lady of the moon

"Captain?" Penguin stops halfway through as he passes the kitchen and sees the two of you, with you practically holding Law upright. "Everything okay?"

"Yes–"

"No–" you both answer at the same time and turn to stare at each other. "No you're not! Penguin, great timing. Can you give me a hand?"

"Sure," he hurries over and slides one of Law's arms over his shoulder while you take the other side. "You got him?"

"Yeah– woah—!" Law's knees give out without warning, and suddenly all of his weight falls onto the two of you, forcing you to tighten your grip before he drags all three of you to the floor.

"What are we supposed to do with him?" Penguin asks.

"Take him to his room," you say, nearly loosing your hold on him as he slumps against you again. Law's head droops forward, offering no help as you start walking and practically dragging his feet along the way.

Penguin glances over at him with growing concern, but Law only manages to lift his head a little before offering him a tired, hazy smile,

"…Hi."

"Is– is he drunk?" Penguin asks in a lower voice.

"He has a fever."

"A fever?" Penguin frowns, trying to understand how a fever could leave the Captain this out of it. He shifts his grip to adjust himself, but grows confused when he suddenly notices his shoulder feels cold and damp, just where Law's body is resting on him. He looks down, and finds the collar of Law's shirt is dark with sweat.

"My God… He's sweating so much! Captain, Captain!" He raises a hand in front of Law's face, "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Law cracks one eye open just enough to glance at him. He looks deeply offended, "…You think I'm stupid? Six."

You stare at him, "…Penguin, just keep walking."

—

Once you reach his room, the two of you guide him into the bathroom so Penguin can help him clean up and change into something dry and more comfortable. Law is being surprisingly cooperative throughout the whole ordeal, though Penguin still has to repeat himself every now and then whenever Law drifts off halfway through whatever he's doing.

Eventually, Law is finally tucked beneath the blankets.

While Penguin makes sure he's comfortable, you sit at the desk and write down his symptoms, temperature, the time you took it, and the schedule for his medication. With how high his fever is, you want to make sure you have everything noted down. You don't trust yourself to remember it all later.

Penguin sets a glass of water on the bedside table before stepping back to the doorway. He rests one hand against the frame and turns to you, "You need anything?"

Your lips part to answer, but Law beats you to it, "...No." He doesn't even bother to open his eyes.

A smile tugs at Penguin's mouth, "Wasn't asking you, Captain." And Law answers with a groan that sounds vaguely annoyed. "Don't go dying on us, alright?"

"...Mhm."

That draws another amused smile from Penguin before turning back to you. He points towards the hallway with one thumb, silently mouthing, Yell if you need help.

You nod and mouth back, I will.

Satisfied, he quietly pulls the door shut behind him, and you go back to your notes.

—

An hour has passed.

You've been keeping yourself busy flipping through one of Law's medical books, comparing his symptoms to the different infections listed on it. You're certainly not a doctor, but you've seen him do this before whenever one of the crew members fell sick.

You read the symptoms. Fever, yes. Cold sweats, plenty. Excessive sweating where the body rests against a surface… yes. Sweaty hands, mhmm not really. Cold feet–

You glance up to find him sleeping soundly. Sigh, you forgot to check his lower body's temperature. He needs to get as much sleep as he can get, and checking now would probably wake him up.

Still, you should write down every symptom… what if it's something serious?

You quietly walk over to the bed and lift the blanket just enough to uncover his feet. Cold… surprisingly cold, compared the heat radiating from the rest of his body.

The blanket suddenly moves and Law turns with a groan.

"Shit, sorry. I was just checking on you."

"…oh," Law blinks slowly, "you're still here…"

You give him a faint smile, "Of course I am." You tuck the blanket back around his feet before returning to your notes and adding the new symptom, "Someone has to take care of my captain."

"Hmm…", his lips curve into a smile.

The room falls back to the silent turning of the pages. Every now and then, you glance up from the book expecting to find him asleep, but each time you look, he's still awake, staring absentmindedly in your direction.

You can't help smiling to yourself. Usually, catching him staring would've made Law look away the moment your eyes met. This time, he simply keeps watching you through his sleepy and tired eyes, smiling ever so tenderly. It's… strangely endearing.

Moments later, the mattress shifts as Law finally turns to one side, settling back to sleep. Or at least that's what you assume. He remains still for a few seconds before rolling to the other side. A few seconds pass, and he lets out a frustrated but quiet sigh, and turns once again.

"Law? What's wrong?"

Law suddenly sits upright in his bed, his gaze lost somewhere else.

"Law?"

"Hm?" his eyes slowly find yours.

"You need something?"

He gives you a long look through heavy eyelids, almost getting lost in yours. "…No."

"Then why are you sitting up..?"

"…"

You sigh, "Come on, lie back down."

Setting the book aside, you walk over to the bed to help him, and Law offers no resistance as you rest your hands on his shoulders and guide him back towards the mattress. Yet, the moment your hand touches the pillow, you stop. The fabric feels damp… no, it's soaked in sweat.

"Oh, damn…" So that's why. No wonder he'd been tossing and turning this whole time, he was probably very uncomfortable. You help him sit back up, "Law, do you have another pillow?"

"Not really."

Damn. You glance once more at the dark stain of sweat on the fabric. He can't keep sleeping like this, he'll only get worse.

"Alright… then you're borrowing mine." Sigh, "Wait for me, okay? I'll be right back."

"Mhmm."

You hurry towards the door, but Law's voice stops you the moment your hand reaches the doorknob, "Dun't forget the jellyfish."

…What?

You glance back, "Say that again?"

"The jellyfish…" he murmurs, "it's all spiky."

"Right… I– I'll keep that in mind."

You slip out of his room before he has the chance to say anything else and hurry to your cabin. Was that a tactile hallucination? He's definitely delirious. Better hurry back.

It only takes you a minute to grab your fluffiest pillow before heading back.

By the time you return, he's still sitting upright, with his head drooping forward and his eyes closed. You really hadn't been gone that long, and still he must have fallen asleep waiting for you. Poor thing, he really looks exhausted.

You quietly make your way over to the bed and set the pillow beside him. He startles awake, lifting his head and looking confused for a moment.

"Sorry," you murmur. "Let's change that pillow."

When he leans forward, you pull the damp pillow out from behind him and replace it with your own, giving it a couple of light pats to fluff it up.

"Mhm, you know what…" your eyes land on the stain of sweat soaking through the back of his shirt. "We're changing that too."

You walk over to his wardrobe and take a look, searching for something he'll find comfortable to sleep in. You pick one of his softer shirts, and leave it beside him. Then head to the bathroom to empty the water from the basin you'd been using to clean his sweat, and refill it with fresh warm water.

Carrying the basin back to the bedside, you set it down, soak one of the towels and wring it out.

"Come here, let's get you comfortable."

Law obediently leans forward as you help him out of the damp shirt. You place the warm towel across the back of his neck and begin to gently wipe away all the sweat from his shoulders and back.

"Is this temperature alright?"

He nods.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you murmur as you continue to run the warm towel across his back. "Were you really planning on sleeping like that?"

"Sorry... I– I didn't want to bother you anymore."

"You getting worse because you didn't want to bother me would definitely be more trouble." You rinse the towel, wring it once more and continue, taking your time until the clammy feeling on his skin is gone. "There."

The fact that he'd been lying there, wet and feverish because he didn't want to bother you makes your chest ache. If anything, it only makes you want to take even better care of him.

You help him into the clean shirt, smoothing the fabric over his shoulders. You reach for the towel one last time, brushing a few damp strands of hair away from his forehead.

"You're gonna be alright," you murmur as you give him a reassuring smile.

Law looks at you through heavy eyelids. He doesn't know whether it's the fever or the exhaustion, but your voice makes everything feel quieter.

"Here," you reach for the glass Penguin left on the bedside table and slice one arm behind his shoulder to help him steady, "you should drink a little."

Law gives a faint nod and reaches for the glass with both hands. His fingers curl weakly around it and they don't seem steady enough to hold it properly.

"Don't worry," you ease him, "I've got it."

He reluctantly lets go and you guide it to his lips. He takes a few small sips, swallowing slowly between each one.

When you tilt the glass towards him again, he pulls back and grimaces, and you can almost read the word 'enough' that's written across his face. You set the glass back on the bedside table.

Cradling the back of his head, you gently ease him down onto the pillow, careful not to make him any dizzier than he already is. You lean over him to pull the blanket back into place, tucking it around his sides and making sure the dry towel you've placed beneath his back doesn't bunch up.

From Law's perspective, the pounding in his head is still there, but it doesn't seem quite as important anymore. He's not entirely sure what you are doing, all he can focus on is your hair falling forward as you lean over him… the careful way your hands move around him, making sure he's comfortable in every way.

Maybe… maybe he should get sick more often.

He continues to watch you quietly, trying to capture the moment like a photograph tucked away in the back of his mind. He's still warm from the fever, but somehow it isn't the only warmth he feels now.

"You're beautiful... You know that?"

Had he been thinking straight, those words would've never left his mouth. Embarrassment feels strangely distant, and it doesn't even occur to him to take them back. You'd only ever appeared this close in his dreams. Now, he's not even sure whether he's dreaming anymore, everything feels hazy around the edges.

When you hand finds his forehead again, it's tender enough to make him wonder if he's imagined the whole thing.

Hesitantly, your hand lingers against his forehead for a moment. You know the fever is clearly clouding his thoughts. Even so, that doesn't stop warmth from rushing into your face.

Yeah… still burning. A faint smile finds its way to your lips, "Just sleep."

Your hand trails from his forehead to his cheek, cupping it for a second too long before you shyly pull it away.

Law lets out a dissatisfied hum, "Mhhmnn dun wanna."

"You don't want to sleep?"

"I feel funny…"

"Funny how?"

"Like... like I can't think," his brow pinches. "Like– I don't know what I'm saying."

Right…

"I'll take your temperature again."

You reach for the mercury thermometer and give it a few flicks before slipping it beneath his arm. Once the five minutes passed, you hold it up against the light, squinting your eyes as you check how far the silver line stretches this time.

"It's coming down…" you murmur. "Still high enough to make your brain a little mushy though. How's your head?"

"Still hurts... A little."

"Where?"

Law lifts a sluggish hand towards the side of his head, not lasting long before falling back to the mattress.

You try to sit closer to him, resting your fingertips where he'd been trying to point, "Here?"

"No, more to the side… More. There."

"Here?"

"Mhm," a relieved sigh escapes him, "feels better when you touch it."

Feels better when touched…

Your fingertips slip into his hair, your nails barely grazing his scalp so lightly that Law's eyes drift shut almost at once. You trace one, two... three soft circles against his scalp, and Law feels his entire body relax with a warm tingle that spreads from the crown of his head to the nape of his neck.

For the first time since you brought him to bed, the tension in his shoulders seems to melt away, along with the tightness of his jaw that begins to ease, making his lips slightly part.

Law lets out another quiet breath and leans into your hand, instinctively tilting his head in search of the warmth of your touch that's making him forget the heavy pounding of his head.

You can't help but smile… This is probably one of those moments that will stay with you for a very long time.

Your eyes drift to your notes on the desk. Pain relieved by gentle pressure… You should write that down.

You let your fingers linger one last time before pulling your hand away, but as you stand, something catches your wrist.

"Noo… where're you going?"

You can't help but laugh. When you look back, you find his fever-swollen eyes fixed on yours, silently waiting for you to change your mind. How are you supposed to say no to that?

"Sorry, I just need to get your medicine ready. I'll be right back, okay?"

Law's clearly annoyed, but after frowning quietly his fingers slowly loosen from your wrist. You catch his hand before it falls back to the bed and give it a small, reassuring squeeze before you let go and head to the desk.

You compare your notes with the medical book one last time, adding the new symptoms and finally settling on the medication that best matches what you've observed.

With your decision made, you head to one of the cabinets to prepare the correct dose.

—

After measuring the ingredients as carefully as you could, you mix them into a single dose and hurry back to Law's bedside. You're surprised to find him curled up around the pillow, both arms wrapped around it while his cheek had practically disappeared into it. It almost looked as if he were trying to bury himself in it. Pfft.

"Comfortable?"

His arms tighten around the pillow at the sound of your voice, lifting his face just enough to look at you with sleepy eyes.

"…It's soft," his cheek sinks right back into it, fingers curling lazily around it "…Smells nice."

Oh, for God's sake.

"Alright." You let out an exasperated sigh, trying very hard to ignore the warmth creeping to your face once again. You take your seat beside him, set the freshly prepared medicine on the table and guide the spoon to his mouth.

"Open," you say firmly, "Ah."

Law obeys reluctantly and swallows it in one go, but his face immediately twists in disgust.

"What is it?"

"…Tastes awful."

Serves you right. But the miserable look on his face immediately wipes the thought away.

Setting the spoon aside, you reach for the glass of water and help him take another sip to wash away the bitter taste.

"Sorry… The ship's doctor called in sick. Feel free to file a complaint once he's recovered."

Law lets out a small huff, almost a laugh.

"Better?"

He takes one final sip, "Yeah."

You set the glass back on the table and help him lie back down.

As you brush a few loose strands of hair away from his forehead, your fingers linger for a moment before finding their way back into his hair, almost on their own. This time, you don't really think about it; your fingers simply comb through the dark strands before coming to rest against his scalp.

Law relaxes beneath your hand, his shoulders sinking into the mattress. You chuckle when he gently nudges your hand with his head, as if asking for more, which you happily oblige and continue your lazy movements through his hair.

A heavy sigh escapes him.

"You really like this, huh?"

"Mhm," the tension on his brow almost disappears. "I… I like everything you do."

You take a deep breath. Your idiot of a captain isn't making this any easier. You try to gather yourself, "That's not exactly what I asked."

"I know."

His answer is so simple that it catches you completely off guard. Your smile falters for a second, and your fingers come to a stop before you even realize it.

After a few quiet seconds of not feeling you move, Law slowly opens his eyes. When he sees you, his lips curve into a sweet, silly smile, and you forget how to breathe.

You feel as if time has stopped, completely trapped by his eyes that begin to wander over your face, your hair, your cheeks, your lips… then slowly, back to your eyes.

"…You're beautiful."

Heat rushes to your face so quickly that you have to bite your lower lip to keep yourself from smiling like an idiot. Unable to hold his gaze any longer, you slip your fingers into his hair again, forcing yourself to think of something else and hoping your movements would distract him from noticing just how flustered he was making you.

"You already told me that."

"I did?"

You nod. He seems to think about it for a moment before humming to himself, quietly pleased. His eyelids flutter shut again as your fingers resume their slow, gentle caress through his hair.

"Hey," Law lets a long sigh, "…tell me something."

"Hm?"

"What…" his brow pinches slightly as he searches through the haze clouding his thoughts. "What do I have to do… to make you mine?"

You freeze.

"…What?"

Law opens his eyes, blinking slowly. But once he sees your startled expression, his own immediately shifts. "…Did I say something weird?"

"Ah– no no, it's just—"

"Shit, sorry," he says as he covers his face with both hands. It's the first time all day that you can see a hint of genuine embarrassment slipping through the fever. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"No, it's okay, I just—"

"It's just–" his frustrated voice cuts you off again, "It's just…. Hahhh…, I've been trying to give you hints for a while, but you never get them."

You still, staring at him for a few seconds as you try to process everything.

"You… you have?"

"…Yeah."

"Am I really that oblivious..?"

"Yeah."

"Wait, so– what you're telling me is… you've been pursuing me this whole time?"

"Yeah?"

The sheer sincerity of his answer makes you laugh, "Are you serious? Is that what you call that?"

Law frowns, grabs your hand, and tugs it away from his head, giving you the most offended look.

"Are you making fun of my tactics?"

That only makes you laugh harder. You'd never seen him pout before, and you could already imagine the unbearable embarrassment he'd go through once the fever breaks and he comes back to his senses.

"You definitely need better tactics, Captain."

Law actually considers that.

"…Alright," he says after a thoughtful pause, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. "Then promise me something." You turn your attention back to him, "Promise you won't run away."

"And why's that?" you tilt your head, amused. "Are you planning to abduct me?"

A sleepy smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"Heh, do you want me to?" He lets out a quiet chuckle, his eyes drooping a little lower. "You're right. Maybe that's the only way you'll finally get it."

Smiling to yourself, you release your hand from his grip and return to his head.

"Alright," you say softly, "How about this. If you get some proper sleep, I'll let you steal me for one day."

His eyes beam and open wider, "One whole day?"

"From the moment the sun rises till it sets."

Law looks absurdly pleased with that answer, and you can't help but smile back at him.

"Deal?"

"Deal."

The Heart Pirates scattered almost the moment they stepped ashore. 

Bepo discovered a local bakery overflowing with pastries, both old favorites and entirely new ones he insisted he simply had to sample before meeting up with Shachi and Penguin at the marketplace to hunt down the freshest fish they could find.

Ikkaku wandered off toward a boutique before settling at a nearby café, savoring the rare luxury of peace and quiet at a safe distance from her wonderfully unruly crewmates.

And, much to the Surgeon of Death’s annoyance, no one was chasing them.

No gunshots echoed through the streets, no rival pirates appeared on the horizon, and no one’s life was in immediate danger.

Law seemed almost personally offended by the very concept.

As though the island itself had orchestrated some grand deception.

Yes, peaceful islands were not unheard of on the Grand Line, but they had never encountered one where he could truly lower his guard and blend in among the townspeople without expecting disaster to strike.

Something wasn’t right.

And so—for what he reminded himself several times was purely strategic reasoning—he decided he would have to keep an even closer eye on you than usual, lest his hopelessly trusting and infuriatingly kind crewmate managed to wander straight into trouble.

He found you exactly where he had expected to.

Inside the tiny local museum.

You were sitting on a bench in front of several large landscape paintings, quietly taking them in one by one.

Without a word, he sat beside you, nudging your shoulder gently before resting one hand on your knee.

Now that the two of you weren’t constantly surrounded by the crew, now that you were somewhere unfamiliar where no one knew either of you, he allowed himself this tiny gesture of affection.

It might have seemed insignificant to anyone else, yet between the two of you it carried a quiet intimacy neither of you took for granted.

Meeting his gaze from the corner of your eye, you smiled softly before resting your head against his shoulder—if only for a fleeting moment—and threading your fingers through his, your thumb absentmindedly tracing the black letters tattooed across his fingers.

A… T… H…

A pleasant warmth crept slowly from the base of Law’s neck to the tips of his ears.

Life aboard the Polar Tang offered remarkably little privacy, yet it also offered the perfect excuse for your closeness. The submarine was, after all, exactly that… a submarine.

Space was limited, everyone spent most of their time together, and you often worked alongside the captain anyway, helping him sort through medical journals, reports, books, and endless stacks of paperwork.

As far as the crew was concerned, nothing had changed.

No one had noticed that somewhere between long nights spent researching and quiet conversations over coffee, the relationship between the Heart Pirates’ beloved strategist and the Surgeon of Death had become something altogether different.

It wasn’t as though the two of you had been together for very long.

Still, companionship had blossomed so naturally into love that neither of you had truly noticed where one had ended and the other had begun. If anything, Law had probably recognized the truth long after it had already become obvious, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge what he privately considered a thoroughly inconvenient development.

By the time he finally admitted it to himself, the matter had already been settled beyond dispute, cemented by trust, unwavering loyalty, and a quiet certainty neither of you questioned.

Praised for his brilliance since childhood, the gifted doctor had never learned how to express his emotions, least of all in front of other people.

Every gentle touch, every instinctive act of affection, every overwhelming wave of warmth that filled his chest whenever you were near felt entirely unfamiliar, as though his rational mind and his heart had spent years speaking different languages without ever learning how to meet halfway.

It was difficult enough for him to understand how the two of you had found each other in the first place, how fate had smiled upon him for what felt like the first time in his life and somehow allowed things to unfold so naturally between you, at least as naturally as one could reasonably expect from a hopelessly reserved surgeon.

The rest of the crew didn’t need to know.

He had no desire to announce it to them.

Not because he expected endless teasing, nor because he was desperately trying to hide your relationship. Simply because there was no reason for them to know.

If they weren’t perceptive enough to notice the subtle changes in their captain’s behavior, then frankly, they didn’t deserve the answer.

It wasn’t any of their business.

Better to enjoy the peace while it lasted.

God only knew how insufferable they would become once they figured it out.

As the two of you wandered through the museum’s modest collection of paintings, the spoiled child disguised as a distinguished pirate captain began complaining that he was bored.

“This is a waste of time.”

He practically pouted as you moved from one painting to the next, occasionally bumping your shoulder or giving your sleeve an impatient tug in a none-too-subtle attempt to hurry you along.

Rolling your eyes, you gently peeled his arm from around your waist, only for it to reappear around your shoulders a heartbeat later. With no other visitors nearby, he seemed determined to take full advantage of the rare privacy.

“If you’re that bored,” you sighed, unable to suppress a smile, “go sit down somewhere and wait for me. Or go find Bepo and the others.”

Law huffed dramatically, puffing out his cheeks in quiet protest.

“As if. It would be irresponsible to leave one crew member unattended during reconnaissance.”

You laughed under your breath.

“Reconnaissance? Law, we’re inside the museum of what has to be the quietest little town on the entire Grand Line. Are you worried that the oil paint is secretly a portal to a Marine base? Or that this portrait of a little girl with her puppy is about to fire a chunk of Seastone at you before the terrifying museum curators reveal themselves as Marines in disguise?”

He rolled his eyes, though he would sooner die than admit that the corner of his mouth had twitched upward.

“You’re far too relaxed. Anything could happen.”

You met his gaze without wavering.

“And you’re far too uptight. If we combined our personalities, we’d probably create the perfect human being.”

You slipped your fingers between his and gently tugged him toward the next gallery.

“Besides,” you added over your shoulder, “I’m fairly confident we could handle whatever obstacle this sleepy little town manages to throw our way.”

He clicked his tongue in mock annoyance, though he made no effort to pull away as your fingers laced together.

“Now come with me. I found a section of the permanent exhibition that’s perfect for an insufferable nerd like you.”

He sighed with theatrical resignation and rolled his eyes once more.

Even so, he let you drag him along.

The next room was devoted entirely to antique coins, a quiet little paradise for lovers of numismatics.

And, more importantly, for your hopelessly nerdy boyfriend.

Law’s expression remained as unreadable as ever, yet, as always, his eyes betrayed him. They brightened almost imperceptibly, as though someone had quietly lit a pair of stars behind them.

My adorable little nerd.

He wandered from one display case to the next, studying coins from different eras through the glass with increasing concentration. Curious, you leaned against his shoulder to see what had managed to capture his attention so completely.

It was nothing more than a small, worn silver coin.

The plaque beneath it contained barely three short sentences.

“It looks exactly like all the others.”

“It doesn’t.”

“It absolutely does.”

Law sighed with the weary resignation of a man confronted by profound ignorance, even if that ignorance happened to belong to his favorite person in the world.

“No. Look at the edges.”

You leaned closer.

“I don’t see anything.”

“The wear pattern.”

“...The what?”

“The wear pattern.”

He pointed toward one side of the coin.

“See? This edge is smoother.”

You nodded thoughtfully, squinting at the coin as though greater concentration might suddenly reveal whatever miracle your brilliant, beautiful boyfriend was seeing.

It didn’t.

Law glanced at you.

Then back at the coin.

Then at you again.

And suddenly you recognized that look.

The one he wore whenever someone asked him a medical question.

The one that meant you were about to receive a lecture whether you had asked for one or not, delivered with varying degrees of insufferable smugness and academic pretension. To give him credit, he always made an effort to tone it down for you.

“Coins aren’t interesting because they’re valuable,” he began, his attention already drifting back to the display. “Most people focus on the metal or the rarity. That’s the least interesting part.”

“Then what’s the interesting part?”

“The people.”

He nodded toward the coin.

“Someone carried this around for years. Maybe decades. It passed through hundreds of hands. Thousands, depending on how long it stayed in circulation.”

His voice had softened without him noticing.

“The merchant who minted it is dead. The ruler whose face was stamped into the metal is dead. The people who spent it are dead. The country that produced it may not even exist anymore.”

There was an unmistakable spark in his voice now, the kind that surfaced only rarely—a quiet passion that few people ever had the privilege of seeing from the captain.

