Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

With heart pounding and fingers slightly trembling, he slipped the paperwork back into the manila envelope and closed the top flap. Setting the packet on the marble countertop, he folded his hands in his lap and took a long, deep breath. His stomach did a flip, but not the kind that was precursor to nausea, no, this was the good kind. This flip had been soft, gentle, the kind he would feel before a match, pushing excitement up into his chest and sending shivers down his arms, pumping the blood faster through his veins.

He couldn’t wait to tell Sanji.

He sat for a while, reading and re-reading the return address printed on a sticker and placed on the top left-hand corner of the envelope. It was standard font, purple, and framed with red and gold intertwining lines. It was only after realizing that he had been tracing those lines with his eyes for nearly ten minutes that he tore his gaze away from those gaudy but beautiful colors, searching for something to keep his attention.

Across the “baby dojo” the apartment’s corner windows were shimmering, seemingly alive underneath a sudden and heavy afternoon rain.

Seattle rain was not like anywhere else. Sometimes in the emerald city, the sun would still be shining when the water fell like liquid jewels, dancing down the panes of glass to pool and create mirrors of light on the outside sill or the balcony.

It was beautiful, and extraordinary, like the news sitting in the small stack of papers closed in that manila envelope.

Just when he felt he couldn’t wait another minute, he heard a key turn in the lock, and the door opened. Paper bags rustled, and the smart clack of loafers on the wood floor rang out in the entry.

“Zoro!” Sanji’s voice betrayed the smile that no doubt pulled at his lips. “You wouldn’t believe the line at checkout! I went to Phinney instead of Fremont and holy shit that was a mistake.”

Sanji turned the corner and moved into the kitchen. His handsome face was flushed, and the rain had dampened his shaggy blond hair. Zoro watched as he twisted this way and that, setting bags on the counter, putting things away even before he had unloaded his burdens.

“All worth it though, in the end. The lamb shoulder I got is enormous.” Sanji was grinning. “It’s like the universe knew today was the first day of my vacation. The oranges are super fresh too, this is gonna be epic.”

Zoro felt his heart swell as he watched his husband open cabinets and slam drawers while juggling an armful of brightly colored oranges. The way Sanji moved in the kitchen was so much like the way he moved on the mats, all fluid and grace. It was like a dance when he was in the full swing of cooking, and appreciating that dance was by far one of Zoro’s favorite activities.

The fridge opened. “How was work?” Zoro had enough of his head to catch the beer that came sailing over the island straight at him, but not quite enough to make words yet, so his answer was a simple shrug of his shoulders and a soft grunt. Without really thinking about it, he unclipped his keys from the carabiner on his jeans and popped the bottle’s cap with his bottle opener, then he took a swallow and laid his keys on the countertop.

Finally, Sanji turned to him. He had a curious expression on his face.

“You okay?” he asked.

Zoro nodded, and let his eyes drift down to the envelope. Talking a slow, deep breath, he chose his words carefully.

“I remembered to pick up the mail on the way in.”

“Woa,” Sanji grinned and took a sip of his own beer, “who are you?” Making his way around the island, he slid up next to the stool where Zoro sat and placed a firm kiss into green hair.

“Anything interesting?”

Zoro let the slightest of smiles pull at the corners of his mouth and he nodded. Then, using the head of his beer, he pointed to the envelope.

“You might want to take a look at that.”

Sanji’s eyes moved to the counter, and his body stilled.

“Is that…?”

Zoro nodded.

There was a soft click as Sanji sat down his beer, and then a pale hand reached out to take the packet from the marble surface.

“Oh my God,” Sanji whispered, “is it… I mean…”

Zoro nodded, his smile widening.

“Yes.”

He watched Sanji’s face as he opened the envelope and read the words Zoro had read only a half hour ago. Blue eyes widened slowly and Zoro felt a sudden and overwhelming urge to laugh. Not because anything was particularly funny, but because at that moment, he was so filled with joy he felt he might actually boil over.

“Holy shit,” Sanji was breathless now. One of his hands came up and he scratched roughly at his goatee. “Jesus, six to eight weeks. Oh my God.”

Setting his bottle on the counter, Zoro stood and put his hands on Sanji’s arms. “I was going to call you, but I didn’t want to tell you on the phone. I wanted… to see your face.”

Sanji looked up from the paperwork and his smile was radiant. “So? How do I look?”

Zoro shrugged, his heart fluttering, “A lot like how I feel right now.”

Puffing a laugh through his teeth, Sanji set the paperwork aside and slid his hands down Zoro’s hips. He moved in close and placed a chaste kiss on Zoro’s smiling lips.

“So, are we celebrating? Or…”

Zoro laughed and kissed Sanji again, melted into his embrace, and let his husband’s desire sweep him away.

Due to Sanji’s filming schedule—not to mention the restaurant, and Zoro with his coaching, they had not made love in several weeks. Being able to touch Sanji like this, to kiss him and hold him, to have his clothes pulled gently from his body and be pressed down onto their bed was like coming back to heaven. The two saw each other every day, but were usually too tired to share anything more than lingering kisses or holding each other tightly as they fell asleep.

Now, as Sanji slid into him slowly, and kissed him tenderly on his cheeks, Zoro felt that joy from earlier, his passion and his love, finally spill over. He wrapped his legs around strong hips and slid his fingers through soft, blond hair. “Love you…” he whispered breathlessly. Sanji rocked into him, rolled his hips in that way only Sanji could, sending pleasure and electricity and want and love pulsing through every part of him. “Love you too…” Sanji’s voice was also breathless, but also just a little rough, like his throat was tight. “…I love you so much.”

Over the years, sex with Sanji had gone from amazing, to unbelievable, to almost tantric. He could keep Zoro on the brink for hours if he wanted, just on the verge of coming, but somehow holding it just out of reach. It drove Zoro crazy, but it always happened to be exactly what Zoro wanted. What he needed. As the sun started to sink behind the horizon, and the light in their bedroom turned from a bright yellow, to orange, and then to a deep gold, Sanji pushed Zoro past his limits. The two of them moved together slowly, sweat dripping from their bodies. They breathed each other’s air, tasted each other’s skin, and when Zoro finally found himself slipping, tumbling into orgasm, Sanji was there, stroking him easily and murmuring his sweet nothings against his throat.

After, Sanji got up and stretched before he moved into the bathroom. Zoro lay on his back, diagonally across the bed, breathing deeply. He was sore, and tired, but sated. When Sanji returned, he had his e-cig and puffed happily as he crawled up into the bed and stretched out on his stomach next to Zoro. Their bodies touched from ankle to shoulder, and Zoro turned to watch as Sanji inhaled on the metal tube and then blew out a stream of smoke that smelled faintly of apples.

“So,” Sanji turned to him, “we buying that house then?”

Zoro smiled. “Which one? The one in Queen Anne, or the one down by Lincoln Park?”

“Which one had that enormous garage?”

“I think the one in Queen Anne,” Zoro lifted his hands and rubbed at this face. “I thought you liked the kitchen in the one by Lincoln Park though?”

Sanji puffed and blew out another stream of smoke. “The kitchens in both are incredible, but that one with the garage, you said you and Usopp could insulate the walls and make a studio out of it. You could give private lessons. Besides, the one in Queen Anne is closer to both our jobs.”

Zoro nodded, thinking about the cottage style house with the beautiful yard and all the polished wood. “Yeah… I did like that one.”

“So?” Sanji was smiling at him.

Shrugging, but only to be purposefully contrary, Zoro sighed. “I don’t know, maybe we should go see it again?”

Sanji chuckled. “Babe, we already know what it looks like.”

“I know.” The way Sanji hair was falling into his eyes, and that flush just barely touching those pale cheeks, stirred something inside of Zoro and he wanted Sanji again.

He rolled and placed a kiss on Sanji’s shoulder. Then he touched his fingers across that pale back, slowly sliding his palm down to cup that perfect, muscled ass.

“How many bedrooms?” Zoro asked.

“Four.”

Laughing, Zoro used his palm and his thumb to massage circles into firm flesh. “We don’t need four rooms.”

“Yeah, we do,” Sanji lowered his head to rest on his folded arms. His eyes were still on Zoro. “Guest bedroom, office, you won’t need a weight room since your converting the garage, but we could use an extra food storage, maybe a playroom for a puppy.”

“Cat room,” Zoro smiled and lowered his head to kiss Sanji’s shoulder again. “I’ve always wanted a cat.”

“Yeah?”

“They take care of themselves.”

“True.”

He couldn’t hold himself back anymore. Sitting up, Zoro threw a leg over Sanji’s hips and slid both hands up both sides of Sanji’s lower back. When he pressed his thumbs into the tense muscles at the bottom of the ribcage, Sanji groaned.

“Oh my god, is this a treat? Am I getting a treat tonight, Zoro?”

Zoro bent and laid a few open-mouthed kisses along Sanji’s spine as he worked his fingers into muscle knots. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Shit…” Sanji’s voice was breathy and deliciously low. There was a soft clatter as he dropped his e-cig on the bedside table, and then both of Sanji’s hands were grasping the sheets at the edge of the mattress.

“You haven’t fucked me in months,” Sanji whispered.

“I know,” Zoro spoke into the shell of Sanji’s ear and he could feel the tremor his voice evoked. “It’s what you get for being so damn good at sex.”

Sanji laughed into the sheets and arched his back. “Lube’s by your pillow. Rub it in a little bit or it’s too fucking cold.”

Laughing, Zoro opened the bottle. “It hasn’t been so long that I’ve forgotten how to do it.”

“Well, you never know, you might have just… ah… oh fuck…”

Sanji’s body was almost scorching. The heat that surrounded Zoro seemed to lick through him all the way to his bones. When Sanji arched up his length slid almost unbelievable deep and he groaned into the skin between Sanji’s shoulder blades.

“You’re so sexy,” Zoro whispered, “you’re gonna kill me.”

Sanji made a noise into the sheets and then lifted his head. “I missed this.”

It was rougher this time, but that seemed to be the way Sanji liked it when he was on the bottom. Zoro braced himself on his hands, but kept himself low enough to kiss across Sanji’s temple and down his cheek. He kept his pace slow, not the agonizing roll that Sanji was so unbelievably good at, but a hard pulse, a snap of hips against hips that had Sanji shuddering and keening beneath him.

When he felt that beautiful body start to tense, he gripped Sanji’s arm and rolled them. He lay back with Sanji’s back against his chest, and then he bent his legs, digging his heels into the mattress.

“Shit…” Sanji had lifted his hands and was pulling at Zoro’s hair. “Shit shit shit…”

Both hands found Sanji’s length and as one stroked him the other cupped his sack. When Zoro’s head burrowed into a pale neck, Sanji’s head fell all the way back across Zoro’s shoulder. Their pace picked up and soon they were rutting fiercely, Zoro’s legs pushing up and Sanji’s hips hammering down.

Finally, Sanji arched, gasping and cursing and Zoro jerked his length hard. The fingers that tugged at his hair tightened their grip and that tiny amount of pain was all Zoro needed. He growled into Sanji’s mouth as his orgasm rolled through him. It was less intense than the first time, but it was still overwhelming, making his breath shudder and his limbs shake with fatigue.

Sanji collapsed over him and they lay like that for several minutes, just breathing and watching the patterns of shadow dance across the ceiling.

“Fuck…” Sanji said.

“Yeah,” Zoro grinned into his hair.

“You hungry?”

“Starving.”

Sanji turned and kissed the tip of Zoro’s nose. “I can’t believe how amazing this vacation is going and it’s only been, what,” he glanced at the clock on the wall, “three hours?”

“Yeah, three-ish.”

Chuckling, Sanji got up and started towards the bathroom. Before he disappeared however, he turned back and smiled.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hm?” Zoro got up on his elbows.

“Congratulations.”

Zoro smiled back, his heart fluttering once again.

“You too.”

It was almost four in the afternoon before Chopper realized he was supposed to have gone home at one thirty. Not that it really mattered, he had nothing planned for the evening and there were stacks of paperwork that needed processing. Best he got at least some of it done.

Sighing, he ran his fingers through his unruly, brown hair and then placed his hands on the small of his back. He stretched carefully, easing his abdominal muscles to lengthen and loosen, and then slowly leaned to one side. He was sore and tired, and unable to remember the last time he had eaten. He might have a granola bar in the breakroom, or perhaps an apple. Maybe Law had left some of that fried rice he had brought in last night.

Not that he was particularly hungry, he just knew his body needed food at least once a day.

After stretching his opposite side, Chopper stood and grabbed his water bottle from the adjacent desk. It was cool and refreshing against his dry mouth and throat. He finished it off and tossed it in the recycle bin by the door before he stepped out into the main office. There was no one around, but Chopper could hear music playing from one of the autopsy rooms.

He suddenly wanted coffee.

He turned and started to make his way toward the front. If he was going to leave, he was going to let Carl, the front desk manager, know he was heading out.

Unfortunately, when he opened the doors to the front lobby, Carl was not there, but there was a young man in a plane, black suite and tie, leaning over the counter signing the log book.

“Hi,” Chopper said.

The young man looked up and swept jet-black hair out of his eyes.

“Hey,” he said and straightened. “I’m Detective Petruzziello.” His smile was wide and friendly, and Chopper liked him immediately.

“That’s quite a mouthful,” Chopper snarked.

“Ah, yeah, it’s a hurtle.” He fished out a badge and flashed it. “I work for Seattle’s West Precinct. I was wondering if I could speak to Doctor Mallory?”

“I’m sorry, Doctor Mallory’s out at a conference in Vegas. She’s gone all the rest of this week and next.”

“Damn,” Petruzziello sighed.

Chopper slipped his hands into his pockets and moved forward to lean against the counter. The detective’s features were dark, he looked as Italian as his name sounded. Also, his face was handsome in a playful kind of way, and those bright green eyes were kind and gentle even in the midst of his distress.

“What do you need?” Chopper asked. “Maybe I can help you.”

“Uh, maybe. I don’t know.”

That caused a smile to pull at the corners of Chopper’s mouth. “I’m not just wearing a lab coat for fun, I’m a doctor. What do you need?”

Petruzziello sighed again and scratched at his chin. “I’m a new detective. I was promoted last week, and tomorrow I’m going to meet my new partner. He’s flying in from somewhere today and he’s this big-shot hero that’s already got a million cases under his belt. We’re assigned this huge thing and I just wanted to… I don’t know, get a little information before I meet him.”

“Aren’t there case-files at the precinct?” Chopper asked.

“Of course, I’ve read them a thousand times. Memorized what I could.”

Chopper nodded. “That’s good. Now you want to get eyes on a victim?”

Nodding, Petruzziello studied the floor. “They put me with this guy because I’m the newbie. I’m a blank slate without any bad habits that won’t trip up this new super-cop. And that’s cool, that’s fine, I just want to… I don’t know.” He slipped his hands in his pockets and glanced up at Chopper. “I don’t want to disappoint him, is all.”

Those eyes were very, very green.

Chopper nodded. Petruzziello was young, new, and aching to be taken seriously. Chopper understood that feeling better than anyone.

“Come on,” he said. “We have an acting city coroner while Doctor Mallory is away, but it doesn’t really matter. I have access to everything. I’ll walk you through.”

“Oh man, thanks!” Petruzziello cried. “That’s really nice of you… uh, what’s your name?”

“Just call me Chopper.”

“Chopper? That’s cool.”

Open cases were usually filed in the coroner’s office, so Chopper unlocked the door and flipped on the lights. Papers covered everything, and there was more than one empty coffee mug on every surface. Not surprisingly, it was a lot cleaner in here than usual. Law was a bit more organized than Mallory was.

“It’s kind of like that show,” Petruzziello said, “CSI or whatever. I thought morgue offices in real life were all grey and dingy.”

“Most are,” Chopper said as he made his way over to the stack of files on Mallory’s desk. “But this office has private funding.”

“Oh, that’s lucky.”

“Yeah. Okay, so what’s the case?”

“Number seven-seven-three-three-eight-nine.”

Chopper froze. The detective had said that so easily, as if that number didn’t mean anything special at all. When he looked up, Petruzziello was looking sheepishly out the window, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Chopper breathed. “If you’re messing around trying to get—”

“—No, no, I swear to God. There really is a super-cop coming from out of state to take over and I’ve been assigned as his partner ‘cause no one else wants it.”

Chopper stared at him, stunned. “And… you want it?”

Petruzziello shrugged. “I’m young, but I’m good at my job. I joined the force to help people, and solving this case is going to help a lot of people.”

Something stirred in Chopper’s gut at those words. At that moment, Petruzziello sounded a hell of a lot like Sanji. Like Law… like Luffy. He looked up into those bright green eyes and felt that familiar tightness in his chest. He was such a sucker for the hero type, the protector, the selfless man.

“Ah, okay,” Chopper said, “it’s this entire stack right here.”

An hour later, Petruzziello pushed open the doors and took a breath. He glanced back at Chopper and nodded. “Thank you for your help. I really appreciate it.”

Chopper shook his head. “It was nothing. Glad to help.”

“My partner will probably want to come by tomorrow, so I’ll probably see you again.”

Chopper’s fingers and toes tingled at those words, but he shoved his hands into his pockets and made tight fists. “Well, then I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Detective Pet… um…”

Petruzziello smiled wide, and Chopper’s heart skipped a beat.

“You can call me Penguin. Everyone at the station does.”

Chopper chuckled. “Okay, see you around, Detective Penguin.”

Penguin saluted, stepped outside, and the doors closed behind him.

When Chopper arrived home, the first thing he heard was someone screaming on the television in the living room. He set his bag down, slipped off his shoes, and moved into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and grabbed a can of Coca Cola, realizing he still hadn’t eaten since probably the night before. Nothing in the fridge looked that appetizing however, so he sipped at his drink and stepped into the living room.

Law was sprawled across the couch in a black, long-sleeved top and pajama pants covered with storm troopers. His hair was wild, and his eyes were still puffy from sleep.

“Hey,” Chopper said.

Law turned to him and smiled groggily. “What’s up?”

“What time do you go in?”

“Uhhh,” Law looked at his watch, “I have about an hour and a half.”

Chopper waited for Law to sit up and scooch to the side so he could sit. “What are you watching?”

Law looked away guiltily. “Stranger Things?”

Chopper grabbed one of the couch pillows and tossed it at his roommate. “You son of a bitch! You said you’d wait and watch it with me!”

Law chuckled and batted the pillow away. “That was literally months ago. I couldn’t wait anymore.”

Chopper growled menacingly but sat back on the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table.

“I’m only a few episodes in,” Law said. “I’ll watch them again with you. Or you could catch up tonight while I’m at work.”

Chopper shrugged. “I’ll just catch up.” Then remembering today, he turned. “So, there’s a new detective on the Frankenstein case. Well, two actually, they handed it off completely.”

Law’s eyes widened. “Oh, thank God. The whole thing’s driving Smoker insane.”

“He’s cool,” Chopper said quietly, “the one I met, I mean. He’s new, just got promoted.”

When Law didn’t say anything, Chopper glanced to the side and caught him staring, a sly smile quirking the side of his mouth.

“What?” Chopper sighed.

“Nothin’.”

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Rolling his eyes, Chopper took another sip of his drink and went back to watching some teenagers break another teenager’s camera. It was actually kind of upsetting.

He felt Law shift closer and a gentle fluttering started in his chest.

“You look worn out,” Law said gently. “Did you eat?”

“Yeah,” Chopper lied.

“Are you lying?”

Chopper sighed again and leaned forward to set his can on the coffee table. “I’m not hungry. I’m fresh off a sixteen-hour shift—”

“—Which was supposed to be a twelve.”

“Yeah, yeah, but the detective came in. Anyway, I’m tired so I’m going to sleep and then I promise I’ll eat when I get up. I’ll go to the Japanese deli down on Fourth and I’ll get a bunch of those rice ball things you like.”

Law pumped a fist. “Yes, you’re the man, Chopper.”

Chopper snorted. “Right.”

They sat for a few minutes, watching the show. Chopper was completely lost at first, but then he began trying to piece together what was happening.

“So, Will’s been abducted by aliens?”

“Uh, no I don’t think so,” Law shook his head. “It’s definitely some sci-fi shit though. Here, I’ll start it over.”

He reached for the remote and Chopper felt a sudden panic rise in his throat. “No! You don’t have to, it’s okay! I’m gonna go to bed now anyw—”

“—Chopper.” Law’s voice was firm, but gentle. When Chopper looked at him, he was settling down in the corner of the couch and pulling the blanket from the back. “Come here,” he said gently, gesturing with his hand.

“No, it’s okay, I’ll just—”

“—I got an hour before I have to start getting ready. I’ll watch the first one with you. Come on.”

Nervous, but comforted by Law’s thoughtfulness, Chopper climbed over to lean against Law’s warm body. He felt the blanket come over him and then the gentle press of Law’s arm around his shoulders.

“Relax, buddy,” Law whispered into his hair, “I got you.”

Chopper felt his tension ease a little and he was able to watch the first twenty or so minutes of the show without fidgeting. When he felt Law’s fingers slide into his hair, his body relaxed even further. His arm came out and went around a muscled waist, and then little by little, his self-consciousness started to ebb away.

“I worry about you, you know,” Law said suddenly. His voice was soft, almost a whisper, and his breath puffed into the curls at Chopper’s temple.

That fluttering returned, but Chopper was able to keep it under control.

“I could say the same.”

“But I’m not extending my shifts four and five hours voluntarily. I haven’t cut myself off from my friends, or lost almost twenty pounds.”

“I haven’t cut myself off from anyone,” the lie slid past his lips as easily as his lie about eating had a half an hour ago.

When Law’s fingers moved from his hair, down to the back of his neck, Chopper’s breath grew shallow. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Law was always physical with him. He never pressured, and he never made it feel like Chopper had to respond or even do anything at all, but there was always the possibility hanging there between them. The gentle invitation.

When the first episode ended, Chopper found himself wanting to watch the next, but he was so tired. He sat up, pulling the blanket with him. “Do you want me to bring the rice balls tomorrow morning?” he asked.

Law smiled and stretched. “That would be awesome.”

“Okay, have a good night. Good luck with your first night shift.”

He stood and started to move toward the stairs, still wrapped in the blanket. The soft fabric trailing along the carpet behind him. He froze when he felt Law’s hand on his arm.

“Hey,” Law said, and his voice was still low, still just barely above a whisper.

“Hm?” Chopper turned and when he looked into those steel gray eyes, he felt a shiver roll through him.

There was a moment, just a half of a heartbeat, where it seemed as if Law was about to cry. But then he blinked and took a breath, and smiled softly.

“Naw, never mind. I’ll see you later.”

Chopper nodded and headed upstairs, there was no point in pressing Law when he had made up his mind. He changed out of his work clothes and into soft, cotton pants and a white, Seattle Public Library t-shirt. After brushing his teeth and washing his face, he crawled into bed.

He fell asleep right away and didn’t think about Law, or the handsome detective, or anyone else.

Not at all.

Several miles away in Tacoma, about a quarter past six o’clock, flight number eight-one-three-six, Sacramento California to Seattle Washington, landed on the tarmac. Sighs and a few short cheers rang out through the cabin. It had been somewhat of a rough flight, and all two hundred and six passengers were relieved and thankful to have arrived in one piece.

Detective Dalton Drum, formerly in charge of the Sacramento Police Department’s organized crime division, refolded his jacket over his lap and turned to the little boy sitting beside him.

“See? That bump was the landing gear hitting the ground.”

The little boy, his name was Lucas, smiled at him, the gaps in his two rows of baby teeth were glaring and somehow adorable.

“Can you fly a plane, Mr. Dalton?”

Dalton made a “so-so” motion with his hand. “A little. I took some lessons a few years ago. Do you want to fly a plane?”

Lucas shook his head. “I’m gonna be a astronaut.”

“Wow, that’s amazing!” It made sense, the kid knew more about space than he thought was possible for a five-year-old. “Do you know how to swim?”

Puzzled, Lucas nodded. “Yeah, I have lessons every Tuesday. I can do the crawl stroke. Why?”

“Because astronauts have to do a lot of training in the water.”

“Why?” Lucas’ eyes were wide.

“Because you float in the water, just like you float in space. When you’re in the spaceship, it’s like you’re swimming in air.”

“Wow! Really!?”

Dalton nodded and threw a smile over Lucas’ head to his mother. The woman was hiding a grin behind her fingers.

“Mr. Dalton?” Lucas asked, suddenly serious. “Are you going to catch all the bad guys?”

Returning that serious gaze, Dalton nodded. “I’m going to try.”

Lucas nodded and motioned for Dalton to come close. He cupped his hands around his mouth and whispered softly. “That’s good. Everybody is really scared right now because of the monster.”

“The monster?”

Lucas nodded. “Yeah, the guy on the news. The one that’s hurting all those people. My mom cries whenever she sees stuff about him.”

Dalton’s heart did a little lurch and he reached out to ruffle Lucas’ auburn hair. “I’m definitely going to catch that guy. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but I will.”

Lucas smiled wide again. “Okay. I’ll look for your picture on the news.”

When the plane finally came to a complete stop Dalton stood and opened the overhead bin. He took down Lucas and his mother’s bags and parted ways with them at the gate.

“Goodbye Mr. Dalton!” Lucas waved cheerfully. “Good luck with your new job! I hope your boss isn’t a hard-ass!”

Dalton laughed heartily as Lucas’ mother tried to scold him around her own surprised laughter.

The air was wet and metallic even inside the airport, but it was good, the smell was nostalgic and comforting. He had been breathing dry, dusty California air for too long. It was nice to finally be home.

He rode the tram connected to his gate, and then took the escalator towards baggage claim. Before he reached the top, he had already spotted the head of silvery hair and the terrible scar that made its way from forehead to cheekbone.

“Damn good to see you, man,” Smoker clapped him on the back.

“You too,” Dalton couldn’t help but smile. Smoker looked exactly the same as he had three years ago. Nothing had changed. He might even be wearing the same suit and tie.

“Your stuff came yesterday. I didn’t unpack anything, but I made sure the movers were careful. It’s all inside, not even a spare inch of space to move around. You should have bought a bigger place.”

Dalton chuckled. “It’s as big as I need it to be. I was going to buy one on the reservation, but it’s too far from the precinct.”

“You got any more bags?”

“Just a couple duffels.”

“All right, let’s go.”

Fifteen minutes later, they had collected Dalton’s two army duffle bags and had taken them to the parking garage. They tossed the duffels in the back of Smoker’s truck and headed out.

“You hungry?”

Dalton shook his head. “I had a sandwich on the plane.”

“You want me to just take you home?”

“Actually,” Dalton said, a little cooler than he felt, “I was wondering if we could drop off my stuff and I could head to the office? I’ve been sitting on my hands since the transfer, so I’d really like to just get to work.”

Smoker shrugged. “Up to you, I’d love it if you came in. You can meet your new partner. He’s young, but he’s sharp. Been working his ass off the last week to prepare himself for this assignment. You’ll like him.”

Dalton nodded. “I’m sure I will.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket and Dalton smiled. There was only one person that could be.

Ace: U here?

Dalton: Define ‘here’. I’m always here. Wherever you go there you are they say

Ace: No. Ur not allowed to make dad jokes cause then I laugh at them
Ace: That means I’m old

Dalton: Technically we are both allowed to make dad jokes. Since the ‘dad’ in that title applies to both of us

Ace: Yeah but I’m still not old enough to think dad jokes are funny

Dalton: Are you calling me old?

