tais.

How many people could say they have one of the top heroes pining after them? Well not you, but that’s just because you have absolutely no idea it’s happening. You’re actually the only person to not see it from a mile away.

Toshinori Yagi never even considered himself especially subtle about his feelings, even in his true form it’s hard to hide the blushes and sweat on his gaunt face. Add to that how even more noticeable every expression is when he’s in his hero persona and the fact his coworkers and students are also heroes trained to be observant of things? Let’s just say everyone at UA was wondering when he’d finally confess to the new hire. After all, even if he’s a little older, he’s still a really sweet, nice guy, you’d have to be crazy to not want to go out with him!

Of course you’re not crazy, just ridiculously oblivious.

Right now, he felt like a bit of a creep, peeking through the break room door at you eating your lunch. He wasn’t trying to be creepy though, goodness no! He just couldn’t stop his heart from beating fast and palms sweating as he watched you smile at something on your phone. The former number one hero looked more like a shy schoolboy than the great All Might right now, but he couldn’t help it! You’re far too cute to him, he didn’t even stop staring when Hizashi Yamada passed by, whistling the wedding march obnoxiously loud. Gosh…he was totally a goner for you.

“Um hello Miss (y/n)…a-are those potato chips?” He says once he finally musters his courage and approaches you, nervously wringing his hands.

“Oh yeah! Want one?” You smile back at him, clueless to how he stumbled awkwardly over every word.

His fingers tremble a little as he reaches for the chip you held out for him, cheeks growing more rosy when your fingers brushed. Oh no, you’d definitely notice how much he was shaking right? Nope, you just smiled before eating a chip of your own, leaving Toshinori to chew slowly on the potato chip.

“That was good…thank you,” he says with a soft smile, like you gave him something much more meaningful than a piece of junk food. Well, this was it, he had to say something else. After taking a deep breath, he added “Um, I was wondering…if m-maybe you’d like to eat together..?”

“Of course you can sit with me! What are friends for?” You say back with a grin, blissfully pulling out a chair for him.

Well, that didn’t go exactly how he planned. Regardless, Toshinori sat down, mentally kicking himself for not being more direct. He fidgets a bit, watching you tilt your head curiously at him. Wait, maybe you’re catching on!

“Hey where’s your food?” You ask, glancing between him and the table in confusion.

Oh no. His face grows even warmer, ears turning red as he opens and closes his mouth a few times. How could he seriously forget his lunch bag? Well, obviously he was distracted, thinking about how cute you are, how much he wants to just squeeze you in a hug and kiss all over your face and…no no focus!

“Um I-I just…I’m still deciding what to eat! You know, sometimes I get so busy I forget to pack lunch!” He bluffs, rubbing the back of his head nervously, messy hair ruffling even further.

Standing abruptly, he moves to one of the vending machines near your table, clumsily pressing the buttons. He really should eat more than just some trail mix, but he doesn’t want to give himself more chances to mess up. You’re watching him, smiling a little to soothe whatever is causing him anxiety.

“I get that, but make sure to eat something good! We can’t have the kids seeing the mighty All Might distracted by hunger!” You tease lightly, giving him a wink that would look goofy to anyone else.

Toshinori nearly crushes the trail mix package in his hand when he sees that wink. It’s like you’re trying to give him a heart attack. Your laugh too, it makes him feel like a million butterflies are fluttering against his ribs. He just wants to hear you laugh like that for the rest of his life, and he plans to make that a reality.

“Miss (y/n)…” he says suddenly, voice no longer shaking, as if he was facing down a city level threat.

You turn in your chair, pausing mid-scroll online. The bewilderment grows when he suddenly kneels by your chair, your eyebrows shooting up as you stare in shock. He looks so serious, it almost makes you wonder if he’s upset with you, until he looks up with wide eyes.

“Miss (y/n), will you please accompany me to dinner tonight? I’d love nothing more than to take you wherever your heart desires, and if this makes you uncomfortable, I’ll back off immediately. I just need your answer desperately…please?” He speaks softly, hands clasped around one of your own, and you swear his eyes are shimmering and wet as he looks up at you.