His fingertip tapped lightly against the glass.

“But the coin remains.”

Even the pieces that had spent a century at the bottom of the sea fascinated your boyfriend without measure.

And he fascinated you.

Many were scarred by time. Corroded. Their details worn nearly smooth.

Yet your captain regarded every worn edge and faded engraving with quiet admiration, and somehow it felt as though he were sharing something deeply personal with you.

This had become about far more than the exhibit.

Slowly, you began to understand his fascination with things that should have disappeared long ago, yet somehow endured. Things that bore every scar time had left upon them and still survived to tell their story.

Impossible as it seemed, your heart somehow found even more room for tenderness toward the tall surgeon standing beside you.

You nudged his shoulder.

“Giant nerd.”

Law looked genuinely offended.

“I’m not a nerd.”

“You’ve been talking about coins for twenty-three minutes.”

“Twenty-one,” he corrected automatically.

A second later he realized what he’d done, cleared his throat with all the dignity he could salvage, and continued as though nothing had happened.

“I’m merely trying to convey the importance of numismatics in a world that’s constantly changing.”

Smiling, you slipped your hand into his.

“You are. And I love listening to you whenever you get carried away like this.”

A faint blush crept onto his cheeks.

Without letting go of your hand, he muttered,

“I don’t get carried away.”

You simply rolled your eyes and let him guide you toward the next display of coins, already certain you were about to hear the complete history of their circulation, the role they had played in the World Government’s propaganda, and the economic significance of the era in which they had been minted.

You weren’t disappointed.

Even after the two of you finally left what was undeniably his favorite section of any museum and returned to the paintings, sculptures, and historical artifacts, he remained in that wonderfully animated mood you had grown so fond of since joining the Heart Pirates.

He stopped to read every single plaque.

Every description.

Every historical note.

Even those detailing centuries-old farming tools, weapons, and household objects that held little interest for you.

He rarely strayed far from your side, absentmindedly keeping a hand around your waist, on your sleeve, or intertwined with yours as though he had forgotten he was doing it.

You bit back every teasing remark that came to mind.

You knew perfectly well that the moment you pointed it out, he’d stop immediately.

Instead, you chose to quietly treasure these rare moments of clinginess he unknowingly allowed himself.

A few galleries later, you found him standing before an exhibit dedicated to early medicine.

Ancient surgical instruments rested beneath polished glass beside faded ceramic jars that had once held herbal remedies.

Law had already begun reading every label.

"This would've been used to treat infections," he murmured, almost to himself. "Though it was eventually replaced by—"

Before long he was explaining not only what each remedy had been prescribed for, but what physicians had eventually discovered to be more effective.

For someone who had spent the better part of the afternoon insisting that seventeen flower paintings had nearly destroyed his sanity…

“There were six,” you reminded him.

“…six flower paintings,” he amended without missing a beat.

“…you were still being dramatic.”

“…I wasn’t.”

…he seemed to be having an awfully good time.

You could see it in the way his eyes lingered over each exhibit, in the ease with which he spoke whenever something genuinely interested him.

Then he stopped in front of a series of anatomical sketches and his expression softened.

For the briefest moment, he wasn’t the captain of the notorious Heart Pirates.

He was simply an endlessly curious doctor.

The boy who had once dreamed of becoming a physician like his father.

The man Corazon had believed he could become.

When he noticed you watching him, he immediately composed himself.

“These diagrams are inaccurate.”

“Of course they are.”

“See here?” he said, already pointing toward one of the illustrations. “This mistake was fairly common because artists relied on animal dissections for centuries. The liver can’t have multiple lobes like this.”

He let out the faintest amused huff.

“And the uterus is often illustrated as…”

He continued explaining while you were too busy watching him.

The smile on your face refused to leave.

My sweet, giant nerd.

When the two of you left the museum and made your way back toward town, planning to stop somewhere for lunch before you indulged in a little shopping, Law walked either a step ahead of you or on the side closest to the street, positioning himself where he could react immediately should anything suspicious happen in this impossibly peaceful little town.

Which, paradoxically, made him all the more uneasy.

Then, out of nowhere, an elderly fisherman rounded the corner and bumped straight into him.

“Oh! Sorry, son,” the man said with an apologetic smile and a slight bow before continuing on his way as though nothing had happened.

No fear.

No flicker of recognition.

Nothing.

Law actually turned to watch the man disappear into the crowd down the street.

He’s undercover, he concluded, narrowing his eyes. Has to be.

You couldn’t help laughing.

He shot you a look that was meant to be annoyed, though beneath it was little more than a pout because you refused to take him seriously.

For Law, the interaction felt almost surreal.

No one had looked at him and saw a bounty poster.

No one had looked at him and seen the infamous Surgeon of Death, the pirate who had delivered one hundred hearts to the Marines in exchange for the title of Warlord. Back when that title had still belonged to him.

Here, he was simply another man passing through town.

It was a feeling he could scarcely remember, not since he had still had a family of his own. Strange as it was, the unfamiliar normalcy filled him with an equal measure of discomfort and quiet longing.

If that ordinary life existed…

…he found himself wishing, almost despite himself, that you would be part of it.

Before settling down at a café, where Law immediately spotted Penguin and Shachi laughing loudly enough to be heard from halfway down the street, took one look at them, and silently decided to keep walking, the two of you ducked into the little bookshop on the corner.

You wandered leisurely through the shelves, browsing beautifully bound editions, notebooks, fountain pens, and small souvenirs before finding yourself hopelessly torn between two antique editions of your favorite novel.

Just as Law collected coins from every place he visited, you had your own delightfully nerdy tradition.

Whenever the crew reached a new island, you searched for another edition of your favorite book to add to your growing collection.

Law lingered nearby, pretending not to care while secretly watching you deliberate.

He failed spectacularly.

The shopkeeper smiled warmly as she noticed your indecision.

“You could always ask your husband what he thinks.”

Law froze.

The woman had already moved on to another customer before either of you could respond.

Your boyfriend, meanwhile, looked as though someone had struck him square in the chest with a cannonball.

Or informed him that every issue of Sora, Warrior of the Sea had been permanently discontinued.

“Did she just…?”

The tips of his ears turned the exact shade of poppies.

“T-That’s ridiculous.”

You simply continued comparing the books while he suddenly became intensely fascinated by a nearby shelf.

A moment later he leaned over your shoulder, gently plucked one of the editions from your hands, and examined it with surprising seriousness.

“This one is much nicer,” he decided. “The navy cover with the silver embossing reflects both the tone of the story and the psychological state of its characters much better.”

Before you could even answer, he had already walked to the counter with the book.

“Oh,” the bookseller smiled as she rang it up. “Has your wife finally made up her mind? Or did you help her decide?”

Law visibly bristled for the briefest instant.

Then something unexpectedly gentle flickered behind his golden eyes.

Contentment.

Perhaps even… pride.

If anyone had been paying close enough attention, they might even have sworn the corners of his mouth lifted.

“Yes,” he replied after clearing his throat.

Then, not without a trace of quiet satisfaction, he added,

“I usually have to give her a little push.”

After the Surgeon of Death once again insisted on steering you away from the rest of the Heart Pirates, despite your increasingly dramatic protests that your body would soon enter a medically critical state without its recommended daily intake of caffeine and sugar…

“Really?” he deadpanned. “And which highly qualified physician issued that recommendation? Would that happen to be… you?”

…the two of you eventually found yourselves strolling along the small harbor.

"Stop pouting," he said, taking your hand. "There's another bakery a little farther down. Or a café. You can satisfy your sugar addiction there."

You continued staring stubbornly ahead, cheeks puffed in exaggerated indignation after being denied coffee for the third time by your cruel, tyrannical doctor.

You refused to dignify him with a response.

Law sighed.

“Don’t be a brat.”

Then, after a brief pause, his voice softened.

“Here.”

He lifted your hand and brushed a kiss across your knuckles.

Then your palm.

Then your wrist.

Your heart stumbled unexpectedly.

You swallowed hard, trying not to let your emotions show, though a faint blush spread warmly across your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured almost too quietly to hear, looking at you through lowered lashes with those familiar golden eyes.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

You leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“I’m not upset,” you smiled. “I’m just hungry.”

He looked at you with unmistakable fondness.

Then a child’s cry shattered the moment.

A little girl had tripped while running along the waterfront and now sat on the pavement surrounded by several equally panicked friends, fresh tears streaming down her face as she stared at her badly scraped knees.

You had barely begun to step forward before Law moved first.

Doctor's instincts, he would insist later, using the same excuse he always reached for whenever he was caught doing something kind.

He crouched beside the little girl and attempted a few awkward words of reassurance, which, judging by the volume of her crying, achieved absolutely nothing.

By the time he reached for her injured knee to examine it, she had escalated into full-blown panic.

“I-It hurts! Help me!”

Law looked up at you with an expression that silently pleaded for rescue.

Kneeling beside them, you gently stroked the girl’s hair.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart," you said warmly. "He’s a doctor. There isn’t anyone better to help you than him.”

The little girl calmed almost immediately.

Almost.

"And I promise, he's a very good one," you reassured her.

She tensed again as the two of you carried her over to a nearby fountain to rinse the scrapes clean.

“So,” Law began in the calm, measured tone he reserved for patients, “first we clean the wound. Clean running water is ideal, like we’re using now. Before that, of course, your hands should always be disinfected.”

As he spoke, he carefully adjusted the pressure of the water while you held the little girl steady.

By now, she was listening.

“Next comes antibiotic ointment,” he continued, never quite meeting anyone's eyes as he concentrated on his work. “It may sting a little, but it will help prevent infection.”

The moment his fingers brushed the scrape, the little girl squeezed your hand tightly as you rubbed soothing circles over her back.

Then she leaned toward you and whispered in the wonderfully unsubtle way only children could.

“Why does he have such scary tattoos?”

You laughed.

“Him?” you whispered back conspiratorially. “They’re just part of his disguise. Otherwise everyone would realize what a softie he really is.”

The little girl giggled.

Law shot you an unimpressed glance over her head.

Which only made the two of you laugh harder.

By the time he finished wrapping the bandages, she had almost forgotten she’d been crying.

She took a few cautious steps, wobbling dramatically like a soldier returning from battle.

Both you and Law watched with poorly concealed amusement.

Then one of her friends called her name.

Miraculously cured, she broke into a full sprint.

Halfway across the square she turned around, cupped her hands around her mouth, and shouted,

“Thank you, Mister! Thank you, Missus!”

Then she waved enthusiastically before racing off again.

Law watched her disappear for several long moments.

There was something almost unbearably ordinary about all of this.

No desperate chase.

No terrified civilians running from the notorious pirate standing in front of them.

Just a scraped knee.

An afternoon spent helping because someone needed it.

The kind of insignificant, everyday moment he had almost forgotten people were allowed to have.

He looked over at you, took your hand again, and started walking.

“What a little actress,” he muttered with a quiet snort. “Did you see how fast she ran the second her friends called?”

A beat passed and he gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

“And stop telling people I’m a softie.”

He glanced sideways at you.

“It's unbecoming of a captain.”

At long last, after an entire day spent avoiding the crew and your relentless attempts to convince him to stop somewhere for coffee, the two of you finally settled in the garden of a charming little café run by an equally charming, endlessly talkative elderly woman, the sort who somehow seemed to know half the island by name.

While you flipped through the menu in search of something sweet, eyeing buttery croissants and every cream-filled pastry your boyfriend dismissed with open contempt as “just bread in disguise,” Law ordered onigiri without a second glance.

He shot you a look of pure medical disapproval when you completed your order with an alarmingly large mug of coffee, while he, in sharp contrast, took an unhurried sip of his green tea.

“How can you eat that much sugar?” he clicked his tongue, sounding less judgmental than genuinely compelled to lecture you. “You’re addicted. You think that’s what your body needs, but what you actually need is a balanced intake of protein, healthy fats, and complex carbohydrates.”

You rolled your eyes and stuck your tongue out at him.

“You’re boring.”

Then, just to make your point perfectly clear, you ordered a warm chocolate soufflé accompanied by vanilla ice cream, explaining that it would serve as dessert after your sweet meal.

Or rather dessert alongside dessert.

A breeze drifted in from the sea, carrying the scent of salt and gently lifting a few loose strands of your hair. It also carried your familiar, comforting fragrance to him.

Something tightened pleasantly around Law’s heart.

He found himself wondering how many years he would get to spend nagging you about things like this.

He imagined years filled with little moments exactly like this—years in which he would continue scolding you over your diet, continue reminding you to sleep more, drink more water, stop skipping meals, stop stealing caffeine in quantities no reasonable person should consume.

Hopefully forever.

Not only about those things, either.

About everything.

His long fingers wrapped gently around your hand, lifting it onto the table as he absentmindedly played with each of your fingers, tracing their shape as though committing them to memory.

You smiled, and the sight, still his favorite after all this time, made him raise your hand to his lips and press a lingering kiss against your knuckles.

“What a lovely wife you’ve got.”

The elderly owner had returned, carefully setting down your dessert and Law’s meal as if she’d merely commented on the weather.

Law nearly choked on absolutely nothing.

Across the table, you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

“You’re a lucky young man,” she continued, blissfully unaware that the infamous Surgeon of Death had turned every conceivable shade of pink.

His mouth opened.

Closed.

Opened it once more like a fish gasping for air.

“N-No… she’s not my…”

The words never came.

He realized there was absolutely no point trying to explain.

The old woman simply patted his shoulder before gently pinching his burning cheek, completely oblivious to the horrified look in his usually composed golden eyes.

“Take good care of her. Girls like that don’t come around often.”

Then she wandered off as though nothing unusual had happened.

For most people, nothing had.

Unfortunately for the world’s grumpiest doctor, he was very far from most people.

You couldn't hold it in anymore.

Laughter bubbled out of you before you had any chance of stopping it.

As Law listened to it, something strangely familiar stirred within him.

It was like hearing a melody he could have sworn he’d known once, long ago. One he’d forgotten somewhere along the way, buried beneath years of grief and survival. As though it had spent his entire life trying to reach the surface of his battered soul, only now finally breaking through.

“That’s right,” you teased between giggles, reaching across the table to give his flushed cheek a gentle pinch of your own before leaning in to kiss it. “Better make sure I don’t run away.”

Law let out something suspiciously close to a growl, unable to escape either his embarrassment or the situation. Crimson from ears to neck, he merely tightened his grip on your hand before leaning fully into your side.

His palm came to rest against your cheek.

Then, gathering every ounce of tenderness he possessed, despite how thoroughly “humiliated” he would later claim he’d been, he kissed you.

I wouldn’t let you go for anything in this world.

For the rest of the day, Law behaved differently, however subtle the change might have appeared to anyone else.

He walked just a little closer than usual, his shoulder brushing yours whenever the streets narrowed. Every so often his hand found yours for only a heartbeat before slipping away again, or his fingers grazed your waist as though reassuring himself you were still there.

Whenever the streets became crowded, he instinctively guided you around the busiest parts without a word.

And every time he spotted one of the Heart Pirates in the distance, he silenced them with a single look that clearly said:

Not today.

He already knew they’d make him pay for this later with relentless teasing.

After completing one last leisurely walk around the harbor, he stopped at an ice cream stand and, entirely of his own accord, bought you both a few scoops.

As though it were something he’d done a hundred times before.

As though this had always been your life together.

As though the two of you belonged not aboard a submarine endlessly sailing through the unpredictable Grand Line, but inside a quiet routine where afternoons like this simply… happened.

He knew, of course, that once you returned to the Polar Tang he would carve out moments like these whenever he could, however small they had to be, even if you insisted the two of you already had plenty of them.

Still, one quiet part of him mourned the fact that he couldn't devote every day to things like this.

Aimless walks.

Coffee dates.

Ice cream melting faster than either of you could eat it.

Bookshops.

Lazy afternoons with nowhere particular to be.

Long conversations unhurried by the next battle or the next destination.

Your hand finding his almost unconsciously.

Most people called moments like these ordinary because they believed there would always be another tomorrow filled with more of them.

Law had never possessed that luxury.

Perhaps that was why he already knew, somewhere deep inside himself, that if life ever granted him the unimaginable gift of letting days like these become routine, he would never allow himself to mistake them for something guaranteed.

Every single one would remain a gift.

Never an expectation.

Especially with you.

To bring your wonderfully ordinary day in the most ordinary little town imaginable to a close, the Surgeon of Death and his favorite person climbed the grassy hill overlooking the harbor, where the Polar Tang waited patiently offshore.

The town lights slowly flickered to life, bathing everything in warm gold and amber.

It felt like an evening borrowed from someone else’s life.

Something that had never really belonged to either of you.

Something temporary.

“It was nice pretending to be normal,” you said quietly, your voice carrying the faintest trace of melancholy. “I’m just happy you got to rest, even if only for a little while. Places like this are so rare.”

Law remained silent for a long time, his eyes fixed on the submarine in the distance.

“I wasn’t pretending.”

You looked at him.

He still hadn’t taken his eyes off the horizon.

“Maybe expecting a normal life isn’t realistic,” he murmured after a thoughtful pause. “Maybe that part wasn’t real because people like us aren’t promised ordinary.”

Only then did he turn to face you.

“But being here…”

He stepped closer until you could hear the hurried rhythm of his heartbeat answering your own.

“…beside you…”

His forehead rested lightly against yours.

“…that’s the most natural thing in the world.”

His voice dropped to almost a whisper.

“I don’t intend to spend a single day without our version of ordinary.”

When your lips finally met, the rest of the world quietly dissolved into nothingness.

Their hands found one another without urgency, moving instead with the fragile, trembling desperation of two people making a promise neither intended to break.

Even if time itself had stopped, Law didn’t think he could have pulled away.

By the time the Polar Tang had submerged once more and resumed its voyage beneath the sea, you were both back in his office, sorting through the paperwork you’d agreed—largely thanks to your insistence—to leave for tomorrow instead of working yourselves into the middle of the night.

You were stacking tomorrow’s reports into neat piles when Law came to stand behind your chair, resting a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I have something for you.”

He placed an elegant engraved brass bookmark into your hands.

Its surface bore a beautifully detailed engraving of your favorite painting from the museum.

You let out a quiet breath as your fingertips traced the delicate lines.

“It’s beautiful…”

“You always fold the corners of your pages,” your resident nuisance pointed out.

“I do not!”

“…You absolutely do.”

“I use whatever happens to be nearby.”

“I noticed.”

He looked unbearably pleased with himself, both for winning the argument and for making you smile.

You kissed his cheek.

“Thank you. I loved that painting.”

“I gathered as much,” he teased, a faint blush already dusting his cheeks. “You stood in front of it for nearly forty minutes.”

You laughed before wrapping your arms around his neck and peppering his cheek with several quick kisses.

“I love it.”

Then your eyes brightened.

“I have something for you, too.”

Law blinked in surprise as you placed a small decorated box into his hands.

When he opened it, his throat tightened.

Resting inside was a beautifully minted commemorative coin depicting the very episode from the town's history that had fascinated him most during your visit.

He turned it slowly between his fingers, thumb running instinctively along its worn edge, quietly overwhelmed that you’d noticed something so small, so deeply personal.

Not only had you remembered his strange fascination with coins…

You had honored it.

A hobby everyone else had spent years teasing him for, filing it away with all his other odd little obsessions.

What did I ever do to deserve you?

Several quiet minutes passed before Law finally spoke.

Perhaps the greatest gift he could offer in return wasn’t another object.

It was himself.

“My father bought me my first coin.”

You looked up immediately without saying a word.

“It wasn’t particularly valuable,” he continued softly. “Just an old coin from a market in Flevance. I kept asking questions about it, so he told me that if I wanted answers… I should start collecting them.”

A faint smile touched his lips, fragile enough that it almost disappeared before it fully formed.

“He used to tell me every coin had already lived an entire life before it reached my hand.”

His fingers intertwined with yours.

“After that, every time he returned from one of his business trips, he’d bring me another coin from wherever he’d been. That’s how the collection began.”

His gaze drifted somewhere far beyond the cabin walls.

“It eventually became a habit. A part of me.”

He fell silent again.

“Another invisible thread connecting me to my father, to my family and to everything I lost.”

He lowered your hand to his lips, kissing it once.

Then again.

And again.

“I’ve never added someone else’s coin to my collection.”

His thumb brushed gently across your knuckles.

“Until yours.”

Silence settled between you, warm and unhurried.

As the two of you made half-hearted attempts to finally call it a night, disentangling intertwined hands and hopelessly tousled hair proved far more difficult than either of you pretended.

As Law drew your lips to his once more, slow and impossibly tender, he found himself grateful—to the universe, to fate, to whatever force governed a world as cruel and chaotic as this one—that even amidst endless voyages, battles, and uncertainty, he had somehow been granted moments like these to share with you.

Selfishly, he hoped for countless more.

After so many years spent carrying grief that had hollowed him from within, his soul had finally found something capable of soothing it, something gentle enough to make him believe that happiness might not be a privilege reserved for other people after all.

You.

My little piece of peace lives in the depths of your eyes, in the sound of your voice, and in the smile that brightens your face.

You noticed. Of course, you noticed. You noticed everything about him: the small smiles he tried to hide when Bepo did something cute, the blush that crept over his cheeks when you held his hand in public, the pride that washed over his face when he took a moment to take in his crew and reflect on how incredible they were and how lucky he was to have them. So when he got quiet yesterday, you noticed. This wasn’t his normal quiet: his pretending to be annoyed quiet or focused on a task quiet. The last day and a half, Law had been quiet in a way that sent a sinking feeling to your stomach. He seemed lost in his own mind, shackled by his thoughts, haunted by memories. When you tried to help, though, you kept getting the same response.

“I’m fine,” he said curtly. “Just tired.”

“Do you wanna come to bed? I don’t think I’ve seen you sleep in d-“

“No.” He said it like it was never an option. Seeing your face fall slightly, he lightened his tone. This wasn’t your problem after all. “No, I just need to finish this up.”

You took a breath, trying to find the words to say, to encourage him to open up, to let you in, but Law was Law. You knew he would come to you when he was ready, if he was ever ready. You just hoped he wouldn’t let himself get lost in the meantime.

“Alright,” you gently placed a hand on his shoulder, to which his body immediately tensed up. You quickly removed it before finishing your thought, “Just, uh, come get me if you need anything, okay?”

With a stiff nod, he turned back to his work, and you left, sad that there wasn’t more you could do for him.

The distance, the insomnia, the cold and curt responses all continued. Each day, you tried to offer comfort or support or even just a smile. Each day, he dug himself further into his work, into his mind.

On the third day, you decided it was time to take a more direct approach.

“Law?” You slowly opened the door, the coffee swishing in the cup as you stepped into the room.

The lights were all on, but the room had never felt so dark. The air was oppressive with the emotions Law was trying so hard to keep buried deep within. As you took a hesitant step into the space you would have only yesterday been confident to waltz on into, he spoke.

“No,” he spoke, seemingly knowing your intentions before your hand had even left the doorknob. His words were firm, final. His voice was rough from not being used and heavy from the thoughts weighing him down.

“Law, please just let me—.” You walked closer, hoping he would see you just wanted to help.

He abruptly looked up, stopping you in your tracks. “I said no. I don’t need help. I don’t need pity.” He looked back down, raising his hand to continue writing. “Just,” he let out a deep sigh while briefly closing his eyes, “just go.” With that, he continued his note-taking, indicating the conversation was over, whether you wanted it to be or not.

With a frown and a deep bruise to your heart, you set the coffee down near his last cup which sat cold near the edge of the desk. You looked back to his half-hidden face and stood there for one moment more, hoping he might change his mind. After a few seconds of silence, except for the ticking of the clock and the scratching of his pen, you let out a soft and shaky breath before heading to the door.

As you gently closed the door behind you, the concern you felt came crashing down, mixing with the confusion of where you should even go and the frustration that Law wouldn’t let you help. Any other night, you would be cuddled up with Law as he pretended not to be sleepy or curled up on the couch next to his desk as he worked away into the night before gently carrying you to the bed when he could no longer evade sleep. But now, you stood outside his door, alone in the hallway, while he let the darkness suffocate him. All you could do was stare at the door.