Ace: U never answered my question

Dalton: In smoked car now. Going to stop by home real quick and then to the office
Dalton: My phone just autocorrected Smoker to smoked

Ace: I like it. Tell him his name is officially changed

Dalton: I’ll call you tomorrow?

Ace: Yes. And u said you would come to the BBQ on Friday
Ace: U have to come
Ace: Late birthday party for me
Ace: U can’t be one of us if you don’t eat with us

Dalton: Yes, of course I’ll come

Ace: YAS
Ace: Ok see you later

Dalton: Say hello to Vivi for me

Ace: I will. Night

Dalton: Night

It would have been a quick thing to just drop off the bags and go, but Smoker made him take a moment, change his clothes, and then down a quick protein shake before they headed back out. By the time they made it to the station, it was after eight. Dalton was a little disappointed because he was sure his new partner would not still be there, but it turned out he was.

“Detective Drum this is Detective Peng… I mean, Detective Petru… uh… zill… Goddamnit, kid, I still can’t get it right.”

The young detective smiled stiffly and put out his hand. “Detective Petruzziello. Good to meet you, sir.”

Dalton could feel his face flush as they shook. “No, please, Petruzziello, you don’t have to call me ‘sir’. ‘Dalton’ is fine.”

“Uh, okay… Dalton. Everyone here just calls me Penguin.”

Dalton found himself laughing again. “Really? I like that.”

Penguin’s smile went from formal, to genuine, and at that moment, Dalton found himself sure that the two of them were going to get along.

“I was thinking,” Dalton said, “if you got a little time now, I’d love to go over some of the details of the case. I hear you’re already kind of an expert.”

Penguin’s eyes widened at that and he nodded fiercely, “Yes! Yes, absolutely! I have a ton of questions, and I know, unlike some people around here,” at this he eyed Smoker playfully, “you’ll actually be able to answer them.”

Smoker grunted and waved his hand dismissively.

Dalton nodded, excitement starting to simmer in his gut. “All right, let’s get to it then.”

“Mitch! Please don’t forget to empty the containers before you go home tonight! Morning shift is not happy with you for leaving it last time!”

Law heard some kind of non-committal response as he left autopsy room three. He wasn’t worried about it though, the people he worked with were good people and had no problems with him taking over while Doctor Mallory was away.

The coroner’s office was cluttered, but not as much as usual. In between reports and write-ups and actual autopsies, Law found a few minutes here and there to clean and organize a bit of the chaos. He wasn’t sure why he was doing it, since five minutes after Mallory returned it would be back to the way it was, but he couldn’t help himself.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he fished it out.

Zoro: How’s Chopper?

Law: Well hello to you too Zoro. How’s your sexy husband?

Zoro: We’re fine everythings great. How’s Chopper?

Law chuckled and sat down behind the large, messy desk.

Law: Tired overworked lonely. Back to not eating

Zoro: Shit

Law: Maybe you two should go see him?

Zoro: No he hates it when we just drop by

Law: You could text him first, let him know you’re coming

There was nothing for a minute or two, so Law just sat, waiting. He propped his feet up on the desk drawer and leaned back in the chair. Finally, his phone buzzed again, and he swiped it open.

Zoro: Bring him to the BBQ on Friday

Law: He works

Zoro: Change his schedule. You’re the boss now right?

Law: Just until next week

Zoro: So change his schedule

Law: Will you blindfold me and lock me in a room with Sanji if I do?

Zoro: Sure he’d love that

Law: You’re trying to sound threatening but you have no idea how kinky I am

Zoro: Just bring him on Friday

Law: Fine

Law sat with his thumb hovering over the keys, wondering if this was the time to bring up a subject he’d been considering for a while. He wasn’t completely sure, and to tell the truth, he was just a little nervous, but nothing was ever going to happen if he didn’t say something.

Law: So speaking of Chopper I need to ask you guys something

Zoro: What

Law: Would you guys be mad if I sort of
Law: Made a move?
Law: With Chopper I mean
Law: He’s lonely and I’m available I don’t know

There was another long pause and Law started to worry it had been a mistake to say anything. What if they both were on their way here right now to kick his ass? He would let them, he knew he was kind of a dick for even thinking this way, but he saw how unhappy Chopper was every day. Couldn’t they be unhappy together?

His phone finally buzzed and he looked down. The message wasn’t from Zoro. It was Sanji.

Shit, he was going to die.

Sanji: I’m not saying I get to decide how you live your life, and I am in no way dictating how Chopper lives his, but I’m going to state the obvious here when I say that you are not over Kidd and it’s really fucking obvious so if you’re going to make a move on one of my best friends without the PUREST of fucking intentions I will beat the everloving piss out of you.
Sanji: I get it. He’s hurting and he’s sad and lonely and so are you and maybe getting together makes some fucked up sense in your head but what he needs right now is a good friend. And since he has decided that none of us are that anymore you fit that bill. He trusts you. So don’t fuck with that trust.
Sanji: I like you a lot man but I will kill you
Sanji: I fucking promise

Law: How the hell do you type so fast?

Sanji: DUDE

Law: Ok ok don’t worry. I swear if I do make a move it will be with grace and love and I’ll take care of him forever and ever

Sanji: You have my blessing then
Sanji: And Zoro’s but he won’t say it

Law: Can I still get blindfolded and locked in a room with you if I get him to the BBQ?
Law: I’ll bring a crop

Sanji: I’m blocking you

Law laughed and slipped his phone back in his pocket. Leaning back, he stared up at the ceiling and thought about maybe heading downtown that weekend and signing up for a fight. Maybe it would clear his head and put some things into perspective.

Without thinking too much about it, he pulled his phone back out.

Law: Hey, anyone interesting in town this weekend?

It took a few minutes, but the reply came.

Kidd: Vergo is here Saturday

Law: Hell yes, sign me up

Across town, a tall, fit man in his early forties named Gary Machart closed and locked the door to Whiteall and Loman Trust. He pocketed the keys and checked the time on his phone. He was looking forward to a drink at the bar and maybe some conversation with the bartender. She was a little older than he usually went for, but she had held together well and her tits were still nice.

He had left his car at home that day, taking the bus to avoid traffic. It was nice to be carried to work once in a while. He could catch up on a show or listen to talk radio during the ride and lower his stress level. The day was always brighter after listening to political discussion when not stuck behind a minivan.

The streets were clear, and the rain had let up, so the walk was pleasant. He passed a few hippie stores and a closed bakery that still smelled of cinnamon and wet flour. He texted as he walked, confirming appointments for tomorrow and rescheduling a meet with one of his clients. It was another six blocks to the bar when Gary realized he had to piss like a racehorse.

The shops nearby were closed, and that last six blocks suddenly felt like a hundred miles. There was an ally just ahead however, maybe he could just slip in and out real fast. No one would ever know. It would be gross but…

His bladder was insistent and quickly took over his decision-making capabilities. When he arrived at the ally, he turned the dark corner and spotted a dumpster he could stand behind.

He set his briefcase down and went for his belt.

Behind him, something moved, disturbing a few stacked boxes. He looked over his shoulder, sure he was going to see some homeless loser coming to ask him for money, or possibly offer him a blowjob. Wouldn’t that be an end to a day?

However, when Gary looked, there was no homeless man in the ally. Instead, it was a figure in a dark coat and a top hat. He was close, and still moving closer.

Gary was about to bark at the guy to get lost, but then there was a stinging sensation at the back of his neck. Things started to get hazy, and the figure in front of him began to shimmer and wave, like a cartoon.

Falling to the ground, Gary’s bladder let go, and warmth spread out across his crotch and down his leg. He rolled and looked up at the night sky, the tops of the buildings on either side of him. The figure in the coat and top hat leaned over him, and a wicked smile spread out across a featureless face.

Gary had just enough time to think Who wears a fucking top hat? before everything went black.

Chopper woke, bolted upright, gasping, clutching at his chest. His t-shirt was soaked, as were the sheets. There was pain in his hands and when he looked down to examine them, he found tiny crescents of blood across his palms.

He was shaking. His mouth and throat were completely dry.

“Holy shit…” he whispered, panting. “Holy shit, holy shit.”

The figure in his dream had been terrifying. It had been dressed in a dark coat and had held a hypodermic needle. It had stabbed Chopper in an ally.

Chopper wasn’t sure why this dream had terrified him so profoundly, he had been having a lot of nightmares lately, some of them much more gruesome than this one. Maybe it was the feeling of actually being there? Maybe it was because he had actually felt the sting of the needle at the back of his neck.

He lay back down, unmindful of the sweat on his sheets, and closed his eyes. He needed to sleep. He needed rest if he was going to do his job.

He would forget all about dark figures with needles in the morning. After getting up and taking a hot shower, all memory of that top hat and that terrible smile would be gone.

Long gone.

TBC

Chapter Text

The next morning was a bit of a challenge. Chopper’s head pounded. He felt sluggish and weak, almost like he was hung over but with significantly less nausea. He supposed that was what you got for not eating for more than a day.

No, that wasn’t true, he had eaten a candy bar yesterday. Hadn’t he?

After standing in the shower long enough to get pruney, Chopper washed his hair and skin, shaved what little whiskers he had grown over the past thirty hours, and brushed his teeth until his gums ached. He decided to get coffee on the way to work, so he dressed and headed out the door without stopping in the kitchen. At the deli on Fourth, Chopper got his coffee, and ten of the rice balls Law liked. After paying, he shoved the paper bag filled with rice balls into his satchel and caught the bus.

“Morning,” he said to Carl as he moved through the morgue’s lobby and into the main offices. Carl might have responded but Chopper didn’t acknowledge or even really hear. Carl was a gossip and a busybody, and Chopper just didn’t have the capacity to deal with it this morning.

“Got your balls,” Chopper said and dropped the bag on the coroner’s desk.

Law hadn’t moved from where he sat typing away at the computer when Chopper had entered, but when the offer of food was spoken, he swiveled his chair and smiled.

“Jesus, Chopper, you’re only an hour early,” he said, “get lost?”

Chopper rolled his eyes and sat on a nearby stool. “Slept in. My head’s killing me.”

“Oh m—” Law opened the bag and fished out a rice ball. “For the love of God, eat something.”

The rice ball wasn’t really a “ball”, it was more of a triangle, or maybe a pyramid. There were flakes of something that looked like seaweed sprinkled on top, and the bottom was wrapped in wax paper. When Chopper bit into it, he was pleasantly surprised. It was still warm, and the inside was filled with salted salmon.

“Okay, fine,” he said after swallowing, “this is good.”

“Have two,” Law tossed another one at him as he popped a third into his own mouth.

“Those detectives are probably going to come by today,” Chopper said as he ate. “I walked the new one through what was in the files yesterday, and showed him Dan Talmer’s body, but I assumed you’d want to take them through the specifics since you assisted on all of them.”

Law nodded. “Yeah, I’ll give them the deets. Shit, I hope they’re better than the last guys. You should get familiar with the case, I could really use a second pair of eyes.”

“Mallory’s back in a little less than two weeks. She already knows everything about it.”

There was something in Law’s expression when he looked up that stirred something in Chopper’s gut. “Okay, let me rephrase: I could use a pair of extremely competent eyes on this case.”

That flutter of embarrassment, that knee-jerk reaction to shout or hide or start wobbling so hard he fell to the ground overwhelmed Chopper and he had to close his eyes for a moment. Fucking compliments. When was he going to just grow up and get over it?

“I’ll…” he spoke softly, “I’ll sit down with it if I can get caught up today.”

Law nodded and stuffed another rice ball into his mouth. Then he turned back to his computer and Chopper assumed the conversation was over.

The rest of the morning went relatively smoothly. When Chopper heard the front doors open he thought nothing of it. People came and went from the place all day, but then there was a tapping at his door and when he looked up, he found Detective Penguin peering around the door into his office with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, as if he needed to be quiet for some reason, “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

He really was cute. Chopper smiled and shook his head. “It’s fine. How’s it going?”

Penguin quickly looked over his shoulder and then slipped into the office. Scratching at his hair and then trying to straighten out his suit jacket, he looked nervous, or perhaps excited. Chopper wasn’t actually sure which.

“He’s cool,” Penguin breathed, “he’s so cool. I was worried he was going to be like a hard-ass or something but he’s so nice. And he got my name right! First try! No one’s ever done that before!”

Chopper couldn’t help it, he chuckled softly and leaned his elbows on his desk. “That’s great. I know from experience that having a partner you click with really transforms the job.”

Penguin nodded. “I lucked out, man. No joke.” He paused, glancing back over his shoulder and Chopper took the opportunity to really look at him. Great skin, good teeth, and what was obviously a rockin’ body attached to those broad shoulders. The suite he was wearing was pretty basic, but it didn’t leave much to the imagination.

“So, I just wanted to stop by,” Penguin said, turning back to him, “tell you again how much I appreciate what you did for me yesterday.”

Chopper shrugged. “It’s kind of my job.”

“You know, I told my girlfriend about you. And my roommate. Raved about the super nice guy at the morgue for like an hour. Felt like a dumbass afterward.”

Chopper quickly pulled a cover smile over his face. It was easy, a practiced movement he had perfected over the years. “I’m flattered.”

Girlfriend, of course he’s got a girlfriend, what are you, a fucking idiot?

“My colleague asked me to do a little work on the case myself,” Chopper talked so he didn’t have to think. “You know, get another pair of eyes on everything. Couldn’t hurt.”

Penguin lit up. “Yeah! Yeah, that’s great! Give me your number so if I have any questions—”

“—I’ll do you one better,” Chopper pulled a card from his desk drawer and stood. “Here. Cell, office, email, hours, it’s all there. Well, the hours are wrong, I’m always here, seems like.”

Penguin took the card from his fingers and pulled out his phone. “Awesome,” he murmured as he entered the information.

Chopper thought it might have been easier to watch if the detective hadn’t been so excited about it.

“Okay,” Penguin said at last, “Great, thank you. I’ll text you if we have any questions.”

“Sure,” Chopper checked his smile.

“I’ll see ya.”

“Yeah, see ya.”

The door closed, and Chopper watched him through the windows as he moved away towards the hallway and the cold storage. When that head of dark hair disappeared around the corner, Chopper sank back into this seat and huffed a sigh.

Don’t think about it. You were stupid to even consider it in the first place.

With that, he scooted his chair in and turned back to his computer.

Earlier, outside, Dalton sat behind the wheel of an unmarked, Chevy Tahoe, thumbing through multiple files, two and three fingers thick, and all labeled “Frankenstein”. Taking a sip of his coffee, he grimaced. It was spectacularly bland.

He was killing time before he was supposed to meet Penguin at the Coroner’s office. They had decided to arrive at nine, having pulled a fairly late one the night before, but Dalton had been too keyed up, too excited to sleep longer than a few hours, and had given up the battle a little before six. It was almost eight now, and he was beginning to regret skipping out on breakfast. He had time to get something still, but he was too engrossed in the story before him.

On June sixth of 2017, the body of Lisa Merrill, a twenty-three-year-old elementary school teacher, had been found by her friend, Helen Reignheart, sitting at her kitchen table, her right hand holding one of her tea cups, and a wafer cookie between the fingers of her left. Her hair and makeup were done, and she was fully dressed in a blue dress, a white cardigan, and one black shoe. She only wore one shoe, because her left leg was missing from mid-thigh, and the separation had been stitched crudely with thick, black, embroidery thread.

Merrill had died sometime between when she had called in sick the Friday before, and about a day before she was found, but it was impossible to determine exactly when because her body showed signs of having been placed in cold storage. There was no physical evidence at the scene, no one had seen her the entire weekend, and there were no angry ex boyfriends or girlfriends that anyone knew of. Merrill had been a sweet, quiet woman, with a few close friends, and no family.

At first, the papers and bloggers had suspected the city had a cannibal on their hands. Why else would someone take her leg? The murderer had been given the name The Beast, but after a few weeks, the story had already slipped into obscurity.

Then, two months later on August second, Lana Gordon’s body had been found. Like Merrill, Gordon was in her mid-twenties, did not have any family, and had only a small circle of friends. But that was where the similarities stopped. Gordon had a record. She had been arrested several times for prostitution and drunken-disorderly conduct. She had been found by an ex-boyfriend that had come around looking to score drugs.

Gordon had been posed in her trailer, sitting at her foldout kitchen table, dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and knee-high boots. Her hair and makeup were done, and in her left hand was a rolled-up dollar bill. The dollar bill was hanging over a small mirror covered in a gram of coke, divided up into four lines. Her right arm was missing, and the separation had been stitched crudely with embroidery thread.

This fueled the suspicion that there was a cannibal, but the police couldn’t rule out a copycat. The details from the first crime scene were splashed all over the internet. Anyone could have gone out and tried it themselves.

However, when Gordon’s body was taken in for autopsy, Doctor Mallory discovered that Gordon’s left leg had been removed and then replaced. After a DNA test, it was discovered that the leg was not Gordon’s at all. It had actually been replaced with Lisa Merrill’s.

When the third victim, Donald Kim, a hair stylist in his forties, was found on September twentieth in his apartment, he wore a long-sleeved shirt, but it did not hide the fact that his right arm had been replaced with a woman’s. After DNA testing, it was confirmed to belong to Lana Gordon.

Kim’s left hand had been missing.

That was when everything exploded. Seattle had a serial killer, the first one since The Green River Killer. The papers called him “Frankenstein”, and the story became a national headline.

Dalton had poured over these details with Penguin the night before, looking through the notes the previous detectives had left. There were six victims so far, three women and three men, which was interesting in itself. Combined male and female killings were uncommon in most serial cases. There was also the fact that there was nothing previously connecting any of the victims. They came from completely different backgrounds, lived in different parts of the city, came from different social classes, and nothing in their lives connected them to each other. There was a teacher, a prostitute and junkie, a hair stylist, a social worker, an investment banker, and a stand-up comedian. Two were white, two Asian, one black, and one of Middle Eastern descent.

Having never found any evidence at the scenes, and having absolutely no common victimology to go on, the police were no closer to solving these crimes than they had been after finding Lisa Merrill.

Then, there was the most baffling thing of all. After six victims, there was still no official cause of death. Their hearts had all stopped, but it was a complete mystery as to how. It was like someone had just willed them into dying.

Sighing, Dalton looked out the window at the rain sliding down the glass. If the killer was going to keep up the pattern, which had been slowly escalating in the past few months, then he was going to kill again soon. Probably within the next few days.

He couldn’t sit in the car anymore, Penguin would just have to be caught up later. Besides, there was someone he wanted to visit with a little before he had to be official.

Opening the car door, Dalton tipped the last remaining dredges of his coffee into the bushes and tossed the cup into a nearby recycle bin. After straightening his jacket and tie, he shut the Tahoe’s door and crossed the street.

The Seattle Medical Examiner’s office had apparently been inside Harborview Medical Center for more than a century, but had been offered a grant by a private entity so large, that the offices had been moved to a larger, more modern building with state of the art equipment three years ago. Dalton had checked into it briefly, but had come up with basically nothing. It just seemed some mystery someone with a lot of money to burn had an interest in aiding and supplying local law enforcement. Knowing who he was about to go see, Dalton had harbored some idea of who that mystery someone was and had decided to stop digging.

The doors opened into a simple but stylish lobby. A man in a crisp, white button-up, bowtie, and horn-rimmed glasses, looked up from the desk and smiled owlishly.

“Morning,” he said.

“Morning,” Dalton answered as he pulled his badge from his inside jacket pocket. “I’m Detective Drum, West Precinct. I’m the new lead on the Frankenstein case.”

The man’s large eyes widened almost comically. “Oh wow, good to meet you, detective, I’m Carl. Hang on one sec.” With that he pushed a button on what Dalton supposed was an intercom. There were a few clicks and then a familiar, raspy voice came through the speaker.

“Yeah.”

“Detective Drum is here to see you.”

There was a momentary pause, and then the voice came through again. “Get him a badge and send him back.”

“Oh, a badge,” Carl whistled. “You must be special.”

“I’m not really,” Dalton shook his head, slightly embarrassed. “My partner will be here in a few minutes, can you—”

“—Don’t worry about it, I’ll get him one too.”

Dalton smiled and took the lanyard and badge that was offered. It looked a little like a hotel key card.

“Thank you.”

“Straight back through the second set of double doors. He’s in autopsy room six.”

The offices were glass and stainless steel. Polished wooden floors gave an extra shine to the layout and the lighting was as much for ambiance as it was practical. Dalton had never seen anything like it. There was a flat screen and an iPad on every desk. 3D printers, rotor and benchtop centrifuges, and both hot and cold drying lockers dotted the work spaces, not to mention a whole slew of equipment he couldn’t even begin to identify.

A few techs eyed him as he walked past, but their gazes seemed more curious than critical. There was tension in the air, just like there was tension at the precinct, and out on the streets. Dalton had felt it last night. It was a chill that seeped through your skin and into your bones. The city was afraid.

Autopsy room six was quiet and mostly dark, save for a few spotlight lamps overlooking an empty table. Dalton stepped into the room, unsure if he had come to the right place.

“Damn, did you get taller?”

He turned, and found Trafalgar Law, calm, cool, and looking just as dangerous as he remembered, leaning against a desk and eyeing him carefully. Slipped his hands into his pockets, Dalton studied the other man for a moment and then spoke softly.

“You look like shit.”

A moment of stillness passed between the two men, and then, for whatever reason, Law lost his grip and his mouth slid into a toothy grin. He chuckled softly and pushed off the desk. Dalton couldn’t resist and returned that smile full force.

“Jesus, it’s good to see you,” Law reached out and gripped Dalton’s hand.

“Same to you,” he returned the grip heartily. “How’re you doing?”

Law shook his head. “Doing fine. Couldn’t ask for a better work situation.”

He didn’t look fine, in fact he looked a little haggard. He had lost weight in the four years since Dalton had seen him last, and those dark circles beneath his eyes now seemed tattooed into his flesh like the inked lines of blue and black that decorated his fingers and hid underneath his clothes.

“I see you go by Thomas now,” Dalton said.

Law nodded. “DA thought it’d be easier, especially since Trafalgar Law was killed in a raid four years ago.”

“Ah, you’re welcome for that, by the way.”

Law laughed, and it was rich and genuine. “Yeah, yeah, I owe you big time for that, I haven’t forgotten.”

“No,” Dalton shook his head, “you helped close an investigation that was going on twenty years, you don’t owe anyone a damn thing.”

That grin softened into something a little more thoughtful as Law quieted. He seemed to be studying Dalton, trying to figure something out, but was making no attempts to hide that he was doing it.

“How are you?” he asked. “I heard the last few years have been a certain shade of hell.”

Dalton took a breath and slipped his hands back into his pockets. He didn’t like thinking about the last three or so years, but he and Law had history. Good history. If there was one person in the world besides Smoker he knew he could trust, it was definitely Law.

“It was hard, yeah,” he said softly, “but it worked out. Joint custody. I get the kids a few weekends every couple of months, and then all summer long.”

“Oh, summers in Seattle. What a treat.” The sarcasm was light, just a gentle tease. “Okay, I have to ask. I’m sure you’ve talked to Ace since you got here, and if you’ve talked to Ace, then I’m assuming you’ve been invited to the barbecue tomorrow.”

Dalton’s smile returned at the memory of his last conversation with the older Portgas. “Yes.”

“Awesome,” Law nodded, “okay, that’s great. We’ll can catch up more over beers then. But now, adult stuff. To work.”

It turned out that Law had assisted in every autopsy pertaining to the Frankenstein case, and since Dalton knew that Law was just as capable, if not more so, than the official coroner, he was also sure that at least this part of the case was in good hands.

“It’s crazy,” Law grumbled as he opened the morgue container and pulled out the slide holding Dan Talmer’s body. After locking the slide in place, he handed the record to Dalton. “I’ve never even heard of anything like this. They all just up and died. No signs of any kind of trauma, no respiratory failure, no toxins in their blood. It’s a fucking magic show.”

Dalton flipped through the paperwork and sighed. “So, there’s no way it’s some kind of suffocation.”

Law shook his head. “No, we ruled out asphyxiation ‘cause there was no evidence of it in any of the victim’s tissue or organs.”

Looking over the top of the file, Dalton studied the body in front of him. Talmer had been African American, in his thirties, balding, and round around the edges. He had apparently been very funny, and had been liked by almost everyone he had ever met.

Talmer’s feet had been removed and replaced with the feet of the sixth victim, Jamal Nassar. Then, in another act that Dalton considered to be clear escalation, instead of removing a limb from Talmer, the killer had removed both ears, eyes, and fingers on both hands.

“He’s getting bored,” Dalton said softly.

“Hm?” Law perked up from across the table.

“He’s taking parts that are more intimate, harder to replace. The eyes and nose require more detailed work, more attention and care. To me it says he’s getting bored with just the regular limbs.”

Law cocked his head and studied Dalton again. “Is that… good? Bad?”

“It just means he’s getting closer to messing up.” Dalton shrugged and looked up. Law had turned away and was typing at a computer set up on a moving desk. “Hey, do you think I could—”

The door to autopsy room six opened and Penguin stuck his head in.

“Hey, Dalton, sorry I was talking to Chopper.”

Dalton gave him a nod. “No problem. I got here way too early.”

Penguin smiled and moved into the room. “Did you get a look at the stitching around the ears? He’s done all the rest of the sewing with a kind of running stitch, but around the ears is different. I looked it up last night, it’s called a back…”

When Penguin’s voice died off, Dalton looked up at him. The kid was staring, eyes wide, his skin white as a sheet.

“Penguin?” Dalton said softly. “Petruzziello, are you okay?”

A noise made him turn and he found Law staring back at Penguin, his mouth slack and his eyes wide with shock.

“Nikki?” Law whispered.

Penguin swallowed thickly, and his lip trembled ever so slightly as he tried to form one single word.

“T… Traf…”

Throughout his life, Law had been an unwilling participant in more unbelievable situations than he could count. He wasn’t sure why exactly, it was just how it was, and he felt he had handled himself very well through most of them. Maybe even all of them. His crowning achievements, at least in his own eyes, had been when he had kept himself together as his boss beat a man to death right in front of him, and then the time he had saved Kidd’s life in the passenger seat of his car.

This though. Law knew from the moment he looked up into those bright green eyes and recognized Nicholas Petruzziello, that this was not going to be one of those times when he held himself together. He knew he had about twenty-five more seconds before the damn broke and he was going to start bawling all over himself.

“Nikki?” he managed a whisper, even though his throat was suddenly dry.

Nick’s eyes were pained, and his lips were trembling as he spoke. “T… Traf…”

He could feel Dalton shift beside him and Law had just enough time to realize he was going to fall apart in front of the person he respected more than anyone else ever, but then Nick was moving towards him and there was nothing else in Law’s mind.

Nick threw his arms around his neck and hugged him so tight that for a moment Law felt he would suffocate. Not the worst way to go, but he suddenly had things he needed to say.

“You son of a bitch,” Nick was saying, “you fucking son of a bitch, I thought you were dead.”

“I was dead,” Law sniffed. No. No. He could hold it in. He didn’t have to cry. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m working this goddamn case!” Nick pulled away and held Law at arm’s length. “I can’t believe this! I’ve been here for two years and I had no idea you were in Seattle! Shachi cried for months after we heard you were killed! What the hell happened!?”

“It’s a really long story,” Law said, “one that I am absolutely going to tell you, but maybe when we’re not on the clock?” He turned to Dalton, but the older detective was shaking his head.

“This case isn’t going anywhere,” he said gently and gestured to the two of them, “and this seems important.”

“This is my brother,” Law said, and he couldn’t keep the tremor out of his voice.

Dalton’s eyes widened. “Your brother? I thought you didn’t have any family.”

