The CoraLaw Brainworms Won

Pain shot through Rosinante’s ankle as he crashed down the side of the ravine, thorns and branches tearing at him as he rolled.

He lay still at the bottom, unsure how visible he was under the damp leaf cover.

His lungs burned in his chest, legs and arms aching from the position they’d been chained into bare minutes before. His ankle was still throbbing badly enough he was worried he wouldn’t be able to put weight on it. Worst still, was the sea stone cuff still clipped around his wrist. Its companion had cracked off when he’d slammed them against that guard’s head, but even one was enough to drain him of energy and curb his powers.

Above him he could hear shouting voices echoing off the trees. They sounded close.

Rosinante kept himself still as his pursuers came crashing through the underbrush. One of them spotted the ravine and called for the others to halt. Rosinante closed his eyes and prayed they hadn’t brought any dogs with them.

He tried to remember if he’d heard dogs during the two or three hours he’d been chained to their wall for.

Mostly it had been them taking turns kicking him in a poor attempt at torturing him for information.

Honestly, some of the Navy’s phys. ed. Courses had been worse. The bandits who’d kidnapped him lacked the pure kicking prowess of those Marine trainees.

Still, their tender hospitality was making it difficult to breath.

The forest he’d just tumbled through was tall fir trees with a dense layer of undergrowth. Mostly saplings and a very thorny vine that seemed to be growing everywhere. It was dense enough that maybe he wouldn’t be visible from the top of the ravine.

Indeed, it seemed the bandits couldn’t see him, though their voices were too low for him to make out. He also couldn’t risk turning his head to see how many people were on the ridge.

Unable to do anything but lay still, Rosinante waiting with his heart pounding in his throat.

An absolutely agonizing amount of time later, Rosinante heard a distant cry of pain. It was a voice the bandits seemed to recognize because one of them shouted, asking if everything was alright.

They were met with silence.

Both the bandits and Rosinante realized at the same time that they couldn't hear the distant sound of searching anymore. Either the other bandits had left them behind or someone else had found them.

At the top of the ridge, on of the bandits made an awful, gurgling noise. Rosinante heard the cries of alarm, but his attention was focused on the thing that had rolled down the side of the ravine, coming to a stop bare inches away from him.

Rosinante had to bite back an instinctive gasp.

It was a severed head, the eyes still rolling wildly in their sockets. Its blood was already starting to pool in the loose sticks and leaf litter.

It had been severed cleanly, Rosinante noted distantly as he tried to focus on both keeping quiet and an eye on the action on the ridge.

Whether rescue had come or the bandits had started fighting amongst themselves, it wouldn’t hurt to try and make his escape. Quietly as he could, Rosinante began slithering through the brush.

A familiar wail split the night.

Law’s sword Kikoku was a cursed sword and like all cursed blades, it had its quirks. When enough blood stained its blade it would begin to emit a long, piercing cry; the demon wail.

It raised the hairs on the back of Rosinante’s neck. It made his heart swell in his chest.

Law was here.

Given how loud Kikoku sounded, the combatant on the ridge was likely him. Sapped of energy, hurting all over, Rosinante struggled his way to his hands and knees, hoping to crawl to the side of the ravine.

Up on the ridge, one of the bandits shouted and Rosinante stumbled up into a limping run--sure he’d been spotted--only to immediately trip as his leg gave out.

His shout quickly turned into a scream of pain as Rosinante watched Law appear next to the bandit and swing Kikoku in a wide arc, severing his outstretched arm.

“Cora-san!”

Rosinante felt his heart jump at the sound of Law’s voice.

There were still bandits on the ridge, but Law paid them no mind. With a snap of his fingers he appeared beside Rosinante.

Moments later Bepo burst out of the trees, his jumping side kick sending one of the bandits flying.

“Captain! You found him!” he said pivoting to bury his foot into the stomach of an oncoming bandit. “Please hurry and take him to safety!”

While Bepo punched and kicked his way through the remaining bandits, Law caught hold of Rosinante’s shoulders. He sagged against Law, trying to hold himself together as a palpable relief stole through him.

“Seastone,” he murmured, head dropping onto Law’s shoulder. What little energy he had left drained from his body and Law rapidly became the only thing holding him upright. It was uncomfortable, kneeling on the forest floor. With Law there, Rosinante couldn’t bring himself to care. He closed his eyes for what felt like a second, only to open them again to find himself laying on his back looking up at Law.

He’d put them in his Room. It took Rosinante a few moments to understand what Law meant to do. When he did, he grimaced and closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see his own arm come off at the wrist. It didn’t hurt, though it did feel distinctly odd. It was over quickly; Law slipped the cuff off with a careful flick of Kikoku tip, then reattached Rosinante’s arm to the rest of him.

As soon as the seastone was off him, Rosinante felt life flood back into his limbs. Before he could do more than flex his arm, Law scooped him close in a tight hug.