It takes you a moment to process, but Toshinori looking like a kicked puppy makes you remember you need to speak.

“I’d love to…” you answer quietly, still a little stunned that he was asking you for a date.

His shoulders sag with relief, a soft smile crossing his lips as he gives your hand one last squeeze before letting go.

“Thank you…I promise to make it a special night.” He says sweetly, jumping to his feet.

He has so much to do now, reservations, buying flowers, ironing his best suit…it’s almost overwhelming. On his way out of the break room though, he feels a flicker of doubt, wondering if you’re sure. When he peeks back, he spies the little grin on your face, the way you’re covering your face a little and barely restraining a noise of glee. Smiling, he heads out, feeling plenty reassured.

Kakashi falls in love so gradually that he does not realise it has happened until your absence begins to alter the structure of his day. He is accustomed to keeping people at a careful emotional distance, close enough to protect but never close enough to become essential, and initially he treats you with the same friendly evasiveness he offers everyone else. Then he begins remembering which drinks you prefer, taking routes through the village that pass places you frequent and saving observations because he knows they will make you laugh. The realisation comes in an ordinary moment when he turns to tell you something, finds you are not there and feels the disappointment settle far too deeply. By then, you have already become part of the private rhythm of his life.

His affection is expressed most naturally through subtle acts of service. Kakashi is unlikely to make grand declarations when he can sharpen your kunai, replace the groceries you have nearly finished or repair the loose hinge you mentioned once three weeks ago. He notices inconveniences with a shinobi’s precision and removes them before you can even ask, often disguising the gesture beneath a lazy shrug when you thank him. If you tease him for being thoughtful, he will insist that the task was bothering him anyway, but the faint curve of his eye betrays him. Kakashi has lost too many opportunities to care for people so with you, love becomes something practical he can do every day.

Earning Kakashi’s trust is a slow process, but once given, it is unexpectedly complete. He may share stories from his childhood without ever explaining how they still hurt, offering facts where another person might offer feelings and watching carefully to see what you do with them. He needs to know that you will not pry open every silence or treat his grief as a puzzle you are entitled to solve. When he finally begins speaking plainly about his father, Obito, Rin and Minato, it will happen without ceremony—maybe late at night, his voice level and his gaze fixed somewhere beyond you. The most important thing you can do is listen without trying to rescue him from memories that have already happened. Kakashi does not need you to erase his dead, only to remain beside the man who survived them.

Physical affection with Kakashi begins casually and becomes indispensable before either of you acknowledges it. At first it is a hand at your elbow in a crowd, his knee resting against yours beneath a table or his fingers briefly brushing your shoulder as he passes behind you. He likes touches that he can pretend are accidental because they allow him to seek reassurance without admitting he needs it, but familiarity eventually makes him bolder. In private, he gravitates towards you with the unconscious persistence of a tired animal searching for warmth, draping an arm around your waist and resting his face against your hair. He sleeps more deeply when you are tucked against his chest, though he will deny this even while tightening his hold whenever you attempt to leave the bed.

Kakashi delights in teasing you, particularly when he knows you are trying to remain composed. His humour is dry, shameless and delivered with such perfect nonchalance that it may take you several seconds to realise what he has implied. He will murmur something outrageous beside your ear in public, then retreat behind his book while you stare at him in disbelief, his expression the picture of innocence. The habit becomes especially dangerous once he learns exactly what makes you flustered, because Kakashi is observant enough to catalogue every caught breath and averted glance. Fortunately, he is equally susceptible to being caught off guard; sincere praise, unexpected boldness or a gentle tug at his mask can reduce the Copy Ninja to stunned silence.

His notorious lateness becomes noticeably less severe where you are concerned. Kakashi will still arrive late to casual plans, usually with an excuse so absurd that challenging it only encourages him, but he pays attention to the difference between making you roll your eyes and genuinely making you feel unimportant. If an occasion matters to you, he appears on time, and often early, although he lurks nearby so you will never know. The change reveals more than any apology could. He spent years teaching himself that attachment ends in grief, so keeping a meeting is its own little act of faith, a promise that he expects both of you to be there when the appointed hour arrives.