“I’m his foster brother,” Nick clarified. “We’re not actually related on paper, so when he was background checked for undercover it didn’t flag him.”

Law was having trouble focusing on Dalton’s face, everything was getting a little blurry. But even through the haze, he could still see that kind smile, that smile that had always made him feel like everything was going to be okay, even when it was actually falling to shit all around him.

“Do you two need a few minutes?” Dalton asked.

He felt Nick turn back to him and for a moment Law was sure this was it, he was about to lose it for real, but he reigned it in. “No, no I got a better idea. Let’s get coffee. You guys are cops, you probably need it to survive. I know a place, come on.”

He looked for Chopper on the way out, but his friend was busy in autopsy room two. Next time.

“That shit was all over the news for months,” Penguin was saying, “We were so upset but we were also like… so proud of you. How did you get out of testifying?”

Law took another bite out of his croissant and motioned to Dalton. “This guy and the DA are the only people that know I got out.”

“Well, Schwartz and Jameson know too,” Dalton added, “but they’ve kept your secret.”

“Ah, yeah, they’re great,” Law smiled. “Anyway, Kizaru’s dead, Sengoku’s a vegetable, Enel and Hawkins are running the scene down there. Things are good.”

Dalton almost laughed. “‘Good’ is a relative term.”

“Hawkins doesn’t kill people to make a point,” Law grinned, “I call that good.”

Dalton grinned back and held up his coffee in a salute. “Touché.”

“What about this friend of yours?” Penguin asked, “This Kidd guy?”

Dalton’s hand stilled around his cup. He had been wanting to ask Law about Kidd for years, but had never felt it was the right moment. Lifting his eyes, he noted the way Law’s fingers gripped the edge of the table.

“He’s here,” Law said softly. “He owns a club downtown. He’s doing well.”

Clipped words; short sentences. There was tension in Law’s frame as he spoke. Dalton knew then that something had gone wrong, but he filed that away for a later conversation.

“That’s cool,” Penguin’s voice was quiet, he must have noticed too.

They had been in the diner for the better part of an hour. Penguin and Law had caught each other up, happy to see that both of them were doing well. Law had relayed the details of the events here in Seattle five years ago, and then the story of how he had escaped undercover. Dalton had heard all of this before, once from Law, and then another couple of times from the Portgas brothers. Luffy enjoyed embellishing a little, but all three of the stories were basically the same. Crazy.

Penguin’s life had been slightly tamer. The kid had joined the force in Portland a few years after his brother had left for California. He had studied hard, done his time as a beat cop, proving himself by being first on scene as often as he could, and finally earned a medal when he pulled three people from a burning bus just outside the Pearl District. He had requested a transfer and moved here with his friend Shachi, another “brother” from his time in foster care. After a few years here, arresting muggers and putting in time in Evidence, he passed the Detective’s test with flying colors.

Dalton knew all this from his file, but it was nice to hear the story directly from Penguin himself.

“So, these friends of yours,” Penguin shifted and reached for another strip of bacon, “they sound fun.”

Thankfully, this made Law’s smile return.

“You have no idea. Ace and Vivi are the most low-key, they’ve got a couple kids and live in the ritzy part of town, but Ace is still insane. He’s a fire fighter, really great guy. Then there’s Usopp and Kaya. Usopp restores old cars and sells them for crazy amounts of cash—this is, when he’s not blowing up his garage.”

“Blowing up his garage?” Penguin’s eyebrows shot up.

“I mean that in a very literal sense.”

“Jesus.”

Chuckling, Law refilled his coffee. “There’s Brook, he’s a musician. I don’t think there’s an instrument he can’t play or a song he doesn’t know. He and his trio play at All Blue every Saturday night.”

“All Blue?” Penguin asked.

Law nodded. “Restaurant. I’ll get to that. Anyway, ask Brook to tell you a story from his time in Europe. You’ll pass out from laughing. Franky is an architect, his stuff is all over the city, but he’s mostly into boats. His lady is Robin, the classiest dame you ever met. But don’t cross her, I have a feeling she’s probably the most dangerous person I know.”

“Noted.”

“Nami is a cartographer that works for the city. She’s pushy and bossy and scares me a little but deep down she also happens to be one of the kindest people on the planet. She’s dating Luffy, Ace’s brother. Now Luffy… Luffy is…”

“A force of nature?” Dalton offered with a smile.

“Yes. Nicely put. I don’t know how else to explain Luffy. You’ll just have to assess for yourself when you come to the barbeque tomorrow.”

“Barbeque?” Penguin asked.

“Yeah, you and Shachi are coming to a barbeque tomorrow at Ace and Vivi’s. Sanji’s gonna be cooking and you can’t be one of us if you don’t eat with us.”

Dalton laughed suddenly, startling the two across the booth from him. He waved his hands in apology, but he couldn’t stop the chuckles that bubbled up from his gut. Ace had said the exact same thing to him yesterday.

“Who’s Sanji?” Penguin asked.

“Uh, okay, so Sanji is a famous chef. He’s on Travel Channel and owns All Blue, the best fucking restaurant in the city. Probably the world.”

“Wait,” Penguin held up his hand. “Sanji? Like, Sanji Black? That guy on Waste Not?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“Oh man, my girlfriend loves that show.”

“Well, Sanji is basically Prince Charming and Gordon Ramsey mixed together. It’s entertaining as hell. Anyway, he’s married to Zoro. The coolest, most motherfucking badass, son of a bitch I ever met.”

“Nice. Wait, married?”

Dalton saw Law flinch, a slight hesitation in his joyous recounting of the people in his new life. There was something there, more than just Law’s protective nature towards his friends. It was interesting, and almost confirmed suspicions he had harbored for a long time. One more thing to file away for later.

“Uh, yeah,” Law said carefully, “Sanji and Zoro are married. Is that… going to be a problem?”

To Dalton’s surprise, and relief, Penguin started laughing. “Are you serious? I grew up in Portland! Now I’m a cop in Seattle! You think I’d have a problem with a gay couple?”

Law smiled at that and his body physically relaxed. Dalton was glad to see it. “No, I mean, I didn’t think you would, I just… I don’t know. I get defensive about it sometimes.”

“That’s good,” Penguin said cheerfully. “It’s good they have support.”

“Mm,” Law nodded in agreement. Dalton could tell he still had something sitting on the tip of his tongue, but when he turned back to his coffee, he seemed to swallow it.

“And then there’s my best friend,” Law continued, “but you already met him.”

“I did?” Penguin’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “When? What?”

“Chopper,” Law said with a smirk. “You made quite an impression, I think.”

“Oh man! Chopper!?” Penguin’s smile was radiant. “Chopper is great! Did he say I was cool? I was trying not to be too much of an idiot last night.”

“That’s not the kind of impression I was talking about,” Law’s grin was almost evil as his eyes slid sideways to his brother.

Penguin was silent for a moment, and then realization washed over his features. “Oh…” he said softly. “I… well, that’s cool. I mean… Man, he’s cute. He’s gonna make some dude real happy someday.”

“Shit,” Law laughed and almost choked on his coffee, “don’t ever call him cute to his face, he hates that.”

Penguin made a mock-salute. “Roger.”

Dalton watched this exchange and was suddenly and inexplicably jealous that he had not yet met this “Chopper”. He had probably walked right by him in the morgue and hadn’t even known.

Oh well, if he didn’t meet him when they went back, he would probably meet him at the barbeque.

“Well,” Law said, “are we all caught up? Ready to get back to work?”

“Yes,” Dalton nodded. “I’ll get the bill. Meet you back at the morgue.”

Outside, Law slipped his hands into his coat pockets and watched Nick straighten the cuffs on his suite jacket. He had grown, matured in a way that made him seem larger somehow, more present. Perhaps it was the power and confidence that came with carrying a badge. Law had always known Nick was going to go places, and had been thrilled and secretly pleased when he had found out Nick had followed in his footsteps and entered police academy.

“Man,” Nick said, “the weather here is exactly like Portland. It’s weird.”

Law snorted and motioned for them to start heading back to the morgue. At first, they were quiet as they walked, but it was a comfortable quiet. Law didn’t feel the need to fill the space with unnecessary chatter, he never had with Nick. He also knew Dalton had offered to stay behind and pay so the two of them would have a few minutes alone. Dalton was like that, intuitive on top of being exceptionally thoughtful.

Finally, as they neared their destination, Nick slowed and turned to Law. “Can I ask you something?”

Law nodded and slowed his stride.

“Why didn’t you call me? Or at least send a letter or something. Let us know you were alive.”

Law nodded again. “I could have, but I was more interested in keeping you guys safe. I mean Laura doesn’t even know.”

“Shit, really?”

“Yeah, as far as she knows, I signed the divorce papers and then died the next day. Not like she gives a shit though, she’s remarried, got two more kids, and living on some estate in Massachusetts.”

“You were really that worried someone would come after us?”

“Yes,” Law stopped then and turned to face Nick but didn’t look at him. “Look, Kidd and I fucked some shit up down there. We killed a lot of people—or got a lot of people killed anyway. It’s just dumb fucking luck that Enel happened to like us enough to let us go. I’m still not exactly sure why we’re not both rotting at the bottom of the Sound. And if you’re gonna be pissed at me for doing what I—”

“—Woa, woa, wait,” Nick put up his hands, “I never said I was pissed. I’m not mad at all. You did what you thought was right.”

Law let out a breath and lifted his eyes to meet Nick’s. He said nothing. Everything he wanted to say seemed to be caught in his throat.

“I’m totally grateful to you for keeping your distance. It was a badass, selfless, walk-away-from-the-explosion kind of thing, I can’t be mad at you for that.” Nick stopped and swallowed. “Besides, I bet it was probably way harder on you than it was on me or Shachi, wasn’t it?”

Law’s chest was tight. Fuck, he really was going to cry. Right out there in the middle of the street. He rubbed a hand over his mouth, scratching absently at the stubble on his jaw in a pointless attempt to hide his emotions. When he looked up, everything had gotten a little watery.

“Thank…” he cleared his throat. “Thank you, Nikki. I don’t know what to say.”

Nick shrugged. “I’m with you to the end, bro. Always will be.”

Law looked back down at the ground as tears started to slide down his cheeks. When he felt Nick’s arm go around his shoulders, he huffed out a laugh at how ridiculous he probably looked, and leaned into his brother’s weight.

As they started back towards the morgue, Law chuckled through his tears and whispered. “Did I hear Dalton call you Penguin?”

Nick laughed. “Yeah, they’re still calling me that.”

“That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.”

There was no window in Chopper’s office, so the only light was from the computer screen. Its white glow was harsh as it touched the surfaces of the desks and filing cabinets. His shadow made a long, grotesque shape across a framed copy of Leonardo Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man on the wall behind him. He liked working in the dark, it helped him think, kept him calm.

However, staring at the schedule posted on the office portal, Chopper felt anything but calm.

Law had changed his schedule. He was supposed to be working the swing shift tomorrow. He always worked the swing shift on Friday and Saturday. It saved him from having to make up an excuse for why he couldn’t go out or come to a party, or do anything with anyone at all. But now, as he looked over the graph one more time, he realized he not only had tomorrow off, but Saturday as well.

Chopper’s chest grew tight with anger. If Law had given him tomorrow off, that meant that someone had called and told him to. There was a party, a big birthday barbeque thing happening at Ace and Vivi’s tomorrow evening and now he had no legitimate excuse not to go. He really didn’t want to go, he just wanted to work and then come home and watch Stanger Things. Why did everyone always want to meddle in his life? Couldn’t they just leave him alone and let him be miserable?

Turning away from the computer screen, Chopper felt a wave of shame roll over him. He didn’t really have any right to be angry at his friends. They weren’t meddling for any other reason than they cared for him, and over the last few years, Chopper given them nothing but more reasons to worry. He hadn’t meant to shut himself away, it had just happened.

Huffing a sigh, he stood and went to refill his coffee cup. He figured there was no use fighting this one. Someone, probably Zoro, had told Law to change his schedule and now that it was changed he was going to be expected. If he didn’t show up they, most likely Zoro, Luffy, and Sanji, were going to come break down his door. He would go to the party, but he would hang back and have a beer somewhere quiet. Or maybe he could play babysitter. Ace and Vivi’s youngest was about thirteen months now, and cute as a button.

Yeah, that’s what he would do. Kids always lifted Chopper’s spirits. He would go to the party and just play with the kids. He could avoid all attempts at conversation and prying questions when there were young and delicate ears around.

Plan set, Chopper got his coffee, and went back to work.

Penguin: Dude why aren’t you answering your phone?

Shachi: Sorry I had that interview today for that gig downtown

Penguin: Oh shit! I’m sorry! How’d that go?

Shachi: Good. What’s up? Why 7 missed calls?

Penguin: Hold on I’ll call you

Shachi: No, I’m on the bus I won’t be able to hear you

Penguin: Okay well you’re never gonna believe this…

Law: I’m headed home. Thai tonight?

Chopper: Did you change my schedule on purpose to get me to the party tomorrow?

Law: How much trouble will I be in if I say yes?

Chopper: Not that much since I know it wasn’t your idea

Law: Well that’s good. Today has been awesome so I don’t want it to end with you being mad at me

Chopper: Why was today good?

Law: You know the detective you met yesterday?
Law: The one you thought was hot?
Law: Don’t deny it

Chopper: Guuh yes

Law: Well hes my brother

Chopper: I’m sorry what?
Chopper: Like a pack brother?
Chopper: Is that a code for something from when you were a crime lord?

Law: No no. Legit brother. Foster brother.

Chopper: How the hell did you become a crime boss and your brother became a detective?

Law: I was undercover

Chopper: God that’s even weirder

Law: It gets better. His super awesome partner is Dalton

Chopper: Dalton?

Law: My contact when I was undercover

Chopper: OMG Smoker’s friend? What the hell is he doing here?

Law: Transferred. This is where he’s from originally

Chopper: Wow that’s really cool
Chopper: I mean really cool
Chopper: Especially the brother part

Law: Right? So they’re both coming to the BBQ tomorrow so you’ll get to meet them
Law: Well you’ve met Nick already so not him
Law: You’ll meet Dalton
Law: He’s basically my hero so
Law: Be nice

Chopper: Fine

Law: So strange things tonight?
Law: *Stranger?

Chopper: Don’t you want to hang out with your brother?

Law: He’s gotta work
Law: There’s a serial killer out there
Law: Nikki and Dalton are gonna save us all

Chopper: Um ok if you really want to

Law: What does that mean?

Chopper: I don’t know. What’s so great about rewatching stuff you’ve already seen with me?

Law: It’s only the first couple episodes
Law: Besides I like hanging out with you
Law: You fit nicely in my lap
Law: Yikes that sounded weird I’m sorry

Chopper: No it’s fine. I do fit nicely in your lap

Law: Right so
Law: Stranger things, thai food, and some experimental/somewhat awkward cuddling?
Law: Tonight?

Chopper: I’ll be home at 6

Law: Cool

At a quarter after six that evening, Chopper closed the door behind him and found the downstairs quiet and empty. In the living room, the television was on, and the second episode of Stranger Things had been started, but put on pause. A large bag of delicious-smelling food sat on the coffee table, along with utensils, a couple sets of chopsticks, and a six pack of beer—one of which, Chopper noted, was absent.

Thinking Law might be in the restroom, Chopper went upstairs and changed into sweats and a Hello Kitty t-shirt Ace had bought him as a joke a few years ago. When he came back down, Law was still nowhere to be found, and so Chopper moved through the kitchen and opened the door to the back patio.

Sure enough, Law was there, reclining in one of the deck chairs, a bottle of Blue Moon in one hand and a cigarette in the other. When he turned and saw Chopper, he coughed and let out a long stream of smoke.

“Sorry,” he croaked, “must have lost track of time.”

“It’s okay,” Chopper smiled, “just got home a few minutes ago.”

Law looked so relaxed, so content, that Chopper almost excused himself and went back inside. It felt wrong to be intruding on such a perfect moment, especially when Law had so few of them. However, he knew Law wouldn’t mind, and would probably prefer it if Chopper joined him.

It took a little effort, but he made himself shut the door and sit down in the second deck chair.

Law grinned at him, as if he knew the struggle Chopper had gone through and was proud of him for staying.

“Such a great fucking day…” Law said softly and took another drag.

“Yeah?”

Law nodded. “Yeah, and there’s only one thing that can make it better.”

“And what would that be?” Chopper asked.

For a moment, Chopper thought he saw something in Law’s expression. Something pained and full of sorrow, it pinched at his features and darkened his eyes, it was terrifying but also lovely in a way.

Then it was gone, and Law turned to smile crookedly at him.

“Fuckin’ Thai food.”

They ate together on the couch, legs tangled underneath a few soft blankets and Chopper found himself getting unbelievably engrossed in the Stranger Things storyline. By episode six, Eleven had solidified herself as Chopper’s favorite character, and both he and Law fell into fits of giggles whenever Law made a joke about Steve’s hair.

It was past midnight when Chopper gave in and said he had to go to bed. Law waved him off sleepily, looking as if he was going to pass out right there on the couch.

As Chopper stood and moved to where Law lay wrapped in one of the blankets, he bent and placed a gentle kiss into thick, black hair. Then he started to straighten, but Law’s hand came out and pulled on his wrist.

“Hey,” Law said softly.

“Hm?” Chopper hummed, his heart suddenly beating very fast.

Law pulled him closer and looked at him through heavy lids. “Thanks for hanging out with me.”

“Well, thanks for being a safe space to hang out.”

A moment passed, and Law studied him carefully. His eyes moved over Chopper’s hair, his freckles, and then stopped on his mouth. Chopper’s fingers and toes started to tingle.

“I lied when I said Thai food would make this a perfect day.”

Chopper carefully lowered himself to sit on the couch, putting his body in a better position for Law to put an arm around his waist. “You did?”

Law nodded, but said nothing. He seemed to be struggling with something.

“Hey,” Chopper whispered, and reached up to cup Law’s jaw, “what’s wrong? You can tell me.”

Another long moment ticked by before Law sighed deeply and closed his eyes. His other hand came out from underneath the blanket and gripped Chopper’s hip. He pulled gently until Chopper was practically laying on top of him. He was warm, and had proven himself safe over and over, so Chopper was okay with it.

“You know what I wanted to do more than anything after I found out my brother was here?”

Chopper moved his fingers to brush slowly through Law’s hair. He had an idea what Law was about to say and it caused an overwhelming wave of protectiveness to wash over him.

“What did you want to do?” he asked.

Law clenched his jaw and his eyes opened. He looked at Chopper with such anguish it broke Chopper’s already damaged heart.

“I wanted to call Kidd,” his voice wavered as he spoke. “I just wanted to call Kidd and tell him about my brother, and then maybe…”

He clenched his jaw again and Chopper slid his fingers through his hair again as gently as he could. When it was obvious Law was not going to say any more, Chopper pulled himself up and tugged at the blanket. Law put his hands up and watched as Chopper maneuvered himself around.

“What are you doing?” Law asked, sounding a little breathless.

“I’m going to stay here with you for a while,” Chopper said softly.

He stretched out on the couch so he was pressed up against Law from chest to ankle, and then slipped one arm around Law’s waist. His heart pounded, and he may have been trembling a little when he finally settled down, but it had been years since he had slept this close to another person and it was as just as terrifying as it was exciting.

When the blanket came over him, he managed to calm himself a little, and he sighed contentedly when Law’s arms finally came around him. Law’s breath was warm as it puffed into his hair, and the beating of his heart was steady and strong.

“I’m sorry,” Law whispered.

“For what?” Chopper asked.

He felt Law shake his head. “Nothing.”

Within minutes, both of them were asleep.

TBC

Chapter Text

Ace’s kitchen was a goddamn marvel. There was enough counterspace for ten people to work without bumping elbows, and in the center, was an island that housed a second sink, a stained wooden prep area, a griddle, and a set in deep-fryer. Everything was light colors, peach, eggshell, sunflower, and the windows were placed just so that when the sun did shine, it illuminated the entire space with healthy natural light.

And today, it just happened to be sunny.

Sanji set his knife pouch on the counter and placed the large shopping bag down next to it. Onions, leeks, a collection of carrots, a few eggplants, and two flats of mushrooms shifted in the bag, catching the attention of a dark-haired, wide-eyed, salivating young man across the island.

“What are you making, Sanji?” Luffy asked.

Sanji smiled and pulled off his jacket. “Shish kabobs.”

Luffy’s already excited face lit up. “Awesome. They’ll have meat in them, right?

“Of course.”

“So, I hope you brought iced tea,” a melodious voice sounded behind him.

Sanji turned and beamed at the beautiful red head standing in the archway between kitchen and living room.

“Nami, my love, my flower!” he reached out as Nami moved into his embrace. She wore a leather jacket with a rimmed hood and the fur tickled the underside of his chin. “I haven’t seen you in weeks! How was your conference?”

“Boring,” she said as she squeezed him gently. “There’s a guy ‘revolutionizing’ map-making by trying to make bodies of water pink as a standard.”

“What?” Sanji chuckled. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Right?” She reached out and plucked an onion from the grocery bag. “Most people just ignored his booths, but there were a few hundred at his panel, so, who knows?”

“Hey, hands off,” Zoro’s voice was low but hardly menacing as he moved into the kitchen carrying four more large grocery bags.

Nami snorted and snuggled further into Sanji’s hold. “Not my fault, he’s hugging me.”

Zoro’s lips curled up into a smile as he started to set everything on the counter. “I meant the onion.”

He was so handsome it was ridiculous.

“Hey! There’s the food!” Ace joined them in the kitchen, his oldest, Sabo, on his shoulders.

At three, Sabo was starting to look more like Vivi than Ace. His hair was golden blond, and his eyes were a deep gray. He smiled when he saw Sanji and put out his arms.

“Sanji!” he said.

“Hey buddy!” Sanji closed the distance and plucked Sabo from his dad’s shoulders. “How’re you? Got any more teeth?”

Sabo opened his mouth wide for Sanji to see. “I got a moles.”

“A moles?” Sanji laughed. “That’s great! You’re a big kid now, huh?”

Sabo nodded proudly, he was so cute it twisted up Sanji’s heart in a sweet way.

“Where’s Zoro?”

“Over there,” Sanji turned and pointed to Zoro across the island.

“Hi Zoro!” Sabo called.

“Sabo!” Zoro called. “Where’s my hug?”

Sabo reached out his arms as if Zoro were standing right next to him.

“I think I have to toss him,” Sanji chuckled.

“I’m ready,” Zoro put up his hands.

Sabo squealed with laughter as Sanji mock threw him, but at the last second pulled him back and threw him over his shoulder instead. When Zoro came close enough to pass the small boy into his arms, they played a quick game of ‘oops I dropped you!’ before he was settled against Zoro’s chest, giggling and smiling wide.

“Hey kiddo,” Zoro kissed the top of Sabo’s head and something sweet and warm moved through Sanji’s body.

“You guys would make such great dads,” Ace said softly at Sanji’s side.

Sanji nodded, watching Zoro laugh as Sabo played with his hair. “Yeah, maybe someday.” Then he turned to Ace and put his hands on his hips. “Where’s my princess?”

“Napping,” Ace grinned. “Mom is too. She’ll come down a little before people are supposed to be showing up.”

“You said thirty people, who’s all coming?”

“The usual suspects, plus Marco and my crew, hopefully Dalton—”

“—Dalton?” Sanji asked, wide eyed. “He’s here already?”

“Yeah, got here a few days ago.”

Sanji nodded, “Cool.” Returning to the counter, Sanji resumed unpacking things as they talked. The kitchen had gotten quieter as Zoro had moved into the living room with Sabo and Luffy.

“Dalton’s bringing his partner, who’s got a weird name I can’t remember, and then the partner is bringing a friend. Supposedly they both know Law somehow? I was a little confused when I was talking to him yesterday.”

“You were talking to the partner?” Nami asked.

“No, sorry,” Ace smiled, “I was talking to Law.”

Sanji washed his hands and dried them on the towel hanging on the rack. Then he moved to his knife case and unhooked the straps. He had several pounds of meat to cube for the skewers and they needed time to marinate.

“Is Law bringing Chopper?” Nami asked.

Sanji nodded. “He should be. If he’s not I’m gonna drive over there and get him.”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to force him into coming?” Ace asked. “Maybe we should just leave him alone?”

“No way,” Zoro said as returned to the kitchen. His face was set in hard, determined lines. “He’s been doing the alone thing for months now. Have you seen him? He’s lost a ton of weight and his eyes are just… dead.”

“Law’s doing what he can,” Sanji added, “but something happened and Chopper’s shutting himself off from talking about whatever it was.”

Ace nodded. “Okay, just as long as being here doesn’t trigger something, or make it worse.”

“No one’s going to push him into anything,” Nami said gently. “We’ll let him do whatever he wants when he gets here.”

“I’m hoping he’ll open back up eventually,” Zoro sighed, “so I’m just trying to show him that I’m—” he paused and gestured to Sanji and the others, “—that all of us, are still here for him.”

Sanji nodded and motioned to a bag of potatoes. “Hey, babe, can you get those?”

“Sure.”

Zoro moved to wash his hands and then took the knife Sanji offered. No one was faster at peeling potatoes, not even Sanji himself.

“What happened to the terrorist?” Sanji asked with a small smile.

“Robin has him,” Zoro smiled back.

“Oh, Robin!” Nami cried. “Tell her to come in here! We can peel the oranges together!”

“On it,” Ace saluted. “Wait, let me get you guys beers first.”

“Ace, you’re a genius,” Zoro said.

“Right?”

Twenty minutes later, the house was bustling with activity and the happy voices of friends and family. Sanji recognized most of the voices, but some were new to him. The peeled and cubed potatoes were soaking in water, and the meat was marinating in covered containers in the fridge. Nami and Robin were chatting away across the island, a giant bowl of prepared oranges between them. Sanji was going to use them, and the mint he was currently washing, for dessert.

Zoro moved in close and brushed his lips across the shell of his ear. It sent a pleasant shiver down Sanji’s spine and he leaned into his husband’s solid frame.

“Need something?” he teased.

Zoro huffed a laugh and kissed him softly beneath his ear.

“Always.”

Turning his head, Sanji kissed Zoro’s smile. “Well, maybe if you’re not too drunk tonight…”

Zoro cocked an eyebrow. “And what if I am? What if I’m waisted?”

“That could be fun too,” Sanji admitted.

He kissed Zoro again, and heard soft giggling from across the island. When they looked up, Nami and Robin were both watched them and smiling fondly.

“What?” Zoro asked.

Robin put up her hands in surrender, but Nami shrugged, her smiled turning mischievous.

“You guys are just cute, that’s all.”

Chopper dragged himself out of the shower and toweled dry. The condensation on the mirror was cool underneath his palm as he wiped a space to see through while he put his hair into place. There was a rock in the pit of his stomach and he felt shame at its presence.

He shouldn’t be dreading this party as much as he was, there was no reason for it. Sanji was cooking. Chopper hadn’t eaten Sanji’s food in a long time and he missed it. He missed Zoro too, and Usopp, and Robin, and all of them. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that they were going to pry. He knew that his friends cared, and they would be doing it with the best of intentions, but they were going to ask him a bunch of things that were going to make him uncomfortable. They were going to coax him into talking about things he really didn’t want to talk about and it was going to end badly. He just knew it.

And then there was this whole other thing with Law. It wasn’t as distressing as thinking about the party, but it was definitely a Thing.