Sure, you could go back to the bed that was technically yours in the cabin that was also technically yours, but those had stopped feeling like home months ago. You could crash in the common room or even the library; the chairs there were comfy enough and you had found some uneasy sleep there the last couple nights as you gave him space. You begged your feet to take you anywhere, to get you somewhere alone where you could freely break down. Your feet refused, and eventually your legs did too, as your body collapsed into silent sobs in the hallway outside of your soulmate's door.

‘What is going through his head? Why won’t he let you in, or at least let you stay? What can you do to help?’ Your thoughts were racing with concern, frustration, and deep sadness. All you wanted was to hold him, to tell him it was okay, that you were there, and that whatever was haunting him couldn’t hurt him anymore. Then a thought hit that physically had you doubling over. ‘What if this is all my fault? What if I’ve done something wrong? What if he’s upset because of me?’ You put your hand firmly over your mouth to ensure your sobs would not taint the quiet of the halls and disturb any of your crewmates.

Eventually, as the thoughts continued to circle and the tears kept up their steady flow, your body gave way to exhaustion. You fell asleep on the cold floor of the hallways of the Polar Tang.

***

Hours had passed since you had left. Law had read maybe two paragraphs and written a sentence and a half. His mind was not allowing him the space to think his own thoughts, let alone comprehend the medical jargon before him. He could barely keep his head on straight, let alone keep his pen from falling out of his shaking hands.

Frustration and exhaustion finally washed over him as he set down the pen and dragged his hands over his face. When was the last time he really slept? When was the last time he ate? When was the last time he talked to anyone? When was the last time he talked to—

You.

The vision of you coming in, bringing him coffee, trying your hardest to reach out and comfort him came flooding back. It wasn’t quite a memory, more like Law was watching a recording of events that had happened to someone else, a side effect of the dissociation he had been under the last few days. The last look you gave him, full of concern, sadness, and even defeat, made him nauseous. He had never wanted this to affect you. He never wanted his problems to become yours. All you had done was try to help, and all he had done was shut you down and push you away. He hated himself for it.

He knew the memories were tearing him apart. He knew he hadn’t been present lately. He figured he would get through it the same way he always did: with brute force, heavy dissociation, and keeping his eyes open at all costs. What he hadn’t expected was someone to want in, to want to help. He wasn’t expecting you.

Since your relationship had started, you had known Law was plagued by ghosts of his past. You had held him through enough nightmares to know that he had been through hell and back, but Law had been careful to keep you at a safe distance. To let you in just enough to tell you know he trusted you, but not too close as to fall into the pits of his mind. This relapse of memories, however, had left him paralyzed in his own mind. He wasn’t even sure how he was going to make it out, so he had decided to keep you safe, to keep you far, far away from the horrors that dominated his thoughts. ‘It’ll pass,’ he thought. ‘No need to worry them. It's better this way.’

But now, as he relived the last time he saw you only hours before, each moment of support you offered over the last few days seemed to flash through his mind. Each time he turned you away, told you he was fine, had left you looking more and more defeated and no less worried.

He knew he messed up. He didn’t know how to let you in, how to recount the awful memories and still look you in the eyes. He wasn’t sure he ever could, but he had to find you nonetheless. He had to let you know he needed you, that he still wanted you even when he was lost in his own head.

Law stood slowly, body weak from days of neglect. He made his way to the door, eyes passing over his empty bed, the bed you should have been in. His heart sank at the thought of you walking away from his space. ‘What if you never came back?’ His mind raced. He continued on, slowly and quietly opening the door, knowing the rest of this crew would be deep into their sleep at this late hour.

As he stepped into the hallway, his foot caught on a lump on the ground and he had to move quickly to catch himself from crashing to the floor. As he found balance, he looked down to see your crumbled figure stirring at his feet.

“Love…” He whispered, regret and concern lacing his words, “What are you doing down here?” He crouched down to brush hair from your face, letting you know he was there while subtly checking for any signs that something had happened. All he found were tear stains and puffy eyes.

“Law?” You spoke quietly, still coming out of sleep. “Are you okay?”

He left out a breathy laugh, “I should be asking you that. Why are you asleep on the floor in the hallway?”

“I… I didn’t want to leave you. I couldn’t leave you.” You spoke as you started to fully come to. “It didn’t feel right to be far away.”

He sighed as he cupped your jaw, taking in your sleepy face. He had caused these tears; he had caused the exhaustion painted under your eyes. He dropped his hand and hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Law?”

“God, I’m so sorry.” He teared up. You had never seen Law cry before.

You instantly sat up and held his face in your hands, trying to get him to look at you. “Hey, hey. Love, look at me.”

The moment he met your eyes, he broke down. You pulled him in, holding him close, soothing his back, and whispering words of comfort and support: “I’m here.” “You’re safe.” “I’m not going anywhere.”

Eventually, when the days of built-up emotions finally made their way out, and his breathing evened, he pulled himself back just a bit. Not being able to meet your eyes, he apologized once more, “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to deal with this, with me.”

“Law.” You spoke firmly. When he didn’t look up, you ducked down to find his eyes. “You are not something I 'deal with.’ You are the person I love, the person I want to help and support and care for in any way I can, in any way you’ll have me. You are not a burden or a bother. You are my everything.”

“I don’t,” he struggled to find the words. “I don’t want you to feel this hurt. I don’t want my past to ruin this present, to ruin you.”

“It won’t.” You spoke firmly. “I won’t let it. Law, nothing could change the way I feel about you. The hurt, the pain that’s suffocating you, I can’t take it away, I know that, and I can’t change the past, but I’m here now. You don’t have to tell me everything, you don’t have to tell me anything, you just have to trust that I will stay. You have to trust that I want to stay, that I want to help however I can. I can’t take the weight off your shoulders entirely, but I’d like to be able to share in its load. All I’m asking is for you to let me stay.”

Law hadn’t felt his love since his childhood, since his parents, since Corazon. Someone was witnessing him at his worst and still choosing him, loving him.

“I don’t deserve you,” Law said out loud, but not really to you, more to the universe as a question of its intentions and a prayer that you would not vanish before his eyes.

“You deserve the world, Law. I just want to be able to give you my small part of it. And to maybe stay awhile over in yours.” You ended with a small smile.

Your smile sent warmth blooming through his chest. He had missed that smile; he had missed you. Law pulled you close, holding you like you might disappear if he loosened his grip even the slightest.

Eyes closed, head nuzzled into your neck, Law spoke softly, “Room. Shambles.”

In an instant, you both were teleported onto his bed. He laid you both down, his hold on you remaining firm. You stayed like that for quite a while, tangled in each other's embrace. Eventually, as the rest of the crew rose to start their day, sleep enveloped the room, replacing the tension of the last few days with warm comfort.

With the last bit of energy he had left, Law whispered into the quiet room, “I love you.”

As you pulled him ever so slightly closer, you replied, “I love you, too. Always.”

You could have followed. He wasn’t in front of you anymore and it felt like something you should do. Desperately wanted to.

How long had you wrestled with the fear that they would never return? Days had felt like years as you walked a hole into the ground while you waited. Nobody dared talk to you for fear of your snap while you had waited. They barely got you to eat.

You looked over your shoulder at Kid and sighed, stepping past him to stand with the rest of the crew.

They didn’t comment. You figured they were just as confused as you.

Kid explained what happened in a short bark that told you nothing in detail. He looked everywhere but you as he spoke about a cursed devil fruit and another person they now had to watch out for when the waves got too high. The crew was furious. Their anger was loud enough to deafen but you were too busy waiting.

There would be time to be angry later – and you definitely would be furious – but for now, you just felt itchy. You had somewhere to be.

Kid looked at you, waiting and you shrugged.

“You two are back alive,” you said. “Rest doesn’t matter.”

“You’d better behave or – ”

“Don’t bother lecturing me about it,” you said. “You already know I won’t.”

“Wasn’t going to lecture you. Was going to threaten you.”

“You’re not very threatening when you look like you haven’t slept in a week. I’d probably be too fast for you to even catch.”

Kid glared at you but you weren’t lying.

“Did somebody hit you on the head when I was gone? Seems it killed the last bit of self-preservation you had.”

You smiled but the expression felt dauntingly wrong. He, at least, seemed normal. Short-tempered and agitated but that was far from unusual. It was more justified than the week before where he’d been upset at gulls for being noisy.

You took your time to find Killer again; found a spot at the edge of the skull and sat there for a time while the rest of the crew readjusted to the return.

Kid didn’t bother you with orders like he did the rest and you weren’t about to complain, lying and waiting until you grew bored with doing so. The common room had settled into its usual chaos already; voices overlapping beneath the groan of the ship while somebody argued loudly over cards somewhere near the back. None of it mattered much once you spotted Killer.

You didn’t hesitate before you made your way to where he was sitting, dropped next to him and settling your head on his lap.

He didn’t startle. Just quietly lowered a hand to rest against your ribs as he continued to read. You laced your fingers with his and let your eyes slip closed for a second.

Really, you cared very little at the moment about what happened.

He was home and that mattered far more.

Though, naturally, it didn’t take long for your captain to disturb your peace. His stomping arrival made you open one eye, blinking up at him as he marched his way over.

“Took you no time to be crawling all over him again.”

You waved your hand at him. “It’s my spot.”

“You’re taking up the whole seat.”

You stretched pointedly, extending your legs even further out until you really were. It really only seated three to begin with – two if they were the same size as Kid. “I know,” you complained. “We need a new one. A bigger one.”

“We don’t need a fucking bigger one. You need to stop using the whole thing. Move.”

You grumbled under your breath and rolled your eyes when Killer moved his book over in a way you couldn’t mistake. You shifted your weight and moved onto his lap instead, his arm supporting your back as you curled against his chest properly, head resting against his shoulder.

“You’re right, this is a much better seat,” you mumbled.

He hummed but didn’t respond. It was unusual for him to be quieter but it felt heavier than it had before.

Kid dropped heavily next to you, giving you a look that you returned in kind.

“Shouldn’t people come back less mean after they almost die?” you asked. “Have an epiphany and realise they love and value their friends?”

“Fuck off.”

“I’ve tried but you always come and find me before we leave an island,” you pointed out. “I know why though. It’s because you’d miss me too much.”

“Me?” he scoffed. “Don’t be stupid. It’s because Killer would be slightly annoyed.”

You lifted your head slightly to examine his helmet. It was quite scuffed, actually. You should offer to help him buff those marks out.

“Only slightly?”

“I might notice eventually.”

His voice was unexpectedly rough and yet, it sent a shot of happiness and relief through you so harsh that you almost bounced. Almost. You managed to wrangle it into nothing more than a smile but you had a feeling he knew.

Kid scoffed. “Only because it would be quieter.”

“Quieter? Half the time I can’t even hear my own thoughts over your own yelling and you’re worried about me?”

He said something you didn’t quite hear because under your shoulder, Killer’s chest tightened suddenly. You looked to him on instinct alone to see what was wrong and for a second, there was nothing. Then a short, choked laugh shoved its way out him and you realised.

The second followed louder and cruder. A few heads turned briefly before they realised what was happening and hurried to look back at what they were doing, almost forcefully.

Kid met your gaze before his attention moved elsewhere and you kicked his leg.

“Oi, I was ignoring you there. What did you say?”

“You were ignoring me?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I ain’t fucking repeating myself.”

Another laugh broke through Killer’s chest and he straightened, arm tightening around you to not knock you flying as he struggled to gasp through it; sounding far too much like he was fighting for air.

You slipped from his lap and made your way to the, thankfully close, galley to grab two glasses of water.

The laughter had only grown worse since you left and you put his glass next to him before you slid straight back onto his lap. His shoulders were drawn tight beneath your arm, chest rising sharply as though each breath had to fight its way in.

As much as he hated his laugh, it wasn’t nearly as terrible of a sound as he’d made it seem to be. Though you winced slightly at the rough, choking nature that accompanied it.

His arm settled across your legs again, drawing you back against his chest as the laughter gradually lost its grip. Even then, his hands stayed tight around you for another moment, as though steadying himself.

You took a sip from your water and offered him some, moving the straw closer to the holes in his mask so he could drink.

“Sorry,” he muttered, voice awfully raw.

“All good,” you said, pressing a small kiss to the side of his mask. “Nothing to apologise for.”

You nudged Kid again with your boot until he batted hard at your leg, easily antagonised into continuing your earlier conversation. It took far, far too long for Killer to relax back into his seat again but eventually, he lifted the book again.

The laughing did take some getting used to. Obviously, it did.

Everything else you’d learned about Killer throughout your relationship had come in its own time but his laugh had never truly arisen. It was strange to move from never hearing more than a soft chuckle to the spontaneous outbursts he now had. It startled you, sure, but never for long and never enough to make you move.

The only time it drove you to behaving differently was you now consistently brought water around with you just in case, drinking as though it was meant for you and yet always offering it the second the laughter ceased.

It didn’t take long for it to turn into background noise.

The Victoria had never been a quiet ship to begin with and the laughter quickly disappeared under the groan of metal or the shouts of the crew. You noticed it only because it made him uncomfortable.

And he didn’t stop you from continuing as you always had. If you found him with an empty glass of water, mask pressed hard into the palms of his hands as though he may break through it, he’d still shift back enough to allow you to climb into his lap and tell him eagerly about your day.

If you found him staring at his Punishers, waiting for the laughter to subside before he continued to sharpen them, he still huffed and chuckled when you paused in your day to smother kisses over whichever parts of him you could reach.

And when you strolled into his room early in the morning while he was getting ready, caught his arm and dragged him back down, he followed you with ease.

“Late night?”

“I hate morning watch,” you grumbled, curling up against him and asleep before your thoughts even finished.

You slept deeply until a harsh jolt rippled beneath your cheek, the sudden movement dragging you sluggishly back toward consciousness. Raising your head at the rough movement, you looked around with heavy lids, confused for a second before the first set of wheezing laughs escaped him.

A half-choked apology got stuck in his throat behind the repressed laughs and you shook your head, rubbing your hand over his chest.

“’s fine,” you mumbled and dropped your head back down to rest on him again, unbothered by the movement. “Do you have water?”

“Yes,” he coughed out between the rough barks.

“Okay.”

You pressed closer against him, back asleep before the laughing had stopped.

You woke up far closer to midday than you reasonably should have. Not for a lack of things to get done (you were definitely ignoring most of your responsibilities) but nothing would blow up if you didn’t get to it within the hour. You lifted your head to glance toward the window, make sure it was the same day, and then dropped again, ready to sleep.

Killer tightened his arm around you once before he nudged you gently. “I won’t be able to stay here the whole day.”

“Try harder,” you muttered. “I’m not awake yet.”

“Unfortunately, you’re nowhere near this coherent when you talk in your sleep.”

You huffed, half amused and half annoyed that your sleeping self hadn’t set you up better. Then you pushed yourself up into a seat, legs tucked under you but still pushing against his side as you stretched deeply. There was that usual strange twinge in your neck that you got from lying on his chest; it was almost comforting to feel it again even though it annoyed you.

“Did I keep you here for long?” you asked.

He shrugged and sat up too. “You’re fine. Kid came in complaining but not much I can do if you’re sleeping on me.”

“I agree,” you hummed happily.

There was silence for a while as you came back to reality. Killer didn’t really sleep in much so you must have really been half over him for him not to move.

“It really doesn’t bother you?” he asked.

You shrugged and stretched your neck. “No. Kid never bothers me. I know he thinks that he does but – ”

“The laughing,” Killer corrected with a slight wheeze of it punctuating his point. “I woke you up earlier.”

You paused, blinking to remember if you had or not. Your brain brought back a blurry reminder of it as you thought.

“No,” you said.

“That’s it?”

“Should there be more?” you asked. “I can drag the word out if you want.”

He huffed and you moved to stand. Killer caught your arm before you could, pulling you back to him with a light tug. You didn’t resist, taking advantage of his invitation to settle loosely in his lap, thighs straddling his own and arms draped over his shoulders.

“Not what I mean,” he said.

You smiled and kissed the centre of his mask. “Then what do you want to hear? I don’t think you’re particularly interested in me saying I like the sound.”

“Because there’s no need to lie.”

“I’m not,” you said. “I do like the sound. I just don’t like that it’s hurting you.”

He hummed.

You pressed another few kisses to his mask. “Trust me, it would take a lot more than a laugh to bother me,” you said. “You know… it’s not that late in the morning. We could spend more time together and nobody would notice.”

“Kid would.”

“Maybe we should let him walk in on us once. Then we’d be free of him interrupting. I don’t think he’d risk it.”

Killer sighed but didn’t seem too interested in your joking at the moment. He reached up to undo the clasps of his mask, moving it away without fuss. You smiled when you saw the handsome face you hadn’t gotten to see since his return.

Still frightening attractive even with the broad, unnatural grin split over it.

“That looks uncomfortable,” you said.

“It is,” he agreed.

You cupped his face between your hands, turning it slowly from one side to the other as though seeing him again after far too long. The stretched smile never softened beneath your thumbs, but the familiar warmth of his skin did. You leaned in without thinking, pressing slow kisses across one cheek, then the bridge of his nose, then the other until his nose scrunched faintly in quiet protest.

“Is this going to take a while?” he asked.

“You knew what was coming when you took off that mask,” you hummed, brushing your thumbs over his cheeks where the skin was stretched roughly from the smile. “You can’t show me a face this handsome and expect me to keep my eyes to myself.”

“As though you do that even when the mask is on.”

You laughed softly to yourself. “True.”

“Though the face is probably more smiley than you remember.”

His expression remained unchanged as he spoke but you watched the annoyance flash through his gaze as the words left his tongue. It spoke to the anger still coiled deep inside your chest and how you wished you had an opportunity to see those who caused him any kind of discomfort so harsh as this.

“It is,” you agreed and leaned in to kiss his lips softly. “But you’re still a damn good kisser and hot as hell so…”

“You’re ridiculous sometimes.”

You brought a hand to your chest playfully. “Me?”

Killer hummed and leaned back. You followed him immediately, hand moving back to his jaw to not let him run too far when you weren’t done appreciating him yet. He sighed but the fondness to it was undeniable, especially as you pressed kisses over his cheeks.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t like it,” he said. “I don’t like it. It’s not going to offend me if you admit it changes things slightly.”

You squinted at him and shrugged. “I don’t like that you don’t like it.”

“Not the point.”

“I mean, not much else I can say. You’re far too pretty for a smile to change much.”

He hummed. “You don't need to sit through it every time. I know they’re loud and disruptive. I wouldn’t take it personally.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay but if I moved away, I wouldn’t be touching you and I don’t think I could survive that.”

Killer chuckled then, one of the normal ones he always gave you. “Ridiculous.” The affection in his voice was almost smothering.

“So, unless you want me to collapse from the pain of it all, I guess I’m going to have to stay close.”

“Right.”

You smiled and dropped your weight more firmly into his lap, thighs squeezing tightly around him. “This is my spot,” you reminded him. “It’ll take way more than some laughter and a smile to move me away from it.”

“I’ve noticed that.”

“Good.”

Killer leaned forward, head resting against your collarbone as a laugh startled from his chest. It shook through you as you ran your fingers through his hair, more tumbling from him as he leaned into you.

You pressed a kiss to the side of his head, laughing softly alongside him, close enough to his ear that he could hear your voice mixed alongside his own.

And maybe it was your imagination, but they sounded nowhere near as painful when he wasn’t trying to keep them in.

Tags: @miwn8 ; @aceincase ; @chaeisrichnow

She had become his constant. His sanctuary. Someone who completely dismantled him, capable of settling the most persistent voices in his head. And by the time he realised what he was feeling, it was far too late to stop. Trafalgar Law had fallen in love. So much so that the thought of leaving her behind felt wrong.

Alas, the alliance had come to an end, just as it was meant to be, each crew charting their own course. But despite the distance between them, and Law’s on brand poor excuse for a goodbye, the two of them endured.

For the first time in a long time Law allowed himself to believe that maybe things could remain. That maybe not everything precious was destined to be taken from him.

Then came the next battle. The next clash. The next gamble. And the sea reminded him just how harsh the world could be.

xxxx

The Sunny sailed in an uneasy silence after a particularly gruesome storm had required all hands on deck. But now with the worst behind them, exhaustion had settled over the crew. Most of them had since fallen into slumber below deck, leaving Usopp to suffer the dreadful night watch all alone.

Alone, that is, until he spotted something small, and almost barely noticeable in the aftermath of a storm, moving purposefully towards the Sunny.

The fear that settled in his bones was almost instant, and within minutes he was screaming out for the rest of the crew’s attention.

A chorus of groans erupted from the now awake crew that slowly made their way to the main deck, bracing themselves for whatever was in store.

“Gh-Ghost!” Usopp yelled, leaning precariously over the edge of the railing.

“Usopp, if you woke us up because of some floating piece of driftwood, I will come up there and wring your neck!” Sanji yelled, emerging from the galley, an already lit cigarette hanging from his lips.

“N-No! There’s definitely something out there!” Usopp shouted, adjusting his goggles and peering out across the endless stretch of ocean. “Something’s swimming towards us!”

That got everyone’s attention. Luffy was practically ready to launch himself to the top of the mast. “What!? Who is it?”

“Swimming?” Nami frowned, rather wary of Usopp’s claim, “Out here?”

“Should we fire a warning shot?” Franky called out from near the railing, readying his robotic arm.

“Wait! There’s someone on their back,” Usopp squinted harder at the approaching figure. His voice wavered, shifting from worry to alarm, “they look injured!”

Y/N’s head snapped toward the ocean, a strange feeling settling in her chest, something she couldn’t quite explain. Unease? Or dread perhaps?

The shape drew closer, a flash of white moving frantically against dark waves.

A polar bear.

No a mink.

Usopp’s eyes widened.

“Shit!” His voice cracked.

“It’s Bepo!”

Everything stopped. For one brief moment nobody moved. Then chaos broke out on the Sunny. The crew sprung into action at the mention of a former ally.

“Get ropes!” Nami yelled.

“Move!” Sanji barked.

Y/N was already running toward the railing, pulse thundering in her ears.

Bepo was struggling. Every stroke looked laboured, desperate, as though pure determination was the only thing keeping him afloat, or keeping someone afloat.

Someone tall, unconscious, and wearing a familiar blue coat.

“Law,” the name escaped her lips before her mind could even register what she was seeing.

Within minutes ropes were thrown overboard, and Zoro and Sanji hauled them aboard while Chopper rushed forward with his medical supplies already in hand.

The second Bepo’s body hit the deck he collapsed, completely exhausted. His fur was soaked and tangled, and his expression was one of utter devastation. Yet even then, his first instinct was to reach for the nearly unconscious figure beside him.

“Captain…” Bepo gasped, “he needs help…”

Only then did the crew get a proper look at him, and the sight nearly stole the air from their lungs.

The Surgeon of Death looked nothing like himself. His signature hat was missing, his coat hung in shredded strips, skin pale and covered in blood. He was barely conscious, breathing shallow, ragged gasps, and pulse almost non existent. For a terrifying moment Y/N thought that he was almost at his end.

She dropped to her knees beside him, carefully brushing the blood matted hair away from his face. His skin was freezing.

“Law.”

As if hearing the sound of her voice, Law’s eyelids fluttered weakly, grey eyes flickering towards her with momentary relief. But almost instantly they dulled to a hollow vacant stare.

“Y/N…” Law rasped, eyes shutting.

“Shh…don’t speak,” Y/N cupped his face gently, “Just breathe. We’ve got you.”

With Zoro’s help, she carefully lifted him to his feet, most of his weight sagging against her.

For the first time since she’d met him, Trafalgar Law looked fragile, and that sight terrified her more than any storm ever could.

xxxx

The days that followed were a blur of antiseptic, sleepless nights and a suffocating tension that settled over the Sunny like a storm cloud that refused to pass.

Physically, Law and Bepo had survived. Chopper had guaranteed that, working tirelessly until they were both eventually stabilised; stitching wounds, treating infections and forcing enough fluids into Law to keep him from collapsing entirely.

The physical injuries, however, were the easy part.

While Law had spent most of those first few days unconscious, Y/N rarely left his side.

She sat by his bed through long nights, listening to the creak of the Sunny as it sailed through quiet waters. Sometimes she would brush dark strands of hair from his face. Sometimes she would simply hold his hand, completely helpless when his features would twist in pain, or a quiet, broken whimper escaped him during a nightmare he never seemed to remember upon waking.