Conflict with Kakashi is rarely loud, but his composure can become its own kind of barrier. He is skilled at retreating behind reasonable words and an unreadable expression, particularly when an argument touches a fear he would rather not name. You may find yourself frustrated by how calmly he can discuss the surface of a problem while avoiding its emotional centre entirely. A healthy relationship requires you to recognise the difference between giving him space and allowing him to disappear, and it requires Kakashi to learn that silence is not always protection. He will never enjoy exposing the rawest parts of himself, but if you tell him plainly that his distance is hurting you, then he will return to the conversation and make the effort because loving you matters more to him than winning.

Kakashi is fiercely protective without wanting to confine you. He respects competence and would never mistake love for ownership, so he does not demand that you remain somewhere safe while he faces every danger alone. Instead, he learns your strengths, accounts for them in his plans and trusts you to make your own decisions, even when fear makes that trust difficult. His protectiveness reveals itself in smaller ways, such as positioning himself nearest the door, tracking your chakra in unfamiliar surroundings and going unnaturally still when someone threatens you. He knows you are capable of defending yourself but that knowledge does nothing to lessen the cold fury of discovering that you were forced to.

Domestic life with Kakashi is unexpectedly soft, untidy and full of companionable silence. He leaves books in inconvenient places, steals bites from your plate despite ordering the same meal and performs household chores with either astonishing efficiency or complete neglect, depending on his mood. He loves sharing space without requiring constant conversation. He likes you occupied with your own interests while he reads nearby, one foot hooked lazily around your ankle as proof of connection. These ordinary evenings become precious to him because they ask nothing heroic of either of you. After a life measured in missions, memorials and emergencies, Kakashi finds profound comfort in hearing you move through the next room and knowing that, at least for tonight, everyone he loves is alive.

Loving you gradually teaches Kakashi to imagine a future he once believed was meant for other people. He might deflect early conversations about permanence with humour, not because he regards the relationship casually, but because hope frightens him more than loneliness ever did. Even after he accepts that you intend to stay, part of him remains superstitious about speaking happiness aloud, as though naming it might invite the world to take it from him again. Still, his language slowly changes from if to when—when the mission ends, when winter comes, when the two of you finally repair the garden gate or take that journey together. Kakashi’s deepest declaration is not only that he loves you, it is that he has begun making plans in which he survives, returns home and finds you waiting there for him.

tag list: @sunday-kisser

"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."

Of all the possible circumstances in which you could have run into him again, it had to be this one. Stuck in a tree, wearing the beautiful robe a Mink had gifted you just today —now regrettably dirty— your hands scraped and your pride literally hanging by a thread. This is not how you wanted to face him, and you wish the earth would just open up and swallow you whole.

You turn your face away, hoping he won't see how much you are actually regretting this.

"I got lost," you lie.

"…And that's why you climbed a tree," he says slowly.

"Yes."

His eyes narrow and he gives you a look, there's no way you actually think he's buying that. Law looks you up and down, "Dressed like that."

You squeeze your eyes shut, "…Yes."

The way your dirty robe must be looking right now wouldn't be exactly dignifying. You risk a glance at him from the corner of your eye, trying to read his expression, but stop when you feel the fabric slide against your legs the moment you twist. You gasp and kick your legs in a useless attempt to stop it from sliding any further, failing to reach the branch with them and only managing to curl up instead.

"I swear," you warn him as your face starts to heat up, "if you're looking where you're not supposed to, I'll kill you."

"You needn't worry, the angle is not exactly in my favor."

Well, that's a relief, you think. At least this can't get any worse than it already— wait, "In your favor??" you protest out loud.

You see the corner of his mouth twist into a shameless smirk beneath his hat; the bastard is enjoying this far more than he should. But his teasing quickly vanishes when your sudden movement nearly makes you lose your grip, his hand quickly lifting by reflex as his blue dome surrounds you and his Room covers the area.

"Oh no— don't you dare!"

"You're gonna fall."

"Then I'll fall, I don't care!"

"Well I do." 

"Wh—" Since when did he care so much? You shake it before it gets to your senses, "No! You can't get any closer!"

"And why's that?"

"Just don't! I can't face you right now!"

