wore a white and blue kitsune mask, and it was said that anyone who saw her true face would be cursed with a lifetime of bad luck.” What Law doesn’t mention is the way that every article about the Solstice Pirates ends: nearly thirty years ago, they all disappeared without a trace. 

“She started that rumor herself, actually. My mother couldn’t stand having her picture taken, so she started wearing a mask and created an entire superstition around her face.” 

“And people believed it?” Dive asks incredulously. 

“Some people did. Those who didn’t believe and tried to remove her mask by force were always killed before they got too close, so I suppose that was ‘bad luck’ enough. One time, she even- oh, good morning, Heat.” 

“Morning, Heat-chan!” Law follows their gazes to the hallway’s entrance, and there stands Heat, his expression one of equal unrest. His grayish skin is especially pallid, and he coughs that same strange cough that Law heard yesterday. 

“You should let me take a look at your throat, Heat-ya. That doesn’t sound good.” Heat turns to Killer and makes a series of hand motions that Law doesn’t recognize; if it’s a form of sign language, it isn’t a common one. 

“There may not be anything you can do, Trafalgar,” Killer says. “Heat’s mouth and throat are made of inorganic material. Kid thinks that he has a couple of loose wires, but all of his tools went down with the Punk; we’ll be docking at a market today to get some more.” 

Inorganic, huh? That would explain the sound. Cyborg repair may not be Law’s area of expertise, but he should be able to help, at the very least. 

“Room. Scan.” 

Law’s first thought upon seeing Heat’s internals is holy shit. The structure of Heat’s throat, from an anatomical perspective, is practically indistinguishable from that of the average human’s. It’s so stunningly intricate that Law feels like he’s learning something brand new about Eustass Kid; he wouldn’t have been able to make this without thorough knowledge of the human form. 

With how well put-together it is, the loose wires are a sharp contrast. Law can determine, based on the location, that the two thicker wires must act as Heat’s vocal cords. The ends of them are frayed, and one of them occasionally sparks. Even more concerning are the dozens of tiny orange shards in the back of his throat; some are tangled within the wires, while others are cutting into them. 

“I can remove them pretty easily with a knife and my devil fruit ability. Would that make you more comfortable until we can get replacements?” Heat nods with a relieved smile. Killer goes to the kitchen to fetch Law a knife, and he gets to work on Heat while Killer prepares breakfast. Little by little Kid’s crew begins to filter in, some of them sitting up at the counter to converse with Killer while others join Law in the lounge to watch him slice into Heat’s throat. With a “room” and an “amputate”, he’s able to carve out a window large enough to fit his hand into. 

“Woah,” Dive says in awe. “Does it hurt, Heat-chan?” Heat shakes his head, but he still grimaces when he catches a glimpse of the tattooed chunk of skin that Law removed. When Law’s fingers make contact with a wire, Heat squirms with discomfort. Kid even attached nerves? Law has to make a conscious effort to control himself, lest he outwardly swoon. 

The kitchen has grown rather lively between the chatter, Bepo picking up Killer’s book to read to Dive- something about old sea tales, from the sounds of it- and the clattering of silverware as Killer serves the first round of food. Law is conscious of it all, it’s hard not to be with so many different sounds, but his years of surgical experience allows him to push it all to the background. The wires are a quick and easy removal, but the shards will require more precision. Deep in concentration, Law doesn’t even take notice of his name being called. 

“Oi!” The fingers snapping in his face, however, are impossible to miss. Law looks up to see Kid scowling at him. “What do you think you’re doing to my cyborg?!” 

Heat frowns- at being called a cyborg, or at Kid’s bellyaching, Law isn’t sure- and signs something at Kid. Whatever he says must get Law off the hook; Kid’s eyes widen, and he blushes with embarrassment. 

“Oh. Well. Thanks,” he mutters. 

“You’re lucky that I’m in a decent mood; this is some impressive bio mechatronics.” 

“You think so?” Kid recovers at lightspeed, bashfulness fizzling out in favor of excitement. He plops down on the couch with a grin on his face and a light tint still on his cheeks, and Law manages to meet his eye for all of a second before he feels his own face warm up. “I know it ain’t perfect, but-” 

“It’s close enough,” Law affirms. “The only thing that stands out to me is this pocket here, with all of these broken pieces in it. What’s it for?” 

“Shit. That was for holding Heat’s flame dial in place… it musta shattered in the fight with Red-Haired. I was hoping it had just gotten disconnected.” 

Law has never seen a dial in person, though he recalls hearing about them when he was aboard the Thousand Sunny. The Strawhats caught Law up on their adventures whether he wanted to hear about them or not, and Usopp’s stories of obtaining various dials in Skypiea ring a bell, though he was unaware that Heat used one. The man in question rolls his eyes with a deep sigh. 

“C’mon now, don’t bellyache about it yet. We could find a dial vendor at that market today,” Kid reminds him. “I’ll add it to the list: flame dial, wires, tools, and some extra wood to replace some of the old shit that’s starting to rot.” 

“And to turn my bed into a bunk bed!” Dive says.

“Yeah, I guess I did say I’d do that…” 

“And you were going to build a second pantry for the kitchen,” Wire adds.

“Heh, I suppose I did agree to-” 

“And you said you would build herb boxes for all of the windows!” House joins in.

“Dammit to hell,” Kid groans, burying his face in his hands. “I took on way too many projects!” The crew erupts into laughter, and Law can’t help but chuckle himself. Kid shoots him a look, but it’s more fond than it is annoyed. Law doesn’t know what to do with it.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~ 

This market, as it turns out, is fucking massive. Law expected an inhabited island with some sort of marketplace, but what awaits them when they dock on the shore is an island-sized venue with rows upon rows of vendors as far as the eye can see. 

“This is much larger than I imagined,” Killer concurs. 

“That’s no problem, is it?” Kid asks, with a smirk and a cracking of his knuckles. “Just means there’ll be more to steal! We’ll have this place torn down within the hour-” 

“Excuse me? I’m not trying to get my face plastered on the front page of the paper, Eustass-ya. No making a stink today!” 

“Hah?! I ain’t ‘making a stink’, 'M pirating!” 

“Well we need to be doing some rescuing, and that’ll be a hell of a lot harder if the whole world finds out about this alliance. Behave yourself, dammit!” Kid narrows his eyes at Law’s words, his pout comically similar to the one Dive had on earlier in the morning. Kindred spirits, those two. 

“...fucking fine. Only steal what you can fit in your pockets and be smart about it. And wipe those stupid-ass looks off your faces!” Kid’s exclamation is aimed at his crew who all appear thoroughly entertained by Law’s challenging of their captain, and likely by Kid’s relenting, as well. “Five of you stay behind and watch the ship. The rest of you, pair up and go find some cool shit!” 

“I wanna go with Wi-chan!” Dive exclaims, reaching up for him on her tiptoes. 

“You just want to sit on my shoulders, don’t you?” Wire’s tone is unenthused, but he still picks her up before exiting the ship. Two-by-two, the crew leaves for the market; Hip and Hop, Boogie and Mosh, Papas and Emma, and Bepo and Bubblegum, who have seemingly been attached at the hip since they met a few days ago. 

“I’ll take Trafalgar with me,” Killer says, and Kid reacts in a noticeably un- Kid manner: he gawks at Killer, his face confused, maybe offended, even.

“But-” 

“You need to go with Heat to find new wires, right? And Trafalgar can help me pick out medicinal herb seeds for the window boxes.” 

“Oh. Right. Obviously.” Kid stutters, averting his eyes from Law and Killer’s direction. He grabs Heat by the wrist and drags him out the door without another word. How bizarre; it’s so out of character that Law is almost curious enough to broach the topic with Killer, but then again, he doesn’t exactly know him well enough to pry about whatever that was. 

When he and Killer touch down on the sand, they’re greeted by a large signpost on the edge of the beach. It details the locations of vendors, organized by theme and numbered by row. 

“I assume we’re looking for the gardening section, which is right… here.” Killer points to the tenth-row marker on the sign, located smack dab in the middle of the island. It could be worse, but it’s still a half mile away. “Seeing as you don’t want to attract too much attention, we might as well walk.” 

“Fine by me.” Law fills the pockets of his coat with sand before they start their trek and explains his plan before Killer asks: “With my devil fruit ability, I can swap out the seeds for grains of sand. Nobody will ever know.” 

“Oh, I know,” Killer chuckles. “I had more than one reason for bringing you along.” 

Law isn’t one for personal conversation. He hasn’t been in a long time, really; he has far too many thoughts that he would prefer to never voice aloud, too many memories that are better off locked in his inner vault than shared with others, and asking someone a question about their personal life more often than not results in the answerer asking questions of their own. 

Luckily for him, Killer keeps conversation more or less “business oriented”. As they make their way through aisles of handwoven blankets and handcrafted furniture, Killer asks him about their fight with Blackbeard. Law informs him of the medicine that Chopper whipped up, how Bepo was able to transform into his sulong form in the middle of the day and make a break for the ocean, and the perilous journey through the sea that followed. In return, Killer goes into more detail about their loss to Shanks and the destruction of the Victoria Punk. 

“Nobody got a clear look at what hit us; one second Red-Haired was leaving with our poneglyphs, and the next, some sort of shockwave came through and split the ship in two. She sank quicker than any of us could react.” 

“It’s a miracle that all of you survived.” 

“You’re right. There were some close calls… Kid and I weren’t even conscious by the time we hit the water. If it weren’t for Dive, I’m certain that there would have been casualties.” 

“What does Dive have to do with-” Law begins to ask, and then he recalls those razor-sharp teeth of hers. “Dive is a fish man?” 

“Last time I checked,” Killer laughs. 

“I should’ve known. She’s just never expressed any interest in the water.” Law is reminded of the time that he spent in Dressrosa as a boy. Doflamingo was less than disinterested in entertaining any of the youngins, but they still had some freedom when it came to exploring the island in their spare time. It was often spent on Dressrosa’s coast; Dellinger’s affinity for water was so strong that it was less of a headache for Law and Baby 5 if they took him for a swim each day. Law wouldn’t say that he ever had fun with the two of them, but there were moments when he would play make believe. He would pretend, on occasion, that he was just a normal Dressrosan child playing at the beach with his friends instead of an orphan with rapidly progressing sickness. 

He wonders if Baby 5 and Dellinger are happy, wherever they are. 

“Though she’s never outright said it, I think Dive might be afraid of the water. I have a theory, but she tends to clam up when it comes to talking about her past. It makes me feel that much worse about the fact that we were sunk,” Killer says. “Minty treats are her favorite, so I want to find a few varieties to grow in the herb boxes for her.” 

When they reach their destination, there’s an overwhelming variety of seeds to choose from. Killer settles on peppermint, spearmint and chocolate mint, oregano, chamomile and thyme, and eventually, Law stops listening and starts stealing. When the vendor is occupied with other customers, Law creates a small room. Killer stands close enough to shield his actions from the view of any passersby, and with a simple flick of the wrist, every grain of sand in his pockets is traded for seeds. He pities any poor sap who buys a packet of seeds- or rather, sand- from this place, and perhaps the vendor’s reputation will be tarnished, but 600 beri for a single seed packet is highway robbery anyway. 

An intrusive memory worms its way to the forefront of Law’s mind: Uni attempting to grow herbs in the Tang beneath a grow light and laying into Law after he didn’t get so much as a single sprout. “Maybe I could actually grow something if we weren’t in a submarine!” Uni had whined. For a ship’s cook, he was an awfully picky eater- is. He is an awfully picky eater. Shame hits Law like a sucker punch to the gut. It’s disgraceful of a captain to doubt his crew. 

“Trafalgar?” A warm, firm hand on his bicep gets Law’s attention, and though Killer’s tone is perpetually jovial, he’s sure that he’s probably worried. How long has Law been standing here, staring off into space?

“I’m fine, Killer-ya. Let’s go.” 

“Are you sure? I-” Whatever Killer was about to say is cut short with a laugh, but Law is used to it by now. It never takes longer than a moment or two to pass. 

But a moment passes, then two, three, five, and Killer isn’t stopping. In fact, it’s only getting worse. People are starting to stare. Killer is running out of breath. He’s practically choking. Law internally panics, unsure of what the fuck he’s supposed to do. Nobody here seems to recognize them; does he use his devil fruit ability to make a quick escape and risk being identified? He takes a look to his left, his right, behind them, and in the space between two stalls, Law spots an unoccupied swing set in the distance. It’ll have to do. Law supports Killer’s shaking, cackling frame and walks him in the direction of the swings. 

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

“Do you see anything cool from up there?” 

“Hmmm… ooh! I see some smoke thataway!” Dive, still perched on Wire’s shoulders, points ahead. He isn’t surprised that her heart is set on food; he’s seen her eat an entire pig roast before, bones and all. 

“Is food all you want? Captain said we could steal whatever, as long as we don’t get caught.” 

“Well I dunno, what do you wanna steal?” Dive asks. Wire couldn’t be bothered to read the signpost before they entered, so he isn’t sure. He makes a noncommittal sound in response. 

If Dive hadn’t requested that he join her, Wire wouldn’t have come out here at all. There are too many people, they’re too damn loud, and there are dozens of smells between the perfumes, soaps and shampoos. Leave it to him to accidentally enter the smelliest aisle possible. He walks through it at a swift pace, his nose in desperate need of respite, but then Dive gets his attention. 

“What’s that stuff?” She tilts Wire’s head to the left, to a stall lined with mannequins adorned with brightly colored wigs, alongside equally bright bottles of dye.

“That’s hair dye.” 

“What’s it do?” 

“It dyes your hair,” he deadpans. When he peers up at her, she’s giving him an unimpressed look. 

“No shit, Wi-chan.” If Killer were here, he would probably scold Dive for cussing. But he isn’t, so Wire doesn’t. “Is it permanent? How does it work?” 

“It ain’t permanent, but I don’t know how long it lasts.” Wire tries to recollect how often Boogie and Mosh dye their hair, but he’s never paid it much mind. “A few months, maybe. If you want some, we should take enough bottles to last a while.” 

“Ooo, okay!” She slides down Wire’s back to the ground. “I’ll go steal it, so you flirt with that cashier lady and distract her, okay?” 

“You want me to flirt. Me.” 

“Oh, come on Wi-chan, you can do it!” 

“No way. You’re cute, so you go distract her. You suck at stealing anyway.” 

“Ugh, fine,” Dive groans. “I want the red stuff, so make sure you get a lot of it!” Wire watches as Dive approaches the vendor, and he can’t hear what she says, but the woman smiles and turns her attention to her. It presents Wire with the perfect opportunity to nab some bottles of dye. He slides them into the inner pockets of his cloak along with some hair gel for Kid and pretends to casually peruse the wares until Dive comes back over. 

“Nice job.” He lifts Dive up and she settles on his shoulders once more. “Red, huh? To match with Captain?” 

“Uh huh! But it kinda feels like I’m matching with Red-Haired, too… I wish they had different colored hair.” 

“You and Kid both. Kid won’t think of Red-Haired when he looks at you, though. If anything, it’ll remind him of how you saved him that day.” 

“Yeah… maybe.” Dive’s voice suddenly sounds small in comparison to her big personality. She must still be shaken up by what happened. Wire’s own memory of the incident is one that he’s spent days trying to suppress:

Fire. The deafening roar of a shockwave careening towards the Victoria Punk. The force of a blow, so strong that Wire thought it might tear his skin right off his bones. 