Chopper still wasn’t sure what last night had been about. It had not been the first time they had spent an evening together like that, but it had been the first time that Law had opened himself up. He had let Chopper see him vulnerable, intentionally, and then they had fallen asleep together. Chopper had actually woken up that morning draped over Law’s chest and buried under the blanket like some heroine in a romance novel. If Law hadn’t been so emotionally compromised, would the evening have ended differently?

What had Law’s original intentions been? Had he meant to casually make a move? Or did he do the whole thing because someone had asked him to? Had it just been a simple hang out with a friend? Maybe Law had needed company and it wasn’t about Chopper at all. He knew Law was lonely too, maybe it was just Law reaching out?

Maybe it had been a date?

That thought stirred something in Chopper’s chest. How would he feel if last night had been Law attempting to make a move? What if it had been meant as a date?

Was that something he wanted?

There were many things about Law that Chopper liked. He was thoughtful, and caring, and always put others before himself. Law had saved him, and was still protecting him even now. He trusted Law like he trusted Luffy, like he trusted Zoro.

But was that enough?

Just how did he feel about Law exactly?

Taking a deep breath, Chopper grabbed his toothbrush. There were so many questions bouncing around in his head, and so many things to stress over, but most of those couldn’t be answered until he talked to Law about it. Maybe tomorrow after the party was over and Law had spent some time with his brothers and Dalton and everyone, Chopper would sit him down.

But for now, Chopper would just hang on to the few facts he did know for certain. He did like Law, and he wouldn’t mind starting a relationship with him, if that was Law’s intentions, but he also knew that Law was still in love with Kidd. It was obvious.

Chopper knew it would be stupid to start something if Law was using him as a distraction. Not that he really thought Law was using him, but broken hearts made you do stupid things. Chopper knew this firsthand.

He dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt that had the word “Swag” splashed across the front—another gift from someone—then headed downstairs and grabbed a maroon sweater that was hanging off the back of a chair. He could hear Law in the kitchen and moved through the doorway. Leaning against the doorframe he watched Law smile as he typed into his phone.

He was handsome, Chopper would give him that. Not in a classic way, however, more of a roguish type. He was tall and lithe, slender but strong, like Sanji in a lot of ways. But where Sanji was fair, Law was dark. Chopper didn’t know what nationality Law was, and was pretty sure Law didn’t know himself, but he had an idea that down the line somewhere he was Eastern European.

“Something catch you interest?” Law asked suddenly, without looking up from his phone.

“You ever done an ancestry check?” Chopper asked.

Law turned to him, cocking an eyebrow. “Was that really what you were thinking about?”

Chopper shrugged. “I was trying to profile you.”

Law’s smile widened, and he slid his phone into the pocket of his jeans, then he turned around and leaned against the sink, giving Chopper an obvious eyeful. His white, long-sleeved shirt left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

“I’m supposedly Czech on my mother’s side, but I don’t know how true that is. Why are you wondering about my genetics all of a sudden?”

Chopper shrugged again and waved his hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter. You ready? Let’s get this over with.”

“Aw,” Law made a face and pushed off the sink, “don’t be that way. We’re gonna go eat Sanji’s food and drink lots of beer and ogle all of Ace’s hot fireman friends.”

Chopper perked up a little at that. “Okay, when you say it like that it doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Exactly. Let’s go.”

Law drove them, mostly because Chopper didn’t have a car, but they would have come together anyway in case Law got shit-faced and Chopper needed to drive them home. It was only fifteen minutes from Queen Anne to Carlton Park, and when they arrived, there was already a dozen or so cars in the drive. Music was playing inside and there was laughter and surprised shouts coming from behind the house itself.

When they neared the front door, Chopper hung back, a peculiar feeling starting to settle in his stomach.

Law turned to him and slid his hands into his jacket pockets. “It’s okay, man, these are your friends.”

Chopper nodded slowly, he knew that, he did. But that was one of the reasons he was afraid.

Nick: We’re on our way are you there already?
Nick: It would be weird if we showed up and you weren’t there yet
Nick: Seriously dude I’m getting nervous
Nick: Ok fine I’m telling Dalton to turn around

Law: Holy shit I’m here lol

Nick: Oh good

Law: Shachi with you?

Nick: Yup he’s crying already

Law: Omg

Nick: Dalton wants to know what we’re eating

Law: The best food you’ve ever fucking tasted that’s what we’re eating

Nick: Lol! I mean yeah but he needs to know for the wine

Law: Tell him it’s okay he doesn’t have to bring anything

Nick: I don’t think I can stop him he’s old fashioned and super sassy
Nick: *Classy
Nick: Phone auto corrected. Dalton is not sassy at all
Nick: Actually I don’t know maybe he is
Nick: I haven’t seen him drunk yet

Law: I have he’s not sassy he just gets nicer

Nick: I don’t believe you its not possible

Law: Sanji says red
Law: He listed the reasons why but I got distracted

Nick: Got it. Red
Nick: We’ll be there in fifteen

Law: See you soon

Dalton looked up at the brick Tudor that was easily in the several millions. The view was incredible, and the street it was on seemed quiet and friendly. Ace was apparently rolling in it, or at least, his wife was. Music was playing from somewhere inside and there were sounds of laughter coming from the back.

“Jesus Christ,” Shachi said as he unfolded from the back of the Tahoe, “who did you say lived here?”

Dalton glanced at Penguin’s friend. He was tall and thick in the shoulders just like Penguin, but he was a little rounder in the middle. Cute, as apposed to Penguin’s more traditional handsome.

“Ace Portgas and his wife,” Dalton said. “He’s the city’s fire chief.”

“Fire chiefing gets you a house like this?” Shachi asked, his green eyes wide underneath his flash of bright red hair.

Dalton chuckled, “No, but marrying a princess from a tiny, faraway country does.”

“What!?”

Laughing, Dalton motioned to the two younger men and started for the door. He knocked and almost immediately they were met by a beautiful woman with blonde hair and lovely gray eyes. Her smiled widened when she realized that she didn’t recognize them.

“You must be Dalton!” she exclaimed.

“Yes, hi,” Dalton said, “you must be Vivi.”

“Yes!” she squeaked happily and, to Dalton’s surprise, wrapped him in a tight hug. “I’m so happy to finally meet you!”

Dalton didn’t have a chance to respond or even return the hug before Vivi was pulling away and motioning to his companions.

“Come in! Come in! Everyone is so excited to meet you!”

She led them through a beautiful foyer where she took their coats and then pointed them in the direction of the living room. “Law and Ace are in there,” she explained.

“I feel so underdressed,” Penguin said quietly at Dalton’s back,

“You won’t in a minute,” Dalton assured them.

In the living room a few people stood drinking and talking and laughing. The atmosphere was so happy and so friendly, Dalton actually lost himself in it for a moment. It had been a long time since he had walked into a room where he felt this welcome.

He then realized the music he had heard earlier was live, and had just enough time to think that it was probably Brook before a shout rang out through the house.

“Dalton! Ace! Dalton’s here!”

Dalton turned and saw Law grinning at him from the door to the patio. He was about to raise a hand in greeting, but before he could, another shout rang out through the house.

“DALTON!”

And another.

“DALTON!”

A body slammed into him. And then a second. It was overwhelming, but Dalton had enough wits to realize that both sets of arms were hugging him and not attacking. He freed a hand to brush wild black hair out of a grinning face and he laughed.

“Luffy!”

Ace, the second set of arms around him, chuckled happily. “I can’t believe you’re finally here!”

“We finally get to meet you in person!” Luffy exclaimed. “And you get to meet everyone else and eat Sanji’s food and—”

“—Okay, okay,” another voice said from the door. When Dalton looked up from the boys, he found a stunningly beautiful red head standing there with her hands on her hips. “Let him breathe guys, come on.”

The Portgas brothers let him go but Ace kept a hand on his back.

“Dalton,” Ace said, “this is Nami, Luffy’s girlfriend. Nami, this is Dalton.”

“Hi,” Nami smiled. “Who have you brought?”

“Uh,” Penguin stepped forward and held up a hand in greeting, “Hey, I’m Nick, but everyone calls me Penguin.”

“Woa! Penguin?” Luffy laughed, “I love it!”

“And this is Shachi,” Law’s voice was at his side and Dalton turned just in time to see Law embrace the red head. He also noticed Shachi was crying again, but he said nothing.

“Well,” Nami said, her smile widening, “most of these guys are fire fighters that I don’t know, but if you want to head into the kitchen with me, we can give that wine to Sanji and meet the rest of the gang.”

“Sure. Ace, I’ll catch up with you later.” Dalton grinned at Luffy, who saluted, and then he followed Nami into the kitchen. Penguin and Shachi stayed back to talk with Law.

In the kitchen, there was a kind of organized chaos. Things were boiling on the stove, assorted piles and containers of meats and vegetables lay across the island, and something smelled like heaven. A few people were lined up in an assembly line along the edge, and all eyes lifted to meet his when Nami took him over the threshold.

“So, this is Dalton,” Nami said merrily, “Luffy and Ace have already said their hello’s, so I brought him in here to meet everyone else.”

“Dalton!” another beautiful woman with dark hair waved to him, “It’s good to finally meet you in person! I’m Robin. My boyfriend, Franky, is around here somewhere, probably talking shop on the patio.”

A tall man with very light skin and blond hair nodded to him. “Hello, I’m Pell, Vivi’s brother. My partner is also somewhere probably talking shop.” Pell wore eyeliner and had a tattoo on the side of his neck, but somehow, he didn’t strike Dalton as anything less than regal.

Dalton nodded to them both and then turned to another man with dark skin and piercing black eyes. His Japanese heritage was obvious, even if he was larger than any Japanese man Dalton had ever met. He was imposing, and attractive. One look at his green hair and Dalton had no doubt who this was.

“You must be Zoro,” he said.

Zoro nodded and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, finally.”

“Same to you.”

“Sanji!” Nami growled.

“I’m washing my hands!”

A tall blond with striking blue eyes and curled eyebrows moved across the kitchen and also shook Dalton’s hand. He was much more handsome in person than he was on TV, and his presence seemed to fill the room around him almost effortlessly.

“Hey, Dalton,” the chef’s smile was so wide and so infectious that Dalton couldn’t help grinning back.

“Hey, Sanji.”

Dalton could see now what Law had been talking about the past few years. These men and women, Luffy and Zoro especially, were powerful, dangerous. They were larger than life, beautiful, and exciting to be around.

But Dalton could also see they were kind. It was obvious in their eyes. Every single one of them.

“What’s this?” Sanji held out his hands to take the two bottles of wine Dalton held.

“Ah,” Dalton handed them over, “the first is just a Cabernet Sauvignon, but the second one, the La Prohibición, is a gift.”

“Damn…” Sanji breathed as he took the bottle out of its bag and inspected the label. “This is really good shit. You know wines?” he looked back up at Dalton.

Dalton shrugged. “I dabble a bit. It started out investigatory, but I ended up enjoying tastings.”

“Very cool,” Sanji nodded in approval. “I’ll just hide this one then.” He moved toward the pantry, slipping the La Prohibición back in its bag.

“Usopp and Kaya were going to be here too,” Nami said, “but Kaya is six months pregnant and she’s having kind of a rough night.”

Dalton nodded, completely understanding. His ex-wife had been sick a lot with their first.

“Next time.”

“Chopper’s here too,” Zoro said, “he’s out playing with the kids.”

“Oh good,” Dalton nodded, “third time’s a charm?”

“Hm?” Nami cocked an eyebrow at him.

“We keep missing each other. I was supposed to meet Chopper yesterday.”

“Ah.”

“How are you liking Seattle, Dalton?” Robin asked. She and Pell had returned to assembling the shish kabobs and Zoro was slicing apples into perfectly uniformed slices.

“I’m actually from here,” Dalton explained. “My family is Duwamish. I grew up on the reservation up in Mukilteo.”

“That’s wonderful!” Robin smiled, “I curated a Duwamish exhibit at the Seattle Art Museum a few years ago. Absolutely stunning wood carvings.”

Dalton smiled. “Thank you.”

“How long were you away from Seattle?” she asked.

“Fifteen years,” Dalton said, and turned to thank Sanji as the cook pushed a cold beer into his hand. “I moved to California so my wife at the time would be closer to her family.”

“Must be a real change, coming from organized crime in California to organized crime here,” Nami said as she washed her hands.

“Oh, I’ve transferred departments,” Dalton took a swallow of the beer, it was excellent. “I’m working homicide now. Penguin and I are leads on your Frankenstein case.”

All eyes were on him again, this time they were wide, shocked.

“Are you fucking serious?” Sanji breathed.

Dalton nodded. “Law didn’t tell you?”

“No, he definitely left that part out,” Zoro mumbled.

“What’d I leave out?” Law asked as he moved into the kitchen.

Nami flicked water at him. “Dalton is on the Frankenstein case and you didn’t say anything!”

Law shrugged and clapped Dalton on the back. “Slipped my mind.” He then turned to Sanji and held up a pack of cigarettes and shook it. “Sanji, smoke time.”

“Okay, twist my arm.” Sanji dried his hands and pointed to Nami. “You’re in charge. Don’t let anyone with the last name of Portgas in here.”

“Roger,” Nami fake saluted and returned to the veggie skewers she had been working on.

“Can I help with something?” Dalton asked.

“Yes,” Nami motioned with her head, “Pell’s on chicken, but he’s slow. Go ahead and wash your hands and dig in.”

Dalton grinned and got to work.

Law led Sanji out the patio doors and down the stone steps into the garden. The party had not quite spilled out this far so the two of them were free to poison themselves in private. They lit up and sat on the wooden bench Franky had made for Vivi as a gift for Christmas a few years ago. Savoring the first few puffs, they just sat and enjoyed the music filtering out through the windows.

“Didn’t you invite some people?” Sanji asked.

Law nodded. “They’re in there with Luffy. He’s charmed them into playing that game with the chopsticks. Smoker almost throttled them all.”

“Oh God,” Sanji tilted his head back and laughed merrily. “You’ll have to introduce me when we go back inside.”

They settled back into silence for another minute or so, each enjoying the buzz from the nicotine, but then Law broke it cautiously. “So, before you ask, I didn’t make any moves on Chopper last night. I was going to, but I didn’t.”

“I wasn’t going to ask,” Sanji said.

“Yeah, you were.”

Sanji’s smile was sweet and gentle, the kind of smile Law loved having directed at him. “Stop. You know what that look does to me.”

Sanji chuckled as he took another puff and blew it out slowly. “So why didn’t you make a move?”

Law looked away and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “You know why.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Law sighed. “I like Chopper, I really do. He’s fucking sweet and cute and needs to get laid so bad, but…” he trailed off and shook his head. “I can’t do that to him. I could be with him and I swear to god I’d take care of him, but it’s not fair if I’m always thinking about someone else.”

Sanji was quiet for a moment, and when he finally spoke his voice was barely a whisper. “That’s very selfless of you. How does Chopper feel about you?”

Law shrugged. “I’m not sure. I think he likes me. Like if I were to slip my hands down his pants next time we were watching a movie together, he’d be up for it, but… I’m sure there aren’t any sparks or whatever. I don’t want to fuck up our friendship with some casual sex.”

“Well,” Sanji leaned back and put his arm on the back of the bench, “you know it wouldn’t be casual. Don’t kid yourself. And it’s not set in stone that it would fuck up your guys’ friendship. It didn’t fuck up ours. I think it even made Zoro like you more.”

Law shivered deliciously at that particular memory but pushed it away before it got out of hand.

“That was a pretty different situation,” he said softly. “Besides, this is Chopper. He wouldn’t be able to handle it. He’s too… I don’t know…”

“Innocent?” Sanji offered.

“Yeah,” Law nodded. “In so many ways he’s not, but in this…”

Sanji nodded. “Chopper is innocent, I won’t argue with you there, but he’s not fragile. Don’t underestimate him.”

“I’m not.” Law flicked his butt into the can Vivi had filled with sand and left especially for them. Then he leaned back and let his eyes slip closed as Sanji’s arm came around his shoulders. Leaning into the cook’s warmth, he sighed deeply. His heart ached, and he was suddenly exhausted, as if he had just walked a thousand miles.

“I fucking hate this. What am I supposed to do?”

Sanji’s fingers slid through his hair. “Just get through today, and then when today is over, get through tomorrow. You know we’re always here for you.”

Law shivered again at the touch and let himself relax.

“Hey now, am I interrupting something?” Zoro’s voice was smooth and teasing. Law looked up and found the swordsman descending the garden stairs. He had pulled on his leather jacket and was carrying three beers in his fingers.

Law could hear the smile in Sanji’s voice. “Yes, but you know you’re always welcome to join us.”

Zoro pulled a giant, empty terracotta pot toward the bench, turned it over, and sat down directly in front of Sanji. When he handed Law one of the beers, Law accepted it gratefully.

“You’re the fucking man, Zoro.”

Zoro handed the second beer to Sanji, and raised his own in acknowledgement.

“So, what happened with Chopper?”

Law and Sanji both laughed at that. Zoro’s straightforwardness was one of the things Law liked most about the swordsman.

“You don’t fuck around, do you Zoro?” Law wiped at the beer he had splashed into his hand.

Zoro shrugged, “What’s the point?”

“Preach,” Law saluted with the beer and took a quick sip. “Okay, condensed version: I didn’t do anything. I wanted to, but I’m not over Kidd and it’s not fair. I’m sure he likes me, but not enough to risk fucking him up. The end.”

“What if Chopper makes a move on you?” Zoro asked.

Law got quiet then and turned away. He had never considered that Chopper would come on to him, and he wasn’t even sure how that would work. Chopper was a reactor, not an instigator, so while the thought of him making a move was great, it was also so unrealistic it was almost funny.

He took another swallow and looked down at his hands.

“If Chopper came to me, I would do the best I could to take care of him. He would have to be serious though, I’m not starting some bullshit physical thing with him. He wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

Zoro started to say something but Law cut him off. “I know, I’ve already heard it from Sanji, and I think you’re both wrong. No, Chopper would not be able to handle it.”

He felt Sanji shift behind him, probably to take a drink, then Zoro sighed softly and nodded. “You’d know better than we would at this point.” His voice sounded so sad it made Law’s chest tight.

“Do you know what happened?” Sanji asked. “Why he shut himself off? Why he won’t talk to anyone?”

Law turned the bottle in his hands a few times, contemplating what he should say. If he flat out lied, they would know, but he couldn’t tell them.

“Yeah,” he said softly, “I know what happened, but I’m not saying anything. He made me promise.”

He could feel the hackles rise, but the swordsman’s anger wasn’t directed at him. He knew Zoro was just protective of Chopper and the fact that Chopper had distanced himself from everyone had been much harder on Zoro than anyone else.

“What’s Chopper doing right now?” Sanji asked.

“I think he’s still playing with the kids,” Zoro murmured.

Law nudged his foot. “Maybe you could go play with the kids too?”

Zoro shook his head. “He doesn’t need me hovering. He’ll notice in the first five seconds that I’m upset, and it’ll make him more upset, and then I’ll have taken two steps backward.”

Law nodded, that was probably true. Chopper was very intuitive when it came to other people’s feelings.

“I just…” Zoro trailed off and then looked up at Sanji. “I just want him to be happy. I don’t care who gets him to open up, I just want him to be okay.”

Sanji said nothing and nodded solemnly.

The three sat together for another few minutes in companionable silence. Sanji and Law shared another cigarette, and Zoro finished his beer. Then Sanji took a breath and squeezed Law’s shoulder.

“As much as I’d like to stay here for a while longer, I should probably get to cooking.”

Law straightened. “That sounds fucking great. You gotta meet Nick and Shachi too.”

As they made their way back up the garden steps, Law was surprise when Zoro slowed and placed a hand on his chest. Sanji had already disappeared across the patio and back inside, so when Zoro turned his dark eyes back to him, Law was intrigued, and possibly a little turned on if he was being completely honest with himself.

“Tell me one thing,” Zoro growled softly, his fingers sliding up to grip the collar of Law’s jacket. “If someone did hurt him, tell me you fucking killed the guy.”

Law’s knees went a little weak at the unintentional power display. Zoro didn’t even have to try, he was just naturally dominating. When Law collected himself, his hand found Zoro’s and squeezed in reassurance. Moving in close, he breathed across Zoro’s jaw and slid his thumb across leathery skin and thick sword callouses.

“We fucking took care of it.”

Zoro must have seen something in Law’s eyes because the corner of his mouth turned up, and he nodded once.

“Good.”

Law made his way back to the party feeling a little better.

“‘Eight puppies playing with balls’. Where’s the balls? Can you point to the balls?”

In the sitting room Chopper sat in the playpen with Sabo, and baby Rouge. The little girl was sitting in Chopper’s lap, dressed in her polar bear footie pajamas, and holding a soft owl plushie. Sabo had brought them every book in the house it seemed, and the three of them had been winding down reading stories, counting things, and looking through pop-ups for the past twenty minutes.

Sabo’s blond hair fell into his eyes, and he brushed it away before pointing to one of the balls on the page. “See, Rouge? Ball, dis the ball here.”

Rouge giggled and pointed to the page, maybe understanding or maybe not, it didn’t matter. She was just copying her brother and it was adorable.

“Dee!” she cried happily. “Dee dah!”

Chopper turned the page and read, “‘Nine bunnies playing with blocks.’ Where’s the blocks?”

Rouge pointed to the page again, not really pointing to anything specific, but she did it with enthusiasm. Sabo laughed and took her finger gently.

“Here,” he said and used her finger to point, “here and here.”

“Okay you guys, time for bed!” Vivi said as she stepped over the gate and reached out for Rouge.

“Mama!” Rouge squealed.

“Thank you so much, Chopper,” she said as she set Rouge on her hip. “I haven’t been able to mingle with anyone in a while, I owe you.”

Chopper shook his head, “I don’t mind, they’re super fun.”

“Mama,” Sabo said rubbing his eyes, “can Chopper tuck me in pwease?”

“Oh, sweetie, Chopper should get back to the party n—”

“—No, it’s okay,” Chopper got to his feet and straightened his pants. “I’d love to. Come here big guy.”

Sabo reached for him and Chopper picked him up.

“I really appreciate it,” Vivi said.

Once Sabo was in bed, Captain America blanket pulled up to his chin, he clutched the elephant he slept with in his arms and looked up at Chopper questioningly.

“Chopper, why’s Usopp not here?”

Chopper smiled softly. “You remember how Kaya is having a baby?”

Sabo nodded. “Her stomach is big like she ate a looooot of food.”

“Right,” Chopper chuckled. “Well the baby in her tummy sometimes makes her feel sick.”

“Why?” Sabo’s eyes were wide with concern.

“It’s just something that happens when mommies have babies in their tummies. She felt sick today so they didn’t come. But she’ll drink a lot of water and go to bed early and she’ll be fine tomorrow.”

“When will the baby be here?”

“Uh, June. Four months from now.”

“How many days?”

“More than a hundred.”

Sabo stuck out his lip. “Is that before or after Christmas?”

Chopper laughed again. “It’s way before Christmas. It seems like a long time, but it’s not. He’ll be here soon, don’t worry.”

Sabo sighed the heavy sigh that only young children can manage, and then nodded.

“Okay. Thanks for playing with me Chopper.”

“No problem, kiddo. Sleep tight okay?”

“’Kay.”

Chopper leaned in to kiss Sabo’s forehead, but the boy’s next words caught him off guard.

“Love you.”

Looking down into that face that was such a lovely combination of Ace and Vivi’s features, Chopper felt his cheeks go hot and his throat tighten with emotion. Such a simple thing, but it was so innocent and so pure it made all the parts of Chopper, even the ones deep down that no one had touched in a long time, feel light and warm.

“I love you too,” he whispered. Then he smiled and kissed Sabo’s forehead.

He switched off the light as he left and left the door open only a few inches.

At the bottom of the stairs, Chopper stopped and sat. He had already snagged a few of the kabobs and some of the potato salad earlier, so there was really no need to brave the bustle of the kitchen, unless he wanted a beer, which he didn’t. If he went into the living room he would be forced to play the chopstick game, which he begrudgingly liked, but he was not in the mood. He had caught a glimpse of Law earlier, talking to Penguin and another red-headed guy, probably Shachi, and he had seemed so happy, so relaxed, that Chopper couldn’t justify asking him to leave just yet.

So, his options were basically stay where he was on the stairs, or maybe slip outside. The gardens in the backyard were so pretty. The cherry trees would be starting to blossom, and it probably wasn’t too cold.

Standing, Chopper descended the last step and grabbed his jacket from the coat closet and shoes by the door. Then he moved down the hall. He knew he could bypass most of the party if he went around through the breakfast nook. The food had been set up in the full dining room, so most of the people were gathered at the other side of the house. He made it outside without much fuss, and then managed to escape down the stone steps into the garden.

The sun had begun to set, so the lights had been turned on. Vivi had hung up lines of mini lanterns, old fashioned bulbs, and a few she and Ace had made themselves out of colored bottles. The lines ran from the roof of the patio, out to poles throughout the garden. It was enchanting, like a midway at a carnival. The first time Chopper had walked the cobblestone pathway at night, he had felt he was traveling a road through a magical kingdom.

So taken by the lights and the gentle sway of the trees in the breeze, Chopper didn’t realize there was someone else on the path. He was looking sideways at the pond, loving the way the weeping cherry blossom branches brushed the top of the water, when he bumped into a warm, solid frame.

His hands came out and he steadied himself, instantly mortified. How could he have just barreled into someone that was right in front of him?

“You okay?” a deep voice asked.

Chopper looked up, ready to apologize, but then suddenly he couldn’t. His words caught in his throat. His chest clenched tightly, and he couldn’t breathe. His whole body was suddenly light, so very light, and so warm.

The man was tall, taller than Ace, and so incredibly broad. Huge was a good word. His jaw was wide and strong, his skin and hair was dark, and his eyes, oh God his eyes…

“Hey,” the man said again, concern pulling at his features, “are you all right?”

Chopper managed a nod. He still couldn’t speak. This was easily the most handsome man he had ever met in his life. It actually physically hurt to look at him.

Then the man smiled softly, and Chopper thought he might die.

“You must be Chopper.”

“Uh… yes?” Chopper managed to say, his confusion momentarily dampening the other feelings coursing through him. “How do you know who I am?”

“You’re the only person at this party I haven’t been introduced to,” the man explained. “That and, well, I know you hate being called cute, so let’s just say Penguin gave me your physical description and I made an educated guess.”

Goddamnit, he was funny too, but Chopper was still too busy trying to put things together to laugh. “Penguin?” he asked, still not understanding.

And then it hit him.

“Dalton!” he breathed. “You’re Dalton!”

Dalton’s smile widened. “Dalton Drum, West Precinct. I was supposed to meet you yesterday but when I got back to the morgue you were busy and I didn’t want to bother you.”

Oh, it’s okay, I would have gladly dropped everything. “Well, it’s nice to meet you finally,” Chopper said softly. To his horror, he was actually getting a little shy. “I um, I’m glad you’re here. For the case, I mean. Law’s bringing me in on it too so… I’ll—we’ll probably be seeing a lot of each other.”

Dalton’s eyes studied him for a moment thoughtfully, just a quick glance over his hair and down his frame before his gaze returned to Chopper’s face.

“Looking forward to it.”

Chopper’s knees went weak and he had to steady himself with a hand on the railing around the pond. Dalton’s study had been penetrating, but not in a way that felt invasive, and his voice was smooth and deep, but so gentle at the same time. It was the kind of voice Chopper could listen to for hours. It made him ache in places that hadn’t felt anything in such a long time.

“You, um,” Chopper wet his lips nervously, “touring the gardens?” Stupid! Of course he’s touring the gardens! What else would he be doing out here!?