All she could do was stay. Hoping eventually he would heal.

When Law did finally recover completely, the crew breathed a collective sigh of relief. Unfortunately, that didn’t make things any better. If anything, it made them worse.

It was almost as if he had retreated back to his stoic self. The sharp tongue returned, as well as the clipped responses, and a stubborn insistence that he was fine and didn’t need help. Along with everything else that made him, him.

Most of the crew took it as a good sign. But to the keen eye, the captain of the Heart Pirates was no longer the same.

Y/N knew better. Because this wasn’t the Law she knew from the late night conversations. This wasn’t the Law she knew who would argue with her over reckless plans. This was someone he pretended to be. A composed man who would not let the slightest emotion show. Someone desperately trying to convince everyone, including himself, that nothing had changed.

But everything had.

She saw it in the way he barely slept. The way at times she would catch him staring silently out at the ocean for hours, gaze fixed far beyond the horizon. The way he could never quite bring himself to look Bepo in the eye whenever the mink spoke to him. The way concern seemed to make him uncomfortable, his shoulders tensing almost imperceptibly, when someone asked him if he was alright.

It was as though the moment he allowed himself to acknowledge what he’d lost, it would make everything real, and he would lose whatever fragile control he was clinging to.

xxxx

Late one night, sleep refused to come. After nearly an hour of staring at the ceiling, Y/N finally gave up. Figuring she could at least keep whoever was on the night watch company, she quietly slipped out of the room and onto the deck.

The Sunny was silent, as it had been the past few nights. For a moment, she thought she was alone.

Then she spotted him.

Law sat against the railing near the bow of the ship, Kikoku resting against him. His head was tilted slightly upward, eyes fixed on the starry night sky, looking on with an expression of indifference.

“You should be resting,” Y/N said softly as she approached. Law didn’t look at her.

“I’m fine.”

The response was immediate, practiced. The same answer he’d been giving everyone, with a hint of annoyance that hurt more than she wanted to admit. But she sat down beside him anyway, the wooden deck creaking beneath her weight.

“You haven’t slept properly in days.”

Silence.

“You barely eat.”

Still nothing.

“And every time someone asks if you’re alright you look like you’re ready to throw them overboard.”

A faint twitch of his jaw was all she got. The closest thing to a reaction she’d gotten in weeks.

Y/N let out a quiet sigh, “You don’t have to keep pretending with me.”

Law’s grip on Kikoku slightly tightened, and for a brief second she thought he might say something. Instead, his gaze drifted to the ocean, shutting her out once again.

Carefully, she reached for his free hand. But the moment her fingers brushed his, he pulled away. Not harshly, just instinctively, as though he couldn’t bear to be touched.

Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Law.”

Nothing.

“Law, look at me.”

For several seconds he remained motionless. Then slowly he turned his head.

The sight nearly broke her heart.

His face was thinner than she remembered. He looked small, fragile. Exhaustion clung to him. And his eyes…dark circles laid beneath them, but they looked empty. Not tired, not even numb. Vacant.

Trafalgar Law somehow managed to simultaneously show every emotion he was feeling and also not.

“I…” The words caught in his throat. Y/N stilled.

Law frowned immediately, as though frustrated with himself for even speaking, his hand curling into a fist.

“I left them.” The words were so quiet she almost thought she’d imagined them.

“What?”

Law grimaced, trying to control his emotions. For a moment Y/N thought he would take it back, or pretend he never said anything. Instead, he stared down at the deck.

“I left my crew behind.” The words sounded almost clinical, detached. He was back to being the composed pirate captain she had seen far too often. A defence mechanism he’d relied on for years.

“A captain shouldn’t leave his crew behind.” His voice remained flat, controlled. “I’m meant to protect them.”

“You didn’t choose this,” Y/N tried to reason.

“No.”

For the first time something cracked, small and almost indiscernible.

“But I survived.”

His throat bobbed.

“And they didn’t.”

Y/N attempted to reach out for him again, only this time he didn’t pull away. Ice cold fingers wrapped around hers.

“We don’t know that.”

Law let out a bitter laugh, a humourless sound. Then he looked at her. No mask on, just Law - exhausted, heartbroken, and lost.

“I don’t know if they’re alive.”

Y/N’s chest tightened.

”I don’t know if they’re hurt.” His breathing became uneven, a sudden tremor in his hands.

“What if they think I abandoned them?”

The question was so quiet, that Y/N almost missed it.

“Law you didn’t abandon them.”

His jaw clenched as he looked away, eyes squeezing shut as he still tried to hold himself together.

“But I left them.”

His breathing hitched, the words getting harder for him to force out.

“I left them.” He repeated.

Y/N noticed tears brim his eyes. They had appeared so suddenly that she didn’t know if even he realised they were there.

“I left my friends behind.”

And just like that, the fragile wall he’d spent so long building finally shattered.

Law lurched forward, arms wrapping around her waist, pulling Y/N in with a sudden desperate need, as though he was drowning and she was the only thing that could keep him afloat.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, grip tightening. The sound that tore from his throat next was raw and guttural. Law didn’t just cry; he broke. His entire body shook, wracked by violent, uncontrollable sobs. He was grieving with every fibre of his being.

No longer the Surgeon of Death, but a man who had lost too many people, and couldn’t bear losing anymore.

Y/N’s arms wrapped around him in a tight embrace. “You fought for them. You did everything you could.”

“It wasn’t enough!” he screamed into her skin, his voice muffled but piercing.

“It’s…it’s never been enough.”

His fingers curled tighter against her back, as if she too would vanish if he didn’t hold onto her. She could feel tears soaking into the fabric of her shirt.

Law never cried. Not like this. Not when anyone could see. Yet now it seemed that the years of anguish were pouring out all at once.

“I promised myself…” his voice caught in his throat, “After everything…after Cora-san,” he let out a soft whimper, inhaling heavily, “that I would protect every…” his voice drifted off, unable to finish his sentence, grief lodging itself somewhere in his throat.

“Why does this keep happening?”

The question wasn’t directed at her. It wasn’t directed at anyone. But if the universe knew the answer Law was desperate to know why.

For years, he had carried the weight of every person he had failed to save. Every decision. Every sacrifice. Every loss they had faced that led to their demise.

And now, despite everything he had become, despite the years spent hardening himself into the man the world knew as the Surgeon of Death, he felt no different from the terrified boy from Flevance. The teenager on Minion Island. The man on Winner Island. All of them existing at once, crushed beneath the same unbearable agony. Powerless, helpless, and alone.

Y/N said nothing more. She knew words would no longer help him. Neither words of encouragement or comfort would erase his pain. Instead, she held him.

Held him while the sobs tore through his throat.

Held him while years of guilt spilled out.

Held him while he mourned.

Eventually, Law’s sobs faded into heavy, shuddering breaths, his grip around her waist loosening slightly. But he didn’t let go. His face remained pressed against her neck, breath warm and uneven against her skin. One of her hands threaded through his hair while the other rubbed slow circles against his back. Y/N placed a gentle kiss against his temple, a silent reminder that he wasn’t alone.

“We’ll find them,” she whispered.

Law didn’t answer. But for the first time since his arrival on the Sunny, he allowed himself to stop carrying everything on his own.

And when another choked sob escaped him, Y/N simply held him tighter, letting him break and fall apart in the only place where he felt safe enough to do so.

Law does not look up from the medical reports in front of him “No.”

“I didn’t even ask anything.”

“You yelled. Whatever follows is a problem.”

Shachi appears from nowhere and drops into the seat beside Penguin.

“It’s not a problem, it’s actually a solution!”

“It’s absolutely a problem.” Law says.

Bepo walks in carrying tea “What happened?”

Penguin points dramatically at the newspaper “We found science.”

Law already hates where this is going “Leave.”

“No.”

“That’s not a request.”

Penguin ignores him completely “Look at this.”

He shoves the paper into Law’s face.

Law glances at it, then glances again… then slowly lowers the newspaper… then he says “...Is this a love quiz?”

“It’s in the lifestyle section.” Shachi says seriously “As all important science is.”

Law pinches the bridge of his nose and sarcastically says “I became a pirate for this.”

Bepo leans over to read and his eyes widen “Oh.”

“Oh?” Law repeats.

“Oh.”

“Stop saying oh.”

Penguin suddenly stands on a chair “Today’s experiment is simple.”

“No.”

“We determine whether Captain is in love.”

“No.”

“With a certain person.”

“No.”

“Who definitely is our dear crewmate y/n.”

Law glares.

Shachi gasps dramatically “He didn’t deny that part!”

“I literally denied everything.”

“Not strongly enough.”

Law stands “I’m leaving.”

Penguin points at him “RUNNING FROM THE TRUTH.”

“I’m running from you idiots.”

Before Law can escape, Bepo gently grabs his sleeve “Captain…”

Law looks down.

Bepo gives him the saddest eyes imaginable “...Please?”

Law stares.

Bepo stares back.

Penguin and Shachi are holding their breath.

Finally Law sighs… a long, defeated sigh “One question.”

The room explodes.

“YES!”

“HE AGREED!”

“SCIENCE WINS!”

Five minutes later Law finds himself trapped at the table.

Penguin has a pen.

Shachi has the newspaper.

Bepo has become the official emotional support bear.

The rest of the crew around are pretending not to listen. Pretending very badly.

Shachi clears his throat “Question one.”

Law already regrets everything.

Shachi reads dramatically “First of all, do you have a specific person in mind before starting this test?”

Penguin immediately checks a box “Yes.”

Law blinks “You didn’t even let me answer.”

Penguin looks offended “Captain.”

“What?”

“We’re doing this for a reason.”

Shachi nods “It would be weird if you didn’t have y/n in mind.”

“You don’t know if I do.”

The entire room stares at him.

Penguin marks the answer harder “Definitely yes.”

Law considers murder… just a little.

“Question two.”

Shachi sits up straighter “Could you spend six months on an isolated island with no one else but them?”

Law immediately frowns “What kind of question is that?”

“A powerful one.”

“There are options.”

Penguin points at the paper “Option one: Yes, and I would enjoy it. Option two: It would be difficult, but I could do it. Option three: I don’t think I could survive that with anyone.”

Law doesn’t answer immediately, which is already suspicious.

Shachi notices first “Oh?”

Law ignores him.

He taps his fingers against the table.

An isolated island.

Six months.

No crew.

No pirates.

No newspaper.

Just…

His thoughts stop before THEM reach your name, but unfortunately his silence lasts too long.

The crew is watching and waiting.

Law sighs “Yes.”

The room goes silent.

Penguin slowly turns toward Shachi. Shachi slowly turns toward Penguin. Both grin wildly.

Penguin checks the first option “Yes, and I would enjoy it.”

Law immediately points at the paper “I didn’t say I’d enjoy it.”

“Oh?”

“I just said yes.”

Shachi leans forward “You’d spend six months alone with them.”

“Yes.”

“In a tiny hut on an isolated island.”

“Yes.”

“No books.”

“Yes.”

“No one else.”

“Yes.”

Shachi raises an eyebrow “You’d hate it.”

Law opens his mouth, then pauses for a second too long “...No.”

The word is almost a whisper.

The room freezes.

Bepo’s jaw drops.

Penguin drops the pen.

Someone at the other side of the room chokes on water.

Law realizes what he said.

Shachi slowly places both hands on the table “Captain.”

“No.”

“You would enjoy it.”

“No.”

“You literally just—”

“No.”

Penguin checks the answer anyway, very aggressively.

“This quiz is stupid.”

“Question three!”

Law groans.

Shachi reads “Imagine your partner became wildly successful and always had a lot of attention on them, comparatively making you constantly in their shadow.”

Law already hates the wording.

“How would you feel?”

Penguin reads the options “Option A: Incredibly proud. Option B: Proud, for sure, but maybe a little inadequate with myself, too. Option C: I think, in all honesty, I wouldn’t like that sense of inequality.”

Law stands “I’m leaving.”

“Nope.”

“I’m serious.”

“So are we.”

“This is ridiculous.”

Bepo looks up from the paper “Captain?”

“What?”

“If, for example, y/n would defeat some big pirate…”

Law freezes for a moment, but everyone sees it.

Bepo smiles “Captain would be proud.”

The room becomes silent.

Law looks at the door, then at the table, then at Bepo… then away.

But he doesn’t leave.

Penguin slowly reaches for the answer sheet “Silence means yes.”

Law doesn’t argue, because somehow arguing right now feels worse.

Shachi points dramatically “Option one!”

The box gets checked.

Law immediately grabs the newspaper “How many questions are left?”

Penguin grins “A lot.”

Law’s eye twitches “A lot?”

“A terrifying amount.”

“I hate this test.”

Shachi leans back in his chair “Oh, Captain.”

“What?”

“We’re only getting started.”

From somewtheme behind them, a familiar voice speaks “Getting started with what?”

The entire crew freezes.

Law nearly drops the newspaper.

Because standing in the doorway is you, looking confused and holding a stack of supplies.

Penguin slowly covers the answer sheet with both hands.

Shachi smiles far too brightly “Nothing.”

You narrow your eyes “Why does it feel like you’re lying?”

Law immediately stands “Good question.”

You look at him, he stops and you smile at him “I’m going back into my shopping, do you need something? Any clothes? Books?”

Shachi speaks first “Why are you only asking him?? We might need something too.”

You look at him with disgust “You can go get them yourself if you need something.”

He gasps “Captain could go himself as well, you’re being unfair!”

You fight back “Or maybe he has Captain things to do? You are useless so what do you even have to do—”

You two fight for a while then Law tells you “I don’t need anything, don’t worry.”

You nod and leave after punching Shachi, too soft to hurt but Shachi is dramatic, so that was enough.

The door closes behind you.

Silence.

Then someone says… or better yells “CAPTAIN IS SO IN LOVE.”

Law closes his eyes “I hate all of you.”

Penguin looks down at the newspaper “No time for hate.”

“There is always time to hate you.”

“Question four!”

Shachi clears his throat dramatically “Do you think this person is special?”

He reads the answers.

“Option A: Yes, I feel lucky to know them. Option B: Yeah, to me. Option C: Maybe not ‘special’, but they’re definitely a good person.”

Now, he fastly add “To be honest I don’t understand, they’re annoying and stupid. They’re not special at all…”

Law looks at Shachi with disgust “You’re the annoying and stupid one.”

Shachi gasps and adds “Defensive, aren’t we??”

Law looks at the wall, the wall is suddenly fascinating.

“Captain?” Penguin asks.

Law sighs… a long sigh.

Finally he speaks “they're…”

The room waits.

“...Y/N.”

Silence.

The crew stare.

Law frowns “What?”

Nobody answers.

Penguin slowly turns toward Shachi, who slowly turns toward Penguin. Then both look back at Law.

Penguin nods “Yeah.”

Shachi nods too “Definitely.”

Law narrows his eyes “Definitely what?”

Penguin checks a box “‘Yeah, to me.’”

“What?”

“That’s what that means.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“It absolutely is.”

“You asked if they're special.”

“Exactly.”

“And?”

“And you answered by saying that they're Y/N… which means they're special to you.”

Shachi says “Yeah, or you would have said they're annoying, like you do with us.”

Law's eye twitches.

Shachi points at him “Special.”

Law decides silence is safer.

Unfortunately, silence is apparently an answer today.

“Next question!”

Law regrets staying.

Penguin reads “How does the idea of… sleeping with them, and only them, for the rest of your life make you feel?”

The room becomes very quiet.

Very, very quiet.

Even Shachi stops smiling.

Bepo coughs.

Clione, whose silence in the room, nearly falls off a chair.

Law immediately says “I ain’t answering this.”

His answer comes so fast everyone starts laughing.

“Captain’s ears are red.”

“They are not.”

“They are.”

“They absolutely are.”

Law pulls his hat lower, but unfortunately it does nothing for his ears.

Shachi looks at the options and reads them “A: I should be so lucky!! B: I’d rather only sleep with them than not sleep with them at all. B: I’d rather only sleep with one person than potentially not sleep with anyone at all. C: I don’t think I could do that, to be honest.”

Nobody knows what to do or say, so the room falls into deep thoughts.

Finally Shachi speaks “Okay…”

“No.”

“Let’s think with Captain’s brain.”

“Don’t.”

“He doesn’t care much about that stuff.”

Bepo nods “That’s true.”

“So normally,” Shachi continues, “he wouldn’t care.”

“Correct.”

“But.”

Everyone looks at Law and Law looks away.

“But,” Shachi repeats, “he’s obviously completely gone for Y/N.”

“I’m not.”

Nobody listens.

“So…”

The whole crew think. Penguin thinks. Bepo thinks. Jean Bart somehow thinks.

Then “Oh.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“That makes sense.”

Everybody nods together.

Penguin checks the first answer “I should be so lucky!!”

Law stares at the paper, then at them.

He sighs… a very tired sigh.

But he doesn’t leave.

“Next question!”

“Please stop.”

“Can you name their favourite food, book, and music?”

The room immediately turns toward Law.

Law blinks “What?”

Shachi lowers the newspaper “Captain.”

“What?”

“You know all of them, don’t you?”

Law answers without thinking “their favourite food changes every few months and depends on their mood, but currently it’s—”

The room erupts “HE STARTED ANSWERING.”

“He actually knows!”

“Current favourite food?!”

Law immediately stops talking and looks at the wall, but it’s way too late.

Penguin is already checking the box “I don’t need to hear more.”

Law buries his face in one hand.

The quiz continues.

Shachi reads the next one “Do you think that this relationship is special and unreplicable? Yes, definitely. Or… I think it's a good relationship, but ultimately there are many people with whom I could have a good relationship.”

Shachi doesn't even finish reading that he checks the first box “There.”

Law looks up “You didn’t even ask.”

“I didn’t need to.”

“You absolutely did.”

Shachi points at him “Same logic as before.”

“That isn’t logic.”

“It is.”

“It isn’t.”

“It is.”

Penguin joins him “You only care about Y/N.”

Law looks offended “You’re all here and alive, aren’t you.”

The room immediately becomes emotional.

“Aww.”

“Captain.”

“He cares.”

Law immediately regrets speaking.

“But.” Sahchi raises a finger “Not like he cares about Y/N.”

The emotional moment dies instantly.

Law wishes for a sea king attack “Last question on this page.”

“Thank God.”

Penguin reads “they got a new job offer that meant they’d have to be in a totally different part of the world for eighteen months.”

Law already hates this.

“What would you do?”

He reads the answers.

"A: We’d do long distance, or maybe I'd even move with them. We’d make it work. B: I would give long distance a go, maybe reassess in due course. C: I would ask them not to do it. D: I wouldn’t stop them from going, but we’d probably break up."

Law immediately frowns.

"We’re pirates in the same crew, they works with me."

The room freezes.

Penguin's grin slowly grows dangerously.

“We’re pirates in the same crew…” he repeats.

Law is confused, because isn’t that obvious?

So he answers “Yes.”

“Same crew.”

“Yes.”

“Working together.”

“Yes.”

“Every day.”

“Yes.”

“WITH you.”

Law closes his eyes and the room explodes.

“HE SAID WITH ME.”

“NOT FOR ME.”

“WITH ME.”

“THAT’S SO CUTE.”

Law seriously considers jumping into the ocean.

Bepo smiles “I think the second answer is better in our case.”

Everyone pauses and then nods.

“Yeah.”

“That's reasonable.”

“Very healthy.”

Penguin checks the box.

Law doesn't even bother arguing anymore. He has lost control of this situation completely.

Shachi looks down at the end of the page, then he slowly smiles “Oh.”

Law immediately doesn't like that smile “What?”

“Oh no.”

“What?”

“There are more questions.”

Law stands “I’m leaving.”

“Captain—”

“I'm leaving.”

“Captain, wait.”

“No.”

“Just two! And then there’s a result section.”

Law stops.

“Don't you want to know your score?”

Law stares “...Maybe.”

The crew immediately scream.

After a few minutes… Law should have left. That is the only thought running through his head. He should have left after the first question.

Or the second.

Or when Shachi and Penguin started answering for him.

Instead he’s still here, sitting at the table. Watching his dignity sink deeper and deeper into the ocean.

Penguin clears his throat “Second-to-last question.”

“Thank God.”

“Do you find yourself daydreaming about them and smiling?”

Penguin reads the answers “Literally all the time! Or… Definitely when we first met; less now but it still happens on occasion, especially when they're away. C: No, I’m too busy. D: That's lame as hell.”

Law immediately answers “No. I’m too busy.”

The answer comes so fast that nobody even finishes reading the options.

The room falls silent, then—“Bullshit.”

Law points at Penguin “Oi.”

“Bullshit.”

“Shachi.”

“Bullshit.”

“Bepo?”

Bepo looks guilty “...Maybe a little? …Sorry.”

Law stares.

Bepo immediately looks away.

Shachi suddenly points “Question. When Y/N goes on supply runs alone, what do you do?”

Law frowns “What?”

“What do you do?”

“Work.”

“Liar.”

“I work.”

“You stand near the window.”

Law opens his mouth and closes it.

“Aha!”

“I stand near the window because it's a window.”

The room explodes with laughter.

Penguin wipes tears from his eyes “Captain.”

“What?”

“Last month Y/N was gone for three hours.”

“So?”

“You checked the time seventeen times.”

Law freezes “...Who counted?”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“I was curious. Plus, when they were back you totally stopped. And I tried to see if you do the same when it’s someone else going alone. You checked three times for Bepo and ZERO for the rest.”

“That’s disturbing of you.”

“Not as disturbing as staring out the window for three hours.”

Bepo scratches his cheek “And you smile when they bring you books.”

Law immediately looks at him “I do not.”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

“You really do.”

“I don’t.”

“You get a little smile.”

‘I don’t.”

“A tiny one.”

“I don’t.”

“A really tiny one.”

Law looks around and sees that nobody is agreeing with him, not even a single person.

Shachi checks the first answer “Literally all the time.”

Law drops his forehead onto the table.

“Last question!”

“Please let it end.”

Penguin reads “Is they your best friend?”

Law immediately regrets staying again.

“A: yes, absolutely. B: they're one of my best friends. C: no, someone else is my best friend.”

Before Law can speak, Shachi shouts “Obviously not!”

Penguin gasps “What do you mean obviously not?”

“I’m his best friend.”

Bepo calmly says “I’m his best friend.”

“No, me.”

“No, me.”

“No, me.”

The room descends into chaos and everyone starts arguing.

At some point Jean Bart claims he’s Law’s best friend. At another point someone says Law doesn’t have friends and Law says that’s the most accurate thing he’s heard all day.

Nobody listens.

“Captain likes me more.”

“No, me.”

“He trusted me with medical supplies once.”

“He asked me to close the door.”

“He told me good job.”

“He also told you to stop talking.”

“That’s basically affection from him.”

The argument somehow lasts five whole minutes.

Law sits there, dead inside.

Finally Bepo raises both paws “Okay!”

The room quiets.

Bepo looks at the newspaper, then at Law.

Then back at the paper “I think we should just put the second answer.”

Everyone pauses, then nods.

“Fair.”

“Yeah.”

“Reasonable.”

“I can live with that.”

Law isn't even asked.

The box gets checked.

And finally.

Finally.

The questions are over.

The crew stare at the paper.

Shachi rubs his hands together “Oh boy.”

Penguin grabs a pencil “We have to calculate the score.”

Law immediately stands “I’ll stop here.”

Bepo gently pushes him back into his chair “Captain, we’ve come this far.”

“I haven’t.”

“You have.”

“I really haven’t.”

“You have.”

For several minutes the crew add points.

Then argue about points.

Then add more points.

Then argue again.

Law has absolutely no idea what they’re doing, he isn't sure they know either.

Finally.

Penguin slams both hands onto the table “WE HAVE THE RESULTS.”

The entire submarine goes quiet.

Even people who weren't involved are now listening.

Shachi clears his throat.

Bepo looks excited.

Law looks like he's preparing for execution.

Penguin stands, unfolds the newspaper dramatically and then he reads “YES, YOU’RE MADLY IN LOVE!”

The room explodes.

“YOU ARE DEEP IN THE THROES OF LOVE.”

“WHAT YOU HAVE IS VERY SPECIAL AND NEEDS NURTURING.”