His body stinging as he fell and slammed into the freezing cold sea. Eyes burning as he struggled to wrench them open, arms flailing in the water in desperate search of Kid and Killer’s bodies. Searing pain as he blindly shoved his arm into sharp debris, and rising panic when he didn’t feel any bodies in his vicinity. 

The overwhelming wave of relief that washed over him when he swam up to the surface to find Kid and Killer laid out on the remainder of the Punk’s deck, soggy and unconscious but somehow alive, along with a terrified Dive pounding on their chests in an attempt to wake them. 

Jumping back into the sea filled with debris, and blood, and his crewmates, dead or alive, to retrieve whatever or whoever he could. 

Wire rests his hand over his bandaged wound as he remembers. It would be enough to scare the wits out of anyone, let alone a child. 

“It’ll be alright, Dive. Let’s go find you some food.” 

“I dunno, Wi-chan… I’m not really hungry anymore.” Not hungry? Dive is always hungry. Now Wire is wishing that Killer was with them after all; he’s great with all of the emotional shit. Wire, on the other hand, couldn’t be worse at handling it. 

“Well uh…” Wire reaches the end of the aisle and scans the area. “We could go check out clothes?” 

“Nah.” 

“Shoes?” 

“No thanks.”

“Hmm.” From across the way, Wire spots a swing set, and not just any swing set; one with Law and Killer already on it. Wire thanks his lucky stars. “Let’s go play on the swings with Killer and Trafalgar, then.” 

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

“Oi. You there, with the mustache. How much for these wires?” 

“500 beri a piece.” 

“500 a piece?!” Kid is not having a good day, so this poor vendor is about to have an even worse one. He leans across the counter until he can count the sparse gray hairs in the man’s otherwise black mustache, and laces his next words with conqueror’s haki, “I think you meant to say 500 beri for both.” 

“Th-that’s ex-actly what I m-meant, sir.” His teeth chatter and his complexion is whiter than a flag of surrender. Just how Kid likes it.  

“Good choice.” Kid raises his prosthetic arm, and coins fly from the pockets of nearby shoppers, pulled by the magnetism of his devil fruit ability until they come in contact with his hand with a repetitious clank. It may not be the most covert way of paying for something, but it appears to go unnoticed by most of the people around him; either that or he’s been recognized, and nobody here is stupid enough to challenge him. “While I’ve got you here, y’know where I can find a dial? Didn’t see ‘em listed on the sign.” 

“You won’t find any dials here during the day… sir,” he adds when Kid lets out another burst of haki. Heat raises an amused brow beside him. “Dials are considered weaponry, and as such, they’re sold in the early morning hours.” 

“How early?” 

“Between 3 and 5 o’clock, sir.” Well fuck. Law isn’t going to be too happy about that, but tough shit. Heat doesn’t feel safe without his flame dial, doesn’t feel like himself, and Kid will be damned if he doesn’t get his hands on one soon. At least Heat’s vocal cords are snapped, so he doesn’t have to listen to all of the complaining. Yet. 

“Good enough. It’s been a pleasure,” Kid sneers, flicking a coin in his direction before going on his way. Before he can get too far, however, Heat smacks him on the arm. “What?” 

“Look at that,” Heat signs, and gestures to a white… thing on the ground in front of the stall. “What is it?” 

“It’s uh…” truth be told, Kid has no fucking clue. It’s a little animal of some sort, white and round with a black spot on its back. “I dunno, a guinea pig?” 

“It’s too big to be a guinea pig, dumbass.” Heat kneels down and lets the creature sniff his hand. It yips happily, stubby tail wagging. “I think it’s a dog. Looks like onigiri, doesn’t it?” 

“Heh. Kinda, yeah.” Onigiri is Law’s favorite food, and he likes fluffy white animals, if his first mate is any indication. For a moment, Kid gives some serious thought to scooping the fucker up and running off with it, but he isn’t supposed to ‘make a stink’ as Law so irritatingly put it. It’s one thing to take some coins, and another thing entirely to steal a man’s dog; the vendor may be afraid of him now, but he could cause a ruckus if Kid does something like that. How embarrassing would it be for him to end up on the front page of the paper for pet thievery? 

Kid leaves the dog be. He’s got a long list of gift ideas for Law, anyway. 

“Are we grabbin’ wood next?” 

“I put Boog’ and Mosh in charge of the wood. Wanna go find some food?” 

“Huh. I thought you would pick it all out yourself again.” 

“What’s that s’posed to mean?” 

“Don’t you remember when you were buildin’ the Victoria Punk? You were so damn insistent that each part had to be perfect, from the planks of wood down to every nail. Otherwise, she wouldn’t attract a Klabautermann-” It’s easy to ignore whatever Heat says next; all Kid has to do is look away. 

“No such thing as a Klabautermann, Heat.” Kid keeps his eyes ahead, despite Heat waving in his face and shoving at him to get his attention. “I believed in ‘em when I was younger, sure, but it’s obviously just an old sea tale.” 

“This isn’t like you.” Heat gets in front of him, blocking his way and forcing Kid to watch his hands. “Who are you, and what have you done with Eustass Kid?!” 

“Ugh, quit being so dramatic. ‘M fine, alright?” What the hell does Heat expect him to say? Kid won’t gain anything from admitting that he’s lost faith in the existence of Klabautermann. He loved the Victoria Punk with everything he had; he put enough blood, sweat and tears into her that if there were such a thing, he’s sure that he would have seen one. “Quit yapping, or I’ll cut your fucking hands off. Is that ‘Eustass Kid’ enough for you?” 

“It’s certainly cunty enough, if that’s what you mean.” Kid socks him in the arm for that, and Heat does it right back. “Maybe you’re right, though… you took damn good care of that ship, y’know.” 

“Don’t I know it. Klabautermann or not, I’ll take damn good care of this one, too.” Heat gives him a sympathetic smile, and then leans down to kiss him. It’s nice; Heat’s large hand cupping the back of his neck, his scarred lips dragging across Kid’s own. The last couple of months have left the Kid Pirates completely off-kilter. Between their imprisonment, Killer’s smile fruit incident, the battle of Onigashima and their defeat by Shanks, there hasn’t been any opportunity to return to normalcy. 

At least Heat is willing to kiss him. Kid hasn’t so much as seen Killer without his mask on since they escaped Udon, and it’s not for lack of trying. 

“Forget the food,” Kid says, wrapping an arm around Heat’s waist. “Let’s go back to the ship and fuck, instead.” 

“Only if you reinstall my vocal cords first.” 

“Nah.” Heat thumps Kid in the temple, and Kid nearly sends them both toppling to the ground in his attempt to trip him in revenge. If circumstances were different, Kid would tackle Heat to the ground right here and they would roughhouse until another member of their crew came by and scolded them. But as it stands, Kid hasn’t fucked any of his crew in days. The mere thought of it has his heart hammering away in his chest. 

They begin retracing their steps to the ship, walking back through the aisle of wires and tools, when Kid notices that the previously unoccupied swing set is now home to four familiar faces. Even from a distance, he can see the slump in Killer’s posture and the way that his mask is downcast. In the blink of an eye, Kid forgets whatever he and Heat were planning on doing, and he runs off toward the swings with a one-track mind.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

Law isn’t sure if the silence between him and Killer is companionable or tense. It took a stressful few minutes for Killer’s laughter to cease, and he hasn’t said a word since. He considers speaking up himself, but he wouldn’t know where to begin.

“I’m sorry that you had to see me like this.” 

“What? Killer-ya, you have nothing to apologize for,” Law insists. “This isn’t your fault.” 

“It is my fault. Nobody forced that smile fruit down my throat. I ate it myself, because I foolishly believed that Orochi would follow through on releasing Kid… or maybe I didn’t. Maybe I just thought that if I didn’t try and I ended up losing him, I would spend the rest of my life wondering if things could have been different. But I made the wrong choice, Trafalgar. I failed him.” Killer releases a shuddering breath, gripping the chains of the swing with white knuckles. “What would have changed, if I hadn’t eaten it? Would I have been more alert the day that Red-Haired took us down? Could I have taken that blow before it hit Kid?” 

Law just stares at him, mouth agape. He cycles through a litany of possible responses, but none of them feel fitting; Killer has already admitted that he places unnecessary blame on himself, but he’s still doing it anyway. What if, in an attempt to be reassuring, Law accidentally adds salt to the wound?

“I-”

“You alright?” Wire asks. Law didn't hear him and Dive coming. Wire lowers Dive to the ground and she climbs into Killer’s lap, embracing him tightly. Killer’s body language is still tense and defeated, but he loosens up marginally, releasing the swing’s chains to hold her close. His love for his crew is palpable. Law can tell how hard he tries, and how much they appreciate him. Maybe that’s what he should have said.

“What’s wrong, Kill-chan?” 

“I’m alright. I just needed a hug.” Killer’s laugh comes out as a wheeze. “It’s been a long couple of months, hasn’t it?” 

“You said it,” Wire agrees, claiming the swing on the other side of Killer. Unlike the two of them, Wire actually uses it for its intended purpose, and the metal frame creaks with unease. “Looks like Kid and Heat are heading this way.” 

It takes Law a moment or two longer to see them from his point of disadvantage, but he spots Kid and Heat’s silhouettes soon after. Law tuts as they close in; Kid’s limp has returned. 

“I told you to stay off that leg, dammit!” Law calls, and Kid flips him a metal bird in reply. “You can make anything you want with your abilities; would it kill you to build a damn crutch?!” 

“Could kill my reputation, maybe! Last thing I need is anyone thinking 'M injured,” Kid retorts. He shifts his gaze from Law to Killer, expression changing from one of sass to one of concern. “Everything okay, Kil’?” 

“I’m fine, I just had a… smile fruit mishap, I guess you could say. You have nothing to worry about.” Killer’s hold on Dive tightens minutely when he says it, and it doesn’t escape Law’s notice. Kid appears just as unconvinced; he gives Killer a doubtful frown, and for a long, charged moment, neither of them say a word. Eventually, though, Kid wavers. 

“If you say so-” BOOM! A sound akin to cannon fire rings out in the near distance. It’s close enough that the ground beneath them trembles. Heat signs something to Kid, and he shakes his head. “I doubt it was our ship; we don’t even have a jolly roger. Who would wanna attack us?” 

Heat shrugs and takes the swing to Law’s left. Kid walks around to the back of the swing set, and Law just about jumps out of his skin when Kid pushes him. 

“The point of a swing is to go high, y’know.” 

“Oh, is it?” Law scoffs. “I had no clue.” 

Any leftover sarcasm dissolves on Law’s tongue as Kid keeps pushing him. As the dirt below him gets smaller with every pass and the wind nips at his ears, Law reflects on how long it’s been since he did anything like this. When he searches his mind for the answer, he sees himself at ten years old with Baby 5 and Dellinger. But then he goes back a few months more, to playing on the swings with Lami: “Push me higher, big brother Law!” 

“Push us too, Kid-chan!” Law’s reverie crumbles at the sound of Dive’s voice. Kid alternates between pushing them both and she giggles happily, snuggling deeper into Killer’s arms. Watching Killer take such good care of her warms Law’s heart, and it gets it beating a little quicker as well. He tries not to dwell on what that could mean. 

“Push me, Kid-chan!” Wire does his best impression of Dive, and it’s as ridiculous as it is inaccurate. Dive squeals with laughter as Kid reels back and smacks him in the ass hard instead. “Oi!” He all but falls from his swing in an attempt to hit Kid back. 

As amused as Law by their display, he also questions, not for the first time, just how many members of the crew Kid is sleeping with. Between his dirty talk about Killer and his comment about Wire fetching his strap-on from the bottom of the ocean, it doesn’t leave much room for doubt. He and Kid are as different as night and day, Law thinks: Law has always struggled to hold his crew any closer than arm’s-length, while Kid fearlessly embraces his own. 

Maybe if Law were just a bit more like him, he would still have his crew by his side right now. 

BOOM! The sound is even closer now. Law feels it in his teeth. Through the unrelenting fog, he sees a ship sailing along the coast, unmarked and free of any flags or distinguishing characteristics. Trailing behind it is one of a much more garish appearance, clearly belonging to a pirate crew. They fire at the ship in front of them, the cannonball just barely missing the hull.

“Eustass-ya, isn’t that your ship being attacked?” 

“No way! They wouldn’t just leave without us…” Kid peters off, his confidence waning the longer he looks at it. “Shit. Everybody run!” 

Kid takes off in the direction of the ship. Wire, Heat, and Killer, with Dive still in his grasp follow him, and Law leaps from the swing, uncaring of the stinging in the bottoms of his feet as he joins them. They reach the sand, running parallel to the ship, but there’s no way for it to stop without incurring damage from the enemy crew. Fuck. How were they even found? Did these pirates decide to attack the first people they saw, or was this intentional? 

“Captain!” Bepo shouts from the deck. He’s holding something in the palm of his hand, and after so many years of being his partner, Law knows exactly what they are: rocks. Bepo, reliable as ever, has just saved them all. 

“Room! Shambles!” 

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

What a day. 

Law sits on the couch, beer in hand, and only half-pays attention to the activity around him. His exhaustion is bone-deep; after transporting himself, Kid, Heat, Wire, Killer and Dive aboard the ship, they had no choice but fight for their escape. The battle wasn’t particularly difficult- another amateurish crew- but that isn’t to say that it wasn’t physically taxing. Law’s stamina is in the gutter. 

Beside him, Kid and Heat are tipsy, bickering about who-knows-what, and have been for some time now. It started at dinner- yet another meal that Kid refused to partake in until he saw everyone else begin to eat, much to Law’s curiosity- where Kid declared, most assuredly, that he could beat Zoro in a fight with both hands tied behind his back. Heat, with his freshly installed vocal cords, disputed Kid’s claims, and here they are nearly two hours later. 

“What do you think, Trafalgar?” 

“Huh?” Law’s head has been in the clouds ever since Kid dropped the bombshell that they would have to remain in the area for the night. Despite his promise that they’ll be setting sail again by dawn, Law can’t shake this feeling pulling at his conscience; while they’re at a standstill like this, every moment feels like an eternity. 

“I think the easiest way to kill Hawkeyes would be a bullet between the eyes. But according to Heat, there ain’t any ‘honor’ in killing a swordsman with a gun.” 

“And I’m right. What’s the point in sayin’ that you took down the world’s greatest swordsman if you do it without a sword?!” 

“When it comes to killing, I don’t think honor matters all that much,” Law muses. “It only matters that they’re dead, doesn’t it?” 

“Exactly,” Kid boasts. “‘Sides, what honor is there in only knowing how to fight with a sword? If Hawkeyes lost to a gun, it would be his own damn fault for not being versatile enough.”

“But if you shot Hawkeyes dead and went around bragging about it, people would talk shit about the fact that you did it with a gun. They’d call you a pussy!” Quincy interjects. She shifts uncomfortably in her chair, and then, without warning, shoves her hand between her breasts and pulls out an impressively large haul of lipsticks and eyeliners. “I almost forgot; stole some makeup from the market for you, Cap!” 

“Ugh,” Kid wrinkles his nose when she drops them into his palm, “these have been in your tits for hours, Quin’! They’re all melted!” 

“Don’t be such a baby. Stick them in the fridge or something!” 

As their quarreling continues, Law surveys the room. Dive is curled up at his side, her nose buried in the same book from this morning, and when Law peeks over her shoulder he sees that she’s reading a page about Klabautermann. The last time he checked, at least an hour ago, she was on that very same page. 