Luckily, Dalton seemed unconcerned with the obvious question and nodded. “Ace and Vivi have done a wonderful job with this place.”

“What… what um,” Holy shit use your words. “What’s your favorite part?”

“The cherry blossoms.”

Time must have slowed, because when Chopper looked up at Dalton’s face, everything seemed to have frozen in place. Those dark eyes were gazing out toward the pond at the weeping blossoms over the water, exactly where Chopper’s eyes had been drawn only minutes ago.

Chopper knew this was one of those moments he was going to remember for a long time. It was going to be another point in his life when his heart betrayed him, let him fall for someone without thought to consequences. It had happened enough times that he was now familiar with the feeling.

Except this time, it was going to be even worse, because this time that feeling was stronger and more intense than it had ever been with anyone else.

When time sped back up again, and Dalton turned back to him, Chopper swallowed thickly, worried that he wouldn’t be able to speak again when he tried.

“You sure you’re okay?” Dalton asked again, “You’ve got a… look.”

“I’m… a little woozy, actually.” It wasn’t a lie.

“Too much to drink, huh? Want some water?”

Shaking his head, Chopper released the rail and slipped both his hands into his pockets. “I’m... maybe? Walk me back to the kitchen?” No no no no what are you doing?

“Sure,” Dalton smiled.

Fuck, he was done.

The walk back was simultaneously wonderful and terrible. Dalton stayed beside him, a giant, comforting presence as they made their way back up the stone steps and through a throng of half drunk people. Chopper tried not to think about how effortlessly Dalton maneuvered them through the crowd, making sure Chopper wasn’t jostled or accidently bumped into by an unsuspecting elbow.

Before tonight Chopper had never realized how much he wanted someone that could be a buffer between himself and the world. What did that say about him? Was he selfish? Was he unrealistic?

When they reached the kitchen, Chopper hung back in the doorway while Dalton got him a glass of water. At first it had been just an excuse to get Dalton to come back into the house with him, but then he had started to realize that his throat was actually completely dry.

“Thank you,” he said softly, taking the glass from Dalton’s fingers.

“You’re welcome.” He could hear the smile in Dalton’s voice and he couldn’t make himself look up at it.

“I have to use the restroom,” Dalton continued, “but I’ll be back in just a minute if you need anything else.”

Chopper nodded and took a few large swallows of water to occupy himself as Dalton moved away. He then leaned against the wall, his back facing the kitchen. He could hear Sanji talking to Nami, and Robin laughing at something someone was saying. Ace was in the living room, talking to his fire fighter friends in a charming drunken slur, and from somewhere in the direction of the dining room, he could hear Law laughing at something Luffy was saying. Everyone was having a great time, and that was good. Maybe it had been a good idea to come tonight. No one had bothered him, and it was nice to hear his friends happy.

Suddenly, Chopper felt a presence. It didn’t feel dangerous or frightening, but it was strong, intensely so. He glanced at the ground and saw a shadow, a familiar silhouette of someone leaning against the wall at his back.

He sighed, and a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

“I know you’re there,” he said softly.

Zoro growled behind him. “I’m sorry, I don’t… I just wanted to say hi.”

Chopper’s heart gave a little pang at that. He finished off the last of his water and set the glass down on a nearby shelf. He then reached around the doorframe, found Zoro’s arm, and pulled the swordsman around and into the foyer so they were standing face to face. He didn’t look up, instead focusing his attention on Zoro’s shoes.

“Hi…” he said softly.

“Hey…” Zoro said, and his voice seemed thick.

Chopper knew that this was supposed to be where he started to cry. He was supposed to cry and throw himself at Zoro, apologize for shutting himself off to everyone, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t ask for forgiveness because he didn’t deserve it. He had been a terrible friend, and he was still being a terrible friend. When the night ended nothing would be different. His friends would still worry about him, and Chopper would still have no idea how to talk to any of them because his fear and his shame and all the things that had been growing in his heart for the past few months would still be there.

But maybe… just for a moment…

Chopper closed his eyes and let himself fall forward. His forehead settled against Zoro’s chest and Chopper felt the swordsman’s breath catch for an instant. Then those strong arms came around him, and for just the smallest of moments, Chopper felt everything was going to be okay.

Zoro held him for a long time, or what seemed like a long time, and Chopper just let him. He relaxed, and let himself drift in the warm embrace of one of his oldest and dearest friends. Zoro said nothing, knowing inherently that there was nothing he could say that would mean more than this.

Then the moment was over, and someone was in their space.

Chopper pulled away reluctantly and found Law, looking a little shaken, placing an arm on Zoro’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry guys, but Smoker’s looking for Dalton. Have you seen him?”

“He went to the bathroom,” Chopper said.

“I got the text,” Dalton’s voice was hard and professional as he turned the corner in the hall. “Where’s Penguin?”

Chopper was mortified that even in the midst of whatever was happening, whatever terrible thing was going down, he still managed to look at Dalton coming toward him and shiver with want. It was so stupid. So immature. He was such a fucking child.

“Penguin’s with Smoker,” Law said, “I’ll get him.”

“What’s going on?” Zoro asked, his face dark.

Dalton glanced at his phone. “We have to go, they found another body.”

Chopper actually had been expecting that somewhere in the back of his mind. With the way Law was acting and the graveness that had hardened those kind lines in Dalton’s face. His blood ran cold, and every trace of the pleasant feelings he had been floating in just moments ago, washed away.

“Oh no…”

Dalton looked at him sympathetically, the professionalism waning for a fraction of a second. “Guess we’ll be working together sooner rather than later.”

“Yeah,” Chopper’s voice was a whisper.

“I’m here!” Penguin moved into the foyer, hopping on one foot, trying to pull his sneaker back on. “Smoker’s got the info. Can Law ride with us?”

“Of course,” Dalton answered. The he turned back to Chopper and Zoro. “Would one of you please make sure that Shachi gets a ride home?”

Chopper nodded. “Of course.”

“Good luck,” Zoro said gravely.

Dalton nodded and after taking his coat from Penguin, the two of them, and Law, slipped out the door.

TBC

Chapter Text

Law’s thumb flicked at the latch on the outside of the Coroner’s kit. Doctor Mallory didn’t fuck around, she had everything. The kit was enormous, a square tub with two shelves that unfolded upwards, two shallow drawers, and then of course the basic tub itself that was big enough to hold a Hazmat suite, plus rain gear, boots, and a tarp. Dalton had driven him back to the office to grab it, and then the three of them, Dalton, Law, and Penguin, had headed out to the crime scene.

Because Law was acting Coroner until Mallory was back, he was going to have to confirm death and do the initial walkthrough. It wasn’t the first time he had conducted these tasks, but it was the first time he would be doing them alone.

He wasn’t nervous, he actually felt calm, like this was something he had always been meant to do.

“Hey,” Nick said quietly from the passenger seat.

“Mm?” Dalton glanced at him as he turned a corner.

“This is gonna sound really bad,” he took a breath and then continued, “but I’m… kind of glad this is happening. I don’t mean I’m happy that someone died, that’s fucking terrible, but I mean… I don’t know what I mean.”

“You’re thinking it’s good that we’re going to get to see a fresh crime scene. This time we get all the facts first-hand without seeing them through another investigator’s eyes.”

“Is that fucked up?”

Law looked up and felt a tug at his heart at the look in Nick’s eyes.

But Dalton was shaking his head. “No, it’s a good thing. Maintain a certain detachment, take opportunities where you can get them—within reason. It sounds cruel and heartless but sometimes that’s what you have to be to deal with this stuff.”

“But,” Nick scratched at his jaw, “what if you do this long enough and you really become cruel and heartless?”

Again, Dalton shook his head. “Detachment. Like you said before, you’re not happy someone died, you’re happy that we get fresh eyes on evidence. Keep those separated and you’ll be fine. We’re here.”

Lights flashed and there were road blocks set up on both ends of the residential street. People were gathered outside on the sidewalk, watching, waiting. A singe news van was parked down the street but there was no camera or reporter to be seen. When Dalton pulled up to the road block, he rolled down the window and the three of them flashed their badges. The patrol officer waved them through and Dalton parked outside of a two-story craftsman. However, he didn’t open the door right away, instead, he turned to Nick and spoke softly.

“To be honest, I’m glad you feel the way you do. I wouldn’t want a partner that lingers and wallows and gets too empathetic about each victim. We’ll have plenty of time for that later. You’re smart, you’re capable, and you’re going to do great, understand?”

Nick nodded vigorously.

Law smiled as he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door. Dalton was such a low-key badass.

The first on scene was a patrolman by the name of Dodd. He filled Law in as they ascended the steps to the front porch. The call had come in forty-five minutes ago and transferred to the on-duty sergeant. The victim’s name was Gary Machart, a lawyer employed at a downtown firm. His friend John Marks had found Gary’s dog dead in the entryway, and Gary’s body in the living room.

“I’ve kept out as many people as I could,” Dodd said, “if they did come in I got an ingress log. I’m sorry if I’m a little shaky, this is my first time.”

Law shook his head. “You’re doing fine, Sergeant. Keep doing what you’re doing. And make sure you hydrate, it’s going to be a long night.” He almost smiled as he said that because he had definitely picked that up from Chopper.

“Thanks, Doc,” Dodd said nodding, “I’ll leave you to it and go fill in the detectives.”

Law had already pulled out his foot covers and was slipping them on. “Give me fifteen minutes and then let them in, okay?”

“You got it.”

The entryway was empty, save for a single table that held a key bowl, and the plastic sheet that covered the body of Machart’s dog. When Law turned and faced the living room, at first, nothing seemed to be out of place. He set the kit down just inside the threshold and opened the top. He took out gloves first, slipped them on, and then took out a penlight and the thermometer. He knew that if this was indeed a Frankenstein murder, the body temperature was going to be inconclusive in determining time of death, but it was protocol anyway.

“All right, Mr. Machart,” Law said pleasantly, “time we got acquainted.”

Nicholas Petruzziello, or “Penguin” as he had been known by virtually everyone since before he had started middle school, felt this was perhaps the moment his life had been building up to for some time. He was excited and a little nervous, his adrenaline had kicked in as he had stopped at the bottom of the steps to the front porch and watched as Law’s back disappeared through the doorway. Now it hummed through his veins, making him feel slightly electrified.

Dalton stood at his side, asking follow-up questions to the first on scene, Dodd. The guy was older, mid forties maybe, and seemed the type who had hoped he was going to avoid something like this during his career but was a good enough cop to be ready for it anyway.

Penguin knew it wasn’t pure chance that he had rolled Dalton for a partner. It had definitely been some divine-fucking-intervention for him to have gotten this lucky. He had truly hit the lottery jackpot; the guy was so knowledgeable and patient and such a great teacher it was unbelievable.

And then of course there was Traf. He got to work with Trafalgar Law, the coolest, most motherfucking bad ass son of a bitch on the face of the planet.

“You’ve done an excellent job, Dodd,” Dalton was saying. “If you could just see that Mr. Marks is comfortable, I want to question him before he goes in for his official statement.”

“Absolutely, I’ve got him set up in the back of the ambulance now, but I can move him to the SUV?”

“That’s fine. We’ll be over in a few minutes.”

Dodd nodded and moved away toward the flashing lights.

“All right,” Dalton turned to Penguin, a hard determination set in his eyes, “Law said fifteen minutes, so that gives us about five to walk the perimeter, and then we’ll question Marks.”

“Anything specific you’re looking for?” Penguin asked.

Dalton shook his head. “Not really. In a case like this, it’s likely there’ll be nothing extraordinary, this guy is too good at covering his tracks. But with the escalation, I’m hoping he’s forgotten something or possibly made a mistake somewhere.”

Penguin nodded, thinking back to the files they had gone over the last few days. “He’s been killing them and storing them somewhere else, so how’s he getting them into their houses without causing suspicion?”

“Exactly,” Dalton started moving.

They walked the perimeter of the property. The backyard was fenced in, probably for the dog, and there was a shed sitting in the back corner underneath a large evergreen tree. Both gates were closed and locked, but the one by the kitchen side entrance could be opened from both sides.

“This is where he would come in,” Dalton said. “Make a note of this fence lock, and the kitchen door.”

“Got it,” Penguin said, scribbling in his notebook.

“Everything else seems sound,” Dalton said. “The most likely possibility is the garage.”

Penguin nodded, he had thought of that as well. “We’ll check to see if his car is in there, and if it is, that means our guy drove him home, opened the door automatically, and just rode inside. Easy.”

“Exactly. Double check for the automatic door mechanism when we check for the car.”

Penguin knew Dalton was voicing his more obvious thoughts aloud for his benefit, but he was grateful for it. Dalton’s teaching method was working through things slowly and letting Penguin add his own thoughts or ask questions as they went along. It made Penguin feel more confident, even if he was being handed most of the information right off the bat. It also meant he never felt foolish for asking any questions, not even the most insignificant. As Dalton had said previously, there are no insignificant questions when it involves a case.

“Okay, let’s find Marks.”

The man was in his forties, athletic type, with graying hair and a trimmed goatee. He was haggard and shaken, but that was to be expected in this situation. Penguin held back as Dalton asked Marks a few questions. He paid attention to the softness in the detective’s voice, the gentle way he spoke of sensitive things. It was easy to lead a witness, so Dalton asked very simple things and then let Marks elaborate on his own. He was Mr. Machart’s personal trainer and had been worried about his friend when he hadn’t shown up to their Thursday session at the gym. Apparently, that was extremely unlike him, so Marks tried calling and texting, but there was still no reply by Friday afternoon.

“Gary practically lived on his phone,” Marks said wetly, “I knew there was no way he wasn’t getting my texts, so something was wrong. I thought it was the flu.”

When he had come to the house, the front door had been slightly ajar, and when Marks saw Jangles, Gary’s black lab, he had known and had immediately called the police. He had seen the scene in the living room, but only for a moment. He couldn’t bear to set foot inside.

“It’s all right,” Dalton said gently, “you did the right thing.”

Marks nodded but the tears were still brimming in his dark eyes.

“I just have a few more questions,” Dalton continued, “are you up for it?”

Marks nodded.

“Did you use the door to the kitchen? The one that opens to the side yard?”

Marks shook his head.

“Okay, good. Last question: Does Gary drive to work?”

“Sometimes, but not Wednesdays. That was the last time anyone saw him. At work, I mean.”

“Why doesn’t he drive Wednesdays?” Penguin asked.

“He likes to go to the bar after meetings and then Uber home. He likes the bartender at Shorty’s.” His eyes widened then, and he gasped softly. “Oh my God, I’m going to have to tell her…”

“Okay, Mr. Marks,” Dalton straightened, “I’m going to have an officer take you down to the precinct where you can get some coffee, okay?”

“Okay,” Marks said quietly.

“When they take your statement, just tell them exactly what you told me.”

Marks nodded again and leaned back in the seat, his eyes closing against more tears.

Dalton closed the door to the SUV and thumbed at his jaw. “We’re going to have to interview the bartender, and of course people at his work. We need a more definite timeline.”

Penguin nodded.

“Good job asking about Wednesdays,” Dalton said. “You saved us a step.”

Penguin’s chest fluttered with excitement. He wasn’t usually a sucker for compliments, and he didn’t require validation, but hearing praise from Dalton was like being told you were a badass by a superhero.

“You ready to go inside?”

Penguin almost snapped his neck nodding the affirmative.

Inside, the house smelled like wood and plastic. The entryway was bare, no pictures on the walls or carpet to soften the place up. It was definitely the home of a bachelor, and going with the theme from the other victims, Mr. Machart probably had no family. The body of the dog was halfway to the kitchen, covered in plastic sheeting.

Law was holding a camera and standing at the threshold when they entered. He gave Penguin a soft, apologetic smile.

“Hell of a first scene, Nick.”

“Yeah?” Penguin could feel his eyes becoming saucers.

“Here you go,” Dalton handed him a pair of gloves. Penguin had his own, but Dalton’s were already out. They had donned the foot covers at the door, and Dalton had taken off his jacket and given it to a uniformed officer on the porch.

They moved into the room, Penguin just behind Dalton.

“Wow…” Penguin said softly.

Mr. Machart had been staged like the other victims, but this was slightly different because this was the first scene centered in the living room and not the kitchen or dining room. The body had been propped in an armchair that was facing the television, the right hand was holding a beer, and the left was holding the television remote. He was wearing sweatpants, a sweatshirt, socks, and running shoes.

The ears had been replaced and stitched crudely with black thread, as were all ten of the fingers. Penguin was sure they belonged to Daniel Talmer, but he would have to wait for DNA to come back to say officially.

“All right, Penguin,” Dalton said softly, “what do you see?”

Penguin made a small semi-circle around the chair, taking in what he could at first glance.

“Fingers and ears have been replaced, just like we knew they would be. He was killed somewhere else and brought here, just like the rest. These probably aren’t the clothes he was caught in, our guy probably went through his stuff and dressed him before he set him up.”

Dalton nodded, “Good. What else.”

“He’s… a strange shape,” Penguin murmured, studying the bizarre way the body fit into the chair. It seemed he was either very short with unnaturally long arms and legs, or he had some sort of deformity that allowed himself to fold almost in half. “I don’t understand what’s happening with his body.”

Law stepped back into the room then and pointed to the sweatshirt. “If you lift that up, it’ll make more sense.”

Penguin did as Law suggested and lifted the sweatshirt. There was a plain, white t-shirt beneath it, and he lifted that as well.

“Oh, Jesus,” he breathed softly.

“Well,” Dalton murmured at his side, “more clear escalation.”

Mr. Machart looked out of proportion because his torso had been removed. The body had been severed just above the hips and again a few inches below the armpits. He had no nipples or belly button, only a line of jagged, uneven stiches around the entire frame.

Penguin tucked the sweatshirt and t-shirt up beneath the arms and stood, giving the other two men a better view.

“What the fuck…” he whispered.

“So, no liver temp,” Law said with a wave of his hand, “because well, there’s no liver. So, no time of death. Not like we would have had that anyway since he’s freezing them somehow.”

Dalton came closer and squatted down next to the chair. “This would take an incredible amount of work.”

“Right?” Law scoffed, “It’s not like he could just cut it out and move it to another table. It’s more like trying to take a piece out of the middle of a hot burrito. Everything comes sliding out.”

“Thank you for that imagery,” Dalton made a face as he stood.

Penguin shook his head. “If he’s freezing them though, he could cut through without the mess.”

“This guy’s only been missing a few days,” Dalton said, “there’s no way he had enough time to freeze the body all the way through.”

Law nodded. “This is the shortest timeframe of all the victims. He’s been in cold storage, but definitely not frozen.”

Dalton looked at Penguin then and the corner of his mouth turned up. “This is when he starts to get sloppy.”

Penguin grinned back. “Asshole’s about to fuck up.”

“If he didn’t already,” Dalton agreed.

“Okay,” Law said as he moved to his kit, “I’ve done the walkthrough and got enough pictures. My official statement is: he’s definitely dead. I’ll get back to the lab and ready everything for autopsy.”

“Thanks Law,” Dalton said, his attention back on the scene.

Penguin also returned his focus to the body, running everything back over in his mind. Then he froze, noticing something. He moved in close and put his gloved fingers on one of the eyelids.

“Holy shit,” he said.

“What?” Dalton asked.

“Look, the eyes,” Penguin answered. “He’s still got his fucking eyes.”

“What?”

“Look, Talmer’s eyes were brown, these eyes are blue!”

“Holy shit.”

Penguin looked up, sliding the eyelid closed. “Why didn’t he replace the eyes?”

Dalton shrugged, his face hard in concentration. “I’m not sure. It’s a break in the pattern, but I can’t understand why. Maybe it’s something simple like he was just too tired? The torso would take a lot out of him.”

“Maybe he damaged the eyes taking them out?” Penguin suggested.

“Yes, that’s very likely. There’s also…”

Then Dalton trailed off and his face grew slack. Penguin was about to ask what was wrong, but then Dalton stood quickly and moved to the threshold.

“Unless…” he said softly.

“What?” Penguin stood and followed Dalton out into the entry. “What are you th…”

Dalton squatted down beside the body of the dog, and suddenly Penguin felt sick.

“No. No. No. Not cool…”

Dalton pulled back the plastic sheet and Penguin watched his shoulders move as he examined the dog’s face.

“Shit…” Dalton sighed.

“No, he fucking didn’t,” Penguin growled.

Dalton stood and turned back to him.

“Oh, he fucking did.”

“Thanks for taking me home,” Shachi smiled as Chopper shut the car door.

Chopper smiled back, “It’s not a problem. You’ll have to bear with me though, I don’t know Madrona very well.”

“It’s kind of confusing with all your one-way streets, but we’ll figure it out. I’m only a little, tiny, tiny bit drunk.”

Chopper chuckled as he shifted into gear and moved out of the long driveway. Whatever Shachi considered “a tiny bit drunk” was well beyond Chopper’s own limit.

The streets were dark in this part of the city, with only a few street lamps to light corners and intersections, but once Chopper hit one of the main highways that cut north to south, shop fronts and traffic signals lit up the darkness like it was midday.

“Traffy’s got great friends,” Shachi said with a sigh, “you’re his roommate, right?”

Chopper nodded, trying not to burst out laughing at the nickname. He was going to give Law hell for it later.

“Yes, and his colleague.”

“That’s cool. Penguin’s been so excited to work with him. Well, and Dalton. Jesus, that fuckin’ guy was all Penguin talked about this week. I hated that dude.”

Chopper was surprised at the twist of anger and protectiveness that turned in his gut at Shachi’s words. “You don’t like Dalton? Why?”

“No, no, sorry,” Shachi shifted in his seat so he could look at Chopper while he spoke. “I was tired of hearing about him, like, no one’s that fucking great, right? Then I met the guy tonight and I was all ‘shiiit, he’s really cool, I’m such an asshole’, you know?”

The knot of anger melted away and Chopper actually smiled, “Uh, yeah, he is pretty cool.”

“If I know my brother’s out with that guy, I won’t be so worried about them finding people with their body parts missing or whatever. Dalton’ll have his back.”

A familiar warmth started to spread through Chopper’s limbs and he sighed softly. “Yeah, Penguin will be fine.”

They drove for a few more minutes, Shachi giving directions as his voice got softer and softer. Finally, Chopper chanced a glance at his passenger and saw the man looking out the window watching nothing. He seemed to have a kind of faraway look in his eyes, and Chopper could tell it was not from the alcohol.

“So, you, Penguin, and Law grew up together? In foster care?”

Shachi nodded.

“What was Law like back then?”

“Uh,” Shachi frowned, “kind of the same, I guess, just not quite as rough around the edges. He was never a straight arrow, but he had a hell of a lot less vices in high school.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, Shachi shifted again. “He didn’t smoke, refused to drink, always had his nose in a book. The dirty mouth is the same though, he’d cuss up a storm if you made him angry. Also…” he paused for a moment, thinking. “Also, he’s always been a little private, but now… he’s closed up pretty tight. He’s, I don’t know, harder I guess.”

Chopper knew exactly what Shachi was talking about. He kept his eyes on the road, guilt pinching in his chest. He knew most of the reasons Law was different, but if Law hadn’t opened up about it to Shachi yet, he had no right to talk about it.

“He’s been through it,” Chopper said softly, “but he’s got good friends here. And now he has you guys again.”

“Hell yeah,” Shachi said. “Oh, turn right here.”

Chopper: I took Shachi home
Chopper: He’s cool I like him
Chopper: What’s happening?
Chopper: I can’t sleep so text me back when you get this

Law: It’s fucked up

Chopper: Is it Frankenstein?

Law: Without a doubt

Chopper: There is no way I’m sleeping tonight. Do you want an assistant?
Chopper: For the autopsy I mean
Chopper: Obviously

Law: Fuck yes get down here

Chopper spent the next hour reading the highlights of the Frankenstein case. He drank seven cups of coffee and downed four of the six pirozhkis he had brought for Law. If his friend noticed Chopper’s sudden increase in appetite, he said nothing.

When they wheeled in Mr. Machart’s body, Chopper was ready. He knew what to look for and was already taking inventory as he unzipped the body bag.

When they wheeled in a second body, one that was much smaller and strangely shaped, it took him a few minutes to realize what it was.

“Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me…” Law groaned.

By the time they had interviewed the bartender at Shorty’s, and three half-drunk lawyers from Mr. Machart’s firm, Dalton was glad to see the text from Law.

Law: Finished. Come for results whenever you want

He responded and then slipped his phone into his pocket. He was tired, and he was sure Penguin was too. They had been following the trail for most of the night, and here it was, almost five a.m. They still had no leads, but they had established a timeline. Machart had in fact gone to work Wednesday, but he had never made it to the bar that night. His colleagues had said that was where he was headed, so it was easy to deduce he had been taken on his walk from the firm. Penguin and Dalton had walked the street Machart would have traveled and there were any number of alleys and dark corners where someone could have been lying in wait.

“Well,” Penguin sighed, “it’s not square one, but it feels like it. Do you think we should question people at his gym?”

Dalton nodded. “We will, but that can wait until it’s open. We need to head to the morgue and talk to Law.”

As they climbed into the Tahoe, Penguin ran his hands through his hair and made a face. “What does it say about me that I’m fine looking at human bodies all cut up, but you throw a dog in the mix and I want to puke?”

“I’d say that’s a fairly normal reaction,” Dalton said.

“I can watch dudes get killed all day in movies, but one animal dies and I’m sobbing. You seen I Am Legend? That movie nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“I can’t watch movies where children die,” Dalton confessed. “Animals are tough, but I can’t do kids at all.”

“You got kids?” Penguin asked.

Dalton nodded. “A boy and two little girls.”

“Woa, dang! How old?”

Smiling, Dalton pulled out of the parking lot and turned onto the road that would take them back to the morgue.

“Aiden is nine, Sophia and Emma are six.”

“Twins!” Penguin exclaimed. “That must have been crazy!”

Dalton nodded, “It was, especially since their mother… well, let’s just say it was a hard time for everyone.”

“I’m sorry,” Penguin’s voice went soft. “That’s why you moved back home, huh?”

Dalton nodded again. “The man she… left me for, I guess you could say, convinced her and her family that it was better if I was far away. She said she wouldn’t drag out a custody battle if I went home.”

“What a bitch.”

Chuckling, Dalton slowed and turned the Tahoe into the city morgue parking lot. “As much as I appreciate that, it wasn’t actually her fault.”

Penguin made a face as he unbuckled his seatbelt and Dalton shut off the engine. “Um, sounds like she cheated on you, man. No one’s fault but hers.”

“Again, I really appreciate that, but the whole thing was extremely complicated.” He opened the door and folded out of the driver’s seat. “Anyway, that’s a story for another time.”

“Over a lot of beers, apparently.”

“Or bourbon.”

They found Law in autopsy room one. Mr. Machart’s body was laid out on the table, and Jangles the dog was close by on another. The ears and fingers of Mr. Talmer, DNA test pending, had been removed, and the flesh had been stitched back together by a much more professional hand. The eyes of the dog had also been sewn shut, but with such delicacy that it seemed the animal was only sleeping.

“All right,” Law said, taking a sip from his coffee mug, “what do you want first?”

Dalton shrugged. “I guess just take it from the top.”

“You got it.”

Apparently, there was nothing extraordinary about Machart’s body, besides the obvious. His liver, spleen, stomach, gallbladder, pancreas, kidneys, the lower half of the rib cage, and a few feet of intestine were all gone, but the killer had left the heart and lungs. The ears and fingers had been removed crudely, probably with a sharp knife, or a cleaver for the fingers, and then what they assumed were Talmer’s parts had replaced them. The thread was the same, as well as the stitch.