“WHICH YOU HAPPILY GIVE IT.”

Silence.

Then—“CAPTAIN’S IN LOVE!”

“CAPTAIN’S IN LOVE!”

“CAPTAIN’S IN LOVE!”

Law’s face goes completely blank.

“Congratulations, Captain.”

“Shut up.”

“When’s the wedding?”

“Shut up.”

“Can I be the best man?”

“Shut up.”

“I called it months ago.”

“Shut up.”

Bepo is smiling so hard his cheeks hurt “You really love Y/N, Captain.”

The room quiets a little, because unlike everyone else, Bepo says it sincerely, without any teasing.

Law opens his mouth, ready to deny it, but this time the words don't come, because suddenly he remembers you asking if he needed anything, you bringing him books without him asking, the way you always save a seat for him, the way you smile when he actually takes a break, the way the submarine feels different whenever you're not there.

“...Captain?” Bepo asks softly.

Law looks away and pulls his hat down a little lower and mutters “...It’s a stupid quiz.”

The crew scream.

Because that is not a denial.

“I KNEW IT.”

“THAT COUNTS.”

“CAPTAIN’S IN LOVE.”

Law gets up and the crew immediately start running, and as chaos fills the Polar Tang, the newspaper remains forgotten on the table.

The result still visible, with a big circle around the final answer.

YES, YOU’RE MADLY IN LOVE.

Law says nothing for about ten seconds, then he snatches the newspaper from Penguin's hands.

The room goes silent.

Penguin blinks “Captain?”

Law flips back to the first page “I’m doing it again.”

Silence.

Then the entire crew bursts out laughing “YOU CAN'T RETAKE LOVE.”

“I CAN RETAKE A STUPID QUIZ.”

Shachi falls to the floor dramatically “He's in denial!”

“I'm not.”

“You literally got the highest score possible!”

“The questions and your answers were biased.”

“They weren't!”

“They absolutely were.”

Law slams the paper on the table “Ask.”

Penguin is crying “Oh my God, he's serious.”

“I'm serious.”

Bepo looks hesitant “Captain…”

“Ask.”

Shachi wipes tears from his eyes “Fine.”

He clears his throat dramatically.

“Question one. Do you have a specific person in mind before starting this test?”

Law immediately says, “No.”

The room gasps, then Penguin points at him “You answered too quickly.”

“I didn't.”

“You did.”

“I didn't.”

Shachi narrows his eyes “Captain.”

“What?”

“Who were you thinking about while waiting for me to read the question?”

Law opens his mouth and closes it.

Penguin aggressively checks the box.

Law glares “This is stupid.”

The second question somehow goes worse “Could you spend six months alone on an isolated island with this person?”

“No.”

Everyone stares.

Law crosses his arms “No.”

Shachi leans forward “You wouldn't miss Y/N?”

“No.”

“You wouldn't want to hear their voice?”

“No.”

“You wouldn't like having them all to yourself?”

Law freezes and here the room goes completely silent.

“...That's not what the question says”

Penguin slowly lowers his head onto the table.

Bepo covers his mouth.

Shachi starts screaming “CHECK THE ANSWER.”

Someone says “CHECK IT TWICE.”

“I HATE ALL OF YOU.”

After a few more questions, the answers barely change.

Actually… they get worse.

Because now Law is answering himself, and unfortunately, he's honest.

Ten minutes later Penguin finishes counting.

Law crosses his arms “Well?”

Penguin is shaking.

Shachi is on the floor again.

Bepo looks apologetic “...Captain.”

“What.”

“You scored…”

He flips the page.

YES, YOU'RE MADLY IN LOVE.

And underneath one of the idiots wrote:

YOU ARE EVEN MORE IN LOVE THAN BEFORE, YOU GOT A 100/100!

Silence.

Law stares, then grabs the newspaper and flips it upside down, as if maybe the result will change.

He flips it back.

Bepo smiles sheepishly “I think... maybe it's accurate?”

Law stares at the page a little longer, then quietly mutters, “...This quiz is a scam.”

“THAT'S NOT A DENIAL.”

“SHUT UP.”

By now there are papers everywhere.

Crossed-out answers.

Ink circles.

Notes.

Arguments.

At one point Shachi has written: HE’S IN LOVE

Across an entire page.

Law immediately threw that page away, but unfortunately someone picked it back up.

Penguin dramatically points at the final score.

But before he can even say something, the door opens.

“Oh. You’re all still here?” your voice echoes through the room.

Everybody freezes.

You stand in the doorway carrying several shopping bags.

Your eyes travel across the disaster in the room.

“...Should I ask?”

Nobody answers.

You slowly walk into the room, looking around. More confused with every step.

Law immediately speaks “It’s nothing.”

You look at him, then at the room and then back at him.

“It’s clearly something.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“It’s not.”

You look at the others “What’s going on?”

The entire crew suddenly becomes very interested in the ceiling… but also the walls, the floor… literally anything except you.

You narrow your eyes and give them the kind of look that has made grown pirates confess crimes they didn't even commit.

“What. Did. You. Do.”

Shachi breaks first, predictably “IT WAS PENGUIN’S IDEA.”

“TRAITOR!”

And suddenly everyone starts talking.

“There was a quiz.”

“A love quiz.”

“He got full points!”

Law closes his eyes. The headache is becoming physical.

You blink. Then reach for the newspaper.

Nobody stops you.

You pick it up, look at the title, look at the answers, look at the circles and look at the notes.

Your eyes move quickly until you reach the result.

You stare at it for a few seconds.

The room is silent.

Then you look up, confused “...Who is in love with me?”

Silence.

Nobody moves.

Nobody breathes.

Nobody blinks.

Even Law freezes.

You look around, waiting.

Then Shachi suddenly points at you “You’re so full of yourself that you assume it’s about you?”

You slowly turn toward him.

The room collectively prepares for his funeral.

“Idiot.”

Shachi immediately regrets everything.

You point at the newspaper “There’s literally a note near the results.”

Everyone looks down and written in messy handwriting there’s:

HE LOVES Y/N AWWW

Shachi slowly lowers his head “Ah.”

You look back at the crew “So?”

Pause.

“Who is it?”

Nobody answers. Which is an answer by itself, because suddenly, every single person in that room looks at Law.

You follow their gaze and find Law staring at the floor.

The pieces connect.

Your eyes widen a little.

Law notices and his soul immediately leaves his body.

For a moment nobody speaks.

Then, unexpectedly, you relax. The tension leaves your shoulders. The surprise leaves your face and something softer appears instead.

You look at Law for a second, then you smile and tell him “I bought you a necklace.”

The room freezes again.

“What?” Penguin blurts.

You continue like nothing happened “It’s really cool.”

Law blinks.

You point at him “It’s totally your style.”

Nobody understands what's happening, not even Law.

“And don’t worry.” you raise a hand “I didn’t use the crew’s money.”

Shachi immediately nods “Good.”

“I used mine.”

“Even better.”

You smile proudly, then start backing toward the door “I have it somewhere between all my new clothes.”

Law is still staring, completely lost.

“So…” you point toward the hallway “I’ll give it to you later.”

A pause, then you smile at him again.

A little brighter this time “Bye!”

And before anyone can answer, you rush out.

The door slams shut.

Absolute silence.

The crew slowly turn toward Law.

Law is still staring at the door.

Penguin speaks first, very carefully “...Captain.”

No answer.

“Captain…”

Still nothing.

“Captain.”

Law finally blinks then quietly asks “...Do you think they figured it out?”

The room explodes.

“HE ASKED IF they FIGURED IT OUT.”

“they DEFINITELY FIGURED IT OUT.”

“they BOUGHT YOU A GIFT.”

“A PERSONAL GIFT.”

“A NECKLACE.”

“they CHANGED THE SUBJECT TO SAVE YOU.”

“CAPTAIN YOU ARE SO DONE.”

Law drops his face into his hands and sighs, regretting all his life’s choices.

The moment you close your bedroom door behind you, your brain starts screaming.

“Oh my God.”

You pace.

“Oh my God.”

Turn.

“Oh my God.”

Turn again.

You bury your face in your hands “What was that?”

You groan loudly and fall face-first onto your bed.

Then immediately sit back up, because that doesn't solve anything.

“He likes me.”

Pause.

“No.”

Pause.

“Maybe.”

Pause.

“Definitely.”

Pause.

“Maybe?”

You scream into your pillow.

A few minutes later you're still pacing.

The necklace sits on your bed, mocking you.

You stare at it and then at the wall, and back at the necklace again.

Finally, Ikkaku enters the room.

“Ikkaku, you’re here!”

“Oh no.” She says.

You stop pacing “What do you mean, ‘oh no’?”

“You're using your emergency tone.”

“...”

“What’s wrong?”

Five minutes later Ikkaku knows everything, the quiz, the results, the notes, the staring, the necklace and the panic.

There is a concerning silence on the other end “Just confess to him.”

You nearly choke “WHAT?”

“Confess.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“No.”

“Good argument.”

You throw yourself onto your bed “I can’t just confess.”

Ikkaku watches you and sits on the edge of your bed, “Why not?”

“Because.”

“Excellent point.”

You groan “Ikkaku.”

“What?”

“What if I’m wrong?”

A pause to judge your stupidity, then “Y/N.”

“What?”

“The entire crew practically pointed at him. He didn't deny it. And according to you, he looked ready to die when you figured it out.”

“...”

“He likes you.”

You cover your face “I hate this.”

‘No, you don’t.”

You hate how right she is.

Hours pass.

Dinner comes and goes.

You barely remember eating.

The necklace remains on your bed. Waiting.

Eventually, very late at night, when most of the submarine is quiet, you finally pick it up.

Your hands shake a little “Okay.”

You take a deep breath “Okay.”

Another deep breath and you leave your room.

Your heart is trying to kill you. Every step feels heavier than the last.

Eventually you stop in front of a familiar door.

Light still shines from underneath, of course he's awake.

You knock and he answers immediately “Come in.”

You open the door.

Law is sitting at his desk. Several books are spread around him. The usual.

He looks up and freezes.

You almost turn around and run.

“Y/N?”

“Hi.”

Brilliant.

Amazing.

A true master of conversation.

Law sets his pen down.

You walk forward slowly, but your eyes never leave the floor.

You stop in front of the desk and hold out the small box “The necklace.”

Law blinks, and then takes it “...Thank you.”

You nod, still staring at the floor.

The silence stretches.

Law notices and then he sighs softly… a tired sigh.

And says “Don’t worry about all that.”

Your stomach drops.

“It was just a stupid test they forced me to do.”

You don't move.

“They answered all the questions for me.” Law leans back in his chair “I didn’t even have a say in it.”

The words hit harder than they should.

You stare at the floor.

Law opens the box, inside rests the necklace. Simple dark metal, exactly his style.

A small smile appears on his face “Thank you for this.”

Your throat tightens.

You don't care about the necklace anymore.

Instead, very quietly, you ask “So the test…”

Law looks up.

“The results and everything…” Your voice gets smaller “Were just for their fun?”

The room suddenly feels too warm.

“So…” You swallow “It’s not true.”

Law's expression changes immediately, because now he's really looking at you and finally notices the tears gathering in your eyes.

The way you’re refusing to blink and the way your hands are shaking.

His heart sinks “Oh.”

For the first time all evening, Law understands.

He stands up quickly “Y/N—”

You immediately step back and his chest tightens.

You look down, still refusing to blink… trying so hard not to cry.

“I thought…” Your voice cracks.

You hate that it cracks but you continue, “I thought I had a chance.”

Law freezes.

Your fingers curl around your sleeves “But it was all just fun and games for the other idiots?”

The room becomes silent.

Law stares, for once, completely speechless.

Because somehow… you wanted there to be a chance… with him.

His heart pounds.

Then slowly, carefully, he takes a step forward and this time you don't move.

His voice is quieter than you’ve ever heard it, almost gentle “I agree with all the answers they gave in my stead.”

You finally blink and a tear escapes.

Law’s chest aches “And…”

He swallows, his eyes never leave yours “I agree with the results, Y/N.”

The world stops.

You stare and he stares back.

“I didn't say anything because… you know me, I was… embarrassed.”

A tiny smile appears.

“And because I was trying to figure out how they managed to know before I did.”

Another tear slips down your cheek.

Law reaches out slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. When you don't, his thumb brushes beneath your eye and wipes it away.

“You had a chance. You have a chance. Actually I’m the one who needs a chance.” his voice is barely above a whisper.

The corner of his mouth lifts slightly “Apparently I was just the last person on the submarine to realize it.”

You stare at him.

Your heart is pounding so hard you're sure he can hear it.

“So…” your voice is small “So you really…”

Law lets out a quiet breath. For someone who always seems to have an answer, he suddenly looks almost nervous “I really do.”

You laugh weakly through your tears, then cover your face “Oh my God.”

Law actually smiles, small and soft, but real.

“Oh my God.” you repeat.

“That’s your response?”

“I’ve been panicking for six hours.”

“Fair.”

You laugh again.

Then neither of you says anything, you just look at each other, and somehow that feels even more dangerous, because now there is nothing left to misunderstand and nothing left to hide behind.

The silence stretches, then Law sighs softly as if he can finally breathe normally.

And before he can think too much about it, he reaches for your wrist and gently pulls you closer.

Your breath catches as his hand slides to your cheek.

For a moment he just looks at you, like he’s still making sure this is real.

Then he murmurs “You know…”

“What?”

“For someone who basically read it, you’re the last one to find out…” a tiny smirk appears "You were pretty slow too.”

Your jaw drops “Excuse me?!”

Law chuckles.

The unfair bastard.

You barely have time to complain before he leans down and kisses you.

The argument dies instantly… your brain dies instantly too.

The kiss is soft and careful, like he's still giving you a chance to pull away… as if that's going to happen.

You grab the front of his shirt and kiss him back immediately. That earns a quiet laugh against your lips.

When you finally separate, both of you are breathing a little harder.

Neither of you lets go.

You rest your forehead against his chest “...The quiz was really accurate. It was basically science.”

Law groans “It wasn’t.”

You start laughing “It literally was.”

“It was a stupid quiz.”

“It was an accurate stupid quiz.”

“It was not.”

“It predicted your feelings.”

Law drops his forehead onto the top of your head “I’m never hearing the end of this.”

“Nope.”

“Penguin is going to be unbearable.”

“Yep.”

“Shachi is going to tell everyone he’s a doctor.”

“Absolutely.”

Law closes his eyes “Maybe I should just throw them both into the ocean.”

You grin, then tilt your head up and steal another quick kiss.

His expression softens instantly and suddenly neither of you cares very much about what the crew will say tomorrow.

Eplogue:

The relationship lasts exactly three days before the crew figures it out.

Which is honestly impressive (negatively) considering everyone was involved in that love test.

You don’t announce it and you don’t hold hands in public. You don’t suddenly become disgustingly affectionate.

At least that's what the two of you think.

Unfortunately, everyone else has functioning eyes and they’re nosy.

It starts at breakfast.

Law sits down first and a few minutes later, you walk into the mess hall.

There are at least twenty empty seats, but without thinking, you sit beside him.

Nobody says anything at first, because it's not the first time you sit next to him, but it's weird enough after that love test day.

So Penguin slowly lowers his coffee “...Interesting.”

The next day is somehow worse… you pass Law in the hallway and either of you stop or speak.

But your fingers brush for half a second.

HALF A SECOND but Bepo sees it… Bepo, who is absolutely terrible at keeping secrets.

His eyes become huge and yells”CAPTAIN HELD Y/N’S HAND!”

Law kinda panics “I DID NOT!”

“You totally did!”

“It was an accident!”

You panic as well “IT LASTED ONE SECOND!”

“SO IT WAS THERE!”

By the third day, the entire submarine knows, including people who weren't even involved in the original quiz.

The problem is that nobody tells you they know, they just become weird… weirder than usual.

Penguin starts making kissing noises at you everytime Law enters a room.

Shachi somehow becomes worse, like one morning he walks into the mess hall with his chest puffed out “Good morning.”

You look at him with disgust and ask “...Why are you smiling like that?”

Shachi places a hand dramatically over his heart “Please.”

You already don’t like where this is going.

“Address me properly.”

“Never, but go on. I want to see where you’re trying to get to.”

“That’s Doctor Shachi to you.”

“No.”

“The Love Doctor.”

You stare.

Law, who is drinking coffee nearby, slowly lowers his cup.

“You can’t just call yourself that.”

“I absolutely can.”

“No.”

“I literally united two souls.”

“You found a newspaper.”

“Details.” Shachi points dramatically at himself “I saw the truth before anyone else.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I did.”

“You literally thought Law was in love with his sword three months ago.”

The room explodes.

“I WAS GOING THROUGH A THEORY PHASE!”

A week later things somehow get even worse.

You walk into the mess hall and immediately spot Shachi waiting near the entrance and the second he sees you, he points dramatically “How’s married life?”

You freeze.

Law freezes.

The room freezes.

Then you grab the nearest thing you could find… “Oh, you’re dead.”

Shachi immediately runs “CAPTAIN!”

You jump over a chair to follow him “COME BACK HERE!”

“CAPTAIN, YOUR LOVER IS TRYING TO KILL ME!”

“That’s not my problem”

“IT SHOULD BE!”

The chase lasts almost thirty seconds before a hand catches the back of your shirt.

You stop and you turn around. Law is holding your shirt.

“Let me go.”

“No.”

“Law.”

“No.”

“Law.”

“No.”

You point at Shachi, who is currently hiding behind Bepo “His head is empty anyway.”

“I know.”

“Then let me hit it.”

“No.”

“Just two times.”

“No.”

“Once?”

“No.”

You cross your arms and Law sighs.

Then he pulls you a step backward before you can launch yourself at Shachi again.

The crew immediately loses their minds.

“DID YOU SEE THAT?”

“HE JUST DRAGGED THEM AWAY.”

“THAT WAS SO DOMESTIC.”

“I’M GOING TO THROW UP.”

Law's eye twitches.

You point at Penguin “You’re next.”

“THE LOVE DOCTOR WILL PROTECT ME!”

“NONE OF YOU IDIOTS IS A LOVE DOCTOR!”

Shachi gasps dramatically “Excuse me? I’m the greatest romantic genius of our generation.”

“No.”

“I diagnosed Captain.”

You narrow your eyes “You bullied him.”

“I guided him.”

“You harassed him.”

“I enlightened him.”

“You gave him a headache.”

The room is laughing so hard people are crying.

Even Law looks like he’s trying not to smile.

Then Shachi points triumphantly toward a wall.

Everyone turns, and you immediately regret it, because somehow… some way… the original newspaper quiz has been framed.

Under the final result someone (guess who) has written:

LOVE DOCTOR SACHI WAS RIGHT

You immediately grab something else near you again “Oh, now you’re definitely dead.”

“CAPTAIN!”

This time Law catches you before you even take two steps “Stop trying to assault my crew now.”

“I’m trying to improve your crew.”

“By hitting them?”

“Maybe it will make them smart.”

Law pinches the bridge of his nose.

You smile innocently, but nobody is fooled, especially not him.

A few minutes later the chaos settles down.

You end up sitting beside Law while the crew keeps talking, teasing, and generally making everyone's life worse.

Shachi is currently explaining his future plans “The Love Doctor’s Guide to Romance.”

“No one is reading that.”

“I’ll make Captain read it.”

“No.”

“I’ll dedicate the first chapter to you two. My first success.”

Law looks ready to slice him.

You laugh and lean your head against his shoulder without even thinking about it and of course the room immediately explodes again.

“OH MY GOD.”

“THEM'RE SO CUTE.”

“DOMESTIC.”

Law groans and you laugh harder, but despite all the noise, all the teasing, all the comments that you'll never hear the end of… his arm quietly settles around your shoulders.

The crew starts screaming again.

And somewhere in the corner, Shachi wipes away a fake tear “My work here is done.”

You throw a bread roll directly at his face.

Everyone cheers, even Law smirks.

But the Love Doctor survives.

—

when law woke up tonight, if he could even call it a “night” when the clock was showing 3 a.m., his breath irregular, almost hyperventilating if he wasn’t already. he felt the drop of sweat on his forehead, his white shirt glued uncomfortably to his torso, the blanket remaining on his lap as he sat up.

he looked around carefully, trying to ease his nerves while he pushed slowly his back against the headboard. cautious not to wake you up.

law glanced at you, hoping you wouldn’t wake up and see him in this state, almost teary.

your relationship were still fresh, even if you knew him for at least 2 years now. back when before going to punk hazard he explained to you, and the rest of the crew his plan, strictly going to defeat doflamingo. you didn’t know the what or why, but you felt like bepo, shachi and penguin knew much more than you, although you never dug too deep. they were childhood friends, after all.

you slowly stirred when you felt your boyfriend agitated against you, his movements quite clumsy.

“law?” you murmured softly, voice barely audible, before slowly acknowledging your surroundings.

he was sitting stiff next to you, throat tight. he didn’t trust his voice enough to answer, his tears at the bridge of falling.

shit. not now. not in front of you.

“hey, law? baby? what’s wrong?” you instinctively shifted your position, moving on your knees to look at his face, barely visible even with the moonlight faintly illuminating his face.

he simply moved his head left to right, shame flooding him. he was supposed to be strong, to be the anchor of his friends, not to cry pathetically because of a stupid dream.

pathetic. that’s what he felt, and feels. when he was ten and twenty-six.

but he got cut off from his negative thoughts, his mind had drowned into his memories of the donquixote family, before he felt smooth, soft and gentle hands cradling his face oh so lovingly. he felt himself relaxed for a moment, a kiss on his hair, hatless. a kiss on his temple, right on his hair. a kiss right under his left eye, the side you usually slept next to him, for a month now.

one hand, previously on his cheek, slowly, almost carefully, descended to the nape of his hair, nails scratching it. he let out a gasp he didn’t he was holding at the soft touch.

“my love, are you okay?” your voice echoed through his ears. it’s you, his dear partner, next to him, it is your voice echoing through his ears. its your lips on his face. it is your fingers scratching smoothly the back of his neck.

he was in your presence. with you. not with those rats.

a sigh. a small but loud one. he let his head carefully fell on your shoulder, almost cautious you’d back up for who knows why.

“a dream.” he mumbled, biting his lips. “a bad one.” he could simply mutter, not trusting his voice yet. he didn’t want to cry, not in front of you. he didn’t want to seem weak.

“you’re all tensed up, your shoulders are rigid and your voice is more.. wary.” you had said, ah. you are so observant, for someone stupidly reckless.

a pause. he couldn’t talk yet. just a bit, please don’t push it, don’t push him, please—

“law.. are you refraining yourself from crying..?” please..

he sighed, although it broke in a slight whimper.

before he could even acknowledge it, his face was pressed against your chest, cheeks near your heart. your soft heartbeats as gentle as your voice.

“there is something you’re not telling mee..” you let your voice trailed, while a hand brushed through his hair. a soft, not mocking, but mischievous voice.

how calming, he could even sleep right next on the spot.

only if he wasn’t crying.

he could feel your lips on his head, almost bitting his scalp lovingly. you didn’t know, but you made him feel so at ease.

he genuinely felt like he belonged here. oh, it feels great.

how come he never knew it felt so great, behind in your arms, being pampered. pats. kisses. please don’t let go.

slowly, cautious, to your dismay, he wrapped his arms against you.

he was careful at first, and then the embrace felt tight.

during that time, he had spent between crying, lowly but his shoulders were still spasming faintly, he was thinking about nothing but you.

did you seriously fell for him?

you fell for someone as complicated and flawed as him?..

he was once again taken from his thoughts when your hand, previously on his hair, went to his cheek. soft thumb brushing away his salty tear, then raising his head by tilting his jaw.

gentle caress on his cheek as you talked.

“law, could you please.. explain to me the reasons to this? im really concerned. i.. i never saw you like that so..-”

he chuckled faintly, his lips on your collarbones, not quite kissing, but there.

“you are concerned?” he asked, he dared to ask, little piece of shit, after crying for ten long minutes at least.

he sighed, as his hand brushed his eyes.

“im.. im sorry baby. i.. had a dream when i was.. with the other bastard in my childhood.” he didn’t dare to say his name out loud, but you know. you know him.

you nodded, your embrace as tight as his was.