Killer, despite preparing dinner by himself, is vehemently insistent on cleaning all of the dishes by himself. Any attempts by the crew to assist him have been met with a defensiveness that Law has never seen from him before, and Kid has gained an argumentative edge ever since. 

At least Bepo is as bubbly as ever. No matter what goes wrong, Law can always count on his first mate’s cheerful attitude. He and Bubblegum are seated on the couch opposite him, chatting away happily, and when Law catches his eye, Bepo gives him a bright smile.

“Did Bubble-kun show you what we bought today, Captain?” When Law shakes his head, Bepo motions to the box on the coffee table. “I thought we could use it to celebrate with the crew after we rescue them!” 

Inside of the box is a sake set, simple yet elegant; the vessel and cups are glossy and black, adorned with golden veins. 

“Huh.” Kid holds one of the cups up to his eye, inspecting it closely. “It looks like someone broke it and stuck it back together.” 

“That’s right! It’s an art form called kintsugi,” Bepo explains. “Kintsugi is all about restoring broken things. It may not look the same as it used to, and there may be some parts that are missing, but it’s no less useful because of it. The cracks are highlighted in order to honor that.” 

The atmosphere in the room shifts; all at once, everybody stops what they’re doing to listen to what Bepo has to say. Dive gazes up from her book, and Killer’s scrubbing ceases. It isn’t hard to understand why. 

Everyone here feels a little bit broken.

“Every imperfection represents the piece’s history. We were thinking about incorporating the art style into the jolly roger somehow, as an homage to our alliance,” Bubblegum adds. “What do you guys think?” 

Kid sighs, though not out of exasperation; his face is thoughtful and rife with emotion. Heat intertwines his fingers with Kid’s metal ones and squeezes his hand, their squabble already forgotten. 

“I think that’s a great idea, Bubs’,” he smiles. “It’ll look badass.” 

“Captain?” Bepo asks expectantly. 

They aren’t our crew.

This is only a temporary alliance. 

You’re getting too attached, Bepo. 

“I agree,” Law says instead, despite his inner-turmoil, and Bepo and Bubblegum light up with excitement. 

“Perfect! Let’s get started on it tomorrow, Bepo-kun!” 

With such an early morning in front of them, much of the crew goes their separate ways. Bepo heads out to the deck to sleep in the fresh air, as he’s been doing since their arrival, and it makes Law wonder if he’s happier on a traditional ship as opposed to a submarine. Quincy, who agreed to take the night watch, leaves for the helm along with Wire, and those who aren’t already in bed say their goodnights and disperse. Only Law, Kid, Killer and Dive remain. 

“You’ve been awfully quiet tonight,” Kid says to Dive. “You didn’t even seem interested in fighting that other crew. What’s up?” 

“Well…” Dive gives the book a final, meaningful glance before shutting it. “Can you bring me to bed, Kid-chan? There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Yeah, ‘course I can.” 

“Goodnight, big brother Law! Goodnight, Kill-chan!” She disappears down the hallway with Kid in toe, and Law is left in a rather fragile position: he and Killer are alone together once more, and Law is beginning to feel like it would be a disservice not to speak up after Killer confided in him. He’s a kindhearted man, and Law isn’t so blind as to not see the similarities between them; at the very least, he can empathize with Killer’s guilty conscience. 

Law crosses the boundary between the lounge and kitchen, and his heart pounds like he’s going off to war. 

“Killer-ya?” 

“You aren’t about to tell me to stop washing these dishes, are you?”

“No, no,” he holds his hands up in defense. “I know better than that. There was just something that I wanted to say earlier, and I didn’t get the chance.” 

Killer places the dish rag down and turns his body towards him, and the words die on Law’s tongue all over again. 

“About this afternoon… look, I’m really not good at this kind of thing, but…” Law groans, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Fuck. Okay. See, the thing is-” 

“Trafalgar,” Killer’s tone is full of mirth, but somehow, it sounds more genuine than forced, “take a breath, alright? I want to hear what you have to say. It won’t offend me.” 

“I know that I haven’t been here for very long, but I think that you’re doing a great job,” Law mutters awkwardly, shuffling his feet against the floor. “You say that you’re failing, but from where I’m standing, you look like you’re trying your best every day. Everyone seems to appreciate you, except for you. That’s what this whole thing with the dishes is about, isn’t it? It’s like you’re trying to repent for something, even though you have nothing to repent for. It’s none of my business or anything, I just-” 

Law anticipated this going a few different ways; Killer snapping at him was at the top of his list, or the conversation fizzling out due to his own lack of tact. With that in mind, Law well and truly flounders when Killer suddenly pulls him into a hug. 

“I really needed to hear that,” Killer murmurs. Law feels encompassed in warmth and stability; Killer’s arms are like a blanket wrapped around his torso, secure and nurturing. It’s the kind of hug that a mother would give, and Law feels moved by it, as if his soul is reacting to a sort of compassion that it hasn’t experienced in years. With unpracticed hesitancy, he returns Killer’s embrace. “I want to talk to the crew, but I already feel like I’m inconveniencing them. It’s nice to have someone around who understands.” 

Law does understand; the notion of inconveniencing the people he loves weighs heavily on him, and his heart’s need to repent is as innate as the sun in the sky. He feels it each night when he goes to sleep, and every morning when he awakens from nightmares of loss. He feels it when he looks at Bepo and is reminded of all that he’s put him through. He feels it when Dive is by his side, where Lami used to be. The sensation is ever present, like a chronic ailment that he’s unable to remove even with his devil fruit ability, and though allies and crewmates alike have attempted to relate to Law’s plight, he’s always felt disconnected from others and their experiences. 

But knowing what he now knows about Killer, Law senses what may be the start of a connection. A whisper of one, barely there, but there, and like most good things, Law is just as tempted to push it away as he is to pull it in.

Killer’s hold on Law slips as elephantine steps approach from the hallway; even in the dead of night, Kid doesn’t know how to be quiet. Law already has a sarcastic remark in the chamber, fully prepared to be released as soon as Kid rounds the corner, but when he sees the other man’s face, it’s immediately evident that something is wrong. Kid walks right past them both, his pace brisk like he wants to be anywhere other than here, and as he goes by, Law notices that his eye is shimmering. 

“What happened?” Killer asks. “What did Dive tell you?” 

“Nothing happened. C’mon, Trafalgar.” Kid doesn’t wait for Law to follow. He storms out the kitchen, letting the wind catch the door and slam it shut behind him. Law looks at Killer’s mask and knows that they must be thinking the same thing: Kid is lying. Something occurred in that bedroom between him and Dive, and whatever it was, he’s been heavily affected by it. 

“I guess I should try to talk to him…” Law sighs. These Kid Pirates are yanking him right out of his comfort zone, for better or for worse. “Tomorrow, he’s your problem. You need to communicate with him, Killer-ya.” 

“I will, I promise.” Killer pats him on the shoulder, and his hand lingers; like everything Killer does, it has an air of comfort to it. “I appreciate it.” 

Law creates a room, and with great apprehension, teleports into the unknown. 

Chapter Text

Law’s first crush was on a boy named Ume. 

His mother ran a flower shop down the street from the local church, and his father was a mathematics teacher. 

Nicknamed for a particular lunchtime incident that involved him choking on a pickled plum, Ume was the jolly, class-clown type. He took everything in stride. Not popular or unpopular, not a bully or bullied, just a typical, run-of-the-mill boy. Law tended to keep to himself, choosing to watch Ume from afar instead, and though they didn’t have many conversations, he wasn’t half as grossed out by Law’s affinity for creepy, crawly dead things as the other kids were. 

The night Flevance burned to the ground, Law found him with a bullet in the back of his head beside the other children and the sisterhood. 

He was Law’s last crush, too.

Law is startled awake by the memory. It feels abstract, like a sad story from someone else’s life, but the drop in his stomach and frantic beating of his heart say otherwise. The crow’s nest’s familiar ceiling greets him as it has the last few mornings, but as Law’s eyes adjust, it’s clear that it isn’t morning yet: the room is dark, save for the light of a few candles flickering about. Law watches the shadows that dance above him as the nightmare slowly becomes fuzzy, fading back into slumber until he hears a cough from the far corner of the room. 

He sits up, and through bleary vision, catches sight of Kid. 

When Law came up to the crow’s nest earlier in the night, Kid hadn’t been interested in any sort of conversation. He was disconcertingly quiet, face pulled tight in anger, or perhaps in sadness as he stripped down naked and got into bed without a word. Law didn’t bother pushing Kid for answers, not knowing what he might get himself into if he pried; he worked through the tension and replaced his day clothes with a pair of oversized sweatpants that they pilfered from one of the opposing crews before settling beside him. 

Though that must have been only an hour or two ago, the Kid that he saw then was a sharp contrast to the one he sees now.

Kid is reclined in the wooden chair that resides beside his work desk, smoking something and blowing it out of one of the many large windows that border the room. His body language is far more relaxed, his bandaged half-thigh dangling off of the chair and in-tact leg propped up, leaving him spread so wide that Law’s eyes can’t possibly be blamed for trailing downward to his cunt.

“Oi. Pervert.” Kid’s voice is sandpaper rough and his expression is teasing, but not in the irritating, immature way that Law is used to; there’s a softness to it, one that he avoids thinking of as affection.

“It’s not my fault,” Law counters. “It’s like a fluffy red arrow. Where else am I supposed to look?” 

“You tryna flatter me, Trafalgar?” 

“No, I’m not.” It’s true, he isn’t, but it’s becoming more difficult to deny, even to himself, that Kid is gorgeous. He has a rugged beauty to him that Law has never seen before; deep, gnarled scars and rippling muscle, a soft belly and pretty, ember-like eyes. What could be conflicting features on somebody else suit Kid to a tee, and Law actively avoids ogling him lest he get something snarky in response. “What’re you smoking?” 

“Take a guess. I’d offer you some, but I doubt you can keep up with me-” 

“Shut up and hand it over.” Kid smirks and tosses the contents of his hand to Law; it’s the most poorly-rolled blunt Law has ever seen. He still helps himself to some of it before giving it back. “Where’d you get this?” 

“Took it from House’s stash. She may be a quack, but she somehow always has the good stuff. Never tells me where she gets it, though; says it’s a ‘trade secret’ or some shit.” 

“Bullshit. If it was a trade secret, then I would know about it,” Law mumbles. Getting one’s hands on primo weed is surprisingly difficult, even as a criminal; it’s much more heavily regulated than alcohol, and Law has far more enemies than he does friends. It isn’t as if he can just dock on any random island and go around asking for drugs. 

Law and Kid finish the first blunt in silence, and Law insists on rolling the second one himself. As they pass it back and forth, Law finds himself staring, not only because he’s high and only getting higher, but because Kid is an easy person to stare at. The gunmetal barbells around his nipples glint with the fluttering candle flames, and his gaze is intense as he stares off into nowhere. His eye is red and puffy, and while Law is sure that the weed is partly to blame, it doesn’t account for the way that his eye glistens.

“Eustass-ya?” 

“Hah? Oh, right,” Kid hands the blunt back, as if that’s what Law was about to ask. “Y’know what the bear was saying earlier? About that kintsugi stuff?” 

“You’re still calling him ‘the bear’?” Law takes a couple drags and passes it back over. “You have to know his name by now.” 

“Pshhh. Sure I do,” Kid says. He looks to the side and purses his lips in a way that he would never do sober; in fact, it reminds Law a little bit of Luffy. “It’s Bee… bo.” 

“It’s Bepo.” 

“See? Told you I knew. It’s Bepo.” 

“That is not what you said!” 

“Like hell it ain’t what I said!” Law shakes his head in exasperation, but he can’t keep the smile off his face. 

“First ‘scrambles’ and now ‘Beebo’, huh? Is that why you give your crew single-syllable nicknames, Eustass-ya? Is your memory that shitty?” 

“I’ll show you ‘shitty’!” Kid stands up like he’s about to take a swing at him, but when he attempts a step forward, he crumples to the floor. Law snickers at him. No wonder Kid fell; he didn’t even remember to put his prosthetic leg back on. 

“Wow. You really showed me.” Kid grumbles at that, but makes no move to get off the floor. “Room. Shambles.” 

The pillow beside Law disappears, and Kid takes its place. He blows a mouthful of smoke into Law’s face before returning the blunt. 

“Fucking asshole,” Law sputters. He waves around blindly to get rid of it all; a redundant effort when he’s actively adding to the cloud, but Law’s logic may have just sprouted wings and flown away. Perhaps he shouldn’t be smoking so much when he doesn’t partake in it very often, but the higher he gets, the less concerned he is with it coming back to bite him in the ass. “So you were saying? Beebo and kintsugi and whatever?” 

Kid laughs and it’s a freer, higher-pitched sound than Law is used to. The sound settles in his stomach like molten syrup. He won’t commit it to memory, and it’ll likely be out of his mind by sunrise, but for now, he holds onto it. 

“Right, right. He was talking about that whole kintsugi thing earlier, y’know? How people take broken things and then they put ‘em back together and shit?”

“Sure.” 

“I mean… d’you think that applies to everything?”

“Of course not. It-” 

“Pass the blunt if you’re gonna talk, Trafalgar.” 

“You fucking- whatever. Here.” Law turns to look at him, and Kid’s face is so much closer than he expected it to be. For the first time, Law notices Kid’s eyelashes; red, short and sparse, as if they were singed, or never grew in right to begin with. His gaze lingers for too long, and he blames it on the weed. When Kid cups his jaw and closes the short distance between them, pressing a chaste yet firm kiss to his lips, Law blames the fluttering in his chest on the weed, too. He gives Kid the blunt and directs his gaze to the ceiling. “Anyway, no. I don’t. Some things break beyond repair, and other things can be put back together but don’t retain their usefulness. But it’s a nice sentiment.” 

“I miss my damn ship,” Kid sighs. Law’s conscience is quieter than usual, but it’s still there, and it takes a beating when he realizes that he probably should’ve been more tactful with his answer. “This one is great and all… but she doesn’t feel like mine. She ain’t Victoria. And even if I could fish every last board and nail out of the ocean and put her back together again, exactly like she was before, it just wouldn’t be the same. She’s… dead.” 

Law listens to him silently, and focuses on his words rather than the fact that his hypocritical ass couldn’t be bothered to pass the blunt before monologuing. 

“Ever heard of a Klabautermann?” 

“Yeah, in stories. The Strawhats’ first ship had one, apparently. And I saw Lami reading about them earlier.” 

“Well uh-” Kid suddenly stops and narrows his eye at him in confusion, but the moment passes as quickly as it arrives. “See, I used to believe in ‘em a whole lot when I was younger. And then I stopped, ‘cause even though I put everything into the Punk, I never saw one. But when I was putting Dive to bed tonight, she said…” 

Kid takes a long drag, and then finally surrenders the blunt to Law once more. 

“When the Punk went down and Kil’ and I sank, I thought that Dive saved us. When I woke up, she was the first person that I saw, so I just assumed, y’know… and she went along with it, so I had no reason to doubt it. Turns out she didn’t, though. She saw this little glowy person carry Kil’ and me up to the surface.” 

“A little glowy person?” Law coughs. There’s a glass of water on Kid’s desk, but he certainly can’t be bothered to get up and retrieve it, nor does he want to give up the last pillow. He feels around the bed for something else to trade it with. “That sounds like a Klabautermann to me. You should be proud; it means you took good care of your ship.” 