Because only weeks ago, you thought you might never see him again.

Back in the Sunny, the sudden gunshots that had echoed through the transponder snail, followed by Luffy screaming Law's name, made all the blood drain from your body. Your mind had raced with the terrible fate that might have befallen Law, and your body burned with an overwhelming urge to abandon everything right then and there, turn the ship around and run straight into Doflamingo's claws, if that's what it took.

But you knew that wasn't clever and would only get you killed, leaving the rest of your crew in danger, so you followed your captain's orders and sailed for Zou instead. And your heart tore at that.

Your mind kept spiraling around the same question: Would it have been better if you had simply been honest about your feelings, being able to share even a single moment with him before he was taken from you, however brief… Or never been anything at all, only to realize too late how deeply you cared, knowing you would never get the chance to say it?

It'd only been a few weeks and your heart was still struggling to catch up with reality; with how close he had come to dying and the uncertainty of whether you'd be able to see him again. Or if he had already gone somewhere far beyond your reach.

Only to suddenly see him standing there, as if nothing had happened.

"Please," you mutter to yourself, unable to stop the tear that rolls down your cheek, "not right now."

But your grip finally gives, and it hurts when the bark scrapes your hand.

Law ignores your petition and, before you can fully realize what's happening, he's already holding you mid-air. Your bodies blink out of space and re appear on the top of a higher branch.

His arms close around you far more tightly than necessary as he steadies you both. He feels your body warm against his, your breathing uneven, your hands clutching at his shirt with tremor… It's hard for him to believe that he can finally feel you like this. You're well, far from danger, breathing and alive.

"You fool," he mutters under his breath, holding you even tightly as he inevitably hides his face in the crook of your neck. How dare you risk your life like that after he'd lost all hope of seeing you again?

Your fingers tighten in his shirt, and he leans back a little to take a look at you, but you evade him and turn your face inward, pressing it in the space between his shoulder and his chest. It hasn't even been five seconds when he feels a faint damp where your face is hidden. His brow furrows… Are you crying?

He doesn't get it, you had been so adamant about keeping him away and you now seem determined to not let go of him at all.

"Put me down" your words don't match your actions, and that leaves him disconcerted.

"…Alright."

He loosens his hold and sets you back on your feet atop the branch. You retreat almost immediately until you feel your back press against the trunk, your face turned away from him.

Law remains where he is, the hand with which he held you still half-lifted, watching how you're intentionally refusing to even look at him. Did he do something..? What happened?

Before Dressrosa, if he'd been in a similar situation, he would have simply left to give you the distance you needed, and probably try again later. He would have done so before he found himself in a situation where he had to accept the harsh reality of never being able to see you again.

A lot has happened… He's thought about so many things, and the mere thought of leaving you like this now settles heavy in his chest. He can't do it anymore.

He had spent weeks trying to convince himself that distance was easier, that those small pauses in the brief conversations he shared with you— when you looked up at him mid-conversation and forgot what you were saying when your eyes met his; when you accidentally crashed into each other in the hallway but neither of you walked away; when you lingered at the doorway when leaving, trying to find an excuse to stay a while longer… Whatever that was, it would be better left alone.

He couldn't afford any distractions, he needed to keep himself focused and collected if he wanted his plans to unfold the way they should. Besides, the farther you were away from him, the safer you'd be.

—

The last rays of sunlight disappear and the night breeze shakes the leaves above as it welcomes the moonlight. Although it has gotten darker, he still can see the faint tremor in your hands even from where he stands. You look like you could break at any moment.

Taking courage, he steps closer. He knows you must be watching from the corner of your eye as he approaches you, yet you remain exactly as you are. Law only stops when he's barely a step away, and is surprised that even then you still refuse to look at him. Doing his best not to annoy you any further, he crouches down, resting his head against his folded arms as he simply watches. His eyes move to your face and he sees the faint shine of the tears you're trying very poorly to hide. Your eyes… Have they always been this beautiful? Your eyelashes cling and sparkle when another tear clouds your eye, and it reminds him of dew falling on a petal.