“how.. how was it back then?” you finally dared to ask, your tone slightly unsure.

“bad. trash. shitty.” he mumbled, paused. “being dependent of a selfish piece of shit wasn’t really easy, being around people as bad as him, all of them being his lapdogs..”

he had continued, not mentioning cora yet,-

“hey.. law.” you murmured, voice adorably smooth.

“mh. yes?” he murmured back, letting himself get lost in your comforting gaze.

For the last few days, you've been quieter.

You don't laugh as much when Luffy says something stupid.

You don't sit with Usopp and Chopper during story time.

You don't even yell at Zoro when he falls asleep in random places making you fall everytime you don’t see him there.

Mostly, you just look tired. Very tired and also sad.

You try to hide it, but the crew notices anyway. Because they're your family.

“Hey.”

You blink.

Luffy is suddenly upside down in front of your face, hanging from a mast “...Luffy.”

“Yeah?”

“You scared me… Why are you upside down?”

“I wanted to see if you'd smile.”

You stare at him and say nothing “...”

He also stares without saying a word “...”

Then you finally answer him “...It didn't work.”

“Nope.” Luffy sighs dramatically “Darn.”

Later that morning, Nami crosses her arms “She's definitely sad. Something happened or something is making her think too much.”

Robin nods “Yes.”

Usopp gasps “You noticed too?!”

“Why are you surprised, everyone noticed,” Franky says “it’s SUPER noticeable.”

Chopper looks worried “Do you think she's sick?”

“I don't smell sickness on her.” Sanji says.

Nami looks at him disgusted.

Brook places a hand on his chin “Perhaps she is carrying a burden in her heart. Yohohoh! But how could I—”

Everyone looks at him.

Brook clears his throat “Not the time?”

Nami answers flatly, “Not the time.”

A secret meeting begins.

Well… as secret as it can be with Luffy loudly asking questions every thirty seconds.

“Operation Cheer Up!” Luffy slams both hands on the table.

Everyone jumps.

“THAT'S THE NAME!”

“Keep your voice down!” Nami snaps.

“SORRY!” Luffy says with a pout.

“You're still yelling.”

“Sorry.”

Nami sighs “Still yelling…”

You know nothing about the meeting.

And meanwhile, plans are already being made, that afternoon you're sitting alone on deck, just watching the sea.

You aren't crying. You just feel heavy. Like carrying a backpack full of rocks.

A shadow appears beside you.

Robin.

She quietly sits down and neither of you speaks.

A minute passes, then another.

Then Robin smiles softly “Would you like company?”

You glance at her “...Sure.”

“Good.”

More silence, but it’s a comfortable silence. The kind Nico Robin is very good at.

Finally she speaks “You don't have to tell us what's wrong.”

You look down and say nothing, the she continues “But you don't have to carry it alone either.”

Your chest tightens and Robin notices. Of course she does, she always notices.

She gently pats your head. Nothing else. No pressure. No questions.

Just a soft pat.

And somehow that almost makes you cry, and you don’t even know why. It’s just really comforting.

The next morning, Sanji appears “Good morning, my dear.”

You yawn “Morning.”

He immediately narrows his eyes at you and says “That is not enough sleep.”

“I'm fine.”

He looks at you for a while and then he just says “Liar.”

You sigh “I'm not lying.”

“You look like you lost a fight with a pillow.”

Silence… then you just say “Fair.”

A few minutes later he drags you into the kitchen.

“Sit.”

You blink “Why?”

“Sit.”

You sit and Sanji nods “Good.”

He moves around the kitchen, taking ingredients and things he needs.

You finally ask, confused “What are you doing?”

He doesn’t stop, he just replies without looking at you “Making dessert.”

“For who?”

Here he stops and finally looks at you “For you.”

“...What?”

Sanji points a spoon at you “You've been sad.”

You freeze.

He notices, so he continues “Everyone knows.”

“...Everyone?”

“Everyone.”

You hide your face “Oh no.”

Sanji laughs “It's not embarrassing. Don’t worry.”

“It kind of is.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Maybe just a little… Okay?”

Then he shakes his head a bit but he lets you go.

He starts working again and you just watch him.

Flour.

Sugar.

Cream.

Chocolate.

The kitchen slowly fills with a sweet smell.

“You didn’t have to do this.”

Sanji shrugs “I wanted to.”

“Why?”

“Because I care about you.”

The answer comes so easily, like it’s obvious and like there was never another option.

Your throat feels tight again.

A few hours later the cake is finished.

It’s not fancy, it’s just a simple chocolate cake, but it looks perfect.

“Try it.” Sanji says, enthusiastic but soft.

You take a bite and your eyes widen right away “Oh wow.”

Sanji grins “I know.”

“This is amazing.”

Now he closes his eyes and nods proudly at himself “I know.”

“Seriously.”

He opens his eyes and looks at you softly “I know and I’m glad you agree..”

For the first time in days, you laugh.

Sanji immediately points “There.”

You look at him confused “What?”

His smile is softer now “That.”

“What?”

“The smile, mon amour.”

You throw a napkin at him and he laughs.

The next attack comes from Nico Robin and Nami.

Literally attack, because they come to you and grab you by your arms.

“You come with us.” Nami says.

“What?”

“No questions.”

“Nami…”

They both keep pushing you to follow them “No questions.”

“Robin…”

“No questions.”

You fake cry “Why does nobody let me even ask questions?!”

A nearby island sits just ahead, and the moment the Sunny docks, you’re dragged into town.

Twenty minutes later you’re standing in a clothing shop “...Oh.”

Nami smiles “Surprise.”

Robin nods “We’re shopping.”

“For me?”

“For you.”

“You don’t need to spend our money on me.”

Nami immediately gasps “Our?”

You point at the shop and she points at you “You’re adorable if you think we’re using our money.”

She turns away as if she doesn’t want you to really hear and she continues “Sanji gave us his savings…”

You look at Nico Robin confused and waiting for her to confirm.

She nods.

You look back at Nami “I won’t use other people’s money!”

She finally looks at you again and with a serious face she says “He says to not go back if we don’t spend all the money…”

Nami isn’t really reliable when it’s about money, so you look back at Robin to wait for her to confirm again.

She nods.

You sigh, defeated.

Hours pass.

“Try this one.” Robin hands you a dress.

You really don’t like it… not your style “No.”

Nami hands you another.

“No.”

Robin hands you another.

“...Actually maybe.”

“There we go.” Robin says.

At some point you’re laughing so hard you nearly fall over because Nami convinces Luffy to model a fancy jacket.

“How do I look?” Luffy asks.

“Like a rich pirate.”

“AWESOME.”

Three seconds later he somehow gets stuck in the sleeves “HELP?”

You laugh until your stomach hurts.

Later, while carrying shopping bags, you notice someone standing nearby.

A familiar spotted hat… Law. He’s still there because of the alliance, probably annoyed you stopped on an island just for a shopping day.

You blink and stop by him while the others go into the Sunny.

You tell him “Don’t worry, we’re done.”

Law looks annoyed but says “I don’t really care.”

“Uh-huh.”

He glances at your bags, then at you and then away.

“...You seem better.”

You stare “Was that concern?”

“No.”

“It sounded like concern.”

“It wasn’t.”

“It absolutely was.”

Law sighs “You looked miserable.”

Your eyes widen “What?”

“You heard me.”

You wait “...And?”

Law looks like he’d rather fight a Sea King than continue this conversation “And it’s annoying.”

“There it is.”

“It’s annoying because everyone has been worried… and we couldn’t move on.”

You blink.

Law looks away “...you were worried too?”

Long silence.

Very long silence.

“...Who knows.”

You immediately smile.

Law groans “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“I’m absolutely making a big deal out of it.”

He groans and starts walking inside “No.”

You smile and follow him “Yes.”

“No.”

“You’re worried about me.”

“Leave me alone.”

You laugh but still follow him inside.

When evening comes, everyone is gathered on deck.

A banner hangs overhead.

YOU BETTER FEEL BETTER

You stare “...Who made that?”

“Me!” Luffy says proudly.

“It has terrible grammar.”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“It sounded like one to me.”

The crew laughs.

Sanji brings out the cake.

Again.

Apparently he made another one.

“There’s another cake?”

“Of course.”

“Why?”

“You looked pretty and happy when eating the first one.”

He jokingly hits your shoulder and keeps his hand on it, smiling at you.

Your eyes start watering “Oh no.”

Chopper immediately panics “SHE’S CRYING!”

“I’m okay!”

“ARE YOU HURT? GET THE MEDICAL KIT!”

“CHOPPER, NO!”

Everyone starts talking at once.

“Should we hug her?” Usopp asks.

“Definitely.” Robin answers.

“GROUP HUG!”

Luffy yells.

Before you can escape, everyone piles onto you.

“Luffy, you’re crushing me!”

“THAT’S HOW YOU KNOW IT’S LOVE!”

“THAT’S NOT HOW IT WORKS!”

Franky is somehow involved.

Brook is somehow involved.

Zoro and Law were staying out of it but then Luffy wraps them in his long arms and brings them into the hug, without giving them a chance to escape.

Chopper is crying.

Usopp is crying because Chopper is crying.

Complete chaos.

But warm chaos, the kind that makes your heart feel lighter.

Eventually everyone settles down.

The stars shine overhead.

The sea is calm.

You sit between Robin and Nami.

The crew chats around you.

Laughing.

Arguing.

Being themselves.

And for the first time in what feels like forever… the weight isn’t quite so heavy.

Nami nudges your shoulder “Feeling a little better?”

You smile “Yeah.”

Robin smiles too “Good.”

Across the deck, Law pretends not to listen.

Luffy points at him “Torao was worried too!”

Law nearly chokes “Oi.”

“He kept asking about her!”

“Oi...”

“He was all like ‘Is she okay?’”

“OI!”

“He totally cares!”

“ROOM.”

Luffy disappears and the entire crew bursts into laughter.

Even Law looks embarrassed.

You laugh so hard that your sides hurt.

Surrounded by your crew… your family. People who notice when you’re hurting. People who stay. People who care.

"We are", you tipped your head toward the deck. "Listen. Snores. Terrible ones. That's okay turned into sound", you whispered as you wanted him to hear the sounds of reassurance.

He huffed a half-laugh, but it got sour quickly. "I couldn't save everybody once", he said. "I was small. I'm bigger now, but what if I'm never big enough".

You took his free hand and put it on your sternum. "You feel that?"

"Thump-thump", he said automatically.

"That's what you do", you told him. "You make people remember they're alive and they want to keep being alive. With you", you said softly, because that was the honest truth about him.

"Being captain isn't about never falling. It's about yelling 'let's go!' and meaning 'together' every time".

His mouth opened in hopes to argue back, but you didn't let him. "And when we fall?" you added, "You're the first to pull faces until we laugh and get up. That's part of the job description too".

"Is it?" he asked in a suspicious, yet hopeful tone.

"Mhm. Article one: feed your crew both hope and meat. Article two: hold the wheel even when your hands shake. Article three: when you doubt yourself, tell your first mate-", you poked his chest and then yourself, "that's me tonight".

He looked down at your joined hands like they were a map. "What if I mess up again?"

"Then we'll mess up with you", you said simply. "We're not here because you promised safety. We're here because you promised freedom".

The wind caught his hat, making him clamp it on his lap till the wind settled down. You stared at him properly this time and it seemed that he looked more like himself now. A smile started at one corner of his mouth and traveled like a sunrise.

"You think I'm a good captain?" he asked. It wasn't fishing, but rather a boy wanting to believe the best story about himself.

"I think you're the best one I've ever had", you answered back with the consistent honesty you have shown him the whole time. "And not because you're strong, but because when we're scared, you're brave first".

He beamed suddenly like the way weather changed at sea. He tipped forward until his forehead bumped yours.

"Okay", he said. "Then I'll keep being me and you keep reminding me it's okay to be".

"Deal", you said back.

He wrapped his arms around you from the side. Luffy breathed deeply and this time the breath went all the way down.

"Tomorrow", he declared, "We have breakfast twice".

"Captain's orders?" you teased as you both shared a quick laugh.

"Yep", he said with all teeth out and brightness shining around him.

"Together".

II. Roronoa Zoro ["Even stones sleep"]

You found Zoro in the training room at an hour that was considered a time where the waves were sleeping. The floor was a constellation of sweat drops and the air tasted like iron and stubborn.

His bandana was one, which meant he was fighting something he didn't plan to lose to. His hands were bleeding through old tape.

"Again", he told no one and the weights agreed.

"Or", you said from the doorway, "We don't".

His wing halted mid-air. He looked at you like you were a new kind of exercise. "I'm busy".

"With what", you asked as you let yourself into the room. "Making your tendons quit their job?"

"Getting stronger", he said like it was obvious. It was like that was the only verb he was born knowing. "I can't afford-", the words tangled ugly.

"I won't be the reason he-", he stopped as his jaw tensed by the utter thought of it. You knew who he meant. You always did.

You stepped closer to him and held out your hands. "Give", you said.

He stared at you. "Give what".

"The swords", you told him gently. "And the lie that you're only useful when you're hurting".

Zoro's mouth pulled tight. Pride was a creature with sharp teeth. It didn't like being told to heel. But he put both of the swords in your palms like he was placing down his lungs.

You set them carefully against the wall. When you turned back, he was rolling his shoulders like the absence of his swords ached worse than the weight.

"Do you remember the first time you let yourself nap on deck?" you asked him suddenly.

"I nap on deck all the time", he replied back offended.

"Now you do", you said and pointed at the nearest bench. "Sit".

He sat in a stubbornly manner. It was as if the bench was his opponent. You took his hands and peeled the ruined tape away. He hissed when the glue pulled at split skin.

"You think rest is the enemy", you said as you were wrapping clean bandage around his knuckles, "But you forget that muscle grows when you're not looking".

"I don't need-", he wanted to argue but you cut him off.

"Help?" you suggested. "Permission?"

He glared at the middle distance. "Weakness".

You tied the bandage off neatly. "You're the last person on this ship I'd call weak", you told him without drama. "But you scared me when you treated your body like a debt you will never finish paying".

His eyes cut to yours in a quick, green and slightly vulnerable state. "If I'm not sharp, people bleed", he said quietly.

"If you never sheath, you rust", you countered.

You stood between his knees. You tried to crowd his space until the part of him, that only spoke in fights, recognised this as concern. He exhaled slowly like he had been braced for a punch that never came at him.

"Lay down", you said as you were nodding to the floor mat.

"No".

"Zoro".

A short moment of silence, then he muttered something rude but did it anyway. You dropped beside him, meeting shoulder to shoulder.

The ceiling was humming. His breath was loud at first filled with all edges. After a quiet counting between you two, you felt the edges soften.

"Say the thing", you prompted, staring up.

"What thing?" he deflected.

"The one with teeth".

He sighed, then he said it so softly, you almost missed it: "I'm afraid if I stop guarding, there won't be anything worth guarding when I wake up".

You turned your head. He was already looking like he felt you move. "We're still here when you sleep", you said. It was like each word placed down a vow like stones in a path.

"We don't stop existing when your eyes close. And if something comes, I'll wake you up, you idiot", you said softly.

His mouth twitched. "Idiot, huh".

"With love, of course".

"Hmmm", he finally closed his eyes. "You watch my back and I'll watch yours".

"Tomorrow", you agreed.

He nodded with a tiny bow to the idea that he wasn't alone. His breathing evened as you felt his shoulder get heavier against yours. You could sense that his body finally remembered how to be a body and not a fortress.

Before sleep took him, he murmured: "Nothing's gonna happen".

"Nothing", you echoed with a smile at the ceiling. For once, nothing was exactly what you wanted.

III. Vinsmoke Sanji ["More than the kitchen, more than the smoke"]

Sanji cooked like he was apologising for existing. He swore he wasn't. He said the kitchen was where he knew how to speak, but you had seen the way he watched people eat.

His eyes cataloging approval, shoulders shrinking at the first pause and the way his smile stretched to cover the worry.

The galley was all steam and clatter tonight. He was alone after feeding everyone. He waited for the noise to fade before cleaning like absolution by himself.

You took the dishcloth from his hands, which startled him.

"My dear", he said in a sing-song tone by instinct. His grin was already put on readied for you. "To what do I owe the pleasure-".

"Drop it", you said gently. "The performance, just for now".

The grin folded like paper. He leaned back against the counter as his thumb looked worried against his lighter. The smoke that wasn't there still curled around his words. "It's not a performance. It's... manners".

"And your fear?"

He opened his mouth to deflect, but closed it. And he tried again. "That if I'm not...", he gestured at the kitchen that had the spotless counters and the lingering butter in the air, "This, then I'm just... noise. A bad habit. Someone people excuse because I make them dinner".

The words came out like he was confessing to a crime. You stepped between him and the counter until his hips bumped the wood. He looked down at you like you were about to hand him a sentence.

"And what am I?" you asked, "When I'm not doing anything for you?"

He blinked. "Perfect?"

"Wrong. I'm still loved".

You took his hands and turned them palms-up. There were calluses like maps of how he survived. You kissed each one. "These are not invoices, but rather stories".

He swallowed. The lighter stopped its nervous click. "Stories of a man who won't stop setting himself on fire to keep everyone-".

"No", you said as you pressed your mouth to his sternum. "Storied of a man who kept us alive and forgot he was allowed to live too".

He went very still. Then in a quiet, soft voice, so afraid that he would break himself if he talked louder than that: "What if I put it down just for a night and...", his jaw tightened, "... And you see there's nothing left to like".

You stepped back just enough to look him in the eye. "Sanji", you said. "When you're not cooking for me, I like the way you talk to the sea like it's an old friend. I like the stupid romance novels you hide in the flour bin. I like your laugh when you think you've gotten away with a pun. I like the way you dance with the mop like it's a waltz partner".

"I like you when you burn the toast and pretend it was on purpose to make Chopper feel better about his attempt".

His eyes got shiny, showing you the small betrayal of hiding his tears. He tried to to laugh it off, but it came out broken. "You notice everything", he said and it sounded like he was complaining about the best thing that had ever happened to him.

"Then notice this", you took the apron off and hung it on its hook like a truce flag. You turned back and framed his face in your hands.

"You are allowed to be fed too, Sanji".

"By who?" he whispered, "The cook eats last".

"By me".

You tugged him to the small table in the corner. The one he never sat at because he was always refilling someone else's plate. You produced a loop-sided sandwich you had absolutely made yourself, which made his eyes go comically wide.

"Don't laugh", you warned with a grin. "Culinary masterpiece".

He didn't laugh. He looked like someone had translated him into a language that made sense. He sat. You slid the plate toward him with ceremony.

"It's not perfect", you admitted, "But it's yours and you didn't have to earn it".

Sanji stared at the sandwich like it might have been a mirage, then at you. He took a bite.

It's objectively fine, but he cried anyway. It wasn't a sob, nor a dramatic wail, but rather a few clean tears that have been waiting at the edges of his lashes for years.

You reached across and held his wrist. He squeezed your fingers back, without saying a word.

When he was done with the sandwich and the tears, you moved back into his space and tucked yourself under his chin.

He smelt like lemon and smoke and relief.

"Say it", you asked him. "The one-liner you'd give someone else, but mean it for you".

He gave a wet little laugh. Thought about it, then quietly said: "Sanji, my darling, you deserve love when the stove is off".

"There he is", you kissed the corner of his mouth. "Say it again".

"I deserve love when the stove is off", he repeated with a steadier tone now. "And when the sauce breaks. And when I flirt too much and when I don't at all. And when I sit down".

"Especially when you sit down", you said as you were pulling him into the chair. You swung a leg over his lap and he sputtered with a flustered expression.

You laid a palm on his chest and he calmed down like a kettle taken off the stove.

You rocked slowly in the tiny kitchen chair. He tucked stray hair behind your ear with hands that had finally stopped trembling.

"Thank you", he murmured.

"You're welcome", you replied. "Eat first next time".

He laughed for real this time, bright and shameless. "Yes, chef".

"You're the chef", you said back.

"Then I'll listen to you", his smile turned soft. "My heart's favourite regular".

"Your heart", you echoed in an amused way.

"Mm", he kissed your cheek, "And you don't even have to tip".

"Oh, I'm tipping", you said and tipped his face into another kiss.

The galley didn't feel like a confessional anymore. It felt like a dining room where the cook finally sat.

IV. Trafalgar D. Law ["A steady hand, a softer verdict"]

You found Law in the threshold between day and night. It was the kind of blue that ate at edges and turned metal cold to the touch. He was where he always was when sleep wouldn't sit still.

He was beside the infirmary sink with his sleeves rolled to his elbows, scrubbing his hands long after the soap gave up.

"Law", you said it softly so his name didn't shatter him.

He didn't look up. "Go back to bed".

There was a rhythm in the way he washed. It wasn't medical anymore. It was more like a ritual.

The water hissed as the bones on the backs of his hands moved like small animals trying to get out.

You stepped closer. His eyes flicked to yours.

"You can say it", he murmured, tired in the shape of a smile. "Monster. Butcher. Warlord. Surgeon who can't stop operating, even on his own ghosts".

"I was going to say 'my love'".

A blink. His hands stalled. You took a towel and held it open. He hesitated as if the fabric could bite him, then let you guide his fingers into cotton.

You lifted each hand and dried it carefully. You were tracing the constellation of scars only you got to name.

"Tell me the thing underneath", you prompted. "The truth you don't let the crew hear".

His mouth stayed quietly, but the silence leaked. You heard it anyway: 'If I stop moving, the old pain catches me. If I let myself be soft, people die. If I love something, the ocean finds a way to take it'.

You folded his palms in yours like a prayer. "I don't need a perfect captain or a perfect surgeon", you said as your nose almost brushed with his. "I need the man who learned how to live in a world that told him not to".

His breath stuttered. "And if that man ruins you?"

"Then you'll help sew the seams. You're very good at sutures".

That comment made Law huff, which was almost a laugh. His shoulders dropped a millimeter. You eased him onto the infirmary cot.

"You think being gentle will get people killed", you said.

"I know it". A rasp. "Every time I was soft, I lost something".

"And yet you still learned to touch like this", you lifted his hand to your cheek. His fingers trembled, then settled warmly. "Don't re-write your story into only blood".

"It's easier", he said and the honesty was a cut that didn't sting.

"I know", you kissed his knuckles. "It's also a lie".

His eyes shined in the dark. It was a storm you had sailed before.

You climbed up beside him. He made room without asking. It was like the way people did when they were past pretending. Your head was resting on his chest as you counted the heartbeats until the numbers became lullabies.

"Say the thing out loud", you asked into his shirt.

A long exhale. "I am afraid that there was nothing human left".

You shifted as you brought your face up to his. "Law".

"Mm?"

"Then who's this?" You kissed him like an answer. It wasn't hungry. It wasn't proving. It was a catalog of tiny, ordinary joys. It was a breath shared, the slow slope of his nose under your thumb. The way he always broke first and sighed into your mouth like he remembered how to return.

His hand found your jaw. It was gentle, every time.

When you parted, the room felt warmer. You pressed your foreheads together. "There is so much human left", you whispered. "Raw and stubborn and beautiful".

"It is". You curled around him like a promise. "Here's a prescription: once a night, let me hold the doctor's hands until they remember they're hands and not scalpels".

"That's not how prescriptions work".

"I'll write it down", you said with a grin. "Doctor's orders".

Then there was a comfortable silence between you two. The room was rocking back and forth like a lullaby. Law's arm tightened around your waist like he was finally allowed to anchor. His voice was barely there when it arrived.

"Stay".

"Always", you said and meant it like a vow stitched with steady thread.

There were always something softer behind those steady hands of the surgeon.

Listening to Lestat enter and exit your bedroom like he belongs in it and then being forced to watch him absorb all of the attention you give him when he returns to the living room, Armand can't decide which part of this evening he finds least tolerable.

Before Armand can begin to dwell on his annoyance, you begin to shift. He keeps his gaze on the TV, his mind focused on your physical movements as you pull your legs onto the couch. With no warning, you stretch your legs out over his lap.

This is another familiarity. Despite the sporadic nature of his visits, the two of you have still managed to develop a sort of routine. Physical contact always progresses at the same rate. At first, you only sit together, then the contact becomes more intentional, and after that, the space between you becomes less and less relevant until it stops mattering at all.