“Whatcha looking for?” 

“I want that water over there, so I need to swap it out for something else.” 

“Oh. Here.” Kid peels off a sock that Law didn’t even notice he was wearing and offers it to him. 

“You sleep naked except for one sock? Room. Shambles.” 

“I get cold feet! Or, well, foot, I guess. Kil’ thinks it’s ‘cause we grew up on a summer island.” Kid and Law share the glass of water just like they do the blunt. It elicits the strangest sense of nostalgia from within him; how long has it been since Law last spoke to someone like this? Has he ever shared a glass of water with another person before? Is Law too high to consider the intricacies of what they’re doing right now, or is he not high enough? 

He takes another hit, just to be sure. 

“You looked upset earlier,” Law ventures. “But if what Dive told you is a good thing, then why?” 

“It’s complicated.” For a few long moments, Kid says nothing. Law doesn’t expect any sort of answer out of him; he understands ‘complicated’. There are countless things that he hasn’t shared with Kid, things that he doesn’t know if he ever will, if he ever even could. “The little glowy person… it looked just like this girl I grew up with. I lost her before we set out to sea, and we named the ship the Victoria Punk in honor of her. Dive doesn’t know anything about that, she never met her, but she still described Victoria perfectly. So what the fuck does that mean? Was that really her? And now she’s gone again?” 

“Maybe Klabautermann take on forms that are recognizable to the people who take care of the ship.” 

“It’s one of the two. Guess I’ll never know for sure. But if I loved the ship enough to attract a Klabautermann, then why didn’t it show itself before? It only appeared when it was about to disappear. The books say they’re s’posed to come around and do repairs and shit.” 

“How about this, then: it could have been reserving all of its power to save the two of you, because it knew that it might need to someday. Would your friend have done something like that?” Law asks. Kid hums in consideration, and then he chuckles to himself. 

“Yeah. She was always getting us outta trouble… maybe it was her after all, and she stuck around to bail us out one more time.” Kid seems happiest with that option, so Law chooses to believe it as well. He’s relieved that he was able to navigate this conversation both high and without upsetting Kid all over again, though he also wonders if this is the only thing bothering him; it still doesn’t explain his strange behavior toward Killer earlier in the day, but Law won’t risk being a buzzkill by asking. “You pulled that answer right outta your ass, didn’t you?” 

“Duh. I don’t know the first thing about Klabautermann.” Kid laughs himself hoarse, and Law’s cheeks begin to hurt from how much he’s been smiling tonight. If he were sober, Law might stop and think about the fact that Killer probably feels like this all the time. For now, though, his mind is pleasantly foggy, save for the small thrill that Kid’s mirth elicits. 

“You see that nail polish over there on the desk? The black one?” Law does see it; in an instant, the empty glass of water in his hand is traded for the little bottle. He expects Kid to paint his own nails, but Kid clearly has other plans; without any warning, he pulls Law into his lap. 

“What- hey! What do you think you’re doing?!” 

“Well it’s this neat thing called ‘painting your boring ass nails’,” Kid snarks. “I said it before, didn’t I? If you’re gonna be a Punk Heart Pirate, you gotta look the part!” 

He tuts, but makes no move to escape Kid’s hold. Kid’s bare chest is like a furnace against Law’s back and his thick thighs bracket Law’s own, keeping him snugly in place. His body is beginning to feel more liquid than solid, and high as he is, he wants nothing more than to relax against Kid’s sturdy frame. So he does. 

“Why black?” 

“‘Cause it’s your color.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“Everyone’s got a color. Y’know, the one that goes best with your features. Mine is red, obviously, and yours is black.” 

Kid steadies Law’s hand with his metal one and brings the tiny brush to his thumb. He’s had his nails painted a few times before; Ikkaku offered to paint them once, and before that, it was Lami and her friends. Most of her playdates would involve Law being surrounded by a gaggle of giggling girls and forced to undergo makeovers; something he always hated, but he’d give anything to have Lami smear lipstick all over his face one last time. The memory cycles through his mind, but like every other thought tonight, it’s fleeting. 

“Huh. I would have thought that my color was blue.” 

“Blue looks good on you too- most colors do. Black just looks the best.” Oh. Kid’s compliment makes him blush a little. He says it casually too, as if complimenting Law comes so easily to him. Mixed in with the dim light and swirling smoke is a thin layer of tension; one that Law isn’t particularly used to, but it still leaves him half-hard in his sweatpants. 

“So I told you why I called our ship the Victoria Punk- why’d you call yours the Polar Tang?”

“It isn’t an interesting story.” 

“Try me.” 

“I got her in the North Blue and she looked like a lemon.” 

“That’s it?” Law feels Kid’s laughter against his back as much as he hears it. 

“I told you it wasn’t interesting!” 

“Well I didn’t think it would be so uninteresting! Thought it was named after someone, at least. Like a dead lover or something.” 

“No way,” Law scoffs. “I don’t have ‘lovers’.” 

“Hah? That ain’t true; if you sleep with someone, they’re your lover!” 

“It isn’t that cut and dry. If you have a one-night stand with a stranger, they aren’t your lover, are they?”

“Well… nah, I guess not,” Kid concedes. “So what, you only fuck strangers? If you fuck ‘em, don’t they stop being a stranger?” 

“Not if you only hook up with them once and you never get their name.” It sounds impersonal when Law says it aloud, but he put his system in place for that exact reason; he doesn’t want personal. He has enough to worry about without adding a lover to his list of things he might lose. 

“That sounds lonely.” Kid takes a moment to admire his paint job on Law’s first hand before moving on to the second. His comment comes, but it doesn’t go as easily as everything else has been. It hangs in the air with the dim light, and the smoke, and the tension just long enough for Law to process the words, but not long enough for him to give them any real thought. “It’s better like this, ain't it?” 

“Like what?” 

“Like this,” Kid says again. He presses a kiss to the back of Law’s ear, beside the earring that he made for him. The sensation remains even after he pulls away. "You know my name. And we’ve fucked around more than once.” 

“That’s-” Kid kisses the underside of Law’s jaw, and though it’s only a peck, he still squeezes his thighs together with arousal. There’s a unique sort of pleasure that comes with being high, it seems. Every touch feels electric. “That’s true.” 

“Am I the only person you’ve fucked more than once?” Kid asks, not hiding the excitement in his tone, and Law groans in exasperation. 

“Eustass-ya,” he warns, “don’t go making a-” 

“A what?” Kid challenges. “A stink?!” 

“I was going to say ‘a big deal out of it’, but sure. Don’t go making a stink.” Law hadn’t realized just how much his comment from earlier got under Kid’s skin. He revels in the small victory. “It was a spur of the moment thing the first time. And I wasn’t exactly planning on there being a second or third.” 

“Then you’ll be shocked when we do it for a fourth time,” Kid purrs. He licks the junction between Law’s neck and shoulder, and then gently blows on his wet skin. Law shudders, and when Kid bites down on that same spot, he moans. “‘Cause once 'M finished painting your nails, your ass is mine.” 

“Is that so? I don’t recall giving you permission.” Law’s cock throbs with anticipation, and his pants leave very little to the imagination. He’s sure that Kid notices. 

Law still has three unpainted nails. 

“So disagreeable. D’you have to be difficult every damn time?” 

Two. 

“I don’t have to be; I do it just for you.”

One. 

“Such a damn brat.” Kid paints his pinky nail and caps the nail polish like he’s competing for a world record, carelessly throwing the bottle to the side in his haste to get his hands on him. He palms Law over his pants and keeps kissing him along his throat, over his shoulders, down to his collar bones, hot and wet and open-mouthed. Law’s entire body thrums with sensation. He reaches behind himself to grasp at Kid’s hair, but his hand is intercepted by cold metal. 

“Hands to yourself, Trafalgar. You’ll make a mess,” Kid chuckles. His fingers slip beneath Law’s waistband and around his cock, pumping him with a loose fist, and Law melts against him fully. Fuck. They should’ve been doing this high all along. 

“Eustass-yahhh, fuuuck,” he groans, and Kid rewards him with a generous tightening of his grip. 

“Ooh I liked that one. Do it again.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Law tilts his head to kiss him, if only to keep him quiet, but nothing ever seems to go to plan; they moan in tandem as their lips meet, and Law feels a rush of adrenaline at the thought of Kid fucking him with his strap again. 

When Kid guides him down to the mattress, Law goes without contest. Kid moves to settle between his spread thighs, but then suddenly grunts with discomfort. 

“You and that damn leg. Room. Shambles.” Law trades places with him. Being on top may prove challenging when he’s this high, but it’s better than Kid exacerbating his injury. “I’m riding you this time. You're putting too much pressure on your stitches!” 

“My leg is fine!” Kid insists, wriggling out of Law’s grasp. He flips Law over, and Law lets him- 

“Room. Shambles.” Only to swap their positions yet again. Kid’s frustrated glare pulls a chuckle from Law’s lips; pissing Kid off is becoming one of his preferred pastimes on this journey. He looms over Kid with a smirk. “I can do this all night, you know.” 

“I doubt it; your stamina is pretty shit .” He tosses Law off of him, but before Law can regain the upper hand, Kid surges down to kiss him. Both of Law’s wrists are captured in Kid’s metal hand, and he holds them above Law’s head as he rocks his hips. Law curses under his breath when he feels the heat of Kid’s bare cunt through his sweatpants. 

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, that’s right, Law. I win.” 

“Says who?” Law’s attempts to buck Kid off are fruitless, and kicking his legs does him no favors. “Roo-” 

Law gasps as Kid’s hand suddenly closes around his throat, and just like that, their little competition is over. Kid applies gentle pressure, his expression equal parts curious and aroused as he looks down at him; he’s testing the waters, waiting to see what Law might say or do. It presses a button within Law that hasn’t been pressed before, once that he didn’t even know was there. 

He’s never been choked before. Not like this. Law begins to pant as the lightheartedness of their roughhousing fades and the thin layer of tension from before grows thicker than molasses, his cock twitching between their bodies.

“Harder,” he breathes. 

“Oh yeah?” Kid’s fingers tighten minutely, the touch still teasingly gentle. The press of his big, warm palm against Law’s skin is dizzying. “You like that, baby?” 

Law moans in lieu of a response. 

Both of Kid’s hands leave him as he moves down to pull Law’s pants off, his touch featherlight across his hips; for all of Kid’s bullheaded roughness, he can be so soft, so deliberate. Last night he traced Law’s chest tattoo with his fingertips, and tonight he does it with his tongue, stopping only to mouth at Law’s nipples when he comes across them. 

“You should let me pierce these.” Kid accentuates the statement with his teeth and Law rolls his hips, his now exposed cock dragging against Kid’s stomach. 

“Yeah,” Law sighs. It’s something that he’s considered doing but never found the time to, but even if he hadn’t, he would probably still agree. He’s feeling anomalously obedient. There’s something within him that Kid’s attention is attracting, something that Law has never put a name to, and he can feel it ever so slowly bubbling up to the surface. 

“And this.” Kid’s tongue dips into Law’s belly button and he whimpers. He itches to touch Kid but his nails are still a bit sticky; ordinarily, he would drag his nails across Kid’s skin and leave black smudges behind without a care, but tonight is different. This new sensation- this sudden and overwhelming desire to behave- keeps his hands firmly in place, resting limply above his head where Kid left them. 

“And you need a few here, too.” Kid licks his cock from base to tip and Law’s responding sound is something between a moan and a laugh. He feels strangely giddy, his body alight with sensitivity. “And how about…” 

Law’s lower half is suddenly lifted off the bed. He looks up at his knees as they dangle overhead, unsure of where Kid is going with this until he feels the chill of Kid’s metal hand on his ass. His prosthetic fingers press into Law’s flesh before spreading him open, and then Kid’s slick tongue is laving over his hole, down to his taint, and Law’s entire universe is reduced to a single touch. 

“Here?” Law can’t even remember what Kid is talking about. He sucks in a heaving breath as Kid does it again, and then the tip of his tongue is pushing against his hole and- 

“Oooh fuck!” This is another first for him. A euphoric, intense first. 

“First time?” Kid asks, ever-observant, and Law just barely registers the question. He’s fixated on the absence of Kid’s tongue. He needs it back, but his words fail him; all that comes out is a frustrated whine and Kid watches on with amusement. “Shit. So fucking cute when you’re high. I’ll give you what you want, but you gotta do something for me first, alright?” 

Kid reaches back toward the headboard and retrieves the pillow that they’re no longer using. Then he removes the pillow from its case.

“Can you make a room?” Law does so, wordlessly. “Swap these for the dick and lube.” 

“Fine.” ‘Don’t bark orders at me, asshole!’ is on the tip of Law’s tongue, but with his mind clouded with weed and arousal, he’s willing to let it go-

“Y’know, if you really knew your way around that devil fruit, you would have thought to do this with the first pillow.” Law blinks dazedly up at him until he realizes that Kid is insulting him, and even worse, he’s right. Sure, Law had been half-awake at the time, and sure, he was more focused on getting Kid off of the floor than he was with efficiency, but his ego takes precedence over context.

“Oh really?! Well you wouldn’t have to take the pillow out of the case in the first place if your stupid, horndog ass didn’t throw the nail polish off the bed! Shambles!” The requested items land on the bed, but without the harness; the dildo wasn’t connected to it, and Law would wonder what Kid plans to do about that if he weren’t so busy bitching and being bitched at.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have been in such a hurry if you weren’t acting like such a cheeky little whore!” 

“I’m the whore?! You’re the one who just had his tongue in my ass!” 

“And you’re the one who went ‘oooh fuck!’ when I did it!” 

“I do not sound like that!” Law crosses his arms with petulance, and Kid gives him an incredulous look in return.

“Wanna bet? ‘Cause I’ll make you do it again right now.” And then Kid’s tongue is thrusting in deep, and Law is slapping a hand over his mouth because incredibly, infuriatingly, Kid is right two times in a row; a moan much like the one he just mocked comes spilling out of Law’s lips and into his palm. It earns him an unimpressed look from Kid, and if Law were feeling particularly combative he would make a snide remark about Kid pouting while he’s eating ass; he’s tempted to, even, if only for the sake of regaining some control, but then Kid makes the choice for him. With his metal hand he continues to support Law’s lower body, and with his flesh one he reaches down to grip Law’s wrist, pulling his hand away from his mouth. 

“Hey! Who said you could- Mmmmm!” Law presses his lips together, muffling his whimper when Kid curls his tongue. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Law has never felt anything like this, not even close. He had never cum in his pants before either, not until last night, and though his mind was delightfully quiet when Kid sat on his face, the same surely can’t be said now; Law’s mind suddenly begins to race with half-thoughts, incomplete worries that attempt to trudge through the haze of drugs but keep falling short. 

The first time he fucked around with Kid it was competitive, fueled by frustration and rivalry. 

The second time was born out of pain, misery and a desperate need to connect. 

The third time was fun, playful even, but this feels like a different beast entirely. The power dynamic is shifting; Kid is rendering him powerless, and Law’s attempts to not let go completely and fall into a soft, warm, submissive place are as insurmountable as climbing up an algae-coated rope. 

He’s slipping. 

Kid’s hand returns to his throat, squeezes just a little harder than before, and Law nearly falls. 