“How badly did they hurt you,” Law asked, face pressed into Rosinante’s hair, the hand not still holding Kikoku gripping his shoulder.

“I think I wrenched my ankle falling down here. They beat me up a little, all unarmed. Not too badly."

He knew Law would be able to read the damage for himself the moment he had the chance to Scan him. It was just, he was starting to feel badly for the bandits. They really had kidnapped the wrong guy.

The person they’d wanted information about was Straw Hat Luffy! Rosinante barely knew anything about the kid, beyond what Law had told him.

Not only had they grabbed a useless hostage, they picked up one with some very powerful and easily upset friends.

From up on the ridge, Bepo called down,

“All clear, captain!”

“Fall back to the meeting point and gather the others,” Law told him, letting his Room drop. “I’ll take Cora-san back to the ship.”

Bepo saluted and that was the last Rosinante saw of him before he and Law Shambles’d back onto the deck of the Polar Tang.

The market was bustling to almost the the point of being overcrowded. Law had to keep hold of Cora’s hand so the throng didn’t separate them.

Shouts and the smells of sizzling street foods greeted them at every turn. Stalls selling heaps of fresh produce or piles of eggs were crammed cheek by jowl next to spice merchants and silk sellers; a confusion of booths only a local could navigate and perhaps not even then.

Everywhere you turned there was something to catch the eye, and a person waiting to call for said eye’s attention should their wears alone not prove tempting enough.

Cora looked dazzled, tugging on Law’s hand to point out anything he thought Law might like. It was similar to how they had walked through island markets in the past, though Law had been small enough then that he would ride on Cora’s shoulders. Cora would point out things, hoping to make Law smile, if only for a moment.

Now, just like back then, it was the man himself that put a smile on Law’s face.

“Oh!”

Law’s reflection was interrupted as Cora spotted something that caught his attention so thoroughly he let go of Law’s hand.

Law felt moment of panic seize him and he grabbed for Cora’s dropped hand, snapping,

“Cora-san!”

Cora glanced back, holding out his hand so Law could reclaim it. In the other he was holding a beautiful ceramic cosmetics pot.

The woman running the stall smiled at both of them, taking Law’s habitual scowl in stride.

“The young master has excellent taste. That is our finest rose petal rouge, only 75 berries a pot. Long lasting, but not hard to remove; and for so little! Why, the shops on the high street will sell you this same pot for 200 berries! Practically piracy!”

Law had no idea if what she was saying was true, but Cora seemed taken with the rogue. He nodded to the woman running the stall, handing over the coins before Cora could register what he’d done.

“Law,” he said as he realized just what had transpired. “I can pay.”

But Law had handed over the money and the stall-owner had quickly secreted on her person before presenting them with a wrapped and bagged version of the rogue pot still in Cora’s hand.

Unable to argue further, Cora accepted the bag with a sheepish smile.

“Please stop by again. We have cosmetics for every occasion,” she called after them as the crowd slowly swept them away down the street.

Law watched as Cora cradled his new prize to his chest.

“Why that one?” Law asked, eyes flicking up to Cora’s face.

Even that much attention spread a light blush across his cheeks. Law smiled; it was cute.

“It smells like roses,” Cora explained. Dropping Law’s gaze to look fondly down at the pot in his hand. “I think I remember my mother using something similar.”

Cora smiled, soft and sweet, at the memory.

Law gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Ready to go back?” he asked.

Cora nodded, stealing closer to Law, squeezing his hand in return.

“Take us back,” he said.

Typically when someone on the crew of the Polar Tang got sick, they stay in their bunks or in one of the patient wards depending on symptom severity and how dramatic Law was feeling that day. Bepo, for example, somehow always ended up tucked into one of the large beds in the recovery ward.

Rosinante, when he woke up far too warm and with his head stuffed with mucus, was quickly imprisoned in the Captain’s Quarters to his eternal embarrassment. Law wouldn’t move him to a ward no matter what he said. Even his last desperate reason had been shot down.

“What if someone thinks it’s favoritism and hates me?” he’d said miserably, sounding even more forlorn because of how congested he was.

“Anyone who doesn’t like you gets thrown of the ship,” Law had said with a finality that left room for little argument.

So Rosinante remained in Law’s cabin, cocooned in blankets with a thermometer stuck under his tongue until such a time as Law saw fit to come check on him. (Once every 30 mins, Rosinante had timed him.) He was also wearing a set of heart-patterned pajamas

There had also been a parade of ‘get well soons’ from outside the hatch as various members of the crew stopped by as the got on or off watch. Rosinante was pretty sure Ikakku’s watch routine didn’t include her coming up to this deck. He did appreciate the thought.

Honestly, his last ditch effort might have had more weight to it if any of the crew were capable of holding a grudge against him. Bepo had called him adorable once. Bepo!