The white robe you're wearing moves softly with the wind and forms gentle waves. The fabric, thin and light, gathers at your waist and falls in elegant layers along your frame. It's something he has never seen you wear before. And… It suits you. The robe is adorned with delicate thread patterns of different botanical species that flow along the edges of the cloth. Clearly something not meant to be worn when climbing trees, and he can't help but smile at the thought. What were you thinking?

Still, he's glad you're wearing it, no matter how dirty and stained it's become. Somehow that suits you even better, and he wonders if you're aware of how beautiful you look.

A twinkle beside your neck draws his attention, and Law notices a carefully made piece that hangs from your ear and swings gently with the breeze. A thin cord from which feathers have been tied alongside something carved and smooth— bone, most likely. He wishes he knew the story behind how you got your ear perforated; the image of a Mink insisting on helping you, telling you how well it would suit you before you have any chance to protest comes easy to his mind, and he wishes he could have been there to see it.

He watches how it brushes lightly against the curve of your neck each time the wind moves. And without meaning to, he pictures how you'd look if you wore one of his; one of the small golden rings he wears on his own ears.

The image appears so suddenly and with such clarity it makes him stop. What exactly is he thinking? You are standing here with tears still clinging to your lashes, refusing to even look at him, and his mind is choosing this moment to adorn you with his jewelry.

Your breathing is still uneven from everything that has just happened, making your lips tremble when a shaky breath leaves them, slightly parted, and he's captivated by the way your lower lip softens with the exhale and then presses the upper one when you swallow.

He'd never paid so much attention to your mouth before; there's something disarmingly soft about them that draws his attention no matter how much he tells himself to stop, and he finds himself helplessly wondering how they might feel against his fingers. If they'd be warm, if they'd be as soft as they look against his own—

No. Idiot. He cuts the thought before it can fully form, lowering his gaze in sudden fear of being caught. His chest sinks with a mix of guilt and embarrassment for daydreaming about you when you're standing right in front of him. He can't help it, he's missed you, and is now slowly realizing how inevitably close that feeling has come to desire.

You both knew there had always been something between you. Though it had been too awkward and quiet, it had also been simultaneously loud and obvious to everyone around you, even for you. But still, whenever your crewmates brought it up, the two of you continued to deny it, thinking it was inconvenient enough and not worth your time nor heartbreak. This alliance was going to end soon anyway.

But now that he's able to see things from a different perspective, he finds himself at a loss for what to do; this feeling is no longer a passing curiosity he can simply ignore or deny. Now that you're right in front of him, he has no idea how he's supposed to approach you in that way without losing you again.

Your fingers twitch, it's getting colder, and Law notices the injury in your hand. Ah, the branch must have scrapped your skin during your fall earlier, and you probably haven't even looked at it.

Slowly, he rises from his crouch and steps closer, still unsure whether getting closer could only make things worse, but he's willing to take the risk. Once he's reached you, he slowly reaches for your hand and gently holds it in his.

He was right. His thumb brushes along the reddened skin of your palm, assessing the scratches that he's glad to see aren't deep and nothing more than irritation. Still, it bothers him. And before he can quite stop himself, his fingers close around your hand, until he's carefully squeezing it, bringing it closer to his face as he lowers his head. He fights the irrational urge to suddenly hold you, and instead is only able to press your knuckles against his forehead while he stays still, like you're the most precious thing he's ever held... like it's something he had almost lost the chance to ever hold.

That's enough to make your tears stop and pull your attention back to him, taken aback by the sudden gesture that looks almost like a reverence.

Judging by the tears you've shed, the injury in your hands is hardly the worst thing he's caused tonight. And Law begins to understand what's been shaking you this entire time— why you've been trying so hard to avoid him, why you happened to be ‘lost', and he fears you had simply been trying to get as far away from him as you could.

How long have you believed he was dead? How many times had that thought crossed your mind and made you feel? The alliance ending painfully sooner, and those gunshots being the last thing anyone ever heard of him. Even though you were never anything to each other (or at least not out-loud), the thought of you carrying that grief… of you believing he had died when things had been left unsaid, things he had never allowed himself to name; it all made him feel like a complete idiot.