“O-oh, Eustass-ya,” the words tumble out of their own accord, and Kid growls against his hole. Law’s breath hitches at the feeling and his cock responds in kind, twitching above him, pre-cum dripping from the head in rivulets and landing on his chest. He grits his teeth, fists the sheets so hard that his hands go numb, tries so hard to fight it, and then Kid seals his lips around his hole and he sucks. “Fuck! Please- please-”

“Please what?” Fill me, fuck me, something, anything! Law’s brain supplies, but the words get caught in his throat. He just stares at Kid instead, skin hot, chest rising and falling frantically, shoulders aching from the way he’s been folded in half for who-knows-how-long. Kid stares right back at him as he lowers Law’s legs back down to the bed. He lubricates two fingers, and the slick sound has Law’s thighs spreading on instinct. He begins to tremble as he waits for Kid to finish, maybe because of the position that he was just in, and maybe because the anticipation has his entire body feeling like a leaf in the wind. “You want me?” 

Law nods. 

“Say it.”

“I want you,” Law says it rushed, whiny, like a beg, but he can’t help it; Kid’s fingertips are ghosting across his rim, teasing him breathless before finally pushing inside. 

“Such a good hole, baby. You suck me right in.” Kid’s tongue in his ass was overwhelming, but at least he didn’t have to hear Kid talk while he did it. His tone is huskier than normal, and it’s right in Law’s ear as he leans over him, bracing his metal arm beside Law’s head.

“I- ah- don’t need your damn commentary,” Law mutters oh-so-unconvincingly. Kid’s face is so close to his own that Law can look nowhere else, and when he chuckles at him, Law feels his breath across his face. 

“You may not need it, but you sure as shit like it. If you didn’t-” Kid closes the hair’s breadth of a distance still between them, until his lips brush against the shell of Law’s ear with every word “-you wouldn’t squeeze my fingers every time I speak.” 

Three. Three times in a row now Kid has been right. 

“Are you going to fuck me sometime before sunrise? Or are you just planning on running your mouth all night?” 

“That’s an awfully feisty way of asking me to fuck you.” 

“Well we both know how much you like a challenge.” 

“Aww. You think you’re a challenge, Law?” Kid’s condescension is as unwelcome as the emptiness that Law feels when he removes his fingers, but he doesn’t have to wait long to be filled again. He’s given no warning as Kid starts to ease the dildo in, as that toe-curlingly delicious stretch begins, and Kid still won’t shut his damn mouth as he does it. “You’re all bark and no bite, ain’tcha? You’re high, and you’re horny, and you’re needy. A good dicking oughta calm you down.” 

“‘All bark and no bite’, huh? How about you get back down here and test that theory?” Law’s gasp of a threat does nothing to hide the effect that Kid is having on him. His cock is leaving such a mess on his stomach that he might as well have cum twice already, his eyes water as he finally gets what he needs, and dammit, dammit, dammit, he is needy, and that’s four! Law wants to be even higher, he wants to go back to the peaceful silence of smoking and not having to worry about his submissive body warring with his stubborn, dominant ego. 

Kid’s hand speeds up. Law whimpers. He slips, and he just barely catches himself this time. 

“Guess all whine and no bite woulda been more realistic, huh?” Kid releases his hold on the toy, leaving it half inside of him, and slides up Law’s body to straddle his hips. Law is pinned beneath him, confused and at his mercy. He watches as Kid raises his metal hand, curls two fingers inward toward his palm, and as he does, the dildo moves deeper inside of him. When he straightens his fingers out, the dildo pulls out a few inches. “Magnetic piercings: am I a genius, or am I a fucking genius? It’s great for multitasking, if you catch my drift.” 

And boy oh boy, Law does, if the way that Kid is gripping his erection is anything to go by: he’s about to ride him. Law is about to be ridden and fucked at the same time, and fuck, he’s only human. He’s about to die. Kid is about to kill him- 

“Waitwaitwait, hold on,” Law gasps, and to Kid’s credit, he stops on a dime, cunt hovering above the head of his cock so tantalizingly that Law nearly sobs. His heart is like a wild animal in containment, rattling his rib cage, roaring at him to man up, to let Kid get on with it already, to let go. He doesn’t understand how Kid gleans all of that from a single look, but astonishingly, he seems to. 

“You wanna submit to me so badly, don’t you baby?” There’s no judgement in Kid’s voice this time, no condescension, no rivalrous edge; he tosses it all to the side in favor of being genuine, and as he is with all of Kid’s genuine moments, Law is drawn in. Mesmerized. “I keep seeing it in your pretty face every time we do this. Lemme help.” 

Kid leans down to kiss him. He cradles Law’s head in his prosthetic hand. His fingers are cool against Law’s scalp, and his tongue is hot in Law’s mouth. He rolls his hips down just enough for the head of his cock to slip through his folds, and when Law doesn’t protest, he repeats the motion again and again. 

“Nobody’s touched you as many times as I have.” 

Kid angles his hips just right on the next pass, and Law’s cockhead catches on his entrance. 

“Nobody knows your body like I do.” 

Law gasps for air. He digs his dried fingernails into the meat of Kid’s thigh. That fuzzy, floaty feeling begins to seep in again, starting in his extremities. He feels loose and tingly, and good, so fucking good, so good that his ego is being smothered by the very notion of having Kid’s cunt around him again, of being held, and praised, and fucked. 

“You trust me, don’t you Law?” Kid’s breathing grows strenuous, his tone full of want. Law can feel how wet he is with every movement. This isn’t a one-sided competition. This isn’t a losing fight. This isn’t rivalrous, not anymore. Law wants Kid, and Kid wants Law, and he can’t fucking take it anymore.

“I trust you! I trust you, please just sit on my fucking dick,” Law cries, and Kid does so without fanfare or biting retorts; he sinks down onto him, smoother than butter, and the metal fingers in Law’s hair curl, and the cock inside of him begins to move in tandem, and he’s slipping, he’s slipping, he’s 

f

a 

l

l

i 

n

g 

Law feels it in real time: the moment when his body separates from itself. 

It isn’t an even split, no, not by a longshot; less of a 50/50 and more of a 90/10. His anger, his cynicism, his self-loathing, his fear, his perpetual struggle for control and everything else that he stubbornly refuses to acknowledge all tear away painlessly and drift up to the ceiling with the dim light, and the smoke, and the tension. It hangs above him ominously, threatening- or perhaps promising- to return to him as soon as this tryst is over, but then Kid is leaning over him again, blocking his view, and Law forgets. 

“That’s my sweet baby,” Kid coos. “Taking it like a fucking champ.” 

Law responds, he thinks, with a few garbled-together words or a pathetic, tearful sound, but his ears don’t even register it; all he cares about now is Kid, the sopping cunt around him and the fat cock inside him. He buries his hands in Kid’s hair and yanks, pulling him down until their mouths connect, and then further still. 

Kid is pressed against him, chest-to-chest, forehead-to-forehead, mouth-to-mouth as if their combined sweat is fusing them together, as if they’re becoming one, a single entity that Law never wants to separate from. He’s surrounded. He’s full. Nothing else matters. What else could? Kid is moaning into his mouth, sucking on his tongue, and the one part of his conscious mind still retaining its grip on reality lingers on a single fact: 

Doing this with Eustass Kid is easy. 

He’s metallic, and musky, and surprisingly clean. His hair is crunchy and unpleasant when it’s gelled up and delightfully soft when it’s down, soothing between Law’s fingers. He’s an idiot, and he’s mind-bogglingly intelligent. He’s an absolute twat and he’s adorably genuine. If Law were sober, and he had half a mind, he might consider that there’s untapped euphoria to be found in touching and being touched by someone familiar. That he’s becoming used to the way Kid tastes, and the way Kid smells, and his wild smiles and overconfidence. 

That, for all intents and purposes, Kid is the first lover he’s ever had. And it would frighten him to his core. 

So it’s a damn good thing that he isn’t; he’s fully swept up in Kid instead, in their rhythm of sloppy kissing and tender groping. Law begs Kid to choke him again and he happily indulges him, groaning something that Law can’t quite make out, but he knows from Kid’s tone that it’s praise and that’s more than enough. 

“More,” Law wheezes. “More, more-” 

“More what?” 

“More, moremoremore,” he chants, and he gets stuck on the word, repeating it like a mantra as if it’s the only syllable his mouth can still form. He’s only distantly aware of the fact that he’s about to cum, and when Kid gives him more everything- harder bounces, faster thrusts, a tighter grip on his throat- his orgasm just about tears what little is left of Law in two. He sobs, tears streaming freely.

“Fuck, yes, I fucking love it when you cry, baby. So fucking sexy.” Kid’s mouth is all over him in an instant; his forehead, the bridge of his nose, his wet cheeks, and then he’s pressing kiss after salty kiss to Law’s lips, feeding his tears back to him. “You’re still hard. Should I keep going?”

Law tries to answer him, he really, truly does; anything other than a cry, or ‘more’, but his grasp on language must have left his body too. He strings something together and Kid chuckles at his efforts.

“Did my dick reach your brain? That was a whole lotta gibberish.” Kid ceases his choking and strokes his palm over Law’s throat like one might pet the spine of a cat. The repetitive motion feels just as good as the choking itself. 

Kid’s cunt pulses around him once he’s in motion again, and not for the first time. Law isn’t sure how many times Kid has cum since they began; it’s impossible to tell when everything feels like it's pulsing, though his flushed cheeks, dilated eye and tell-tale drooling speak volumes. He renders Law’s neck soaked with saliva as he sucks on his skin, and he’s undoubtedly leaving marks, dark ones, but the wet suction of his mouth only makes Law mewl in ecstasy. 

“Huh.” Kid’s fingertips zero in on the severance scar along Law’s arm. He must be noticing it for the first time. Kid doesn’t ask him how it happened or who did it to him; he encompasses the scar with his hand and squeezes instead, as if to say ‘we’re the same’. Law felt it before when he reunited with Kid in that dark, seedy tavern, when he let Kid kiss him on the beach and they exchanged spit and suffering, but now he feels it tenfold:

Kid is fallible. Breakable. Doubtful. Fearful, even, just like Law is. They’ve both lost people who were beloved to them, they’ve both lost progress, they’ve both chosen to butt heads with the other at every turn, and neither of them want to stop. 

Doing this with Eustass Kid is easy. Easy enough that Law wouldn’t mind doing it tomorrow, and the night after that, and every foreseeable night to follow. 

“Got one more surprise for you,” Kid says, and for a moment or two, nothing changes. The same sensations wrack Law’s exhausted, overstimulated body as Kid has his way with him. 

And then, suddenly, a brand new sensation begins from deep within him. Something that feels almost like a tickle, slow and undulating, and builds steadily until Law becomes aware of the source: it’s the magnetic piercings. Kid is making them vibrate. 

“Kid!” The sound is guttural, as if punched out of Law with great force. His body tightens up, limbs locking where they’re tangled around Kid as the vibrations grow stronger. He doesn’t know if he’s laughing or if he’s weeping, if he’s smiling or if he’s grimacing. Every staggered, heaving breath leaves him lighter and lighter headed until his entire face grows numb. “Kid! KID!” 

“It’s okay, baby, you’re okay,” Kid’s voice sounds far away, despite it being as close to Law as it can physically be. “'M right here with you.” 

'M right here with you. Kid said that very same thing the first time they did this, the first night he had Law crying on his cock. Law had been close to submitting to him then, but that was nothing compared to now. 

I’m glad you’re here. That’s what Law had said back to him that night, but what comes out now is a scream as the vibrations make direct contact with his prostate. 

“Cum for me one more time Law, c’mon, cum in my fucking pussy, Law,” Kid grits out. He grabs Law’s hand and intertwines their fingers, and it’s a miracle that the force of his squeezing doesn’t shatter his bones from fingertips to wrist. Law’s utterly fucked-out mind takes hold of that concept and breaks it down to its bare essentials: Kid is holding his hand. 

Law cums so hard that, if he were to cum any harder, he might throw up. The intensity of it makes him gag all the same, and the vibrations are gone the instant that he does. It’s the closest that Law has ever gotten to too much, and he teeters on that edge, but Kid doesn’t let him fall a second time. He offers himself up as a solid, heavy anchor for Law to cling to as he comes down, and as the twitching of Law’s body slows to a stop, a euphoric peacefulness begins to set in. His body feels like warm gelatin as he melts between the blankets and Kid’s body, and his brain is still wonderfully silent, but he manages to find his voice again when soft laughter reaches his ears. 

“Wha’s so funny?” He slurs, and his mouth stretches into a dopey smile of its own accord when Kid continues. 

“You.” Kid kisses him for the umpteenth time, and it’s as good as ever. “You really are pretty, y’know.” 

“Shut up and kiss me again.” 

“Damn gorgeous.” 

“Kid!” Law pulls him down before he can say anymore stupid shit. His lips are sore. Kid has practically chewed them raw, but he can’t stop himself from going back for seconds, thirds, fourths, or from parting his lips to beckon Kid’s tongue. Law’s cock would sooner shrivel and fall off than get hard again, but he doesn’t want it to go any further regardless; he’s just addicted to the feeling of Kid’s tongue in his mouth, he thinks. It’s hypnotic. He’s never had a makeout session that went nowhere before, but it’s inexplicably comforting, and a welcome distraction as he regains his bearings. 

“Let’s just do this every day,” Kid murmurs a moment later, or maybe an hour; kissing is a great way to pass the time, but not to keep track of it. “Wake up, smoke, fuck, rinse and repeat until we reach Hachinosu.” 

Try as he might, Law can’t think of a single reason why they shouldn’t. 

“Fine, but don’t think you’re topping every time. I’m getting you on your back, even if it means playing dirty.” 

“Big words from the guy who didn’t even think to take the pillow out of the pillow case and use it as two different items!” 

“Pot, meet kettle.” 

“Hah?!” Kid’s exclamation is only half as annoying as it usually is. “When do I ever make mistakes with my devil fruit?!” 

“You asked me to grab your dick for you earlier, but the piercings are magnetic; you could have grabbed it your damn self!” Kid’s self-assured expression falls comically fast. 

“Well I- see-” Kid’s cheeks grow pinker with every stammered word. He’s cute when he gets all riled up. “I- and then you-” 

“Calm down, we’re both high, aren’t we? We’ll call it another tie.” Though his feet are pointed toward the headboard, Kid is thoroughly smushing him, and he has no pillow to speak of, Law is finding it increasingly more difficult to keep his eyes open with every passing moment. He doesn’t have it in him to bully Kid right now, and the sentiment seems to be shared; Kid’s bashfulness peters out and he returns to kissing directionless paths across Law’s skin. 

“What’s the story behind this one?” Even with his eyes closed, Law can feel that Kid is referring to his chest tattoo. He seems especially fond of this one, or at least of touching it. “It better be more interesting than ‘North Blue’ and ‘Lemon’.” 

“I got it in honor of someone. Someone who gave their life to save mine.” 

“What was their name?” 

The part of Law that floated up to the ceiling would have a litany of sarcastic remarks at the ready to deflect Kid’s question, but the only thing that comes to mind now is the truth. 

“Cora-san.” 

“Hmm.” Kid kisses the center of his tattoo. “Thanks, Cora-san.” 

Law’s heart seizes. It’s so foreign, hearing that name in someone else’s voice. Hearing someone else thank Cora for the fact that he's still here, the way he always wishes he could have. The gesture is more profound than anything Law thought Kid was capable of, but then again, he never imagined being in this position; not just with Kid, but with anybody. 

He never thought that he wanted to be. 

At a loss for words, Law just holds him closer. He cards his fingers through Kid’s thick mane of hair, and Kid snuggles against his chest with a contented sigh. It isn’t a bad way to fall asleep. In fact, one last small, sleepy smile makes its way across Law’s face. 