“Because he wasn’t frozen, he’s got less tissue damage than the rest,” Law said. “We put in for bloodwork, but there’s been nothing so far in the other victims so I’m not holding out hope.”

“And the dog?” Dalton asked.

“Blunt force to the back of the head. He died instantly.”

“Well, at least there’s that,” Penguin murmured.

“Besides the eyes, there was nothing interesting about the dog either. Ran bloodwork on him too, but again, don’t hold your breath.”

Dalton nodded and turned to Penguin. “Okay, next would be questioning the rest of the colleagues and then the people at his gym.” He glanced at his watch. “The gym isn’t open for another hour, and the partner we need to speak to doesn’t come in until nine. You should take a break, go home and rest for a bit.”

“What? Really?” Penguin made a face like Dalton had suggested he try and eat mud.

“We have an opportunity to rest, we need to take it. This is how I’ve been able to do this for so long and not go crazy.”

Penguin sighed, “I guess, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep.”

Dalton shook his head and put a hand on Penguin’s shoulder. “You don’t have to sleep, just rest. Eat something, relax, watch a movie. I’ll call you in a few hours.”

Penguin nodded. “All right,” he turned to Law, “thanks, man. I’ll see you.”

Law waved as Penguin turned and left the autopsy room. “That was nice of you,” he said when they were alone.

“Not going to have him burn out on his first case. He’ll work himself into exhaustion, I can see it in him. I have to instill good habits while I still can.”

Law smiled fondly and snapped a file shut. “Well, I’m beat, so I’m going to finish the report and head home. Chopper’s in his office catching himself up. He assisted me, so if you have any more questions he can help you.”

Dalton felt something twist in his stomach, and not unpleasantly.

“Chopper?”

Law looked at him, “Yeah, you met him at the party, right? Technically, he should be the assistant medical examiner, I just wanted it more. He’s the smartest person I’ve ever met so I promise you’re in good hands.”

Dalton was having trouble swallowing. “No, I mean, that’s good, I just… I guess I forgot he worked with you.”

“Oh yeah?” Law was looking at him funny, a small smirk pulling at his lips. “Detective Dalton, with the photographic—almost eidetic—memory, super cop, didn’t remember Chopper worked at the morgue?”

Dalton scoffed, “My memory’s not photographic.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Law’s smirk was now a full-on grin. He slipped the file into a container and started to move past Dalton towards the door, but just before he did, he stopped and said softly at Dalton’s side.

“He’s cute, it’s distracting. Don’t worry, it happens to the best of us.”

And then he was gone.

Dalton stood for a while, hands in his pockets. A lot had happened since the party the night before, enough that he had been able to keep certain thoughts at the back of his mind. But now there was a lull, a break from the frantic information gathering, and there was nothing to keep those thoughts at bay any longer.

The only way Dalton could describe what it had felt like to meet Chopper for the first time, was a lightening strike. Nothing had ever felt like how it had felt to stand in that beautiful garden and look into those big brown eyes. Never before had something like that hit him so powerfully, or so obviously, then the intensity of that moment. Feelings he had never experienced before blossomed in his chest and sent fire ripping through his body. It had burned, it had seared, it had torn him up inside and then pieced him back together all in the same instant. He had done his best to stay cool on the outside and had managed to not make a complete fool of himself, but after getting Chopper the water and then watching those soft lips around the rim of the cup, Dalton had excused himself to go hyperventilate over the sink in the bathroom. The whole thing was insane.

It was too fast. It was all happening too fast, he wasn’t ready. He knew something like this had been coming. He had felt things for men in the past, it was one of the reasons he had separated from his wife, but he had never imagined it would—like it could—be like this. There was too much. There was just too much to process.

But damnit, he had a job to do, and he did have more questions. Law was writing his report and had made Chopper available to him, so not accepting the help was out of the question. Unless, of course, he wanted to just go home and rest, like he had instructed Penguin to do.

No, that was out of the question too.

Taking a breath, he steeled himself, turned, and left autopsy room one.

Chopper grabbed his cup from his desk but huffed a sigh when he peered inside and found it empty. That was the third time, he should just go get more coffee.

Straightening in his chair, Chopper took a moment to stretch his back and roll his neck, he had been reading for a little over an hour and hadn’t so much as moved from his slumped position. Case files littered his desk, autopsy and crime scene photos were lined up according to victims, and notes from the previous detectives were draped across his lap. He held toxicology screens in his left hand, but that had been a demoralizing dead end.

He slouched back down and studied the photos of Mr. Machart he himself had taken just a few hours ago. Something wasn’t setting right, and he couldn’t figure out what it was.

There was a knock at his office door, and it opened.

Chopper looked up and was sure if he had been standing his legs would have given out from under him. He had never been more thankful that he was sitting in his life.

Dalton stood at his door, tired, but handsome, and smiling softly.

“Hey,” he said. His voice was just as rich as Chopper remembered.

“Hey.”

“Law said that you assisted with Mr. Machart and if I had any questions, I should talk to you.”

There was a thump in Chopper’s chest and nervousness started to creep in. Oh, Law had, had he? What an asshole.

Sighing, Chopper set the reports on his desk and moved the detective notes back into their respective files. “Is he ‘writing his report’?”

Dalton’s smile widened. “You make it sound like a euphemism.”

“It is a euphemism.” Chopper was having trouble looking up at Dalton’s face, the shyness was back in full swing. “He’s going to go back to his office and sleep.”

“Well, he’s not wrong. We should all be sleeping right now.”

Chopper waved a hand that was not quite shaking. “You don’t have to stand in my doorway, come in.”

“Actually,” Dalton’s voice wavered for a moment, and that did make Chopper look up, “I heard you’re trying to catch up on the case. I need to go over some of the Machart autopsy details, so why don’t we exchange information over coffee, or maybe breakfast, because I’m starving.”

That was the smoothest invitation to breakfast Chopper had ever received. If it hadn’t been about business, he was sure he would have literally swooned.

Standing, Chopper closed the files on his desk and tried not to wobble.

“All right, but I get to pick the place.”

The place Chopper chose was a small diner a few blocks down from the morgue. It was about as close to a dive as you could get without sacrificing cleanliness or table space. It seemed to base its décor on pop culture nostalgia. All manner of paraphernalia covered the walls, from eighties Trolls, to G.I. Joe action figures, to original posters of The Thing and Star Wars. Dalton liked the place immediately, especially when he saw the first Starship Enterprise mounted above the bar. The original show had always been a favorite of his.

The woman behind the counter greeted Chopper by name and showed them to a booth. They sat across from each other, and before Dalton could compliment Chopper on his taste, the doctor was already talking.

“I like this place because, well, obviously the junk on the walls is fun,” he gestured with his hand, “but also because the coffee is really good. Seattle is known for being the birthplace of Starbucks but it’s not really our best coffee, it’s just popular. Any of the places on Pike or Union have great coffee. And I’m talking a lot, I’m sorry.”

Dalton couldn’t keep the smile from his face at Chopper’s shyness. His nervous mannerisms were endearing, and the way his dark eyes kept trying to sneak glances up at Dalton’s face, but then quickly looking away, was wonderfully charming.

“I actually haven’t had a good cup of coffee since I got here,” Dalton said.

“When did you get here?” Chopper asked.

“Wednesday.”

Finally, Chopper met his gaze and held it with wide eyes. “This last Wednesday? Three days ago?”

Dalton nodded.

Chopper’s brow furrowed a bit and his already blush cheeks reddened even further. “So, you’ve just been working nonstop since Wednesday? Have you slept or had a decent meal? Have you unpacked? Where are you staying? What kind of work are you expecting to do if you’re not taking care of yourself!”

Maybe it was the grin that had stretched Dalton’s lips, or perhaps the quiet chuckle that escaped his throat, Dalton wasn’t sure. Whatever it was made Chopper stop his furious interrogation and put both of his hands over his mouth.

“Oh my god,” Chopper moaned, “I’m sorry. Old habits. I don’t have any idea what you’ve been doing. You could be taking Epsom salt baths in the evenings for all I know.”

“Well, no, definitely not that,” Dalton tried to stop himself from laughing as the waitress came by to fill their cups with coffee.

“You boys know what you want?” she asked.

“Pancakes please,” Chopper said softly, “and some bacon.”

“Wow, hungry today huh?” the waitress said with a smile, and then turned to Dalton. “And for you, handsome?”

“I saw a benedict that had tomatoes and avocado?”

“Yep, that’s the P.A.T. Comes with hash browns and either regular or pesto hollandaise sauce.”

Dalton raised his eyebrows, “Wow, I’ll try the pesto.”

“You got it,” then she took the menus and was gone.

Dalton returned his attention to Chopper, who’s face was now crimson, but at least he had lowered his hands to his lap. He was staring at the table directly in front of him.

“So, you were saying old habits?” Dalton brought his cup to his lips and tested the coffee. “Oh, you’re right, that is good.”

Tentatively, Chopper’s gaze lifted again, and Dalton’s heart fluttered at the way those dark lashes seemed to make waves.

“Uh, yeah,” Chopper said slowly. “My friends are stupid, and they do a lot of stupid shi—stuff, and they get hurt a lot and don’t take care of themselves. So, I just fell back into scolding as a default.”

“Well, to settle your worries, I have not been working nonstop since Wednesday. I bought a house here before I moved, and I spent a lot of Thursday evening unpacking. I’ve had a couple good nights of sleep, and I’ve eaten at least two meals every day. Except yesterday because I went to the party and ate Sanji’s kabobs and that was like three meals in one.”

Chopper smiled at that and seemed to relax a little.

“Where did you buy your house?”

“Wallingford. It needs some work, but nothing I can’t handle. It has a loft upstairs, and the yard is bigger than most you’d find in the city. The washer and dryer are in the kitchen though, it’s kind of weird.”

Chopper snorted into his coffee, “That is a little weird.”

“You live with Law, right?” When Chopper nodded, he continued. “That’s a nice arrangement. How long has that been?”

“Almost six months. I was in kind of a bind and he helped me out.”

A tilt of the head, a slouch of the shoulders, the collapse in to protect himself from the blows of an unseen hand. Dalton saw the signs of trauma in the lines of Chopper’s body, the shadow of it in his face, and was suddenly tense with hidden anger. Who the hell would hurt someone like Chopper? Who in their right fucking mind? He thought back to the employee file he had glanced through, the one that had told him nothing and bits of something all at the same time. A lot of it made more sense now.

However, he decided now was not the time to ask about it.

“So, um, Detective?” Chopper said quietly.

The anger fled and Dalton felt a tingle in his face and fingertips at the sound of his title on Chopper’s lips. It baffled him a little as he had never thought that would be something that turned him on.

“You can just call me Dalton,” he said into his cup.

Chopper’s amazing eyelashes fluttered again. It was all the more charming because Dalton was sure he wasn’t doing it on purpose.

“Ah, okay, Dalton,” he said, a little more confident this time, “I was just… I wanted to thank you.”

Dalton frowned in confusion. “For what?”

Chopper sat forward and folded his arms on the table. “Five years ago, when my friends got themselves into all that trouble with the underground and the gangsters and stuff? Ace reached out to you because I had been taken, well, me and my friend Usopp. They had us locked in a dark room for two days. They didn’t hurt me, but they beat Usopp unconscious. I don’t… know what would have happened if you hadn’t…” he trailed off then and his eyes dropped once again to the table.

Dalton had known all this too, Law had told him everything when he and Kidd had returned to LA. It was definitely another factor in Chopper’s trauma, but how much impact it had compared to whatever had happened a few months ago was unclear.

Also, he didn’t understand why Chopper was giving him so much of the credit. From what Law had told him, it had sounded like Zoro and Sanji had done most of the heavy lifting.

“I appreciate it,” Dalton said, “but I’m not sure I deserve it. I didn’t do much.”

“You sent us Law, and Kidd,” Chopper said. “My friends wouldn’t have known what to do if you hadn’t. Or they would have gone in guns blazing and destroyed half of Seattle. Wouldn’t put that past them. You may not have personally rescued us, but it’s because of you that Usopp and I are alive, so… thank you.”

He was so sweet, and Dalton was sure his heart couldn’t take it. What was he supposed to say to something like that? Chest tight and stomach knotted, Dalton nodded and accepted the compliment as graciously as he could.

“Well, I’m glad you’re all right.”

When Chopper looked up at him again, and finally smiled for real, that was it.

Dalton was done for.

Law: Everything set for tonight?

Kidd: Vergo’s been entered. You fight him at 11:45

Law: HELL yes. Thanks man I owe you

Kidd: I know

TBC

Chapter Text

Nami sighed as she poured herself a glass of orange juice. It was almost nine o’clock, way past her usual wakeup, but she’d had a late night last night and her body had slept right through her alarm. She had missed her workout, so she would have to make up for it with a run later, or perhaps she would call Robin and see if she wanted to go to the gym.

Glancing into the living room, she watched Luffy as he typed frantically at his phone. Her partner had been a sport and not made a scene when Law and the others had left suddenly last night, but he had gotten quiet, and twitchy, the way he always did when something big was about to happen. He may have been immature and completely oblivious in many ways, but his intuitiveness for things that really mattered was almost supernatural. Luffy had understood the gravity of what was going on, and had been, at least to her, supportive and respectful. When they had returned home, they had taken a bath together, and then talked for another few hours before going to sleep. He had seemed all right, he knew Law and Dalton and the others could handle everything.

So now, Nami was not sure what was happening. Why was he up already? Had he slept at all? Who was he talking to?

She moved into the living room and made her way over to the couch. Luffy was sprawled on the cushions, dressed in a pair of loose sweatpants he had cut off just above the knee, and Hello Kitty ankle socks that had originally belonged to her. His hair was in disarray, probably from tossing and turning in the early hours.

He was very handsome like this, dressed like an idiot, bed tossed, and no doubt worried about someone he loved.

Nami sat on the couch, her hip pushing up against his side. His left arm reached out and snaked around her waist, squeezing her to him as he continued to type.

“What’s going on?” she asked softly, taking a sip of her orange juice.

Luffy shook his head. “Kidd texted about a fight tonight.”

Nami made a noise into her glass. “He doesn’t usually ask your permission.”

“He’s not asking permission, he wants me to cut it.”

Frowning, Nami set her glass on the coffee table before settling closer. She reached up and gently took the phone from Luffy’s hand.

“Explain. Short sentences.”

Luffy looked at her and slid his other arm around her waist. “Law’s signed up to fight Vergo tonight. Kidd doesn’t want it to happen, he’s worried Law’s gonna get real hurt. He’s also worried Law’s only doing the fight with Vergo to get hurt. I’m trying to tell him if Law wants to fight, let him fight. It’s his choice.”

Nami felt like rolling her eyes. Man’s pride and ego were two things evolution definitely needed to work on.

“But what if Law does get really hurt?” she asked.

His gaze intensified then, eyes turning dark and serious.

“I won’t let that happen.”

She studied him for a moment before she nodded. If he said he wouldn’t let it happen, she believed him. Whenever Luffy said anything with conviction, it meant he was going to dig his heels in and move mountains. He had done it before.

There was a stir in her gut, a pleasant warmth that curled into her chest and spread up to her shoulders, her hands, and her fingertips. She felt the warmth climb up into her face and flush her cheeks. Luffy must have noticed because he smiled softly and leaned up to kiss her. It was gentle, sweet, with no hint of anything more hiding behind it. There rarely ever was. That wasn’t how they were together.

When Nami was younger, she had been terrified of what she was. She had dated men, slept with one or two, and hated it. Then she had tried women, and that had been the same. She had wanted intimacy, but never sex, and she had felt the pressure of her peers and of culture and expectations and had almost collapsed underneath it.

But then she had met Luffy, and he had shown her that it was all right to feel that way, that it was all right to not want the things that everyone else seemed to want almost desperately.

They had been together like that a few times, but both of them agreed that it was much more fulfilling to just hold each other, to just be with one another. They kissed every day, and sometimes, when things were hard or something insane had just happened, they would give each other a small release with fingers or tongues, but that was very rare. Neither of them would change anything, they were happy this way.

Nami knew she was lucky. Luffy was all she could have ever wished for and watching the way he was looking at her now, she knew that he felt the same.

“So, when are we going?” she asked, a teasing smile pulling at her lips.

Luffy shrugged. “After dinner I guess.”

“Any plans?”

“Can we get shawarma? Watching the guy cut the meat off the spinny deal with the electric saw is like my favorite thing.”

Nami smiled and nodded her head. “You are so predictable.”

Luffy made a face. “Well, you hate surprises.”

“I do,” she kissed him again, but this time on the forehead. “I’m gonna get dressed. You should finish whatever you were saying to Kidd and then get a shirt on and come with me to the gym.”

“’Kay.”

She handed him back the phone and stood. “And then we’ll head to the mall so I can find something to wear tonight.”

“Black!” Luffy called after her, “It has to be black!”

“I know, babe.”

Chopper dipped the last piece of his bacon in syrup and munched it as he glanced over the report again. Since everything had been scanned in and entered into the system, all parts of the case were easily accessible electronically. Instead of looking at it on his phone, he had brought the tablet from the office. He much preferred the feel of the paper and the photos in his hands, but the tablet was more practical when out at a restaurant.

“I’m assuming you’re going to re-write the profile?” Chopper asked.

Dalton nodded. “Yes. There’s nothing wrong with the first one, I agree with everything that’s been stated, but it’s not detailed enough.”

Chopper slid his finger across the screen and thumbed down the page. “‘Male, late twenties, left-handed, steady job, possible stable home life, drives a van or SUV. Possible occupations: butcher, lab technician, access to cold storage.’”

“I don’t believe he’s in his late twenties,” Dalton said into his coffee cup.

Chopper nodded. “I don’t either. The majority of his victims are older. He’s also not left-handed.”

Dalton was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was nearer. “Why do you say that?” When Chopper glanced up he found the man had leaned in close. This made Chopper’s skin tingle pleasantly, but he took a breath and pointedly ignored the sensation.

“Well,” he said softly, “I can see how one would think he’s left-handed. He’s staged the scenes with each victim situated as if they were left-handed. Lisa Merrill was holding the teacup in her right hand and the cracker in her left. Ying Yue had the cigarette in her left hand and her right was in her pocket. Gary Machart had the tv remote in his left. It’s made to look like he did it unconsciously, to throw you off.”

Chopper waited a beat for Dalton to nod his head before he continued. He was nervous again, and unbearably shy. The fact that he was criticizing hard detective work was going to make him look like an asshole, and it was probably going to piss Dalton off, even if he didn’t show it. But Chopper also knew that the police needed to know these things, and if it put him personally in a bad light, so be it.

“What gives it away, is the stitching. He did the stitching with his left hand too, but after what I saw, it’s what makes it obvious that his left hand is not dominant.”

“I don’t understand,” Dalton said, “how can you tell?”

Unsurprisingly, embarrassment fluttered in Chopper’s chest. “I… have a friend that’s left handed and watching him do things is… interesting. I’ve known him since high school, so I’ve been watching the way he eats with chopsticks, or writes, or whatever, for a long time. It’s fascinating. There are subtle differences in the way right-handed and left-handed people do even the most mundane of things.”

He pulled up a picture on his tablet. It was one of the close-up frames of Mr. Talmer’s face. He managed to hand the tablet over to Dalton without dropping it on a dirty plate but that was pure luck.

“It’s not obvious, but the way the stitches are angled means they were done with the left hand.”

While Dalton studied the photo, Helen came by and took their plates, promising to return with more coffee. As she left, Dalton looked up and nodded. “I see it, but I still don’t understand. How did you come to the conclusion that he’s not left-handed? He’s staging the scenes as if he is, and you’ve just shown evidence the stitching is also done with the left hand.”

Chopper folded his hands in his lap and stared at his coffee cup. This was where things got a little tricky. He had been researching all night and yesterday, pouring over files and photos and documents and coming to the same conclusion over and over again. He had voiced his idea to Law, but Law had not been particularly interested, even laughed it off. It hadn’t bothered Chopper at the time, because it was Law, and Law could be contrary once in a while, but he listened eventually. However, now Chopper was going to have to convince a seasoned detective that everything they had thought since the beginning was completely wrong.

A large, warm hand touched his shoulder gently and Chopper almost screamed.

“I’m sorry,” Dalton’s eyes were wide when Chopper met them. “I didn’t mean to startle you, but you’d sort of zoned out.”

Shame, humiliation, and embarrassment washed over Chopper and he felt his eyes fill. It was so hard to talk to people now. It was so fucking terrifying. Even Dalton, who seemed so sweet and gentle and kind, was still a person that could be insulted or angered if one were to point out faults and mistakes like Chopper was about to. His jaw creaked as his body fought with his brain on how to proceed. Maybe he should just write it in a report? Dalton could read it later and Chopper wouldn’t have to see the anger, or the disapproval.

Then something twisted in Chopper’s guts and he felt sick. What if Dalton didn’t believe him either? What if he just laughed it off too?

“I um…” Chopper’s head hung low, trying desperately not to let Dalton see how upset he was. “I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes.”

Dalton was quiet for a moment, but then he leaned forward again, moving their cups and napkins and the tablet out of the way.

“Chopper, listen to me,” he spoke quietly, gently, as if soothing a startled horse. “As far as I’m concerned, no one has been doing a very good job handling this case. The t’s are crossed, and the i’s have been dotted, but there’s nothing that says anyone has really tried. They all come to the same wall and give up. There’s no passion, no intuitiveness. That’s why I feel so lucky to have Peng—Detective Petruzziello, with his fresh, unspoiled eyes, and you.”

At that, Chopper looked up tentatively, meeting Dalton’s soft gaze. His heart did a painful lurch in his chest, but the embarrassment and shame and dread started to hurt just a little less.

Dalton continued, his eyes dark but unbelievably gentle. “I’m going to go down every possible avenue on this, because that’s my job. I’ll chase every single lead, no matter how fantastic, because that’s what you have to do to catch this kind of person. Chopper, if you have a fresh idea, I want to hear it. I won’t be mad, and I promise if it doesn’t pan out, no one will ever know you suggested it.”

Sitting there in the booth, back stiff, hands clasped tightly in his lap, and tears welling in his eyes, Chopper felt something inside him loosen. It was like a tight knot in the fabric of himself had started to come undone. Dalton had looked it over, reached in, and pulled just the right thread to make it start to unravel. He didn’t understand how that was possible. Hours of talking with Law had not had the same effect, even Zoro’s strong arms around him had not made him feel anything like this. Who was Dalton? Where did he come from? How did he have such an impact on things that had seemed out of reach to even Chopper’s closest friends?

He took a breath and palmed at his eyes. “I, um… okay,” he cleared his throat. He would not be scared anymore. Dalton wasn’t here to hurt him or humiliate him. Chopper knew he could trust Dalton.

“Hand me the tablet?” Dalton picked it up and placed it in Chopper’s hands. He quickly scrolled through the photos to a specific close-up of the stitching around Mr. Machart’s fingers. “Everything, so far, has been done with the left hand, except right here, between Mr. Machart’s right middle and ring fingers.” He turned the tablet around to show Dalton. “He made some kind of mistake. Maybe the knife slipped, or it was too dull or something, but it damaged the webbing between the fingers. Compare those stitches to the ones around the actual finger.”

Chopper waited while Dalton compared the stitches in the two photos. The detective’s brow was furrowed for several long moments, but then realization washed over his features and he looked up at Chopper.

“Oh my God…” he breathed.

Chopper nodded. “You can tell the difference now, can’t you?”

“Now that I know what I’m looking for.”

Chopper took one side of the tablet and pointed to the area between the fingers. “These stitches are still crude, they’re still not quite aligned, but they’re uniformly spaced. They’re all almost exactly a centimeter apart, and definitely done with the right hand.”

Dalton nodded. “He’s right-handed, you’re absolutely right.”

Chopper’s heart started to beat fiercely in his chest, and his mouth was suddenly dry. “There’s more.”

Dalton looked up at him, eyes intense and penetrating.

“I think,” Chopper said carefully, “that your guy isn’t just doing things with his left hand to throw you off, I think he’s doing it to hide his skill.”

“Skill?” Dalton whispered.

Chopper nodded. “Those stitches in that tiny place between the fingers? They’re easy to miss, but to me, they’re obvious. They’re surgical stitches. Your guy is probably a doctor.”

“Hey, babe, are you okay?”

Zoro turned dark eyes on him and nodded slowly. “Yeah, why?”

Sanji smiled as he felt a chuckle bubble up from his chest, “Well, I’ve asked you where you want to eat three times, but you’re still staring at the lake. Am I boring you?”

Zoro scoffed and reached out his hand to grab Sanji’s. “Never. I’m just… thinking.”

“About what?”

They continued their walk on the Green Lake trail, birds looking up at them questioningly, curious if they had a snack to share. Children zoomed by on bikes, joggers, groups of mothers with strollers smiled at them as they passed.

“I feel…” Zoro trailed off. He shook his head, ducking his chin down into the scarf wrapped around his neck. “I don’t know, like something’s happening.”

“Something?” Sanji asked not only for clarification, but for validation. He was feeling it too.

Zoro shook his head again. “Don’t know… something, good… and something bad.”

Sanji said nothing for a few minutes. Then he lifted Zoro’s hand to his mouth and kissed the back of the swordsman’s knuckles. They walked for another fifteen or so minutes in silence, and then Zoro pulled Sanji close and kissed his cheek.

“Let’s go to the Bowl, I want poke.”

Sanji grinned. “Lead on, my love.”

Dalton: He made a mistake

Penguin: WHAT

Dalton: It has to do with the stitches. Chopper walked me though it I’ll explain when I see you

Penguin: I can come now

Dalton: No, it’s ok I need an hour or two. Meet me at the precinct about 1:00

Penguin: Hell yesss I’ll be there
Penguin: Oh also Shachi’s boss says he knows Law?
Penguin: Small world, huh?

Dalton: Where does he work?

Penguin: A club downtown. Guys name is Kid or something

Dalton: You have got to be kidding me

Chopper closed the front door and kicked off his shoes. Law’s boots weren’t on the rack, and his bag and jacket weren’t hung up where they usually were, so he assumed Law hadn’t made it back yet. He was probably still sleeping in his office.

Or, there was the possibility he was actually doing the report, but Chopper highly doubted that.

Shrugging off his jacket Chopper hung everything up and then moved through the kitchen and up the stairs. He was relieved Law wasn’t home, because there was no way Chopper would have been able to explain away the flush in his cheeks, or the way his hands were trembling. Law would have noticed immediately and become alarmed, or worse, tried to comfort him.

Comfort was not what Chopper needed right now, especially not from Law. That kind of situation, with how he was feeling right now? That would go a direction Chopper wasn’t ready to deal with at the moment. He refused to use Law in that way, even if Law obviously wanted it. Even if he wanted it.

He closed the door to his room and locked it behind him, then he moved to sit on the bed. His face was so hot, and his stomach was tying itself into knots. He couldn’t get his heartrate under control.

The breakfast date—no, not a date, a meeting—had gone very well after Chopper’s embarrassing breakdown. Dalton had been interested in what Chopper had to say. He had listened, he had believed. Or at least he had believed in the idea. It was such an amazing thing to be looked at as an equal, especially by someone like Dalton. Law knew he was smart, and Zoro and Sanji respected him, Luffy even looked up to him in a lot of ways, and Usopp had always been kind and treated him special.

But no one had ever treated him like a man.