Had you imagined it? His broken and lifeless body laying somewhere where it could not be retrieved? Had it been fair of him to steal glances at you when he thought you weren't looking, to hold your gaze a second too long until heat rose to your cheeks and you asked, half flustered, if he needed something. Only for him to look away and leave you standing there with the answer he always avoided.

His fingers tighten around your hand because he knew, he knew none of this came out of nowhere. He'd been playing the role of a fool, then walked into his death and left you with nothing but silence.

"…I'm sorry."

Of all the things you thought Law might say tonight, an apology had never crossed your mind, and even less one as genuine and vulnerable as he had just let it out.

You feel your chest tighten as tears begin to fill your eyes even more than before, making an effort to swallow the stir that's forming in your stomach before it comes undone against your will.

"Don't… say it like that," your voice trembles.

Law remains for a moment as he is, your hand still resting against his forehead. Not exactly sure what to do, he slowly lifts his head to take a proper look at you. Your knuckles slide from his brow and brush along the bridge of his nose, until they come to rest against the side of his face. His mouth curves into a sad smile when he meets your eyes, glad you're finally not avoiding him anymore. For a second it almost looks like he might lean further into your hand and press a devoted kiss to it, but he halts before it fully happens and keeps your hand pressed tightly against his lips instead. The way he's looking at you right now is enough to steal the air from your lungs.

You had seen Law irritated, distant, quietly amused and cold most of the time. But this… this softness feels almost unreal in him. The sharpness that usually rests in his face has been replaced by something deeply gentle.

"You don't want me to apologize?" he asks in the most vulnerable tone, coming muffled against your hand.

"That's not what I—" his thumb brushes lightly over your fingers, and the quiet devotion with which he keeps holding you there makes it difficult to breathe.

Your eyes are completely captivated by his, and the silence between you suddenly feels dense, briefly broken by a strong breeze that makes the leaves sway and fall around you.

Law lowers your hand with a reluctant slowness before letting it go, only so that he can step closer instead and settle his hands on your face. His palms cradle your cheeks, his thumbs rest just beneath your eyes, gently brushing the traces where your tears still linger, and the way he looks at you then is so unbearably tender that it makes something inside your chest swirl in heat.

Then, very slowly, he leans closer, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he closes his eyes, still holding you with bewitching devotion.

Your breath catches and your heart stumbles into a nervous rhythm. You can feel the faint brush of his breath against your lips and the steadiness with which he remains there, holding you in this moment of intimacy that you never imagined he'd be so able to express; your entire body melting beneath each tender gesture he makes.

"Law? I—" your lungs struggle to keep you steady, "I'm… not used to this."

He leans back a small distance, his hands remaining exactly where they are, and you can see the moonlight glow on his eyes when he opens them.

"And you think I am?"

You can see the intensity behind that look when he says it, feeling the space between you grow even closer than before, and when you catch his eyes drift to your lips, you feel your heart beat even faster and all strength leave your system. You try to draw in more air, making your lips part slightly without meaning to.

Law notices, and his eyes seem to ask for permission when he lifts them to meet yours.

Your eyes get heavy when he leans in again, his warm breath drawing closer and brushing your lips, until you finally feel the gentle press of them against yours. It feels even better than what he's imagined. They are smoother and softer than what he expected, and give in easily beneath his own as he presses further.

When you slightly part, he feels the slight tremor of your breath against his mouth; his chest tightens when he realizes that you are just as nervous as he is. You are here, you are real.

His thumbs move against your skin before he presses his lips on yours once more, his hands tightening as he deepens the kiss and your thoughts scatter completely. Your hands slip into his hair, loosening his hat and making it fall and land at the bottom of the tree with a quiet thud that Law doesn't seem to mind.

When your fingers grab his hair, you feel the last fragile restraint finally snap inside him; his arms slip around you in a sudden, undeniable need to keep you close, bringing you closer against his chest until there is no space left between your bodies at all.

He's wanted you for so long he wonders why he ever spent so much time holding back, unsure what to do with the overwhelming sensation that is now stripping him of all logical thought now that he finally has you in his arms.

As impossible as it would be to hold back the breeze that shakes the leaves, or ask the stars to abandon this night, he's now absolutely certain it'd be impossible to ever let you go.