There was only so much pouting a person could do when wrapped up in blankets, but Rosinante made an effort when Law came back for his half hourly check.

“I don’t think it actually needs to be under my tongue for that long,” he said as soon as Law took the thermometer out of his mouth to check the reading.

Law said nothing, but his smirk spoke volumes.

“You have a mild fever,” said Law, finally looking down at Rosinante, looking far too pleased with himself.

Rosinante tried to be the bigger man for all of two seconds before blurting out,

“My coat would have been fine if I hadn’t had that bucket of water poured on my head.”

“Which is exactly why I wanted you to wear the wool one,” Law said back, tone infuriatingly bland.

Rosinante snorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“How the hell would the wool one have kept me safe from a bucket of water?”

“It would have kept your core warm which might have helped stop you from getting sick.”

Rosinante fought down the urge to stick his tongue out. It would be an admission that he couldn’t argue with Law.

Which, he couldn’t. Rosinante’s brain had been cruelly and deviously replaced with snot so he had nothing to use to form an argument in his own defense.

Rather than let him stew, Law leaned down and pressed a kiss to Rosinante’s temple.

“So I have a baseline, for how warm you feel,” Law explained.

“You’re the doctor,” Rosinante said suspiciously, cheeks pink from more than just his fever.

“And you,” said Law. “Should eat something. It was Hitode’s turn in the kitchen. He made you egg drop soup.”

Rosinante nodded. He was feeling pretty hungry.

With a snap of his fingers, Law was suddenly elsewhere, gone so quickly he might never have been there to begin with. Aside from the lingering feeling of Law’s lips against his skin, that was.

Rosinante wasn’t left alone for long. Law Shambles’d his way back into Rosinante’s sick room, bowl of soup in hand.

“Careful, Cora-san,” he said as he handed it over to Rosinante’s eager hands. “It’s hot.”

Rosinante sipped carefully at his soup, savoring the warmth and salt. The eggs were fresh from the winter island they’d just left. The same winter island where Rosinante had caught this fever. It was hard to feel to badly about he whole thing when the soup they’d gotten out of it was so good.

Law sat himself at the end of the bunk he and Rosinante usually shared, watching him eat. It reminded Rosinante of another time Law had handed him a bowl of soup. The first time he’d called him ‘Cora-san’.

It was a bittersweet memory, as most of Rosinante’s favorite memories were, but it still filled his heart with just as much warmth as the soup had.

“You know, if this is the kind of treatment I get, maybe I’ll forget my coat again next time too,” Rosinante joked, taking another sip of his soup.

Law shot him a deeply unimpressed look that knocked a laugh lose in Rosinante’s chest.

“Okay, okay,” he said, grinning widely. “Whatever you say, doctor.”

“Good,” Law said, sounding so grim it sent Rosinante into a fit of giggles. He couldn’t help himself. Law looked at him with an unimpressed face and twinkling eyes. He looked like he was biting back a smile.

“So what’s my prognosis, doc,” Rosinante said, setting aside his now-empty bowl of soup. He’d have to remember to tell Hitode how good it had been.

“Terrible,” Law said, deadpan. “You’ll have to stay in bed for weeks.”

Rosinante was about to bat his eyelashes at that, when a chill wracked him. He whined.

“You’ll probably only be sick for a couple of days,” Law said in a more serious voice. “Your Celestial Dragon constitution is certainly doing the heavy lifting. You might not have gotten more than a runny nose if you didn’t smoke so much.”

Rosinante did stick his tongue out at Law who burst into a laugh. Rosinante felt his heart soften.

“Make me soup every day then?” he asked. “That and the kisses. I think those are the only cure.”

Law snorted, but moved to press another kiss to Rosinante’s temple.

“Hitode’s the one who made you that soup,” Law said. “Your proposal could use a little work, Cora-san.”

Rosinante choked on nothing, coughing desperately while Law looked smug at him.

“Brat!” he got out in between coughs. “I’ll ask you to marry me in a normal way!”

“So you were planning on asking?”

While Law blinking innocently at him, Rosinante felt his whole face go red. It wasn’t enough to simply look away from Law, so he put his hands up over his face too. He felt like he was about to start blowing steam like a tea kettle.

“Maybe,” he said in a very strained voice.

Rosinante peeked through his fingers to see Law leaning forward towards him. His heart beat in his throat as he watched Law take his empty bowl, hesitate for just a bare few moments, then lean back out of Rosinante’s space.

“Then I’ll look forward to it,” Law said.

Before Rosinante could respond, Law snapped his fingers again and vanished. With nowhere to vent his feelings, Rosinante turned and buried his face in one of the pillows.

__

Down in the galley, Law, ears burning, handed the empty bowl over to Shachi who noticed how flustered Law looked immediately.

“Not a word!” said Law, pointing a less-than-menacing finger at his second mate. Shachi held up his hands.