He places a hand just above your knee. "Comfortable?"

You beam at him, "Very."

"I'm glad." Armand drag his thumb against your skin. "Are we still going out together?"

You nod. "Yeah, why wouldn't we be?"

His hand shifts a little further up your leg, his fingers settling against your thigh. "I'm not sure if the presence of your other guest has made you want to change your plans. I know how difficult it is for Lestat to get through a single soundcheck without you."

"We talked about this."

"I know," he counters, "which is why I'm being so pleasant."

You frown. "I'm not worried about your disposition." You press your lips together briefly. "Things are going to be the same as always. Lestat's going to go to his concert, I'll change, we'll go out to dinner, and then we'll hang out here."

He lifts his hand just enough to be able to drag his nails against your leg. "And at one point in the evening will Louis be making an appearance?"

An uneasy warmth begins to inch its way up your skin. You were persistent when it came to convincing every vampire you've ever met to coexist, but that doesn't mean you don't feel a little bad about it.

"After the concert," the admission feels nervous, "but you're the only one staying here." You try to sit up a little straighter. Armand's other hand wraps around your ankle to keep you from moving. "I know that this isn't comfortable for you," the wording feels overly cautious, "and it means a lot to me that you're being nice."

He adjusts his hold on your ankle. "I haven't decided how I'm going to be."

You sigh, halfheartedly trying to move back to create some distance. He doesn't let go of you, and after noticing his resistance, you don't try to free yourself from his grasp. "Armand."

His name is said with the same scolding tone you used to talk him into tolerating the others. Armand feels a similar agitation burn through him. Why should he be willing to set aside his own personal sentiments to remain pleasant in front of Lestat and Louis just because you asked him to?

Armand tightens his hold on your leg. The answer to his question is simple. He'll do it, because you're the one that asked.

He exhales, forcing his hands to relax. A single lapse in control is all it would take to break you. "I know how to behave, Ma Bichette."

You extend an arm, reaching for him expectantly. Armand give you his hand. You happily take it. "I'm really happy you're here."

He stares at your intertwined fingers. "I don't seem to make you happy enough on my own."

The statement makes you inhale sharply, as if hearing it has somehow caused you physical pain. "You can't actually think that." Your voice nearly waivers. He doesn't look at you. When he doesn't respond, you try again, "Mon Ange."

Armand has to press his lips together to keep from reacting. That term of endearment has an unfortunate way of affecting him. There's a gentleness to the way that you say it, an incredible affection pressed into each syllable.

He looks up at you. A hint of relief etches itself into your features. He stares at you with an openness that he shouldn't permit himself to indulge in. You're watching him with such soft, understanding eyes.

"You've never not been enough for me," you're speaking slowly, your voice measured. "Lestat's just--we're just friends."

Armand can feel how much you mean the words. He can also tell that you're doing your best to ease him. A part of him wishes that he could just accept what you're telling him. You've never lied to him before. But it isn't enough. Not when you use the same label for both him and Lestat.

"Isn't that what we are as well?" The question is quiet, guarded.

You blink, staring at him like a deer frozen in front of headlights. You briefly part your lips before pressing them together again. Armand is overwhelmed by both the desire to press himself into your mind and to never know what you think about the question.

"I'm late." Lestat's voice cuts through the living room. "If you change your mind, you can always come find me backstage." Armand resists the urge to roll his eyes.

"Wait." You turn, twisting awkwardly so that you can look behind the couch without moving away from Armand. From where he's sitting, Armand would be able to look at Lestat by simply lifting his head. Instead, he remains focused on the hand you haven't let go of. "Say goodbye."

Lestat begins to walk towards the couch. You stretch an arm out in his direction. Once he reaches you, Lestat takes your available hand. "I will see you tomorrow." Instead of letting go of you, he pulls your hand towards him. "That's my ring."

Armand glances up at you. You're focused on Lestat, your expression completely unamused. "So?"

Lestat bends your hand gently in order to better examine the ring on your middle finger. "'So'...I was looking for it."

The argument doesn't sway you. "And I've been looking for my vintage Versace jacket."

At that, Lestat looks between you and the ring. "Fine. Consider it my gift to you."

The corner of your mouth lifts upwards at that. "Thank you."

Lestat smiles at you in a way that lacks any real amusement. He lets go of you carefully. For a moment, Armand thinks that this might be the end of the interaction. Then, Lestat takes another step forward. He places a hand on your shoulder, part of his palm resting against your collarbone.

After a moment, Lestat begins to curl his long fingers towards his palm. He brushes his knuckles against the side of your neck. Some sharp feeling settles in the pit of Armand's stomach. Lestat's beauty has always had a way of making him feel flighty, uncertain.

You start dragging your thumb against the back of Armand's hand. The gesture gives him the strength to glance upwards. Lestat is already looking at him, his expression unreadable. Lestat holds his gaze for a moment, and then he looks at you.

Your pulse has remained fairly even, and your thoughts aren't particularly focused on Lestat. Your primary concern seems to be making sure that this interaction passes without issue. Armand's not as eased by this as he should be. You'll be moved by Lestat's charm eventually. Armand has no way of keeping Lestat from taking you away from him, no way of protecting his place in your life.

"Is he treating you well, Ma Chérie?" The question is pointed, but not entirely insincere.

A sharp anger begins to well inside of him. Lestat does not know you the way Armand does. Lestat has never taken care of you, has never spent the hours that exist between true night and early morning taking comfort in the fact that you're breathing, has never wanted to cut out the worst parts of himself to keep them from ever reaching you.

Lestat has no right to accuse Armand of hurting you, and even less right to insert himself into your relationship to poison you against him.

"Exceptionally well," you say, voice firm. Before Lestat can say anything else, you grab his wrist, pulling his hand away from your neck. "You should leave for your concert now. There's traffic."

Lestat sighs. "I did not want to offend you--"

"I know who you wanted to offended." You squeeze Armand's hand reassuringly. "Seriously, you should go. You're going to be late."

Lestat looks between you and Armand. "I don't want to leave if you're mad at me."

You halfheartedly glare at him. "I'm mad at you all the time, and you somehow manage."

"Ma Chérie." Lestat's watching you with such a sympathetic expression, his brow slightly furrowed. Armand feels his chest tighten.

You don't seem particularly moved. "I told you to be nice." You let out a tired breath. "I don't hate you. Go to your concert." Lestat glances between you and the entryway of your apartment, his expression unconvinced. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Knowing that he's going to get to see you again seems to ease Lestat slightly. "If that's what you want."

"I'll text you later."

Lestat looks over at him again. Armand holds his stare as he slowly lifts your hand. He presses a kiss to the back of your palm before speaking, "Break a leg."

Lestat begins to walk away from the living room, his steps a little too loud to come off as casual. "C'est injuste," he mumbles the words under his breath, they syllables pointed and irritated.

The door to your apartment is pulled open. It falls shut with a heavy thud.

As soon as silence settles over the room again, you pull your legs off of his lap. Armand lets you go. "Are you okay?"

Even though you're now sitting properly, you're still incredibly close to him. He lets go of your hand. Armand can feel your disappointment at the loss of contact, but before your mind can dwell on the absence, he places his hand on your lower thigh. "I'm fine."

You frown, unconvinced. "Okay." He moves his hand up your leg slightly. "Our dinner reservations isn't until later. Should I get dressed now or do you want to finish the movie?"

The movie that you put on for him has been serving its role of being something to do, something to stare at to make it easier to pretend that there's nothing abnormal about Lestat's presence. Armand is only vaguely aware of the plot playing out in front of him.

He angles himself towards you, his hand moving to the side of your neck. "Let's stay here for a minute," the suggestion is practically whispered against your skin.

You nod once, the motion brief. Armand leans even closer to you, his lips brushing against your jaw. Your breathing stalls at the contact. He takes his time leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses down your neck. The escalation of your pulse is incredibly gratifying.

Once he reaches your shoulder, Armand straightens slightly. You turn your head towards him, pressing your lips to his. He kisses you back.

He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth. You bring a hand to the back of his head, your fingers tangling themselves into his hair. Armand inhales sharply as you tug on the strands.

After another minute, you break the the kiss, shifting back just enough to make it possible for you to take a full breath. He watches you as you focus on recovering. There's something about seeing you like this, your eyes wide and your lips slightly swollen. Armand wonders if Lestat has ever seen you this way.

He starts pushing the thought away the moment it fully registers. Dwelling on the question will only make his vulnerability more transparent.

Armand leans forward, hiding his face against the side of your neck. Your warmth has always been so soothing, so easy to lose himself in. His eyes fall shut as he focuses on the sound of your pulse. The familiar burning of desperate thirst settles behind his throat. In a way, he's grateful for this suffering, it's a reminder that you're still alive.

Still, there's no point in unnecessary risk. He'll need to be more precise with his feeding schedule if he's going to be around you like this.

You begin to run your fingers through his hair. He can feel your nails lightly scratch against his scalp. "You just went somewhere."

He sighs against your skin. Sometimes you see through him in a way that makes his skin crawl. "I'm right here." Not his best attempt at deflection, but he's too focused on the persistent hum of the blood running along your veins to care.

Your continue to smooth hair away from his face. "Somewhere in your head."

Armand is deeply disappointed by the inevitable. He doesn't want to talk about his sentiments or anything important, he just wants to be as close to you as possible. "Is that your way of asking me what I'm thinking about?"

"It felt more polite to ask indirectly."

He hums once in acknowledgement of your response. He lifts his head enough to press his lips to your shoulder.

Your hand stills against him. "Armand."

Ignoring your attempted warning, Armand continues to kiss his way up your neck. Once he reaches your pulse point, he grazes his teeth against it. You practically gasp when his fangs touch your skin. The sound only further encourages him. He continues to leave open mouthed kisses anywhere he can reach until he’s at your jaw.

He pulls away with no warning, creating enough distance for him to look at you. The loss of contact leaves you mumbling his name pathetically. He briefly looses focus, leaning in to kiss you again. You pout when he straightens.

Armand places a hand beneath your jaw, his thumb coming to rest on your chin. He angles your head towards him so that you have no choice but to look at him. "Has Lestat ever touched you like this?"

You blink at him, your confusion incredibly transparent. "What? No."

Your voice is innocent, and your preliminary thoughts show no signs of the defensiveness that often accompanies deceit. Armand could press into your thoughts, search through your memories to make sure you're telling him the truth. He pushes against the desire to burrow into your mind. You wouldn’t lie to him.

After your initial shock fades, you ask your own question, "Why?"

A sharp warmth, similar to the burning sensation of his thirst, begins to inch its way up his neck. "It wouldn't be the first time you and Louis--"

You cut him off with an unamused sigh. You reach for his arm, pulling his fingers away from the lower half of your face. Armand lets you. "Don't be a jerk. That was different."

"Why is it different?"

This question surprises you more than the first. Your heart is beating faster now, forcing the blood flowing through your veins to rush through you at a faster rate than usual. Your thoughts are uncertain. You're nervous, and you don't know why.

You part your lips long before you're ready to speak, "I don't know. It just is." Your gaze dips downwards, away from his eyes and towards his mouth. "It's different because it's you."

Armand feels the terrible phantom warmth of sentimentality settle behind his chest. He kisses you, this time harder than before. He brings a hand to your shoulder, pushing you back against the couch.

You release his forearm in order to reach for the back of his neck. You pull him even closer. Without breaking the kiss, he reaches for the hand that isn't holding onto him. He moves your hand closer to him, carefully slipping it beneath the hem of his shirt.

The unexpected contact nearly leaves you rigid. Armand bites your lip to keep you from dwelling on your uncertainty. His strategy works, you relax enough to rest your palm against his side.

He shifts back carefully, giving you enough space to breathe. "You are enough to justify 500 years of existence."

Armand is repulsed by his own honesty. You're staring at him, the affection behind your gaze is so transparent, it's enough to dull the discomfort that comes with such vulnerability.

You drag your nails over his hip. "I don't think I could be happy without you anymore."

A lump wedges itself in his throat, and a part of him is grateful for it. He can't trust himself to speak.

You seem to know what to do with his silence. You straighten, pushing yourself away from the couch so that you can kiss him. Armand melts into the contact. Your hand moves further beneath his shirt, your forearm pressing into his ribs as your palm finds his back.

Some desperate part of him aches with the desire to be closer to you. He clumsily reaches for the collar of his shirt, undoing the buttons without pulling away from you.

Armand reaches the final button. You push the fabric off his shoulders before he gets the chance to.

You force yourself to relax into the couch's cushioning again, breaking the kiss so that you can breathe. He leans forward, not giving you a chance to fully escape him. For a moment, both of you are still, staring into each other's eyes. The longer you look at him, the more you feel like the only thing that matters.

You're the first to break the static, moving towards him again. You bring your lips to his briefly, and then you shift your focus onto the side of his face. You press light, fluttery kisses down his jaw and neck.

Armand has to shut his eyes when you reach his chest. He extends an arm, reaching for the back of the couch. He holds onto the couch with as much force as he believes the furniture capable of bearing. It doesn't help.

Your teeth graze his sternum. He exhales, forcing himself to be incredibly aware of his own strength as he places his other hand against the back of his head. Even now, you seem to understand him better than you should. You part your lips further, nipping at his skin. Armand inhales sharply, the sound desperate.

That seems to snap you back to reality. He feels you try to straighten, so he lets his hand fall away from the back of your head.

The stillness returns, only this time, you're trying to solely focus on your breathing, but you haven't taken your hands off of him.

"We," You lift your head enough to meet his gaze, "We have reservations."

He tries to focus on the more rational aspects of your nervousness. You don't take physical connection lightly, and from your perspective, things are incredibly complicated. You'd never want to betray Louis.

Maybe you're only interested in men that Louis approves of. Armand tries to force the thought out of his mind like an invasive weed threatening to poison everything else. He's only partially successful.

Armand nods. "Right. You're probably hungry." The response is passible, but he knows that you're capable of sensing the guarded undertones. He exhales, lifting a hand so that he can place it on your shoulder. "You take such poor care of yourself when you're left to your own devices."

You pull a hand away from his chest so that you can place it over his, "Then maybe you should be around more."

Armand can feel his expression falter. "Do you mean that?"

Your head tilts to one side, your eyebrows drawing together in a way that seems a little too sad to indicate pure confusion. "Of course I mean it." You lift your hand carefully, your fingertips brushing against his skin until you reach his shoulder. "I've never wanted you to leave," these words are quiet, vulnerable.

Armand places a hand on your forearm. For a moment, he lets himself imagine what it would be like to take you up on your offer. Staying here for longer than usual, and then popping in more frequently...or maybe never leaving at all. This isn't the safest fantasy, not with the attention that's come from Daniel's book or what you could end up thinking about him if he were to be around you constantly, but it's something to hold onto.

He leans towards you, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. Then, he pulls away from you entirely. "You should get dressed."

You nod, pushing yourself to stand. You take a few steps away from the couch before turning to face him, "Do you want to wait in my room with me?"

"Alright," he says, "let's go."

Armand reaches for the remote on the coffee table. He turns off the television before leaning downwards. He finds his discarded shirt lying directly in front of the couch. Armand picks it up, folding it carefully and setting it down on the empty space next to him.

After taking care of that, Armand stands and walks around your coffee table. You're quick to take his hand once he's beside you again.

----

Deviation — Law is annoyed when he realizes he has feelings for you.

Encroachment — You get drunk and Law has to intervene.

Correction — You hadn’t planned the kiss. It wasn’t calculated. And now, watching him move through the ship like nothing happened, you start to wonder if you imagined that part.

Exposure — Law stops denying his feelings for you.

Detection — You and Law just got together. The crew has questions. So do the Straw Hats.

Scheduled Intimacy — Law is trying to work and you’re trying to…get him to work on someone something else.

Normalization — Your presence becomes normal and that terrifies Law, because it means he finally has something to lose.

Come Back — Goodbyes force the truth between Law and you.

Stay — He had told himself love was a liability. Inefficient. Dangerous. But when death came close, it wasn’t fear that made him fight. It was you.

“Hahhhh….” Sanji lets out a long sigh. The nightmare comes to mind. “Fuck.” The memories resurfacing makes his blunder of wasting food feel even worse until he’s scratching at his head in frustration. Even when he finally finishes the food it doesn’t taste as good as normal! He couldn’t manage to keep himself focused enough to make everything perfect. Of course no one mentions it but he can tell in their faces and the way it tastes, though he eats a lesser portion today. He feels horrible. ‘I should at least make sure I don’t mess lunch up. They deserve better.’ While he’s preparing he feels someone hugging his back, there’s only one person this could be. He turns and sees you.

“Hi~” You greet happily, but he can only force himself to give a small smile.

“Hi, love. Is there something you need? Are you still hungry?” He asks and you frown.

“I can’t visit my boyfriend?” At your words he sighs and looks away from you. “Sanji?”

“I’m hardly a boyfriend right now. I’ve ignored you the whole day and for what? For mediocre food.” You can see the way he sinks as negative thoughts pile in his head. “I let a bad dream cost me a day of food and didn’t talk to you the entire time because of it. I’m horrible. You can say if you’re mad at me. I deserve it.”

‘Wow he’s really bummed.’ You think to yourself and turn him around, cupping his face as you look into his eyes yet he avoids yours. “I could never be mad at you for this.” You brush his bangs to the side with your hand and his gaze finally meets yours. “There’s my pretty boy. What was the dream about, hm?” You rub his eyebrow with your thumb.

“I..I was a kid again.” He starts and you nod. “Back on that rock, with Zeff. I was starving and when I went to kill him.. h-he was already dead.” Tears well up in his eyes. “It reminded me of how helpless I was back then. He showed me kindness yet he could’ve died because of me, and what it would’ve been like if he did. I wouldn’t have been the cook I am now, I might’ve even given up cooking from pain. I could’ve ended up bitter and angry at everything.” Tears well up in his eyes. “And because of that I let the dream affect reality, I was all over the place. Didn’t make good food for the crew that took me in and I didn’t even spend time with my lover, the person who accepts me and loves me despite everything I've done. Despite everything I came from.” You place a kiss on his forehead and the tears drip down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You messed up, so what? Your presence is more than just what you accomplish. You’re a blessing, to me and the crew. Plus, we aren’t gonna hate our precious cook over a mess-up.” You give a smooch to his lips. “And I’m certainly not gonna stop loving my pretty boy over it.” He hugs you and you hug him back, rubbing his back comfortingly as he lets out small hiccups and sobs into your shoulder. “I’ll tell someone else to cook up lunch today.”

“But-”

“But nothing! They’re your friends, they aren’t going to mind if you take a break. Especially when you work so hard everyday! Everyone can have something simple for lunch today, some sandwiches; and you can rest in the men’s quarters.” You’re firm, leaving no room for argument. It turns soft as you continue. “I’ll stay with you, no nightmares.” You pull back with your hand on his cheek and he looks at you like a sad little puppy. “Now let's go to bed.” You step out onto the deck. “Gonna let Sanji take a nap, lunch is on you guys!” Before the cook could apologize there’s already agreements.

“We can handle it for today, have a good rest Sanji-kun!” Nami says happily and elbows Zoro til he lets out a hum of agreement. Luffy gives a big smile.

“Goodnight!”

“It’s a nap not the entire day.” Usopp corrects Luffy and the captain tilts his head in confusion.

“Oh. Why not? He looks tired. Just sleep til you feel better.” He’s very casual about this, not throwing a fit or whining like Sanji had feared.

“See? Friends.” You tell Sanji, who looks back at you as you lead him to the men’s quarters. Once he’s on his bed he sighs in relief, having his shoes and coat off. Everyone on the ship is so nice to him, it feels like all the weight he had put on himself is sliding off. “You sure you don’t want to change into something more comfortable?” He shakes his head.

“Just wanna sleep.” His voice is mumbly, feeling exhaustion settle in. You lay down next to him, pulling him close to you.

“Okay.” Your hold on him makes his body relax, his eyes shutting. No nightmares.

You nod toward the vial. He doesn’t move.

“You need to sleep, Sanji.”

“There’s nothing else you can do?” His voice cracks and when he finally looks up at you, you see the look on his face.

He looks broken. Not just tired. Not just worried. Completely broken. 

“I-I did what I could,” you say, the words catching as your gaze drops to the table. You can’t hold his. “With what I had. I’m not a doctor.” Your fingers curl slightly against your lap. “And she needs one.”

Silence settles between you. The strange thing is you barely know him. You barely know any of them.

You met Sanji when he pulled you out of that wax prison on that godforsaken prehistoric island. Little Garden, they’d called it, like that made it any less of a nightmare. You hadn’t meant to end up there. Stowaway life never really went according to plan, but that time had been particularly bad.

You’d managed to sneak aboard a ship, desperate and running out of options. You were chasing a plant, a night-blooming flower rumored to grow only in extreme climates, its petals said to ease fevers and slow certain poisons if prepared right. You’d been tracking it for years. You were so close.

Mr. 3 had been closer.

He’d found you before you ever found the plant. Would’ve killed you, too, if you hadn’t talked fast enough, twisted the truth just enough to make yourself useful. Worth keeping. That was the problem, really.

He kept you.

Close. Chained. Always within reach. Days blurred into weeks inside that suffocating wax house. You stopped counting eventually. Hope slipped through your fingers slowly, until even the idea of being rescued felt ridiculous. There were moments where you thought it might’ve been easier if he had just killed you.

Then the door burst open.

Mr. 3 always locked you in whenever he left, so at first all you heard was a voice, different from the others you were used to. You thought you were imagining it. But then it came again. And you called out for help.

Sanji opened the door to find you exactly as you were: tear-streaked, shaking, chained to the wall like something forgotten.

“Hey,” he said, softer than anything you’d heard in weeks, stepping toward you carefully, like you might break. You were already crying harder, breath hitching, wrists raw and bleeding where you’d been pulling against the chains. You didn’t care how you looked, didn’t care about anything except the fact that someone was there.

“Hey, you’re okay.” He murmured, crouching in front of you. “I’m going to get you out of here.”

You still don’t know what it was.

Maybe the way his voice sounded so gentle and soft. Maybe the way his hands touched you when he freed you, when he wrapped your wrists, tending to your wounds. Maybe it was just that he came at all.

But you trusted him.

“Do you have a ship?” You’d asked, clutching at his shirt before he could even stand, fingers tangling in the fabric like if you let go he might disappear. “I-I have a Log Pose. Please– just let me come with you.”

You remember how desperate you sounded. He hadn’t laughed. Hadn’t even hesitated before letting you tag along.

That was how you ended up here.

You’ve met the captain, the swordsman, the navigator–

And the cook.

And now you’re sitting across from him in the quiet of the night, watching him fall apart over someone else. 

The silence stretches for too long. You don’t understand his relationship with the navigator, you’ve barely had time to talk to her before she collapsed on deck a few days ago. But from what the other girl, Vivi, told you, they’re close. 

You try to get a grip on your feelings, but they slip through your fingers anyway. The bitter taste of jealousy settles at the back of your throat as you force it down. Sanji saved you, after all. It makes sense to feel attached to the person who pulled you out of something like that. You think. 

He exhales shakily, dragging a hand on his face.

“There’s gotta be something you– we can do.” He murmured. “I can’t just sit here, she– she’s burning up, a-and I’m– I’m making tea.”

You don’t know what to say. You’ve given Nami some of the last of your analgesics, but you’re just a botanist. You’re no doctor. You’re not even sure what even happened to her.

“If something happens– if she–” He cuts himself off, breathing hard. You watch his hand curl into a fist, knuckles whitening. “I should’ve noticed sooner,” he says, quieter now. “I should’ve paid attention, I–”

You don’t think. You just reach out, your fingers closing gently around his hand, coaxing it open. He doesn’t resist. His palm is warm, tense under yours, and you trace slow, absent circles against his skin with your thumb, grounding, steady, offering what little you can when words feel useless.

There’s nothing you can say that would reach him right now. So you don’t try.

“I don’t know what to do.” His voice cracks. “If she doesn’t get better–”

The rest dissolves into quiet, uneven breaths as he bows his head, shoulders starting to shake, like he’s trying to hide it even now.  You’re moving before you can realize what you’re doing.