“Night, gorgeous.” 

“Goodni-” 

“Oi. You two done yet?” Kid and Law both jolt in surprise at the sound of a third voice. The door to the crow’s nest swings open, cold air blasting their bare skin. Law’s eyes snap open to see Wire standing in the doorway, looking disinterested as always. 

“Fucking hell, Wi’, you scared the shit outta me! The fuck are you doing in here?!” 

“You told me to wake you up at three. It’s three.” 

“It’s three?!” Kid echoes in shock. He looks down at Law with a sheepish grin. “Heh. Whoops.” 

“If you had balls, I would fucking castrate you,” Law seethes. 

“How was I s’posed to know, hah?! There’s no clock up here!” Kid stands, and the rest of Law’s body is exposed to the freezing cold. Wire leans against the doorframe, looking at his nails as if he’s bored and waiting for them to hurry up. These fucking Kid Pirates. 

Law and Kid continue to shout and curse over one another as they dress themselves, pointing fingers and raising their voices until neither of them even know what the other is saying anymore. They’re both high, and exhausted, and now they’re going to be sleep deprived. 

When they follow Wire outside, Law sees rows of torches cutting through the darkness in the distance, lighting the way through the market. The moon is but a sliver in the sky, and there isn’t a star in sight. The frigid breeze stings his eyes and bites at his sensitive lips. He feels dirty beneath his clothes, and every inch of him aches. 

The parts of Law that had floated away come slamming back into him. He swallows his regret like bile. 

It doesn’t stay down. 

Chapter Text

“Stupid Eustass-ya,” Law grumbles to himself. “Stupid Eustass-ya and his big, stupid mouth.” 

Law waddles through the market, sore and sweaty and sour. He’s been searching for this dial for an hour at least, and all he’s come across thus far is alcohol, Marine-grade weaponry and illegally acquired pharmaceuticals. His only respite is the fact that nobody else is around to annoy him. Given the early hour, most of Kid’s crew was still asleep when they departed, so their group is a measly five in number: himself, Kid, Killer, Wire, and House, who insisted on coming along to find, as she put it, “black market shit”. 

When they reached the shore where the signpost had previously been, there was nothing there to indicate what was being sold or where. As Law traverses the lantern-lit aisles, he can’t say he’s shocked; he doubts that anybody here wants to leave a trace of what they’re doing. Even still, he’s more fixated on what just went down in the crow’s nest than the vendors around him. 

“That sounds lonely.” 

Law clenches his fists when he recalls Kid’s observation. How ballsy. How stupid.

To Law’s left is a man selling body parts– his own body parts. Individual fingers and toes, some teeth, an ear, a testicle. The air around him is acrid with the stench of blood and filth. The man messily carves his second ear off and slaps it down on the table without a wince or a single tear. He calls out something that sounds like “ears for sale”, but his words are garbled and barely coherent; Law spots half a tongue amongst his wares. 

“It’s better like this, ain’t it?” 

Is it? Law thinks back to his previous trysts with nameless strangers; romps that meant nothing, that only felt half-decent half of the time, that left him feeling dirty and disconnected and needing a shower. Is this better? Or is this worse, in a uniquely uncomfortable way? 

To Law’s right is a woman, also selling body parts, but not her own. Jars of eyes of every shape and color, mink pelts, fishman scales. A black fishman tail hangs from a hook to dry, blood flowing into the grass below. It glimmers iridescent purples, blues and greens with the swaying lantern flames. He tries not to look. Behind the vendor, cloaked in darkness, Law hears weakened groaning and barely audible cries. Nails and teeth clawing and biting at metal bars, rattling chains and quick, shallow breaths. He tries not to listen. 

“I fucking love it when you cry, baby.” 

Love. The word churns through Law’s body like an infection. He doesn’t like hearing it. He feels itchy. He feels wrong. He wants to ignore it, to push it to the back of his mind, to forget it, but he’s still high; it echoes in his ears again and again, a single, painful word cutting through an otherwise numbed head. 

A few yards ahead of Law the lanterns struggle, the flames atop them unsettled by the harsh winds and on the verge of going out entirely. 

Law considers Kid’s Klabautermann problem, and his insecure psyche twists it: why did Luffy and Kid both get Klabautermann, but not him? He cared for the Tang. Her repairs were always done in a timely manner, he put a fresh coat of paint on her a number of times, and she was a gift from Wolf; she held sentimental value. So where did he go wrong? Law sifts through jumbled thoughts in an attempt to recall their conversation. 

“But if I loved the ship enough to attract a Klabautermann-” 

There it is again. Love. Did Law love the Polar Tang? He feels a familiar lump in his throat when he thinks about it. Did the Polar Tang not have a Klabautermann because he didn’t love her enough? Is that why she’s gone? Is that why his crew is gone? Everything, everyone he grows attached to slips through his fingers like grains of sand, and Law prefers to tell himself that all good things are fleeting, but what if he just isn’t holding on hard enough? What if-

The lanterns on either side of him are suddenly extinguished. 

WHAM! 

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

Law stirs. He inhales sharply, head throbbing in tempo with his heartbeat. His throat is bone-dry. His wrists are freezing. When he opens his eyes, he sees nothing. 

What happened? Wasn’t he just at the market? 

Law tries to find his bearings but quickly discovers that he can’t move. His arms are restrained above his head, forcing him into a standing position, and he recognizes the cold sensation around his wrists: seastone. It must be. Something warm trickles down his forehead, and it wouldn’t take a doctor to know what it is, even in the dark. 

“Hello? Anyone home?” He calls, voice slurred and words spoken slowly. There’s a long, low rumble that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere, vibrating the chains and the floor underneath his feet. Law has the wit to understand he’s been kidnapped, but he has no hope of escape if he can’t see anything. He would rather his kidnapper come in now and turn a light on, even if it means losing a fingernail or two. 

“Trafalgar Law,” a feminine drawl echoes. The clicking of high heels on a hard floor follows, loud enough to alert Law to the fact that his adversary must be rather large. “So sorry to keep you waitin’, hun.” 

“How kind. I would say I like what you’ve done with the place, but I can’t exactly see anything.” 

“Oh, but of course! That’s my bad. Let’s shed some light on this situation, shall we?” On either side of the entryway, two shells begin to glow; another kind of dial, Law presumes. The shells are red in color, and as such, the light that fills the room is red as well. It isn’t great for visibility, but it certainly sets a particular mood, and it’s enough for Law to make out the frame of the woman who stands before him; two pink braids in her hair, tall enough to be a half-giant at least, and so muscular that she looks like she could pop Law’s head between her fingers. She’s crouched down and still she towers over him, her smile sickeningly sweet with an undertone of malice. “Hey there.” 

“Have we met?” 

“Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure, hun! But I sure know a whole lot about you. You’ve been awful busy these last few days, huh?” 

“You’ll have to be more specific. I’m an ‘awful busy’ man in general, you know.” Law twists his hands around in the cuffs– a monumental effort with how strong the seastone is –to test how wide the openings are; much too tight to worm out of. She didn’t bother restraining his feet, though, so maybe he could- 

“Oh, I think you know exactly what I’m talkin’ about.” She reaches down, takes one of Law’s hands in her own, and snaps his index finger like a dry twig. The only satisfaction that he gives her is the hitching of a breath, but his toes curl in his shoes and he shrieks on the inside. “The Bloomin’ Pirates and the Inu Pirates. Those names ring a bell to you?” 

“Can’t say that they do,” he mutters between clenched teeth. “Should they?” 

“They sure should, seein’ as you and your lil’ friends killed ‘em all!” 

Oh. Law suddenly doesn’t feel like this is a stroke of bad luck after all; quite the contrary, in fact. He thought it strange that their unmarked ship was attacked twice in two days, but it doesn’t appear to be a coincidence. This woman took him for revenge, or maybe for information, but if he plays his cards just right, he may be able to get some information of his own. 

“Whoops. Sorry about that,” Law’s apology drips with condescension. “Allies of yours, I take it?” 

Crack! Law’s middle and ring fingers are bent to an impossible angle. His eyes water. He bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood. He’ll surely vomit if she does it again, but seeing as she’s in the splash zone, he can’t bring himself to care. 

The rumbling suddenly returns, strong enough to make Law’s teeth chatter this time, and he retches as his stomach is jostled. He hears the soft pattering of pebbles hitting the ground from up above. Is he being held underground somewhere? 

“Indeed they were. They all knew the risk, of course, goin’ up against a Warlord like yourself– or should I say ex- Warlord –but that don’t mean it’s goin’ unpunished, hun!” 

“Any particular reason you’re after me?” 

“Your bounty, of course! We’re playin’ a lil’ game to see who can catch you first.”

“There are pirates with higher bounties than mine.” 

“I ain’t talkin’ about the World Government’s bounty.” 

“What? Then who’s-” 

“That’s enough questions,” the woman snaps, voice suddenly dropping from buttery to something much more predatory. She holds a blade beneath Law’s chin, forcing his head up to meet her gaze. “I’m a real peach, so I thought I’d entertain a question or two. But I wouldn’ta said shit if I was plannin’ on lettin’ you go free! After what y’all did to my allies and my crew, I’ll be taking my time with you. I wanna know how much is too much for the Surgeon of-”

BANG!  

It all happens in the blink of an eye: one moment there’s a knife to Law’s throat, and the next, a bullet comes flying through the giantess’ head, making contact with the concrete wall just above Law’s own. Law’s face is soaked by the spray of blood, and she crumples to the floor, throat rattling with her final breaths. 

In the entryway stands a tiny silhouette. They step forward until Law can make out their face, devilish in the red light. 

“House-ya?!” 

“That’s me! And get a load a’ this, boyo!” She waves her weapon around, finger still on the trigger. “It’s a gun and a cane! How cool is that?!” 

“If I say ‘very cool’, will you let me out of these chains?” 

“Aye!” 

“Then it’s very cool,” he sighs. His less-than-enthusiastic response is enough for House to start rifling through the giantess’ clothes in search of a key, but her tutting indicates that she’s unsuccessful. She raises her cane-gun once more, pointing it straight at Law. 

“I’ma shoot the chains. Hold on!” 

“Wait!” 

BANG! BANG! 

Law wrenches his eyes shut as the gunshots exacerbate his headache. The chains drop from the ceiling, granting Law his freedom, but he’s still hardly mobile; with seastone this strong, he’ll need them taken off before he can move freely. Without the chains holding him up, he falls to the ground, shirt and jeans immediately absorbing the blood that has accumulated on the floor. Great. 

“Whatcha waitin’ for? Up, up!” House urges him. 

“If I could move I would be! You try walking around with seastone on!” 

“Ha! I could. Easily.” Law rolls his eyes. He needs his crew and his own ship yesterday. “Too bad, boyo. Looks like I’ll have to drag ya.” 

“That seems unnecessary. Why don’t you just go get Killer-ya or-” House pays him no mind; she grabs the chains and begins pulling him along with shockingly minimal effort. The floor is cold, grainy with sediment, and irritates his head that much more. His groan falls on deaf ears. House uses her cane-gun to knock the glowing dials off of their wall-mounted sconces, tucking one shell beneath her arm and holding the other in front of her to light their path. 

As they enter a narrow hallway, another loud, booming rumble is heard. Law’s brain vibrates mercilessly in his skull, head thudding against the shaking ground. 

“What the hell is that?” He croaks, every word more of a struggle than the last as exhaustion envelops him. 

“That would be Kid, throwin’ a damned tantrum!” House cackles, a shrill “keekeekee!” that evokes images of witches in childhood storybooks. “He’s been searching for ya for ages. Didn’t know who took ya, so he did the next best thing and started killin’ everyone! It’s a real shit show out-”

“-didn’t need to drag him, House. You could have just come to find one of us.” Law snaps back into consciousness, dazed and confused, feeling even worse than he did before. His nausea is almost unbearable, only worsening with every minute movement of his eyes. He squints up to see a dark purple sky and Killer’s striped mask looking down at him. One of Killer’s arms is around his back, the other under his knees, and he takes slow and deliberate steps like he wants to put as little strain on Law as possible; he’s certainly been carried in worse fashions, that’s for damn sure. “You’re safe now, Trafalgar. We’ll get those cuffs off of you. Just rest on me in the meantime, alright?” 

Killer’s chest is plush against Law’s cheek. He smells like honey and cinnamon. Law does his best to focus on both, instead of the pain and the swaying of the world around him. It works for a few merciful moments, until the sweet smell is suddenly overpowered by pungent, cloying acidity. Killer’s footsteps grow audible and wet, and a dizzying look at the ground shows red where there should be green. Blood becomes torn fabric and bits of flesh, bone and bloodied metal shrapnel, and then Law can’t even see the grass anymore, hidden by mutilated entrails and bruised, severed limbs.

“Shit show” was putting it delicately; the entire market is in shambles. Lanterns are snapped in half. Stalls are in splintered, collapsed heaps. Metal bars are scattered about, some sticking out of the ground, others sticking out of torsos and heads; Law is reminded of the sounds he heard of caged captives. Did Kid kill them too? 

His question is answered when they finally reach the shore. The sky has since lightened a considerable degree, dark dawn bursting into a colorful sunrise. Wire is on the beach, organizing a massive collection of stolen merchandise by the crate-full, and beside him is Kid. Law can’t make out his words from a distance, but they’re being loudly ranted. His head whips in their direction when they approach, and then he’s running toward them, desperation in his limp. 

“Fucking hell Trafalgar. I looked everywhere for you. Everywhere!” Kid is drenched in blood from head to toe. It’s leaking out of the gaps in his metal arm, caked in his hair along with some solid chunks. Patches of his skin glisten while others are dry, blood already cracking and flaking off. He reeks of death, death he wrought, and yet his sticky hand touches Law’s face so gently. Law tastes the blood on Kid’s lips when he leans down to kiss him, and then he moves up to kiss Killer’s mask, leaving a red streak behind. 

Kid has never kissed him in front of someone else before. A curious spark cuts through his suffering, quicker than a bolt of lightning, before the pain takes precedence once more.

“I found him in some kinda bunker underground! Nearly threw my back out draggin’ him up all those steps.” Ah. That would explain why Law feels so much worse. “Ya better get those cuffs off him quick, he’s too weak to even bitch and moan anymore!” 

Killer sets Law down on the beach and sits beside him, offering a shoulder to lean on. Wire assists without a word, retrieving two thin metal pieces from his pocket and sliding them into the cuff’s locks. As he digs around, Law braces himself for what’s about to happen. 

The first lock clicks within seconds. A few moments later, the second follows. As they fall from his wrists, Law heaves, body trembling uncontrollably; all of the stamina that was sapped from his body when the cuffs were put on slams back into him in an instant. Someone makes a sound of surprise, but his ears are ringing too loudly to discern the voice. His heart beats so frantically that if he hadn’t been through this before, he would think he was on the verge of a cardiac event. Darkness blots his vision and he slumps. A hand on his chest stops him from falling forward. Killer holds him close to his side. He laughs, but he grips Law’s shirt with concern. 

“What the hell just happened? The cuffs they put on us in Udon didn’t do that.” Law is too overstimulated to answer Kid’s question. He remains at Killer’s side until the world stops spinning, until he feels human again, but only barely. When he can keep his eyes open without feeling faint, he finally makes a room and repairs his broken fingers. A quick scan of his head tells him the obvious: he has a concussion, a little worse than mild, but nothing life threatening. He stands on shaking fawn-like legs and stretches, thankful that he can finally move unattended.