He took a deep breath and moved to the floor. The carpet was soft against his feet and hands. He reached under the bed and pulled out a small box. He stared at it for a few long minutes, trying to work up the courage to open it. Embarrassment and excitement moved through him, mismatched partners in a confusing dance that left him short of breath and anxious to get things going.

Finally, he reached out, and opened the box.

Inside, was a purple silicon dildo, with a hollow metal handle, and a few settings buttons. Chopper reached out and ran his fingers over the softness of the silicon, the ridges of the shaft. He shivered and pulled his hand away, his breath quickening.

Dalton had awoken something inside him, something that had been asleep—or maybe hiding—for months, and now it was clawing at him, sliding scalding hands over his skin, touching him in places no one had touched in a long time.

But then doubt creeped in and Chopper sat back on his haunches. What was he doing? He had met someone less than two days ago, and because the guy was attractive and didn’t tease or treat him like trash, Chopper was a puddle of hormones ready to fuck himself silly with a vibrator just to calm himself down? Dalton wasn’t even interested in him that way. He was just a colleague that respected Chopper’s opinions. Don’t get fucking carried away!

Groaning, Chopper slowly lowered himself to his side and curled into a ball. He lay there for a long time, his dick throbbing in his jeans. His body was hot all over, the sweat collected between the sharp lines of his shoulder blades. He knew he had it bad and there was nothing he could do about it except just get it out of his system.

Besides, it’s not like anyone would know.

Sitting back up, he took the dildo from the box. He stood and placed it on the bed, and then with shaking hands, he closed the blinds and stripped out of his clothes. He lay on the bed, naked, body trembling and hot. He figured he should wash first, or at least use a warm cloth on himself, but decided against it because he could just take a shower after.

There was lube in the nightstand, and he had grabbed it before lying down. Now he squeezed some onto his fingers and lowered his hand to his cock. The first touches were cold and startling, but that was fine, Chopper actually liked it. He slid his hand over himself, stroking slowly, and closed his eyes. He pictured Dalton’s large hands, his strong arms, and shoulders. What would it feel like to be held down by those arms?

Pleasure coiled in his loins immediately, and Chopper reached for the dildo. He smeared lube over the head and spread his legs, bringing his knees up to his chest. He wrapped one hand around himself again, as the other lowered the dildo down to slide past his balls. He rubbed it across his sensitive flesh, biting down on a moan that threatened to break from between his lips.

Chopper was not inexperienced like so many people thought, but he was, in the most technical of terms, still a virgin. He had taken a few lovers over the years, but had never been with anyone like this, never felt the warmth of a real person inside him. However, he had played alone like this many, many times, and was used to it. It was almost like his body was made for it.

He sighed softly as he opened himself up, and carefully slid the dildo past that first tight pucker. There was slight discomfort, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He continued to stroke himself slowly, his length never softening, even as he pushed the toy inside him all the way to the handle. Taking a few moments to adjust, he breathed in and out, steadying his heartbeat. Little ripples of pleasure shot through him from groin to navel, from the tip of his dick to the tips of his toes, to deep, deep inside where the dildo rubbed against him.

He sighed again as he pulled out and pushed back in. Shaking, he reached for the button on the handle and pressed it. The vibrations surged through him, suddenly, almost violently, and he arched his back. Eyes squeezed shut, he tossed his head back and let out a small gasp before lightly keening as pleasure started clouding his thoughts. Dalton’s face came into his mind and he started stroking himself faster, picturing a large, muscular chest looming over him, a pair of tanned hips thrusting between his thighs. Dalton’s lovely, dark eyes bore down into his, soft lips pressed kisses into his hair, that deep, gentle voice whispered in his ear you’re so beautiful Chopper… you’re so fucking beautiful…

His hips rocked up to meet the thrusts from the toy in his hand, heels digging into the mattress. Over and over, he pushed the silicon cock into himself and every time, he imagined it was Dalton fucking him slowly, hands pressing him into the sheets, hips and thighs slamming into him with a force that blacked out his vision.

Orgasm did not hit him suddenly, it climbed, it built, it struggled to break free, and when it finally did, Chopper was sobbing, crying out softly, jerking roughly on his throbbing, pulsing length. His release came in waves, pounding through him like the ocean tide against the breakers, over and over until it was too painful to bear. He clicked the dildo off but kept it inside of him as he lay stroking himself through the last of the tremors, moaning, and whispering filthy things that made no sense. Finally, when everything started to calm down, he slid the toy out and placed it on the sheets beside him.

Sticky, and sated, Chopper rolled to his side and curled into the sheets, pressing his hot face into the cool side of the pillow. He thought about Dalton and how he had spoken so gently to him. How Dalton had calmed him in his moment of panic.

But then, as Chopper lay there, release still thrumming through his body, reality started to settle in. He remembered that Dalton was completely out of his league, not to mention he was probably straight. There wasn’t a chance in hell that Dalton would ever see him as anything but a colleague. He was just a kind, caring, wonderful man who respected Chopper as a doctor. The perfect person to work with, a friend that he could trust, and maybe someday, they would be good enough friends that Chopper could go to him for help if he needed it.

Friend? Was this how he treated his friends?

He looked down at his hands, covered in lube and come. He felt the tears on his cheeks, the stretch of his ass from the dildo.

What had he just done?

Then a flood of shame slammed into Chopper so hard, it physically hurt.

Pain tore through him, choking off his breath. He was disgusting. He was a monster. He wasn’t worth Dalton’s time. The friendship he could have had with the detective was now dirtied, sullied with Chopper’s lust and his complete lack of respect. He had taken the sweet, innocent invitation to breakfast, and had turned it into a reason to fuck himself raw. He had fantasized about someone who had come to him for help, someone who had, for the first time, looked at him like an equal.

Sitting up, Chopper moved off the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. He turned on the water for the shower and let it get real hot. Then he slipped inside and crouched down, wrapping his arms around his knees. The water scalded his flesh, but it didn’t hurt nearly as much as the terrible shame that was crushing his heart.

There was no way Chopper could face Dalton again without being completely awkward. He had ruined everything. He always ruined everything. He had taken something pure and had tainted it.

Fucking slut!

Chopper shuddered.

Worthless little bitch!

He clapped his hands over his ears to try and drown out that terrible voice. When it didn’t return, Chopper lowered his hands and wrapped them back around his knees. Then he started to weep. He cried until he thought he could cry no more, long past when he thought there were no more tears.

He cried until his voice went hoarse, and the water turned cold.

Law hadn’t made it back home until late evening. He had slept at the office, and then ordered food and written the report, but then he had gone back to sleep again. That had been strange, napping in his office was one thing, but sleeping almost the entire day away was something new. He hadn’t thought he was that fatigued, working through the night was a pretty common occurrence in his profession, and he usually bounced right back after a quick two-hour snooze. Maybe his body was anticipating what was coming and had just been preparing?

He had stopped at the house to change and grab something to drink. Chopper was nowhere to be found, so Law had knocked on his bedroom door. It had been locked, and there had been no answer, but Law had smelled Chopper’s shampoo in that warm kind of humid way smells hung around after a shower, so he figured Chopper had cleaned up and then gone to bed. That was the most likely scenario, wasn’t it? The locked door was a little strange, but not unheard of.

Law had stood there in the hallway struggled with whether or not he should try and wake his friend for several minutes, but he knew how much Chopper hated it when he was treated like a kid. Would Law have tried to wake up Sanji? Or Ace? No, he’d leave them the fuck alone because they had worked all night and they wanted to sleep.

Finally, he had turned away, promising himself he would check on Chopper later.

Now Law was sitting in his car in the parking lot of Kidd’s club. The clock on the dash read seven minutes to ten o’clock, he still had an hour and a half before he needed to get ready, but he figured he would get a drink, maybe chat with Drake for a bit.

He took a moment to pull on his gloves, they were leather, and had just the tips of the fingers cut off. He wore them, along with a black, long-sleeved shirt with a high collar. This club was a hotspot for organized crime, and although it was very unlikely there would be anyone here that would know him from that previous life and wish him harm, it was still a good idea to keep his tattoos covered. They were, after all, the easiest way to identify him.

Just before unfolding from the car, Law slipped a black beanie over his head, and a pair of mock prescription glasses with thick, black frames over his eyes. This was an extra precaution Smoker had insisted on. The old man had tried to forbid him from doing stupid things like fighting in an underground fight club run by x-mafia, but that plan had backfired quickly when Luffy had gotten involved. So now everyone just tried to keep things simple. Trafalgar Law was dead, and Thomas Heart wore glasses.

There was a line at the front. There was always a line. Two large men stood on either side of the door, checking IDs and padding down the more unsavory looking types. Law remembered, with just a hint of nostalgia, the first time he had come here when the front had been guarded by Lucci, but Lucci and Kaku and most of what had been CP-9 were long gone. They had gladly accepted Kidd’s offer and had gotten a bigger, better place in Canada. They were now making eight figures a year, living the dream life.

Kidd had used the money he had made from winning over one hundred consecutive fights in the ring, and all but tore the place down. Law had contributed but by then he had gotten his medical license and was practicing. He didn’t have as much time for fights. Kidd had rebuilt everything, adding rooms for additional entertainment and suites for visiting elite who were planning to stay for an extended length of time. Law had been skeptical at first, but the remodeling of the underground ring and viewing rooms had turned out to have been a good idea. It was a hell of a lot more sanitary now. The bars on the middle and upper floors were state of the art, the main dance hall now had a stage for live music, and Kidd’s condo, housed at the very top was, well, incredible.

Standing there in the parking lot, staring up at the building his friend had designed, he was once again amazed with Kidd’s foresight. It was over the top, flashy, but not like something you would see in Vegas. It was over the top for Seattle, which would be almost nondescript anywhere else.

The muscle at the door waved Law through, hardly sparing him a second glance. The bass from the main dance hall thrummed up from the floor and through the floor and into the air. It seemed to saturate his body inside and out. He made his way through the din and a crowd of regular club-goers, twenty-somethings, out for a simple night of dancing and drinking. The doors to the downstairs were located down a hall accessed through a service door. It was non-descript, easy to miss, but fighters and club employees used it often.

Before he keyed in his card on the card display, however, Law just happened to glance back at the bar. There was a gaggle of ladies, chatting and laughing, while a very familiar-looking red head slung drinks like he had been born with a bottle in his hands.

“Shachi?” Law breathed.

The kid was amazing. He flipped bottles of liquor over his shoulder, poured three—sometimes even five drinks at a time. He split lemons the same way Law had seen Sanji do a thousand times, and he made the entire thing look absolutely effortless.

Law hadn’t noticed he had made his way over to the bar, until his hands found the smooth wood of the bar top itself.

“Shachi!” he called out.

Shachi heard his name, but it took him a moment to figure out who had called to him. When he spotted Law, his face lit up and he waved before he turned to a group of girls, handing them drinks and winking at them.

“Holy shit! Holy shit!” Shachi laughed as he came over and hugged Law over the bar top. “They said you were going to be here, I mean obviously with the fight and all, but I’m still surprised!”

“Who said I was going to be here?” Law asked, shouting the question so he could be heard over the roar of music and people.

“Your crazy friends!” Shachi grinned. “Drake, Bartolomeo, Bepo, Kidd—man, Kidd is scary as hell!”

Law watched as Shachi pulled out a bottle of whiskey, then grinned as his brother pulled out a glass and started to pour.

“Okay, I have to make something very clear,” Law motioned with his finger, “I am one hundred percent not friends with Bartolomeo! He’s Luffy’s friend!”

Shachi laughed, “I don’t think he knows that!” Then he pushed the whiskey across the bar. “It’s on me!”

Law accepted and knocked it back. He was still reeling from surprise but was so very happy to see his brother in what appeared to be his element. It was also interesting to see how much Shachi had grown over the years. He was taller, and he had filled out, just like Nick. He was more confident, more outgoing, nothing like the crybaby little brother Law had left back in Portland.

Shachi nodded to a few patrons and told Law he’d be back. When he moved away, Law watched him do his work. He was smooth and graceful, friendly and entertaining. Even more interesting, he wore a black sleeveless top that showed off the edges of some sort of colorful tattooed backpiece. Law set the glass back down and wondered for a moment if Nick had ink as well.

Shachi was wiping his hands on a dish towel when he returned. “I’m off a little before your fight starts! If you want I can meet you in the tent!”

Law nodded, that actually sounded good. The “tent” was where the house fighter set up before the match. It wasn’t really a tent, more like a private locker room, but “tent” seemed to be the word everyone threw around the most.

“I’ll see you then!” Law shouted, then saluted as he left the bar.

Shachi grinned and saluted back.

“That’s every doctor in the city with a record, currently employed or not.”

“Thank you,” Penguin said and made a dash for the printer across the room.

Dani, the tech helping with the database search, turned to Dalton and pushed her glasses up her nose with one purple-lacquered fingernail. “Do you really think it’s a doctor?”

Dalton leaned back in his seat and sighed. “It’s a very real possibility.”

“Jesus…” she murmured.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk about that though,” Dalton said softly. “It’s only a theory at this point and we don’t want to cause a panic.”

“Oh, I’m not saying bupkis,” she whispered. “This whole thing gives me the willies.”

Penguin returned with the printout and handed the stack to Dalton, who took it and stood.

“Thank you very much for your help, Miss Hallwell.”

Dani flushed, making her splash of freckles stand out over her nose and cheeks. “Oh, it’s not a problem. My pleasure.” She glanced at Penguin before he looked away shyly.

“Catch you later,” Penguin said, and gave her a charming smile as he followed Dalton out the office doors.

“Cute,” Penguin said softly as they made their way across the parking lot, “real cute.”

Dalton smiled as he fished around for his keys. “I thought you had a girlfriend.”

Penguin’s smile widened. “My girlfriend’s cute too.”

When they were seated in the Tahoe, Dalton shuffled through the list and double checked the names of the hospitals that were nearby. “I know we’d cover more ground faster if we divided this list and questioned separately, but I don’t know how I feel about splitting up to potentially question an extremely dangerous individual.”

“While I appreciate the thought, I can take care of myself,” Penguin said.

“Oh, I know. I was worried about me,” Dalton teased.

Penguin laughed, just as his phone went off. When he pulled it from his pocket, Dalton noticed it was a text, not a call. Thumbing the screen, Penguin read the message and then frowned.

“What…” he started typing.

“Something wrong?” Dalton asked.

“I just got a weird message from Shachi.”

Dalton waited for Penguin to type his reply before he asked. “Weird how?”

“Uh,” Penguin made a face as another text came in. “Law is entered in a… match tonight where he works? What the fuck? I thought he worked at a bar. Match? What does that even mean?”

Dalton tried to keep his face neutral as he ran a hand through his hair. He knew Penguin was going to find out about Kidd’s club and their friend’s association with that club sooner or later. He had just held out hope that it was going to be later.

“What time does he say the match is?”

“Eleven forty-five.”

Dalton checked his watch. “Okay, we have a few hours. Let’s go get some coffee and I’ll explain as best I can. Then we’ll question the two doctors at County Medical. After that… I guess it just depends on how well you take the story.”

Penguin’s eyes were wide as he studied Dalton’s face. “How about you explain on the way to coffee. The suspense is killing me.”

Dalton sighed, “All right.” He started the engine and pulled out of the parking space.

“This is going to sound crazy, but just bear with me. Five years ago, when I was still working organized crime, I got a call from Ace…”

“Hey, boss,” a soft voice said from the door.

Law didn’t have to look up to know who was speaking. A smile pulled at the corners of his lips as he finished tying the laces of his boots.

“You don’t have to call me that anymore, Bepo. I’m not your boss.”

“You’ll always be the boss, boss.”

Straightening, Law turned to his friend. Bepo still had the round, innocent face he remembered, just a few more wrinkles around his eyes. He was wearing black cargo pants, boots, and his bright orange jacket. The same jacket he had worn almost every day since Law had met him.

“How’re you doing? I heard you’re head of security now.”

Bepo shrugged. “The money’s great, and I love the job. I’m not even doing anything illegal, if you can believe that. Ah, well, nothing illegal if you don’t count scoring underground pit fights. But I mean like moving drugs and shipping weapons and stuff.”

Law smiled. “I’m proud of you, man.”

Bepo’s eyes lit up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Bepo grinned and moved into the tent. He motioned for Law to scoot over, and then he sat down on the bench beside him. “You’re brother’s cool. Shachi? He makes awesome drinks.”

Law chuckled. “He is. I have two brothers in this city. The other one’s Nick, but everyone calls him Penguin.”

“You have a brother everyone calls Penguin?” Bepo laughed merrily, throwing his head back and clutching at his round belly. “That… doesn’t surprise me at all, actually.”

“I’ll introduce you some day.”

“That would be awesome.”

They sat for another few minutes in companionable silence. It had never been a chore to be around Bepo, the kid was content with just hanging out, doing nothing, just occupying the same space. It was familiar and relaxing, comfortable.

“Can I ask you something?” Law asked softly.

Bepo looked at him and nodded.

Taking a breath, Law pushed the question past his lips with some effort.

“How’s Kidd?”

Bepo had worked with Law for years in California. He had actually been Law’s in, he had vouched for him, and then he had turned out to be Law’s most loyal follower. He had even moved to Seattle to be closer to him when Law had made contact a few years ago. If there was anyone that really understood, who really got Law, through and through, it was Bepo.

When the question about Kidd had been voiced, Bepo understood what was really being asked immediately.

“Uh, he’s cool on the outside,” he sighed, “cool as a cucumber. He runs the show day in, day out, manages the money, calls the shots, same as always, but…”

“But?” Law asked.

Bepo shook his head. “He’s unhappy. He’s really unhappy. I mean, he loves this place. He loves the fights, loves not being a part of the mob anymore—well, not being such a heavy presence in the mob anyway. But he just hangs out in his apartment up top most of the time, and whenever I see him, he’s always just staring out the window or he’s pissed off about something. And he drinks a lot.”

Law brought his fingers to his brow and rubbed at the warm skin beneath the beanie’s rim.

“Shit…”

“Whatever happened between you two,” Bepo said carefully, “it’s still riding on him, hard.”

“I know,” Law murmured. “I know it is.”

Another stretch of silence, and then Bepo was leaning in close and speaking in a small whisper.

“Boss, what did happen between you two?”

Law laced his fingers together and looked at his friend.

“I fucked up.”

Before Bepo could reply, the door to the tent swung open and Shachi barged in with several bottles of beer hanging between his fingers.

“Hey! Bepo! My man! Have a beer!”

“Wow, thanks!” Bepo replied and took one of the cold bottles from Shachi’s hands.

“You ready, bro?” Shachi grinned at Law.

Law felt himself grinning back and nodded.

“Always ready.”

“Well then, come on!” Shachi kicked playfully at his boots. “Your match starts in like three minutes!”

Law turned to Bepo and clapped his friend on the back before he stood and pulled his back into a long stretch.

“All right,” he said, straightening. He took the offered beer from Shachi’s left hand and knocked back a long swallow. When he’d downed half the beer, he handed the rest to Bepo and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

“Let’s fucking do this.”

TBC

Chapter Text

Penguin sat in the driver’s seat of his trusty, yellow, Wrangler, his stomach in a thousand knots, and his thumb flying over the keys on his phone. He sat in a parking lot outside the address Shachi had sent him, regretting decisions he had made all the way back to his childhood.

How the hell had all of this happened? His big brother had been a crime lord, undercover, but still a fucking crime lord. He had gotten in a little too deep with a mafia hitman, and then had to fake his death and bail to Seattle with that hitman—who he was pretty good friends with apparently? Now Penguin’s younger brother, in a shocking bit of coincidence, was working for the same fucking hitman, who owned the club where his older brother now participated in illegal fights every couple of months.

Um. What?

Not to mention all the shit that went down five years ago. Law had told him the story back at the cafe, but he had left out a lot of fucking details. Were Zoro and Sanji superheroes? Had he accidentally slipped into a parallel universe? And what about Luffy? Was he even human?

Penguin’s life had changed dramatically when he had moved to Seattle. Getting assigned the Frankenstein case had been like stepping into the plotline of Silence of the Lambs or Hannibal. It was exciting, but also completely insane. Now, on top of all that, he had to face the very real possibility that his life had also found it’s way into a Batman or Daredevil type narrative, complete with ninjas and mafia. And maybe aliens. You never knew.

What exactly was he going to do with all this? He was a cop for Christ’s sake!

His phone buzzed, and he checked the message.

Shachi: It’s up 2 u man Law fights in like 10

Penguin: Is that Kid guy there?

Shachi: Of course y?

Penguin: Just wanna get a look at him

Shachi: Ok just be prepared the dude is fucking terrifying
Shachi: I’ll come up and get u so u can come down

Penguin: Come down where?

Shachi: The basement its where the fight rings set up

Penguin: Omfg

He sighed and grabbed his cap from the passenger seat. He had worn a plain black jacket with a high collar, and the black baseball cap would help hide at least part of his face if he wore it low. It’s not as if he was actually worried someone might spot him and know him as a cop, he hadn’t been there long enough for anyone to do that, but it was always worth it to be careful.

Lowering himself from the Jeep, Penguin locked the door and slipped the keys into his pocket. His boots crunched on the gravel as he made his way to the service entrance. Shachi had instructed that he come around the side and avoid the crowd at the front.

His brother was waiting for him when he approached, and the two stood in the doorway grinning at each other for a moment.

“This is fucking crazy,” Penguin chuckled.

Shachi hissed a laugh. “Hell yeah it is.”

Inside, the place was packed. People crowded the bar and covered the dance floor. It was actually surprising how live the club was. Penguin had been to countless bars and clubs over the years in the thickest, most popular parts of Portland, but never had he seen a place that was as in demand as this one.

“Jesus…” he murmured.

“What?” Shachi shouted at his side.

Penguin just shook his head and followed his brother through the service door and down a flight of stairs.

The basement was nothing like what he had expected. For some reason, in his mind he had conjured a picture of bloody cement surrounding an empty swimming pool. Cages, skeletons hanging from the ceiling, an elevated platform where this Kid guy could stand and scream at people through a bullhorn while his mohawk flared on his head like a psychotic cockatoo.

Wait, he might just be getting things mixed up with Road Warrior.

What was actually before him as he descended the last few steps, was a closed area, the length of the property, and highlighted by high windows of colored glass and steel. The floors were indeed concrete, but there was no blood to be seen. The “pit” was truly a pit but it was clean and reinforced with rubber siding. The area surrounding was colosseum style seating. There were two VIP areas up top on the north and south sides, a bar at the west, and an announcing booth at the east. The place was already packed, the lights turned low, and the room was a buzz with the sound of the bass and the feel of pre-fight adrenaline.

“Holy shit…” Penguin breathed.

“I know, right?” Shachi chuckled. “I thought it was gonna be all Thunder Dome down here, but it’s more like The Matrix.”

“Dude, I was totally just thinking that.”

Shachi grinned at him. “Great minds.”

Shachi took him around the east side by way of the service walkways, and then stopped pointing down towards the pit. “There’s our boy.”

Penguin looked where his brother was pointing and spotted Law, standing on a platform. He was dressed in black from head to foot, one of his beloved beanies set low on his head, and glasses. He remembered Dalton saying something about having to disguise himself, and those glasses seemed to do the trick. He even had gloves on to hide the tattoos.

“He looks like a badass,” he murmured.

Shachi nodded and continued to take Penguin around towards the north section. When they passed the railing and started to descend down the steps, a tall, round young man with a bright orange jacket spotted Shachi and waved.

“Yo!” Shachi said and started to push through the throng of people that were standing, or cheering, or just dancing easily to the overhead music.

The round young man threw an arm around Shachi’s shoulders when he came close and sent a friendly smile in Penguin’s direction.

“Are you Penguin?” he asked.

Penguin nodded and stuck out his hand, “Yeah, that’s me.”

Before he could say anything, or even react, the man had reached past Shachi, grabbed his hand, and had pulled Penguin into what could only be described as a bear hug. Penguin’s first gut response was to fight, to get away and quickly, but then the man was laughing in his ear and his initial distress started to slip away.

“Hi, I’m Bepo!” he said as he pulled back far enough so they could talk face to face. “I’m really glad to finally meet both of you. Boss told me so much about you guys!”

A little confused, but also a little amused, Penguin smiled up at Bepo. “Boss? Uh, do you mean Law?”

“Yeah!” Bepo said, dropping his arms. “I was part of his crew down in California.”

Penguin could feel his eyes widen, his features sliding away into a look of shock. It wasn’t very professional of him, but there was a lot of shit going down tonight and he was emotionally compromised enough that he didn’t have the focus to steel everything that was happening to his face.

“You uh,” he said warily, “you made?”

Bepo shook his head. “Uh… not really? I mean, kinda. Affiliated might be the right word. Kidd contacted me a few years ago and offered an out. I wasn’t anyone important, so the bosses back home let me go.”

“Wow, that’s lucky,” Penguin said.

“I know it.”

“Bepo’s head of security here,” Shachi grinned and clapped the larger man on the back, “he’s got this place running like clockwork.”

Surprised, Penguin gave Bepo a quick once-over. “Really? How old are you, man?”

“Twenty-seven. I know, I look younger.”

“No,” Penguin shrugged, “that’s not really… You just look like such a nice guy.”

Bepo grinned at him, “I am a nice guy.”

Chuckling, Penguin settled in next to his brother. When Shachi finally stopped greeting everyone around them and settled as well, Penguin pulled him close and whispered softly.

“You do know that working here kind of makes you affiliated too, right?”

Shachi’s eyes were bright and excited. “I know! You’re a cop and I’m like mafia by proxy! It’s like you’re Gordon and I’m Batman!”

“Batman isn’t in the mob, you dork.”

“Yeah, but he’s a vigilante.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

Shachi waved a hand dismissively. “Naw, man, totally accurate.”

At that moment, Law’s thoughts were not on the fight. They were somewhere behind him, up in the VIP booth. He knew Kidd was there, sitting in his chair, watching him. The weight of those amber eyes on the back of his neck was palpable.

He thought about turning around, trying to catch that gaze, maybe grin and wave, but he knew that might be pushing it. Instead he stood with his arms folded across his chest, leaning back lazily against the railing. He was basically on display, out there for everyone to ogle. Law was not officially part of Kidd’s team of fighters, he was more of a wild card or extra man. However, he was a favorite among the fans. Being the house fighter for the night, most everyone in the crowd would be cheering for him.

There was a shift in the atmosphere, and the doors opened. A small entourage of men and women filed down the stairs, followed by a tall, dark-skinned man with a styled beard, and reflector sunglasses. The entourage moved slowly towards the southern VIP lounge, and the tall man continued down the stars toward the south platform.

It had been a few years since Law had seen Vergo. Still new in his undercover work and hoping to rise within the ranks, he had been polite and courteous towards the older man. Vergo had been a bit standoffish but after Law had shown initiative in pointing out Vergo had an entire shrimp stuck in the side of his beard, the tall man had shown his approval of Enel’s new man and offered to bolster the efforts in their area and send Enel a few extra hands.

“My own guys left me hanging,” he had said softly, “but this kid has my back.”

Of course, Vergo had turned out to be a brute and a traitor. Like Law, Vergo had started his career as an undercover officer, but after rising in rank and power in the organization, he had used his police contacts to not only betray most of his mafia peers, but to also systematically take out influential persons in the police force, proving that he cared for no one but himself and nothing but his own selfish goals.

Law hated Vergo and everything he stood for. This was the perfect match for him.

When Vergo stepped up on the platform, Law straightened and let his arms fall to his sides. He rolled his neck, stretching the muscles and letting bones creak and pop, then he lifted his arm. A signal to let the announcer know that he was ready.