Your chair scrapes softly on the wooden floor and you step around the table, wrapping your arms around him. Sanji hesitates before giving into the hug, burying his face on your stomach, wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulls you closer, almost desperate, shoulders shaking with his sobs.

His fingers bunch into the fabric at your back as his shoulders shake harder, the restraint he’d been holding onto finally slipping.

Your breath catches for a moment, but your arms tighten around him instinctively, one hand coming up to cradle the back of his head, the other sliding along his neck.

“It’s okay.” You whisper, lips brushing lightly against his hair. “I’ve got you.”

He exhales against the fabric of your cardigan and pulls you tighter.

For a moment, you let yourself sink into the warmth of his skin. Your hand moves slowly against his back, something to anchor him while he falls apart.

You stay like that a while, letting him get it out, feeling the tension leave him little by little until the shaking eases and his sobs soften into quiet sniffles. Even then, he doesn’t let go right away, just holds onto you, and you almost get lost in the warmth of his body, in how easy it would be to stay like this.

When he finally pulls back, he doesn’t try to hide his face. With another sniff, he lets out a weak, wet laugh, lifting a hand like he’s going to wipe at the tears that soaked into your cardigan.

“Sorry,” he says, like he can brush it off if he says it lightly enough.

You smile, soft and sympathetic, tugging your sleeve down over your hand before reaching up to gently wipe the remaining tears from his face, careful and unhurried. “Don’t be.”

The moment lingers, quiet and close, before you shift and sit beside him on the bench, the space between you smaller now as you push the mug of tea toward him again.

“You need to rest, Sanji.” You murmur.

He nods, but doesn’t move to drink it.

You sigh softly and lean your head against his shoulder instead, not pushing, not insisting… just staying there, letting the weight of it say what you don’t.

You’re not going anywhere.

…

“Hey,” Sanji says softly.

You inhale sharply, eyes snapping open as you straighten at your desk, disoriented for a moment as sleep clings stubbornly to you. You blink a couple of times, rubbing at your eyes as you try to place yourself, your surroundings slowly settling back into focus.

Oh, yeah. The Going Merry. On your way to Alabasta.

“What happened?” You clear your throat, thirst settling bitterly on the back of it.

“Nothing,” he says with a small smile, a quiet breath of laughter slipping through his nose as he leans against the doorframe, relaxed, like he’s been standing there a while. “You missed dinner.”

“Oh.” You stretch where you sit, arms lifting over your head until your spine pops, the stiffness from sleeping hunched over making itself known all at once. “Sorry.”

Your lab is still tiny, barely bigger than a supply closet, but it’s yours. Between the cluttered desk, the scattered notes, and the bundles of drying herbs hanging wherever you managed to find space, it already feels lived in, and with the medicinal plants Chopper brought aboard, you finally have enough to keep yourself busy again: tinctures to refine, ointments to test, combinations to try and fail and try again.

“Don’t be,” he says, his gaze drifting over to the room, to your open notebook and scattered tools and supplies. “You’ve been locked in here all day.”

“I didn’t mean to.” You stand up and brush your lab coat, just to have something to do with your hands. “I just… like to feel useful.”

Sanji takes a step towards you, but still keeps his distance.

“You are useful,” he replies, like it’s obvious, like it doesn’t need to be said twice. “Chopper’s been talking about your work non-stop. You’ve got him excited.”

You laugh softly. “Well, I’m glad.”

There’s a moment of silence between you both, and for a second you don’t know where to look.

“Come on.” Sanji says, breaking it gently. “Come eat.”

You suppress a sigh, shrugging off your lab coat as you follow him into the kitchen. A plate of creamy soup is waiting for you on the table, still warm, a faint curl of steam rising from the surface. The others have already eaten and retreated to their quarters or scattered across the ship, leaving the space quiet, just the two of you and the soft creak of wood beneath your feet. 

“It smells good,” you say, only to keep the silence from stretching too far. 

Sanji takes the seat across from you, and it reminds you too much of the night he cried in your arms. You clear your throat and reach for the spoon, dipping it into the soup just to have something to focus on.

He watches you, expectant, chin resting on his palm, those blue, ocean-deep eyes fixed on you with a softness that makes your chest feel a little too tight. A faint smile curves at the corner of his lips, and you try not to get overwhelmed by the attention, keeping your gaze on the spoon as you bring it up.

“It’s really good,” you say after taking a sip, savoring the slight tang.

“You like it?” He asks, the question coming out softer than you expect.

“Yeah.” You smile, already dipping your spoon again, taking another sip before the warmth fades.

Sanji watches you for a moment longer, like he’s making sure you mean it, before pushing himself up from his seat to grab his own plate. When he sits back down across from you, you frown slightly, the realization settling in a second too late.

“You haven’t eaten yet?”

He pauses halfway through settling into his seat, like he’s been caught doing something he didn’t think you’d notice, then shrugs it off easily, reaching for his spoon.

“Was waiting,” he says, like it doesn’t mean anything.

“For what?”

Sanji doesn’t answer right away, just starts eating, a little slower than you expect, like he’s buying himself time. When he finally glances up at you, there’s a faint smile there, something quieter than usual.

“For you,” he says.

Your cheeks warm instantly, your heart skipping several beats, your chest tightening as something soft and unsteady settles there, your stomach fluttering in a way you’re not prepared for.

“Oh.” Your voice comes out quieter than you intend, and you look away quickly, hoping he won’t notice the heat creeping up your face. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.” He insists, and when you glance back at him, you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips..

For a moment, the silence stretches, but it’s not awkward anymore, it’s comfortable. You try to focus on your food, on the warmth of the soup, on anything that keeps your mind steady, but your attention keeps drifting anyway, catching on the way his sleeves are rolled up, the line of his forearms, the quiet precision of his hands as he eats, the way his lips brush the spoon.

“Don’t tell the captain,” he says after you finish your food, gathering his and your dishes, and bringing them to the sink. “But I made dessert for you.”

“For me?” you ask, pointing lightly at your own chest.

He just nods, already moving, pulling two small bowls from the fridge and a couple of spoons from the drawer. There’s something almost careful in the way he sets everything down, like he’s pretending it’s casual when it isn’t.

Sanji places the chocolate mousse in front of you, and you just stare at it for a second.

It’s beautiful. It smells rich, sweet without being overwhelming, and you already know it’s going to taste amazing.

You look up at him, a little stunned despite yourself.

“You made this?”

He shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Wasn’t hard.”

“No, of course it wasn’t.” You laugh softly, shaking your head. “You can make anything. It’s just… you don’t usually make dessert, so…”

Sanji glances at you, his gaze softening before he shrugs one shoulder, lowering his eyes to his mousse like it suddenly requires all his attention.

“I wanted to thank you,” he says softly.

You frown slightly, caught off guard. “For…?”

He exhales, like he’s steadying himself, then looks back up at you.

“For that night,” he says, quieter now. “For being there for me when I was… breaking down.”

“It was nothing–”

“No,” he cuts in, not harsh, but firm enough to stop you. “It meant– it meant a lot.”

His voice falters just slightly on the last words, and for a second he looks like he might say more, but he doesn’t.

You hold his gaze a moment longer than you mean to, something warm and uncertain settling in your chest, before you look back down at your spoon, turning it slowly between your fingers.

“I’m glad I could help,” you say quietly, softer than before. Then you smile, adjusting your posture, ready to taste the dessert.

You dip your spoon into the mousse, the texture giving smoothly. When you bring it to your lips, it melts almost instantly, rich and soft, just sweet enough to linger without overwhelming, and you can’t stop the small sound that escapes you.

Sanji notices. Of course he does.

His chin rests back on his palm as he watches you again, quieter now, like he’s waiting for your verdict all over again. You’re lost in the sweetness of the dessert, eyes slipping closed for just a second, when he says it.

“You’re beautiful.”

Your eyes snap open, widening as the words hit, catching you completely off guard, and you almost choke on the mousse.

“W-what?” You cough lightly, setting the spoon down as you try to recover.

Sanji freezes for half a heartbeat, like he’s only just realized he said it out loud, his posture shifting as his hand drops from his chin.

“I–” He huffs a quiet breath, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly a lot less composed than he was a second ago. “I mean–”

You stare at him, heat rushing to your face again, your heart picking up in a way that feels impossible to hide now. He glances away, then back at you, something stubborn flickering through the embarrassment.

“You are,” he says, softer this time, but no less certain.

“Sanji…” Your heart is beating far too fast, your chest tight with it. “You– you can’t just say that.”

He frowns slightly, genuinely confused. “I can’t?”

“Nami… she’ll kill you, then me, if she ever hears you saying things like that.”

Sanji blinks, pausing for a moment like he’s trying to make sense of what you just said, and then shakes his head, even more confused than before.

“You think I’m with Nami?!”

Oh, shit. Judging by his reaction, you might be completely wrong.

“...No,” you start, then immediately falter, your voice losing all conviction as heat rushes to your face. There’s a brief pause, and when you glance up, an amused smile slowly starts to curve at his lips. “I-I mean, you– you were devastated when she got sick– you climbed a mountain in a blizzard for her, I just… I thought…”

Your words trail off into nothing, cheeks burning as the realization settles in.

“Sorry,” you mumble, your voice coming out smaller than you mean it to as you look away.

He huffs out a quiet laugh, and for a second it makes your stomach twist with embarrassment, your cheeks still burning.

“She’s just a friend,” he says, reaching across the table until his fingers brush yours, then settle there. “I’d react the same if anyone else in the crew got sick.”

You glance down at his hand over yours, then nod, a little too quickly, trying not to think too much about it. But deep down, you’re… happy. You’re happy he isn’t with her and you’re happy he thinks you’re beautiful.

You suppress a grin.

“Even Zoro?” You narrow an eye at him, teasing.

He pauses, like he’s genuinely considering it, his thumb shifting slightly against your hand.

“…Debatable.”

You snort, the tension easing just enough to let the sound slip out, and when you look back up at him, there’s a faint smile tugging at his lips too.

“Did you mean it, then?” You ask hesitantly. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“I think you’re beautiful,” he says, without missing a beat, his thumb brushing lightly against your hand, “and so intelligent, and… kind, in a way you don’t even seem to notice. You take care of everyone without making it a big thing, like it’s just… natural to you.”

You still, your breath catching slightly as he keeps going, quieter now.

“And I think you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for,” he adds, eyes on yours. “And I think you make this place better just by being here.”

Your chest tightens, the words settling somewhere deep, and you don’t know what to do with them, your fingers curling slightly under his touch.

He doesn’t look away. You do, because his adoring gaze is something you’re not used to. It’s kinda overwhelming really, but in a good way.

“Well.” You swallow, trying to dissolve the awkwardness. “Thank you. For the food and– everything else.”

Sanji shrugs again, like it’s nothing.

“Do you like the mousse?”

You hum, letting go of his hand and picking up the spoon again, ready to take a bite from the dessert once more.

“It’s perfect. I love chocolate. In all forms.” You smile at him. “For future reference.”

He laughs softly. 

“Noted.”

After you finish your dessert, Sanji gathers the dishes and brings them to the sink, rolling his sleeves up a little more as he turns on the water. You stay where you are for a second, watching him without really meaning to, the steady movement of his hands, the quiet strength in his arms as he works the sponge over the plates, the whole thing a little too easy to get distracted by.

Before you realize what you’re doing, you’re already on your feet, crossing the small space between you. You rise onto your toes, leaning in just enough to press a quick, soft kiss to his cheek.

Sanji stills mid-motion.

He turns his head slightly to look at you, caught off guard in a way you don’t think you’ve seen before, and you stay there for a second longer than you probably should, your chin brushing against his shoulder as you balance on your toes.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice quieter now.

“You already said that, love.”

Your cheeks warm under his gaze. “Well… thanks again.”

A slow smile spreads across his face, softer than his usual grin, and for a second neither of you moves.

Then you step back, dropping back onto your heels, suddenly very aware of what you just did.

“I should–” You gesture vaguely toward the door, already turning away before you can finish the thought.

“Hey.”

You pause.

When you glance back, he’s still watching you, one hand resting against the edge of the sink, the other loosely holding the sponge like he forgot about it entirely.

“Anytime,” he says, quieter than before.

…

You’re sure he’s doing it on purpose now.

Every night, there’s a sweet treat waiting for you on the dinner table. Every night, after you finish work, you expectantly sneak into the kitchen to find Sanji already there, either in the middle of making something or waiting for you outright. If you take too long to leave your lab, he’ll rap his knuckles on your door and hand you a hot chocolate mug, or a plate of chocolate covered strawberries he claims were extra.

“You’re making me go off my diet, you know,” you tell him as he steps into your space, setting the plate down beside your notes and cluttered vials.

Sanji scoffs immediately, leaning his hips against the counter as he crosses one arm over his chest, a cup of tea resting loosely in his other hand.

“Like you need to be on a diet,” he says before taking a sip.

“Have you seen me?” You tease, picking up a strawberry and taking a bite.

“Hush,” he says softly, the corner of his mouth lifting. “I already told you what I think of you, so none of that.”

You hum thoughtfully, nodding as you set the strawberry down again. “Feel free to tell me again some other time.”

Sanji throws his head back, laughing, and you can’t help but watch the movement of his throat, the way his blonde hair falls away from his face, before settling back into place.

He’s so pretty and he doesn't even try. When his laugh dies out, he looks at you again, his eyes softer.

“Well, you are beautiful.”

Your cheeks warm instantly and you look away, suppressing a smile.

“Thank you.”

You eat another strawberry while Sanji lifts his tea to his lips again, the silence settling comfortably around you. But when you glance back up, you catch him staring at your lips. His gaze is intent, blue ocean eyes following the slow movement of your lips around the strawberry, and the look on his face makes warmth spread through your stomach almost instantly. His breath catches softly before he looks away to take another sip of tea, like he’s trying to recover from the thought he just had.

You pretend not to notice.

“Alright then, love,” he says after a moment, sounding a little rougher than before, like he’s forcing himself back to normal. He leans toward you, without thinking much, aiming a quick kiss at your cheek. “Don’t overwork yourself, okay?”

You turn your head in the worst possible moment. His lips brush dangerously close to your mouth instead, and you both freeze.

Sanji pauses only inches away from your face. Close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. The lab suddenly feels far too small. Your heart pounds so hard you’re sure he can hear it.

Neither of you moves. Then his eyes flick down to your lips.

And slowly, carefully, like he’s giving you time to stop him, he leans in again.

When his lips press against yours properly this time, your heart feels like it stops before exploding back to life all at once. The kiss is soft at first, hesitant for only a second before he deepens it, like he was holding back for weeks.

Your fingers tighten instinctively around the edge of the counter as you kiss him back, and the quiet sound he makes against your lips nearly melts you on the spot. One of his hands finds your neck, fingers carding through your hair as if he can’t help himself. He kisses you hard enough to leave your head spinning.

You have half a mind to stand from your stool, to get closer to his body, but as soon as you think about it, Sanji pulls away, like he’s just remembered himself.

He clears his throat quickly, taking half a step back as one hand comes up to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck, the other still loosely holding his tea.

“Right,” he says, voice rougher than usual. “Yeah. Uh…”

You stare at him, lips still tingling, heart hammering so loudly you can barely think. His face is pink, cheeks and neck burning.

He just kissed you. Sanji just kissed you.

“Goodnight then, love,” he blurts out, avoiding your eyes now as he gestures vaguely toward the door. “You should– probably sleep.” 

“Y-yeah,” you say because you don’t think you trust your voice right now.

Sanji turns around and holds the doorknob ready to leave. You watch his back as he sighs, dropping his head.

Sanji turns around and holds the doorknob, ready to leave. You watch his back as he sighs, shoulders rising and falling once before his head drops forward.

“Fuck it.” He turns back around.

The cup of tea lands hastily on the table with a clink before he’s crossing the room again, closing the distance so fast you barely have time to stand from the stool before his hands are on your waist and his lips are on yours again.

This kiss is nothing like the first.

Sanji kisses you like he’s been thinking about it for far too long, like holding back has finally become impossible. His hands tighten at your waist, pulling you flush against him, and the sudden heat of his body against yours makes your head spin all over again.

You melt into him immediately, arms winding around his neck as a soft sigh leaves you against his mouth. He swallows the sound with another kiss, deeper this time, slower and somehow more overwhelming, like now that he’s started he doesn’t want to stop.

“God…” He breathes quietly against your lips, almost frustrated with himself, fingers flexing against your waist.

You barely manage to inhale before he kisses you again. The movement forces you back against the edge of your worktable, glass vials clinking softly behind you, forgotten entirely. One of Sanji’s hands slides up your side before settling at your back, steady and warm, while the other grips your waist firmly enough to make your stomach twist.

Then, without much thought beyond wanting you closer, his hands slip to the back of your thighs, lifting you onto the edge of the table. Tinctures and scattered notes scrape and rattle out of the way under the sudden movement, neither of you paying them any attention.

You gasp softly into the kiss, instinctively pulling him closer with your arms around his neck, and Sanji makes another one of those quiet sounds against your lips that nearly undo you completely.

He steps between your knees without hesitation now, kissing you deeper until you’re dizzy from it, from him, from the way his hands keep tightening like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

Your fingers slip into his hair, and he exhales sharply against your mouth at the feeling, forehead almost knocking against yours for a second before he kisses you again, slower this time but no less intense.

Weeks of lingering looks, brushed hands, quiet tension and careful restraint unravel all at once in the tiny lab around you, until it feels impossible to remember why either of you tried holding back in the first place.

His lips leave yours only to trail along your jaw, and when they press against your neck you can’t stop the soft whimper that slips out of you.

“Please…” You breathe, the word leaving you before you can even think about it, your fingers tightening in his hair. You’re not even sure what you’re asking for anymore but Sanji reacts to it instantly.

He stills against your throat for half a second, and you feel the shaky breath he exhales against your skin.

“Love…” His voice is rough and strained in a way that makes your stomach twist. “Not here…”

One of his hands slides up your back, fingers spreading between your shoulder blades as he pulls you closer against him, like he physically can’t help it.

“Yes, here.” You sigh, the words half dissolving into a breathless sound against his lips. “Please, please, please.”

Sanji lets out a quiet, wrecked laugh at that, forehead dropping briefly against yours like he’s losing the fight with himself by the second.

“You’re dangerous, y’know that?” He mutters, already working on the waistband of your pants. “When I’m done with you here, I’m taking you somewhere we won’t get interrupted.”

The promise in his voice makes your stomach twist pleasantly.

“Confident.” You breathe, fingers still tangled in his hair.

“You’re the one begging me to not stop.”

Your face burns, but before you can answer, he kisses you again, stealing whatever response you had left. You lift your hips from the table to help him slide the fabric of your pants off your legs, big hands gripping your ankle as he slides it off one leg completely.

He grips your knee, gently pushing your legs farther apart for him. Sanji doesn’t rush, fingertips sliding through your folds slowly, like he’s taking his time learning every reaction he pulls from you.

“Oh, fuck.” He murmurs against your ear, his tongue pressing flat against the sensitive spot just beneath it.

Your head tips back instinctively as you cling to him, thighs parting even more beneath his hands. A shaky whimper slips from your lips when his fingers begin circling your clit, slow at first, teasing enough to make your stomach tighten.

“Shh.” He swallows your sounds with another kiss as his movements grow steadier, more deliberate. “Quiet, love.”

“Fuck, Sanji.” You whisper, breath catching hard in your throat.

“I know.” He coos softly, the hint of amusement in his voice only making heat rush through you faster. He says it like he already knows exactly what he’s doing to you, and maybe that should annoy you.

Instead, it only makes you pull him closer.

You feel it building fast, your breaths turning shallow and uneven no matter how hard you try to keep quiet. Sanji keeps rubbing you in quick, firm circles that make your thighs tremble around him.

“That’s it.” He murmurs against your skin, voice low and warm as he presses another kiss beneath your jaw. “Just like that, love.”

You bite down hard on your lip to swallow the sounds threatening to escape, fingers gripping his shoulders tightly as the pressure coils tighter and tighter inside you. Sanji notices immediately and the soft laugh he breathes against your neck nearly pushes you over the edge by itself.

“So sensitive.” He whispers, almost teasing now. “And you were telling me to behave?”

“Shut up.” You manage to whisper, though there’s no real bite behind it. “I’m so close, please don’t stop.”

Sanji’s breath catches softly at the desperation in your voice, and when he looks up at you there’s something almost wrecked in his expression, like your pleasure is undoing him just as much as it’s undoing you.

“Wasn’t planning to.”

His fingers keep moving against you without mercy while his other hand tightens at your thigh to hold you open for him. He kisses you again before another sound can escape, swallowing every shaky breath and broken moan he pulls from you like he can’t get enough of them.

“That’s it, darling.” He whispers against your lips. “Let go for me.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as pleasure crashes through you all at once, white noise rushing through your ears so loudly it drowns everything else out for a moment. Your lips part on a broken breath before you clamp them shut again, trying desperately to stay quiet even as your whole body trembles beneath his hands.

It’s impossible with him this close. Not when he’s looking at you like that, touching you like he’s memorizing every reaction you give him.

A strained sound still escapes you despite your efforts, and Sanji immediately presses a kiss against your mouth, swallowing it gently as he keeps you riding through it, fingers never slowing.

“There you go.” He murmurs softly against your lips, voice warm with praise that makes your stomach flutter all over again. “Good girl.”

The words nearly undo you a second time.

Your hands cling tightly to his shoulders as you try to calm your breathing, forehead dropping against his while waves of heat still pulse through you. Sanji stays close the entire time, one hand rubbing slow and comforting circles against your thigh now, his own breathing uneven from watching you come apart for him.

“God.” He whispers with a quiet laugh, almost disbelieving. “You’re beautiful like this.”

You immediately hide your face against his neck, suddenly too overwhelmed to look at him. A quiet laugh rumbles softly through Sanji’s chest at that, and his arms tighten around you instinctively, holding you close while you try to catch your breath.

“Hey.” He murmurs, one hand sliding gently into your hair. “Don’t get shy on me now.”

You groan softly against his skin, embarrassed by how intensely you reacted, by the praise, by the way he’s still looking at you like you’ve completely ruined him.

“Stop talking.” You mumble into his neck.

“That bad, huh?” He teases quietly, though there’s too much affection in his voice for it to feel mean.

You only cling to him tighter in response, cheeks burning, and Sanji laughs again, softer this time, before pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head.

“Cute.” He whispers, mostly to himself.

You make an offended sound against his neck, though it comes out muffled and weak enough to make him laugh harder.

“I just had a life-changing experience and you’re calling me cute.”

“I’m flattered, love,” he replies easily. “But you were cute before the life-changing experience too.”

You finally pull back just enough to glare at him, though the effect is ruined completely by the warmth still lingering in your face and the way your arms remain looped around his neck.

Sanji smiles at you like he’s completely charmed by the sight.

The intensity from earlier slowly melts into something softer, quieter. His hands rest comfortably at your waist now, thumbs brushing absent little patterns against your sides while the ship creaks gently around you.

Then his gaze flicks over your shoulder.

“Your lab is… destroyed.”

You blink once before turning slightly to look. A few papers are scattered across the floor, several tinctures pushed crookedly to the edge of the table, and one poor drying herb bundle has been completely sacrificed to the chaos.

You snort. “That sounds like tomorrow’s problem.”

Sanji stares at you for a second before breaking into another laugh, warm and genuine, the sound filling the tiny room so easily it makes your chest ache.

“There’s my hardworking botanist,” he teases.

You roll your eyes, but before you can answer he leans in to kiss you again, softer this time, slow and lingering and sweet enough to make your stomach flutter all over again.

“C’mon,” he says quietly. “Let’s get you to bed before I forget I was trying to be gentlemanly tonight.”

The intensity from earlier slowly melts into something softer as Sanji helps you dress again, gentle hands smoothing your clothes back into place with surprising care despite the lingering flush across his face. Every now and then his fingers pause at your waist or brush your skin absentmindedly, like he still can’t quite believe this happened, like he keeps getting distracted by you standing here letting him touch you like this.

The little lab is warm and messy around you, scattered papers and crooked tinctures left behind as evidence of what happened here tonight, but for once you don’t care. Tomorrow, you’ll reorganize everything. Tomorrow, you’ll pretend your heart doesn’t race every time he looks at you.