“What was that?” Kid asks again. “You allergic to seastone or something?” 

“Those cuffs were high-percentage seastone. The ones you wore in Udon would have been milder so you could still perform physical labor,” Law says, when he finds his voice again. 

“Could be useful.” Wire scoops them up and throws them on top of a crate of weaponry. “We should keep them on hand.”

Crisis now averted, Wire, Killer and House begin loading up the ship, granting Law some respite even if it would go faster with his help. He turns his attention to something he hadn’t noticed previously: a collection of bodies, laid out in a line across the sand. They’re mostly in-tact compared to the ones left behind in the remnants of the market, and Law wouldn’t mind having some cadavers on hand for organ harvesting and devil fruit experiments. When he approaches them, he can tell that some of the bodies used to be the captives; they have severance wounds on varying areas of their malnourished bodies, discolored and festering. Some of them have been dead for quite a while, given how stiff they are. Others look like they died only recently, heads caved in and still bleeding. It’s clear that Kid killed these ones himself. Law doesn’t know if he would have been able to save any of them. He doesn’t ask Kid any questions, just gives each one a glance as he moves down the line. 

The body at the furthest end is so much smaller than the rest. Only half of her is left, but Law can tell that she used to have a tail from the waist down. A few black scales still stick to her skin, above the messily done stitching. The gills around her ribcage are encrusted with blood and salt, and she gazes lifelessly up at him, eyes beginning to cloud over, but they still contain a terrible anguish. She doesn’t even look as old as Dive. 

Her head is caved in. She was still alive somehow. 

He looks up to search for Kid and is startled to find that he’s already standing next to him. Kid glares at him, eye fiery, jaw tight and mouth open like he’s prepared to defend what he did if Law challenges his decision. 

“I’m sorry, Eustass-ya.” It comes out flat, robotic, but if he invests himself any further, it will break him. Kid just grimaces and turns away, looking out at the water instead. 

The sunrise is magnificent, an explosion of reds, yellows and oranges in the sky. It’s serene, almost like a painting. Irony twists in Law’s stomach, agonizing. 

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

The ship’s communal showers are spacious; a dozen shower heads line the walls, maybe more if Law could be bothered to count them all, and a large drain is installed in the middle of the floor. The back wall houses an entryway to a bath, one that looks like it could hold the entire crew and then some. The water pressure leaves a bit to be desired, but Law hardly pays it any mind as he looks down at his feet, watching dried bits of blood fall to the dark stone below. 

For some reason– one that Law can’t fully wrap his head around –Kid chose the shower directly beside his own. Neither man says a word, the space instead filled with steam and heavy silence. Law could probably break it, ask him why he showers with his prosthetics on, if they’re difficult to dry afterward, maybe check in on the condition of his eye, but after what he just saw, after what Kid just did, it may be inappropriate to behave so casually. When he risks a glance to his side, he sees Kid in a similar position to himself; head cast downward, face hidden by the length of his hair. The water that comes off of his body is still a light pink, but better than it was when he first stepped into the spray. 

When Law is soaped, lathered and rinsed, he twists the knob, cutting off the water to the shower he was using. He turns to take his leave… but something stops him. Something like a gravitational pull, attracting him to Kid’s side, and before he knows it, he’s stepping beneath Kid’s water and kissing him. 

The kiss is chaste, but when he draws back and he looks into Kid’s eyes– one still damaged, swollen shut and encircled by torn skin, the other absolutely miserable –he goes back in for another. It’s deeper this time, lingering, and a large hand presses between his shoulder blades, pleading him not to pull away again. 

Maybe Kid chose the shower next to his because he needed the company. Maybe Law kissed him out of instinct; the instinct that a lover has, when they recognize that the other needs them. He shoves the possibility down from his head– certainly not his heart – into his feet and winds his arms around Kid’s neck to pull him closer. 

They share misery yet again, wordlessly, passionately. 

The ship is a ghost town when they exit the showers, clad in stolen sweatpants instead of their bloodied clothes. Thankfully, some of the concealer that Quincy obtained from the market yesterday is close enough to Law’s skin tone to cover the necklace of hickies Kid left behind; the last thing Law needs is Bepo jumping to conclusions.

Though every meal thus far has been shared amongst the crew, Law supposes they’ll have to fend for themselves this time. Kid doesn’t appear interested in going back out there, and Law doesn’t blame him. He sits on one of the kitchen counter’s stools as Kid rummages through the fridge, resting his head in his hands as he fights for consciousness. His captor’s words resound in his ears– “I ain’t talkin’ about the World Government’s bounty” –and he attempts to analyze their meaning; as far as he’s aware, the only other people putting out bounties would be the Cross Guild, but he’s only seen bounties for Marines. 

“Oi.” The clinking of a plate against the black marble countertop pulls Law from his thoughts, and he opens his dry, itchy eyes to see a plateful of onigiri, some plain and some with pickled plum. “I know you probably ain’t hungry, but put something in your stomach at least.”

“You can have the ones with pickled plum in them.” Kid gives an affirmative grunt and sits down, choosing the stool closest to Law’s, but it doesn’t come as a surprise now. Law picks one up and his fingers throb with phantom pain– a consequence of instantaneous healing –but he knows that Kid won’t eat until he sees Law do so first. 

However, even when he begins to eat, Kid still looks down at his plate, brow furrowed in what Law is sure is more complex than simple contemplation. He’s never been known for being particularly personable, but in the wake of last night, after they did… whatever the hell that was, Law feels a shift of some kind. And though it was uncomfortable to think about when he traversed the market alone this morning, he now finds himself prying when he wouldn’t have before. 

“So I’ve noticed… with your eating habits, and all...” Law stumbles through it, searching for the right words. “You don’t eat until you know there’s enough food for everyone, right? I mean, that’s how it seems.” 

“That obvious?” Kid chuckles. He smiles, but it’s weaker than usual, not the toothy, dimpled, feral beaming Law is used to. There are bags beneath his eyes, a tension in his features, but he’s still nice to look at; his still-drying hair is curling at the bottom, trailing down his bare shoulders and settling in the dips of his collarbones, and his freckles are so abundant that Law doubts he could ever count them all, even if he was given an entire day. He smiles a little wider when he catches Law staring, and Law doesn’t avert his gaze this time. “I know we’ve got more than enough to eat here. Food just wasn’t as easy to come by when we were growing up, is all. ‘M used to rationing everything out, making sure nobody’ll go hungry. Old habits die hard, I s’pose.” 

Eustass Kid delays his own indulgence for the sake of his loved ones, even when he doesn’t need to. And wherever he and his crew came from, it must have been a desolate place. Law stows it away; two new tidbits of knowledge about Kid that he never expected to learn.

It brings back memories of being a little boy, frail and sickly, and Cora waiting to eat until he was sure Law would have enough to fill his stomach. He wonders if Kid and his crew had their own Cora; someone older, a guardian who helped them survive wherever they were. An image of Killer’s mother is conjured up– a faded picture of her kitsune mask on an old wanted poster–and he concludes that it’s too personal of a topic to broach.

“Kid-chan! Big brother Law!” Law’s ears ring at Dive’s high-pitched greeting. He thought she was outside with the rest of the crew, but here she is in the entryway, donning cozy pink pajamas and bed-head. 

“There she is! C’mere, brat!” Kid scoops her up with surprising enthusiasm, placing her in his lap. He combs her hair with his fingers, ignoring her whining protests and flailing hands that try to bat his away. Her hair is exceptionally long when it’s down, cascading down her back and pooling into Kid’s lap. It must be difficult to manage. “I gotta give you a damned haircut.” 

“But I like it long! Wi-chan got me some hair dye at the market though; will you dye my hair later?” 

“Heh. Sure. What color?” 

“Red! Like yours!” Kid’s grin suddenly drops. Law watches as he stares at the back of Dive’s head, chewing on his bottom lip. He doesn’t look angry, just emotional, as if Dive wanting to look like him is having a profound effect. She tilts her head back to look up at him and his smile returns, softer than it was before, and even though it’s meant for Dive and not him, Law still feels better for it.

“Good choice.” 

“You got something in your hair…” Dive reaches up to pluck it out and brings it to her face, inspecting it closely. “It looks like skin! Were you fighting without me?” 

“Someone took big brother Law this morning,” Kid explains, and hearing her nickname in his voice brings heat to Law’s cheeks. “I killed some people in order to find ‘im.” 

“You were kidnapped?! Are you okay?” Dive’s eyes are wide with worry, and despite the morning he just had, Law chuckles. 

“I’m fine. House-ya found me, but Kid-chan played a big role in it too.” Kid blushes all the way down to his chest, stuffing onigiri in his mouth like it’ll help any. His adorable nature is starting to become a problem. If he keeps it up, Law might just be doomed to stare at him forever- 

Hold on. Where did that come from? Don’t think like that. This is a temporary alliance. 

“Kid-chan saved me too! He’s great at helping people.” 

“Hah?! Don’t make me out to be some kinda hero! I’m great at killing people.” 

“You’re great at both!” 

“What do you mean?” Law asks. “When did he save you?” 

“I was kidnapped too, just like you were! But Kid-chan beat the bad guys and rescued me, and I’ve been here ever since. That was, um…” Dive trails off, counting on her fingers. “Six months ago?” 

“And now you’re a kick-ass pirate, just like us!” Kid ruffles her freshly-combed hair, and she fruitlessly tries to fight him off again. Six months? Kid has only known Dive for six months? Law hadn’t given it much thought before, but he figured she was related to someone else on the crew. He wonders who took her. He wonders where her family is, but then again, he doubts Kid would still have her if she had a family to go home to. 

“Can I go outside?” 

“Mmhmm. Go get your energy out before we set sail again. And take one of these with you.” Kid sends her off with some onigiri. She puts it all in her mouth and runs off toward the door. “Oi! No running with food in your mouth!” Dive giggles but slows down, waving over her shoulder as she exits. 

Law’s poor, aching head is thankful for the renewed silence. He sighs and squeezes his eyes shut, and then that big hand is between his shoulder blades again, far more grounding than he ever wanted it to be. 

“You okay, baby?” The question is voiced in a thoughtful whisper, and the pet name is used for the first time outside of the bedroom. It’s jarring, just how soothing it is.

“Fine. Just tired,” Law says, not a complete lie. “Are you okay?” 

“Been better.”

“What happened this morning? With the captives?” 

“I wasn’t planning on killing ‘em. Was gonna let ‘em go, let ‘em take one of the other ships and get outta here, but… it was no use. None of ‘em could move. Some of ‘em didn’t even have any fucking limbs left. They didn’t have the strength to speak anymore, and when they looked at me I could- they just… they were halfway there already. They looked at me like they wanted to die.” 

“You did the right thing, Eustass-ya.” 

“How the hell d’you know?” He asks, voice raising in defense. “How d’you know you couldn’ta saved ‘em?” 

“Because I trust you.” Kid takes a deep, shuddering breath beside him. The hand on Law’s back grabs his hand instead, gripping it tightly. “You’re sleep deprived, and you just had to make a very difficult decision. You should try to get some rest.” 

“Will you come with me?” 

“If you want me to.” Law uses his devil fruit ability to send them both up to the crow’s nest, despite his head pounding in defiance. He’s half-asleep the moment his back touches the mattress, but he wills his eyes to stay open as Kid undresses, stripping bare with the exception of his sock. 

Dorky, his mind supplies. Adorable, another part of him adds; a part that has been speaking up rather loudly as of late, even if Law would prefer it stifled. 

Kid climbs beneath the blanket and manhandles Law into the position he wants him in, turning him onto his side so he’ll be easier to cuddle with. Law is used to Kid’s physical affection in bed, to using his chest like a pillow, but Kid has other plans this time. He buries his face in Law’s chest instead, the duvet pulled up to his nose. 

“Trafalgar?” 

“Mmm.” 

“Have you ever killed a kid?” Law’s heart races. Images flash through his mind: dark hospital hallways, a tiny hand in his own, a closet door, a promise made that he would return, a promise that went up in flames. 

“Yeah, I have.” 

“What did it feel like?” Law looks down at what little of Kid is still visible. For someone so large, in stature and in personality, he’s so small now; childlike, even, like he wants nothing more to be held, to be shielded away from the rest of the world, so Law cradles his head and brings him in closer. And oh how Law wishes, so desperately, that someone had been there for him all those years ago. He wishes someone could have held him close to their chest and said reassuring things. Maybe then he would have turned out alright.

“It felt like this.” 

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

“Let’s see… ‘Rotten Peach’ Darla, captain of the Peachy Keen Pirates?” Killer muses, reading off of a wanted poster pinned to the wall. 

In addition to the market’s many offerings, there are a handful of ships docked around the shore; once belonging to vendors and customers, now belonging to corpses in varying states of death. Needless to say they won’t be needing them anymore. The ship Killer chose to ransack is a pirate ship, given its jolly roger– a skull donning pink braids, with same-colored flowers in each corner –and it goes without saying that they had an affinity for peaches. Pink flowers fill the window boxes, for which Killer is thankful– now Kid won’t have to go to the trouble of building any –and peach trees in large pots line the deck, bursting with sweet-smelling fruit. Boogie and Compo are able to lift one each, and Mosh, two. 

Killer busies himself with emptying out the kitchen, filling a nearby crate with generous amounts of meat and peach-flavored beer from the fridge. With any luck, this fridge won’t be too much of a hassle to carry back to their ship; it has a wooden door with a dark stain, perfect for Killer’s kitchen. 

Is this really what you should be doing right now? Something inside of him hisses, and no, Killer should be inside, comforting Kid. 

It isn’t uncommon for Kid to bury his enemies under a wave of screeching metal, or to pound them into a liquid state with his prosthetic arm. But the way he did so this morning spoke volumes to Killer about his emotional state. He took no joy in it like he usually does; it was fueled by anger and panic instead. In his frenzied search for Law, he left no survivors. Killer bore witness to the beginning of it, but not the end, and with the newfound understanding that Kid mercy-killed suffering captives, including a child, his stomach twists with guilt. 

You should have been there. What kind of first mate avoids his captain? 

A piss-poor first mate, Killer concludes. This inner-voice is nothing new; it’s a raging, hateful voice, one that was born the day Killer met Kid and vowed to protect him till his dying day. It only speaks up when Killer makes a mistake, and never when he does something worth praising. It contradicts itself constantly, reminding Killer that he doesn’t deserve to be by Kid’s side due to all of his shortcomings, and then scolding Killer when he secludes himself.

Kid loved the Victoria Punk so much. How could you let her be destroyed?    

Kid already lost an arm on your watch- now you’ve let him lose a leg, maybe even an eye?

It’s because you ate that fruit, isn’t it? You’re losing yourself, Killer. 

You shouldn’t be by his side. Why aren’t you by his side? You should be by his- 

There’s only so much that Killer can take, only so many nights spent on the couch, only so many kisses pressed to his mask instead of his mouth, only so much self-inflicted torture. He finishes filling the crate and takes his leave, requesting that Mosh and the others carry the fridge and unscrew the window boxes on his way. 

Killer walks along the shore, stopping to rinse the gore off of his boots before entering the ship. Bepo and Bubblegum are carrying armfuls of mink pelts; bits and pieces of an overheard conversation tell him that Bepo plans to give the pelts a traditional burial. Wire is carrying a box of drugs and medical supplies aboard, and Heat, a crate of dials of varying shape and color. Dive is awake now, lounging on the deck and already helping herself to some of the peaches. 

Some of the bodies have been collected, likely being stored in the infirmary at House’s or Law’s behest. Amongst the ones still in the sand is the fishman girl. Killer doesn’t know if she’ll be of use with how little of her is left, but he doesn’t care. He crouches down to pick her up, embracing her the way he imagines her mother used to, and does his best to hide her from Dive’s view as he boards. When he reaches the infirmary, he lays her down on the one operating table that they have. He gently shuts her eyelids before he leaves, chest tight with emotion, but it’s surely nothing compared to how Kid is feeling. 

His hesitation melts away as he climbs the ladder up to the crow’s nest, replaced with an overwhelming desire to take care of his captain. 

As deep as he’s been in self-loathing lately, Killer has never even been inside the crow’s nest. A desk and chair sit in the corner to his right, cluttered with weed, rolling papers, and bits and pieces of various projects. Clothes are scattered about the floor, as is Kid’s nature, but curiously, the pillows are on the floor as well. The bed takes up the majority of the room, large enough for five people of Kid’s size at least. In the center of the mattress, wrapped in a white duvet that will inevitably be dyed red, are Law and Kid. Only the top of Kid’s head is visible, and Law holds him close in a manner that can only be considered protective. 

Killer understands. Kid is an easy person to love. 

It should be you in that bed. Someone else is succeeding where you’re failing. Killer ignores his inner-voice and watches the two of them instead. The curtainless windows that wrap around the room cast beams of light across the bed, illuminating the white bedding and Law’s tanned skin. He’s doll-like, Killer thinks; his thick, dark hair, his smooth skin, his delicate waist and thin frame. Even his tattoos are perfect, not a single line or letter out of place. He wouldn’t mind wrapping his arms around Law again, like he did last night. He wouldn’t mind doing even more, but he doesn’t have the same confidence in himself that he had before eating the smile fruit. They may have shared some friendly moments, but Killer doubts that Law will ever see him in such a way. 

Law wakes, likely sensing that he’s being watched. It takes him a few sleepy moments to process the fact that Killer is standing there, and when he does, he just stares at him, cheeks pink and plush lips parted. Killer stares back, breathless. 

“Room. Shambles.” Suddenly, their positions are swapped. Killer is under the duvet and Law is in the doorway, still blushing but with a hint of a smirk on his lips. “You better keep your promise, Killer-ya.” 

He’s gone without another word. Killer is reminded of Law’s words from last night– “You need to communicate with him, Killer-ya” – and the promise that he made is one he intends to keep, not that he has much of a choice now; Kid, jostled by either Law’s speaking or the sudden change in cuddling partner, groans and opens his eye. When he realizes that his face is squished against the deep-blue fabric of Killer’s shirt, his breath hitches. 

“Kil’,” he gasps, looking up at him like one might a ghost. Killer hasn’t been maskless in front of Kid since their escape from Udon. He hasn’t fucked him since Kaido’s defeat. He hasn’t shared a bed with him since their loss to Shanks, and of all the pain Killer has felt lately, nothing hurts more than the notion that Kid didn’t expect his company- 

His mask is promptly pulled from his head, not of his own volition, but by Kid’s devil fruit ability. And the moment it’s gone Kid lunges for him, gripping his hair and smashing their mouths together. Kid’s lips are demanding, his tongue is warm, he tastes exactly how Killer remembers, and he feels like he’s been drowning for weeks, but he’s finally, finally taking a big gulp of air. 

Kid pulls Killer on top of him, one leg trapping him, and the other, barely there, tries valiantly but can’t hook around Killer’s hip the way it used to. He struggles with Killer’s button and zipper, too frantic to pull away, even for his own benefit. As soon as his cock is freed, Killer aligns himself and thrusts in deep. 

It wasn’t supposed to go this way. They were supposed to be talking, and instead Kid’s lips are trembling, eye swimming with tears. 

“Kil’,” it’s a sob this time, “where the fuck have you been?!” 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so, so sorry.” For eating the fruit, for not jumping in front of Shanks’ attack in time, for not being the first mate that Kid deserves, for leaving him to struggle alone in the wake of all that’s happened to them, for everything, and he kisses the top of Kid’s head, muffling tearful laughter in his hair. Even when Kid is only an inch away from him, there’s been no getting through Killer’s mile-thick walls. Now it’s time for these walls, that never should have been up in the first place, to come down. 

“Never leave me again!” 

“Never. Never.” Killer kisses him and hopes that Kid can feel his determination. The platinum barbell on his tongue knocks against Kid’s teeth, clinking together like celebratory glasses, and this is something worth celebrating; the reunion of two people who should have never been apart, physically or otherwise, for even a second. 

Killer is the type of lover to slide pillows beneath Kid’s back and thighs first, to open him up slowly with foreplay that takes all day, and instead he’s bear hugging him, fucking him with a desperation he’s never known. And Kid takes it as well as he takes everything else, arching off the bed even with Killer’s weight holding him down, moaning with such intensity that if Killer’s destructive inner-voice were roaring in his ears, it would be impossible to hear it. He pulses around Killer’s cock, his one remaining hand digging crescents into his back, his one remaining heel digging into the flesh of his ass, and Killer fears the day when Kid won’t have enough parts left to hold him like this. 

He’ll never let that happen. Never. 

“When you’re hurting, Kil’, hurt with me,” he begs, tears escaping, rolling down the corner of his eye to his hair. “When you’re suffering, suffer with me! Don’t just leave!” 

Fuck, he really has been suffering lately, every part of him at war with itself. He thinks back to this morning, picking up Law’s unconscious body after House dragged him halfway across the island; the seastone chains brushed against Killer’s skin only lightly, but it was still enough to bring him to his knees until House resituated it. Such a high concentration, but still doing nothing to cure Killer’s smile. And he thought to himself, just for a moment, that it would be so nice if it did work, even if it would cripple him forever. 

But it’s moments like these, when Kid is crying on his cock, caressing his face in such a worshipful manner, that Killer thinks he might grow to accept everything that’s happened to him. To both of them.

“My spirit is so broken,” Killer admits. “I’m afraid I’ll never be the same again.” 

“It’s okay. You’re still you, Kil’, I know you, I love you more than anyone,” his assurance is whiny, so thick with emotion that Killer can’t contain his own tears. “It’ll all be okay, ‘cause you have me, and ‘M never gonna let you fall apart. We’ll figure it out together, I promise.” 

“I love you, more than anyone, more than anything,” Killer’s vow devolves into a wheeze as the barbells along his cock suddenly begin to vibrate, and he gnaws at Kid’s shoulder as laughter spills from his lips in lieu of moans. It’s taken him years of practice to not cum the instant Kid does it, but it still signifies the beginning of the end. A few more rough thrusts and Kid is cumming, howling with his release. Killer is close behind, filling Kid up, and the vibrations cease the moment they become too much to bear. 

“Missed you so much, Kil’. Like fucking crazy.” 

“I missed you too, sweetheart. I’m so-”    

“Don’t be sorry. Just be here, okay? I need you.” 

“I think I can manage that.” He kisses Kid’s face, lips finding his favorite freckles: a big one on Kid’s left cheek, two little ones that overlap to form an almost-heart on his chin, a cluster of tiny ones beneath Kid’s healthy eye that stand out amongst the rest, and Kid preens below him, so precious that Killer’s heart aches. “How’s your leg? Did I put any strain on it?” 

“My leg is fine. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Are you sure? Have you been taking your painkillers? You’ve had a limp lately and-” Kid silences him with a kiss, soft and adoring. “-and you keep walking on it even though Trafalgar tells you not to-” Kid does it again, with more insistence. “-Kid.” 

“What?” 

“You’re kissing me to try and shut me up.” 

“Me?! I would never. I’m insulted that you would think such a thing.” Kid’s feigned pout is half-assed; the corners of his lips curl into a cheeky smile, betraying him. He hums mirthfully when Killer kisses his dimple. “No more sleeping on the couch. I sleep like shit without you holding me.” 

“But what about Trafalgar?” 

“Trafalgar can deal with it, or he can sleep on the damned couch,” Kid declares. “I don’t think he’ll care either way, though. He likes you.” 

“Oh really.” 

“Mmhmm.” 

“He told you that?” 

“Well, it ain’t so much that he said it, but I talked dirty about you and it made ‘im cum. So I’d say that counts.” 

“It does not.” 

“You say that, but you’re smiling, so-” 

“Eustass Kid,” Killer laughs, only because he has to. He covers his mouth, hiding it from Kid’s view, and lifts his bangs to show him his unimpressed gaze. “Do I look pleased to you?” 

“You look pretty.” 

“Deflection will get you nowhere.” It’s one of the least believable lies Killer has ever told. Anything will get Kid everywhere when it comes to him, and Kid knows it; he pulls Killer down for another kiss, and his slate is wiped clean in an instant. “I carried that fishman girl to the infirmary before I came up here.” 

“You did?” Kid’s melancholy tone comes as no surprise. Though his plan to come up here and comfort Kid didn’t go according to plan, Killer still wants to take the time to do so. “I didn’t think it would get to me so much. I had no problem killing kids when I was a kid, but this time… it just felt different.” 

“She wasn’t like the children on Kutsukku,” Killer reminds him. “She wasn’t a threat to you. It makes sense that it would hurt, sweetheart. But with the shape she was in, you made the right call.” 

“Thanks, Kil’.” Kid’s grip on him intensifies. Killer is still inside him, their limbs still intertwined, but Killer doesn’t have the strength to disconnect from him. He missed Kid’s warmth, and his soft tummy, and the way he clings to him like he never wants to let him go. “Trafalgar said the same thing, y’know. I never pegged ‘im as being the reassuring type, but he’s come through for me a couple times. And speaking of… there’s something I gotta tell you.” 

“What is it?” 

“You were right. Dive did tell me something last night.” 

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

“Captain!! Why did I have to hear from Wire that you were kidnapped this morning?!” 

“I’m fine, Bepo. It was just a… light kidnapping.” 

As if Law didn’t feel beaten down already, being prematurely woken from his nap has left him worse for wear. He hoped that the infirmary would be void of activity, so he could be wrist-deep in body cavities in peace, but he arrived to find House and an overly-concerned Bepo.

“Did you scan yourself?” 

“I did.” 

“Are you hurt?” 

“I have a small concussion-” Bepo gasps shrilly, much to the chagrin of Law’s head- “a small concussion, I said! No thanks to a certain someone dragging me through hallways, up stairs, and across an island!” 

“Who, me?” House asks as she sorts through a crate of illicit drugs. Law’s drug knowledge doesn’t extend much further than pharmaceuticals, and the vibrant liquids, powders and pills that House is placing on the infirmary’s wooden shelves are completely foreign to him. He’s only slightly worried that someone might come in here searching for painkillers and end up tripping balls instead, or worse, dead. 

“Yes you,” Law mutters. The day has been a wash thus far, but he hopes that he can turn things around with a certain experiment he has planned. He grabs three of the cadavers and lays them down on the floor. Then he sits in the middle of them and forms a small room. 

“What’re you doing, Captain?” 

“I’m going to try reviving these organs with my devil fruit ability. It would be wise to have some spare parts lying around, knowing this crew.” Law keeps the thought to himself, but he wonders what kind of state their crew is in; if they’re being tortured, if they’re missing any fingers, or toes, or more, and it’s best to be prepared for any and all outcomes. 

It’ll be a stamina-draining process, one that Law has only successfully done on frogs, but what is a person, really, if not a giant frog? He has the necessary fluids on hand; all he needs now is to pump them through the cadavers, and hope that the organs will begin to repair themselves. Then he can remove them with “amputate” and preserve them eternally in the transparent cubes that his devil fruit provides. “Scan.” 

Time slows down for a while. Law sits, cross-legged, and watches the fluids circulate throughout the bodies. Whatever House and Bepo are talking about fades into the background. He’s exhausted, so much so that he can’t even think clearly, but it’s still a meditative experience. Law could probably do with a little less thinking, anyway. 

“I can’t believe my eyes, boyo! This body has been dead for hours!” House holds up a healthy liver, encased in a gelatin-like cube. Law isn’t sure how long it took– maybe an hour, maybe more –but the organs in all three bodies are now ready for harvesting. “How about their tongues? Can ya remove those too?” 

“Sure. What do you want them for?” 

“Well, Heat’s always bitchin’ ‘bout his. Says the one Kid made him doesn’t work as well as the real thing!” As long as it’s transplanted correctly, Heat should be able to taste just as well as he did before, but Law saves a few just in case. He adds them to the growing pile of organ-, teeth-, and phalange-filled cubes, and House picks some of them up, stacking them on top of one another. 

“What are you doing with those?”

“Makin’ a throne,” she says, like it should be obvious, and Law won’t admit it aloud, but he’s shocked that he’s never thought to do the same. House completes her “throne”– more of an armchair, really –and reclines with a contented sigh. “Not bad. Not bad at all.” 

What a bizarre woman. 

Law gathers the next round of bodies, and then he sees her: the little fishman girl, kindly placed on the operating table. Someone was even courteous enough to close her eyes. She looks peaceful, if Law doesn’t look below her neck. 

Law allows himself to think of Lami. He wonders what she looked like in the end. If the flames took her, or if someone found her first. If her body would even be recognizable to him, after whatever happened to it.

He doesn’t want to take anything else from this child. She’s lost enough, even if her soul is no longer in her body. She barely has anything left to give- 

“You’ll never catch me, Heat–chan!” In the infirmary’s open doorway, Law sees Dive run by. She’s giggling, carrying an armful of peaches, and one falls to the floor in her haste. He sees Heat a few moments later; he’s barely at a jog, letting Dive win whatever game they’re playing. 

“Come back here, Lami!” 

“You’ll never catch me, big brother Law!”

Law’s weary eyes drift down to the dead girl’s gills. He considers a hypothetical: Dive’s gills being torn or shredded in a fight, or by a sea king in the water, where he wouldn’t be able to prevent it. He couldn’t keep his promise to Lami, but with the help of this girl, he could save Dive in the event of an emergency. 

Her body is carefully lowered to the floor and Law gets to work. It’s far more bittersweet than meditative this time. 

Halfway through, Kid comes into the infirmary. One look at his face and Law can tell that he and Killer have made up; the tension in his features is absent, and his familiar smile is back, but it wavers when he sees Law on the floor with the girl.

“I’m restoring her gills,” he says before Kid can ask. “If Dive’s are ever damaged, I can transplant them… fishman gills aren’t easy to come by, you know. These will be a life-saver if she needs them someday.” 

“You really mean that?” 

“I really do.” Kid steps into his room and kneels down to gently kiss him. The misery that Law tasted on Kid’s lips earlier is gone now, replaced with the genuine affection that he’s growing accustomed to. And though he’s thankful to see that House and Bepo are too occupied with other things to notice Kid’s display of affection, he thinks that maybe he should tell Bepo the truth after all; in the days that remain of this rescue mission, Law doesn’t plan to stop kissing this sweet, stubborn oaf. 

“If you weren’t here, then these bodies would be worthless; if she ever needs those gills someday, she’ll have them because of you.” Kid cups his cheek, and then drags his thumb across the earring that he made for him. “Guess we make a pretty good team, huh?” 

Kid looks at Law with a twinkle of hope in his eye, and it’s beautiful, and Law doesn’t feel so wrong for feeling that way anymore. 

“Yeah. I guess we do.”