The crowd roared.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! Tonight we have a special treat for you!”

Penguin was watching Law’s back, trying to decide if the tension in his shoulders was from excitement, or from something else. Back when they were younger, high school mostly, Penguin remembered his older brother being pretty laid back, calm when he was faced with a fight. Even the ones he hadn’t started himself. Had so much changed over the years?

Out the corner of his eye, he noticed Bepo pull his phone from his pocket and check the screen. His face went slack with surprise and he hurriedly typed a reply to what Penguin assumed had been a text message.

“What’s up, bro?” Shachi asked.

“Uh…” Bepo swallowed, “boss wants us to come up.”

Ice water dropped into Penguin’s stomach. “What?”

Bepo looked up at him, shock still plastered across his face.

“Kidd wants us three up in the booth right now.”

Shachi whistled. “Holy shit, the VIP lounge? Hell yeah, let’s go!”

“Wait wait!” Penguin grabbed his brother’s arm. “What if it’s because of me? What if he knows I’m a cop?”

Shachi’s smile faded and he turned questioning eyes to Bepo.

But Bepo held up his hands and shook his head. “No, no way, guys. Kidd isn’t like that. He says all the time that this is neutral territory.”

“Then why does he want us up there?” Penguin asked.

Bepo shrugged. “I don’t know about that. But I do know we shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

“Yeah, good idea,” Shachi turned and headed up the stairs.

The VIP lounge was basically that, a lounge with two rows of movie theater chairs overlooking the north section of the colosseum style seating below. There was a pool table, a small bar, plush carpet, and an assortment of cushioned chairs and sofas.

Penguin supposed if he was going to die, this was a nice enough place to do it.

As he moved through the space, his eyes landed on a man sitting in one of the theater chairs at the front. His hair was wild and bright red, he had a deep scar over his left eye, and his skin was very pale. He wore expensive clothes of bright colors, and rings of silver and gold decorated almost all of his fingers. He watched the pit as Penguin and the others entered and did not look at them. He did not even acknowledge that they were there.

“Hey boss,” Bepo said cheerily, “what’s up?”

The man, undoubtedly Kidd, slid amber eyes over to Bepo, and then slowly to Shachi, and then to Penguin himself. He seemed to linger on Penguin for a moment, but then he waved a hand, indicating the rows of theater seats.

“Woa, really?” Bepo was practically bouncing. “Thanks! Come on guys!”

Bepo led them to the chairs and then flopped down in the center of the front row. Penguin sat beside him, unable to really take his eyes off their host. Shachi grabbed a bottle of something and a few glasses from the bar before returning. He set the glasses down, opened the bottle and poured a few fingers into each. He handed one to Kidd, who accepted with a nod, and then sat, passing the glasses to each of them in turn.

“Thanks man,” Bepo said.

Penguin took his drink and sipped. It was whiskey, excellent whiskey, but even that couldn’t pull his attention from the red head with the hawk’s eyes.

“You’re Penguin…”

Kidd’s voice actually startled him. It was lighter, smoother than he had expected.

“Yeah,” he said softly, “and you’re Kidd.”

Kidd studied him for a moment, then took a sip of his own whisky. Penguin noticed that his fingernails were painted black.

“I hear you’re a cop.”

Something twisted in Penguin’s gut, but he held the red head’s stare. “Yes, I am.”

Kidd’s attention returned to the space below as the announcer finished recounting the rules of the fight. Law had dropped down into the pit and was standing still, calmly waiting for the bell.

“Is that going to be a problem?” Penguin asked, a little bolder than he felt.

To his surprise, Kidd chuckled. Penguin looked back over at the man curiously.

“I don’t care what you do,” Kidd said softly, “you’re his brother.”

There was something in the way Kidd said those words, Penguin couldn’t really pin it down, but as he watched the fight begin beneath them, he started to feel a little less on edge. Kidd was obviously a lot of things, but maybe he wasn’t quite as bad as everyone thought.

“FIGHT!”

Law moved, he sprinted across the length of the pit, came in low, fists ready. He wasn’t doing his usual game of hanging back, staying loose and aloof until his opponent ran out of steam. He wanted blood, he wanted pain.

Vergo swung at him, but Law easily ducked. One swift kick should have unbalanced Vergo’s stance, but it seemed like the large man had been ready for it. The kick ended up going wild, which left Law’s back vulnerable. He twisted to shield his kidneys just in time, and the hit from above landed on the right side of his ribcage. He felt the blow through his entire frame, he felt ribs crack, and grunted in pain as he rolled to the side and got to his feet.

Not a good start. Vergo was not smiling, but Law could tell by his stance that he was in a good mood. He was not discouraged however, Law still had a few tricks up his sleeves.

They circled, watching each other for openings, weaknesses. When Vergo feigned left, Law was expecting it and moved right. Watch the opponent’s hips, if you knew what to look for everything they were planning would be written out for you to see easily. Sanji had taught him that.

His fist connected with Vergo’s jaw, not a knockout hit, but Law felt the crunch of bone and teeth grinding against each other for an instant before Vergo was staggering back and spitting blood onto the floor. The crowd went wild, people were screaming his name. On any normal day, Law would have reveled in the attention, played the crowd as he started to circle again, but he knew he could not afford that kind of distraction. Vergo was not a normal challenger.

Rolling his shoulders, Law advanced again, still on the offensive.

Penguin watched in awe as his brother made the fight below seem like a dance. He was fluid and precise, smooth even after taking a hit to his ribs. It was incredible, how fast he was moving, Penguin had never seen anyone dodge attacks so quickly.

“Well, well,” a voice said from behind them, “looks like all the sparring with Sanji finally paid off.”

Penguin turned around and found the beautiful red headed woman from Ace’s party standing, leaning against one of the chairs. Her hair was up and she wore a sleeveless, skin tight dress of red and purple. She noticed him and waved, smiling a mischievous smile. Or at least it seemed mischievous anyway, who knows? It could be her default for all Penguin knew.

“Kidd, where the hell is Drake?” she said and moved to sit beside him. “He owes me six hundred dollars.”

Kidd shrugged without looking at her and rolled his eyes when she took the drink from his hand. She sipped on it and made a charming sound of approval. “Hey, can I get one of these?”

Shachi was on his feet and pouring her a glass before she could hand Kidd’s glass back to him. She smiled up at his brother and thanked him.

“Aw, all of Law’s brothers are here to watch him, that’s cute.” Everything she said could have been meant as condescending, but Penguin didn’t get that vibe from her at all. He thought she might actually be genuine in her teasing.

“Hi, Nami,” Bepo said happily, “where’s Luffy?”

“Oh, he’s down there somewhere,” Nami said, indicating the area around the pit with her glass. “He wanted to make sure Law saw him.”

Bepo turned to Penguin. “Luffy’s the captain of Worst Generation—that’s Kidd’s fight team. He’s really cool, you’d like him.”

Penguin smiled, “I’ve met him actually. You’re right, he is cool.”

Nami whooped from behind them. “Yeah! Get him!”

Penguin turned back to the fight just as Law drove his knee into Vergo’s gut.

Blood ran from his brow into his eyes. The fake lenses of his glasses were fogging from the sweat running from beneath his beanie. Vergo had clipped him, it had been lucky, but now Law was having a little trouble seeing.

Taking a few steps back, he pulled the glasses from his face and slipped them into his back pocket. They would no doubt be broken by the end of this, but he didn’t care.

“You still have that insolent gleam in your eyes,” Vergo said. “You need to learn to respect your elders.”

Law spat blood onto the floor and huffed. “I respect people that deserve it.”

Vergo rushed him, moving in low. He was fast, and Law’s side was beginning to ache, but Zoro had taught him how to stay strong in face of pain and physical weakness. He planted his feet, set his arms, and caught the full weight of Vergo’s assault with the palms of his hands. He was pushed back a few inches, but Vergo’s momentum was offset almost immediately. Law, went low, used the unbalanced stance, and twisted, sending Vergo over his shoulder. He heard the crack as the large man hit the ground behind him and the rush of air leaving his opponent’s lungs.

When he turned, Vergo was getting to his feet, so Law took the opportunity.

He grabbed the larger man by the collar and lifted him. Slammed him against the padded wall. He ducked in and threw two punches into Vergo’s gut, a quick left right. Vergo grunted, took the blows easily.

There was blood on Law’s knuckles. He knew this was not the way to defeat Vergo, everyone knew he had skin like fucking iron, but the slam of flesh against flesh, the sound of the hit, the burn of his shoulders and back as he pummeled into thick muscle was like a drug. It hurt, everything hurt. He just wanted to hurt and be hurt. Everything was easier when the pain was physical, when the blood flowed, when the bruises bloomed. He threw his fists in again and again, not minding that he was the only one tiring, the only one bleeding…

…and then there was a hand around his neck. Fingers squeezed around his throat, cutting off his air. Through the red Law could see his own reflection in Vergo’s sunglasses, and what he saw was blood, and tears, and death.

“Holy shit,” Shachi murmured, “holy shit, what’s happening?”

Bepo had his hands over his mouth watching what was happening below with horror. The crowd was on their feet, screaming and cheering and chanting as Vergo managed to get a hand around Law’s throat.

“It looks like Law kind of lost it.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Shachi asked.

“It’s like he just… forgot what he was doing?” Bepo’s voice was trembling.

“That’s crazy!” Shachi cried.

“Or,” Penguin said softly, and the others turned to look at him, “this is what he wanted all along.”

Turning to Kidd, Penguin wasn’t surprised to see the red head had sat forward in his seat, his hands clutching at the arm rests and his face a mixture of anger and frustration.

“What the fuck is that idiot doing?” he snarled.

“Hey, calm your tits,” Nami said, and everyone turned to her at the same time, surprise and shock settling over each in turn.

“Seriously, don’t get your panties in a bunch,” Nami shrugged and held up her drink like she was toasting. “Nothing too terrible will happen, I promise.”

“Uh, no offence, doll face,” Shachi said, “but how could you possibly know that?”

Nami smiled at him and took a sip.

“Because, like I said before, Luffy’s down there.”

Things were going from red to white. Law knew a few more seconds and he was going to pass out. It didn’t really matter, he hadn’t come here to win, he had just come to kick the shit out of someone, and if that didn’t happen, he didn’t mind if the shit was kicked out of him. He just wanted the pain, nothing else mattered.

He’d given the crowd a good show, thrown them for a few loops. They got their money’s worth. Thomas Heart could stand to lose a few fights, it kept everyone on their toes.

The light started to fade, everything was going dark.

“…. …. …. hear me? Don’t let him beat you like this! TRAFFY-GUY DON’T GIVE UP! YOU’RE BETTER THAN THIS!!!

That nickname rang in Law’s ears, set fire to his nerves and jolted him back into his body. He opened his eyes and looked up, saw Luffy squatting on the railing above him, face spit in a smile, the faith in Law and in his abilities shining through like a fucking beacon in the midst of a dark and stormy sky.

God damnit, Luffy.

He couldn’t very well lose with Luffy looking at him like that, so Law gathered what little strength he had left, reached out his hand, and pinched the nerve at the base of Vergo’s elbow hard enough to bruise.

Vergo nearly screamed and loosened his hold.

Coughing, but keeping his focus, Law moved, taking the advantage of Vergo’s surprise. He rushed forward, used Vergo’s left leg as a step, and lifted himself up and over Vergo’s shoulders. He twisted, used his knee to steady himself, and brought everything he had down with his fist, smashing into the back of Vergo’s head.

Vergo froze, staggered, and then slowly sank to the floor.

Law stood for a moment over the unconscious man, making sure he was still breathing, and then looked up and met Luffy’s eyes. His friend was standing now, arms folded over his chest, and he was smiling, satisfied.

Law gave him the bird, Luffy started laughing, and the crowd went wild.

In the VIP booth, Penguin was trying to calm his racing heart and cheer right along with Bepo and Shachi. There were hugs and claps on the back and even some tears from Bepo. When Penguin turned around, Kidd was gone, but Nami was still there, grinning, and polishing off the last of the whisky.

“You see?” she said. “Told you.”

Standing in the middle of the supermarket, reading the frantic texts from Penguin, Dalton was unsure weather the correct response was to laugh, cry, or to just thank their lucky stars that no one was seriously hurt. He opted for congratulating Penguin and then told him to have a good night, at this point he was too tired to formulate a witty response. He was sure he would hear all about it tomorrow.

His basket was loaded with an assortment of vegetables, brown rice, and a few chicken breasts. He had forgotten about grocery shopping so after arriving home, taking a shower, and changing into clean clothes, he had found his cupboards empty.

On his way to the cold isle to pick up something to drink, Dalton had wandered passed the discounted Valentine’s Day display. There was nothing of interest that caught his attention specifically, but the bright colors and the smell of candy had given him pause. The last time he had purchased something for Valentine’s Day, had been several years ago. He had bought a bouquet of roses and a vanilla cake from a bakery down the street from his old precinct, but when he had arrived home that evening, there was a note on the fridge telling him that his wife was out with friends and the kids were at her mother’s house. He had been disappointed at first but had made the best of it by going and picking up his kids and taking them out for a special dinner. It had turned out to be a wonderful evening, the last Valentine’s Day that he would enjoy for a long time.

Later, he learned that his wife had not been with friends and had in fact been having a lovely time out at a resort with the man she was now married to.

Dalton sighed, he held no anger or resentment for his ex-wife. No matter what anyone said or postulated about what had happened between himself and her, they were wrong. No one knew the whole story, no one understood that almost everything had been Dalton’s fault.

Sometimes you learned things about yourself late. Not everyone understands who they are and what they want by their twenties. Sometimes it takes a little time, and sometimes, you break a few hearts and destroy a perfectly good life you had crafted for yourself along the way.

Dalton had never meant to hurt anyone. His wife had been, for the most part, a good woman, a wonderful mother, and a loyal partner—up to a point. But things had changed, he had changed, and everything had fallen apart. After more than ten years of marriage, Dalton had found himself completely unable to be aroused by women. In truth, it had always been hard, but Dalton had just assumed he had a low sex drive. He really had loved his wife, he really had cared for her—he still did, but the thought of being with her sexually had become something of a chore, a duty, and that had not been fair to anyone. He had come to her, explained himself, and she had left him.

For a while, Dalton had thought maybe he was asexual. He had even thought maybe there was something wrong with him, but then the man at the coffee stand down the road from his old precinct had flirted with him, and Dalton had realized what was going on.

It was simple. He liked men.

The thought had never occurred to him, the idea had never even crossed his mind. It was so strange and yet, so incredibly obvious that it seemed silly. He had not been angry at the breakthrough, in fact he had been very happy at finding there wasn’t something terribly wrong with him.

Unfortunately, he had not yet consummated his discovery. The timing never seemed right, and there was no one Dalton had really connected with, or liked enough to take it to that level.

Dalton looked back at the row of Valentine’s Day cards and gifts, a soft smile pulling at his features.

Things had changed once again. Maybe now there was someone he liked enough. Maybe now he could step out onto that ledge, take that leap. Even in the midst of everything going on, everything with the case and his life being uprooted, maybe there was something for him here. It would take some time and effort because there seemed to be some baggage there, but he was willing to work for it, because the person he was thinking about was definitely worth it.

Dalton turned around, heading back in the direction he had come. Earlier he had seen something that had sparked his interest, but at that moment he had not made a connection. Now, it seemed obvious, and he was suddenly excited.

He had an idea.

Climbing the stairs to Kidd’s apartment felt like walking through a forest of broken glass. Everything hurt, every movement, every breath was filled with pain. He could hardly breathe, hardly walk. Bepo and his brothers had offered to help him, but he waved them off with a soft thank you. He could make it himself.

Law didn’t want anyone to see him like this, especially Penguin and Shachi, he couldn’t be this weak, this vulnerable and beaten in front of people who looked up to him, but he had no choice with this. Kidd had called him up, and said that if Law wanted his winnings, he was to meet Kidd in his apartment on the fourth floor.

God damnit, he should just leave. He hadn’t come for money anyway, he had won, that should be enough. He had gotten what he wanted, he had gotten the pain he had been so desperately seeking, so he should just go. This meeting was just going to end up being humiliating and pointless.

But oh, he wanted to see Kidd. He wanted to see Kidd so badly he was dizzy with it. It ache he felt when he thought about seeing Kidd was so much more than in his wounds, or his cuts and his bruises. He wanted to see Kidd like a flower wants to see the sun.

In reality there was nothing that was going to stop him from climbing those stairs, knocking on that big, wooden door, and then letting himself into that fucking unbelievable condo.

The place was almost bright, but it was artificial light like the way a busy city street is lit up at night. There were a few lamps made out of old whisky bottles that hung over the bar, but they were off. When you had a view of the entire city of Seattle through full length windows, no inside lights were necessary.

Law ran his hand over the smooth wood of the bar top. Then he reached behind it and grabbed a bottle of bourbon. He didn’t bother with a glass and made his way over to the couch. Kidd was nowhere to be found so he made himself at home, drinking from the bottle and putting his feet up on the coffee table.

The condo was all repurposed wood and dark metal piping. “Industrial” was the word Kidd had thrown around when he had finally decided to decorate. There were ancient iron gears, coils, and springs holding up shelves, folded into the brick walls to create storage containers and cabinets, and some had been reshaped into the most amazing furniture Law had ever seen.

Kidd had such good taste. Law had known he was an artist on top of everything else but he had never asked Kidd to demonstrate his hobbies. Back then, he had thought they would have all the time in the world.

Finally, Law heard a door close and Kidd moved into the living room. He had changed into a pair of jeans and a maroon, long-sleeved shirt. He carried a first aid kit under his arm, and a scowl was stretched across his face.

“Hey,” Law said softly.

“Hey,” Kidd replied but did not look at him. Instead he set the first aid kit on the coffee table and sat on the couch beside him.

“Gimme your hand.”

Law smiled and held out his hand for Kidd to inspect. He pulled off the ruined glove and glared down at the mess of blood across tattooed knuckles.

“You know I’m a doctor,” Law murmured, “I think I can handle a few scratches.”

“I know you’re an idiot,” Kidd said and turned to open the kit. He rummaged around taking out cotton, gauze, scissors, and a small bottle of cleaning alcohol.

Law watched him for a while, loving the way Kidd’s hands, hands that had beaten, maimed, and even killed, moved over his so gently. No one knew or understood this side of Kidd like Law did. Whether it be after a sparring session together, a fight with a rival gang, or one of those countless nights of rough sex, afterward they would dress each other’s wounds with care and attention. Their passions sated, they would devote as much time as both of them needed for recovery.

Law had not planned on coming to Kidd’s place after the fight with Vergo, but sitting here on the couch while Kidd patched him up for the thousandth time, he wondered if this was actually what he had wanted deep down, what he had really come for. Not so much the pain, but what came after, because of the pain. Maybe he had just wanted to be hurt so that Kidd could dress his wounds.

“Sit up,” Kidd instructed. “Let me look at your back, or your ribs, or whatever.”

Law sat up and set the bottle on the table. Kidd helped him lift up the shirt and when the red head made a soft noise at the back of his throat, Law chuckled softly.

“That bad?”

“How can you even breathe right now?” Kidd growled.

“It’s uh,” Law grimaced as Kidd prodded the injury, “it hurts a little.”

“A little?”

“Okay, a lot.”

Kidd sighed and pulled the shirt back down so Law could lean back against the cushions again. “Well, if you can move around without wanting to die, they’re probably not broken, just bruised. I can’t do nothin’ about that.”

Law shrugged and reached out a hand, silently asking for the bottle. Kidd took it from the coffee table and took a drink and then handed it over.

“How is Chopper?” he asked.

Law took a long swallow before he answered, and when he did, his voice was quiet.

“He’s… not great but, he’s surviving.”

“He needs to talk to someone.”

“I can’t make him talk to someone,” Law growled and repositioned himself so he was more on his side facing Kidd and less laying on his bruised ribs. “He has to want help, forcing him is just going to make things worse.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Law sighed and took another swallow. “It’s not like I didn’t try, man. He said he doesn’t want to cause trouble.”

Kidd chuckled but it held no humor at all. He put a hand up and pinched the bridge of his nose like he had a terrible headache. “Trouble… only Chopper would take what happened to him and think it would cause trouble for other people.”

Watching Kidd’s features as he worried for their friend, Law felt an overwhelming urge to lean over and slide his hand along that strong jaw. He wanted to run his fingers through all that wild, red hair. He ached to kiss those soft lips.

“Is this why you called me up here?” he asked. “To put a few bandages on me and ask about Chopper?”

Kidd let out a breath and laced his fingers together beneath his chin. He seemed to ponder something for a few seconds, but then he looked at Law and dropped his hands to his knees.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

He closed the first aid kit and stood, but before he could walk away, Law caught his wrist. It hurt, the pain burned in his shoulder and elbow as his injured muscles protested the movement, but he held on, not ready to let Kidd leave him just yet.

“Come on, what is it?” Law asked. “Why’d you call me up here?”

Kidd stood there for a moment, his face turned away, his body tense, but finally he turned back and slowly lowered himself back onto the couch. He rested his elbows on his knees, and lifted one hand to prop up his chin, but that was it. He said nothing and made no indication that he was going to say anything. His eyes watched the floor at their feet.

Law repositioned himself again, moving to the edge of the cushion. He pressed up against Kidd’s side and carefully, gently, slid his fingers over a thick bicep.

“Lay it on me,” Law whispered.

Kidd settled his weight against Law’s shoulder, not in relaxation, but in defeat.

“You gotta stop coming here.”

“Not happening,” Law murmured.

"Christ," Kidd shook his head and made a motion with his hand between the two of them. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?” He knew exactly what, but he wanted Kidd to say it. Anything to get Kidd to talk to him about anything.

He felt the hitch in Kidd’s chest, the tremble of anger, or maybe, hopefully, want that rolled through the larger man’s body.

“Fuck you, Traf. You know it’s almost impossible for me to resist you when you’re like this.”

Law’s heart started to hammer against his ribcage and he felt arousal slam into him harder than any of the blows Vergo had landed on him. He adjusted his grip on Kidd’s arm, tightening his hold, and leaned in so he could speak against the shell of Kidd’s ear.

“Then you shouldn’t have fucking invited me up here.”

Before Kidd could say anything, Law caught the flesh of his earlobe between his teeth and bit down. Kidd made a low noise and froze, suspended, waiting for what Law would do next.

“Come on,” Law breathed, his thoughts getting fuzzy as lust started to consume him, “I won’t tell anyone. I’ll let you do whatever you want.”

Kidd twisted and Law found himself knocked back, pressed down into the couch cushions, and Kidd’s strong hand wrapped around his neck. He squeezed, but only enough to make Law light-headed. The bruises from where Vergo had choked him earlier, added another level to the pain, to the euphoria. Kidd’s lips ran down Law’s jaw and nipped at his chin, his breath was harsh and the growl that came up from his throat was animalistic and dangerous.

Yes… Law’s chest tightened and his body started to shudder with want. Oh fuck yes…

He wound his fingers around Kidd’s wrist, encouraging the larger man to continue, to squeeze harder. When Kidd’s lips moved up to ghost over his cheeks, his brow, and his eyelashes, Law started to see stars.

“What I want?” Kidd started to speak in that low, sultry baritone that caused earthquakes in Law’s soul. “I want nothing more than to bend you over that table and make you scream.” Law shuddered again and moaned when he felt the hard press of Kidd’s length against his thigh.

Those lips were now at his jaw. “I wanna shove my cock down your throat ‘till you choke.”

“F-fuck…” Law whimpered and clawed at Kidd’s hand, “do it… do what you want.” His head was swimming in a mess of arousal and fear and excitement. His dick was hard and straining, aching for attention. He felt Kidd’s thumb hook the edge of his jaw and turn his head. He let it happen, feeling the press of those lips at his throat, and then the shell of his ear.

“I want,” Kidd whispered, “to tie you up and throw you on the floor. Fuck you on the carpet until you bleed.”

Law arched and reached up a hand to pull at Kidd’s hair. He was fairly gone, lost in a half faint, dick throbbing and body shaking.

But then the pressure left. Kidd’s hand released his throat and his body moved away. Law was thrown back into reality with a burst of cold air and a rush of blood to his brain. He gasped and coughed, his own hands coming to his throat. He rolled to his side and opened his eyes, trying to find Kidd. Trying to understand what was happening.

“What…” he coughed again, “what the fuck…”

Kidd was standing, straightening his shirt and smoothing out the sleeves. He didn’t spare a glance at Law as he sat up and steadied himself on the coffee table.

“What the hell…” Law growled, his voice was gravelly and hoarse.

“What I want, and what’s best for both of us ain’t the same thing,” Kidd said softly. He seemed in control again, save for the way he was still breathing heavily.

“God damnit, Kidd,” Law coughed one last time and got to his feet, “fuck what’s best for us.”

Amber eyes flashed and for a moment, Law was actually afraid. He should have just taken the gentle bandaging and gone.

“This isn’t a fucking game,” Kidd said softly.

“You’re right.” Law moved carefully, as if approaching a wild animal. One that was injured and defensive. When Kidd got like this, it was always dangerous to try and get close to him. There was pain from taking pleasure from each other violently, and then there was pain from just plain getting your ass beat. Law had already received the latter that evening and didn’t want a second round.

He moved slowly, brushing his fingers over Kidd’s forearm, letting the other man know he was coming, giving him plenty of warning for what he was doing and where he was going. Kidd didn’t resist when Law faced him directly and slid his hands over smooth cheeks.

“You’re right, it’s not a game,” he whispered, pulling himself close, “it’s not.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips across a tense jawline. Kidd let out a harsh breath as if he had been hit and the air had been forced out of his lungs. Their lips met for the briefest of seconds, and then Law felt strong hands move down over his hips and grip him tightly. He melted against the larger man’s body and opened himself up. Soft lips slid against his and a hot tongue invaded his mouth. Moaning, Law raked his finger up through thick, wild hair and pulled.

He felt brick against his back as Kidd pushed him up against the wall, but he did not break the kiss. Kidd’s mouth was warm, and he tasted like bourbon. His body was a hard, solid weight, and when he rolled his hips against Law’s there were stars again behind Law’s eyelids. Their kisses were frantic, each craving the other’s touch, starving for more. Law felt hands pulling off his beanie, carding fingers through his hair and over his face.

Law ran his hands down Kidd’s chest, pulled at his shirt, trying to get at more skin. He felt the scars along Kidd’s shoulders, his sides, and then he slid lower, pushed his fingers down passed the waistline of Kidd’s jeans.

Kidd grunted softly and went still. Then those strong hands were pushing on his hips, pinning him back as Kidd was pulling away. Law’s knees almost gave out when he realized what was happening and he reached back up to wrap his hands around the back of Kidd’s neck.

“No,” he growled, “fuck no. Don’t, please.”

“We can’t do this,” Kidd panted into his mouth.

“Yes we fucking can.” Law wanted to scream, to tear into Kidd’s skin. Make him bleed and hurt and beg for Law to keep hurting him.

“I can’t.” Kidd was taking Law’s hands, separating their bodies, and Law was horrified to find pressure behind his eyes.

“Kidd…” he whispered in a voice that was broken.

Stepping back, Kidd looked at him with those bright amber eyes. They flashed again, but this time they were softer, gentler. Sad.

“I’m sorry…”

With that, Kidd turned and moved away. “Your winnings are in the envelope by the door. You can sleep here if you want, but I want you gone in the morning.”

The door to his room opened, and then closed. Law was alone.

Dalton parked the Tahoe on the street and moved into the morgue. It was after midnight, but the place was technically open all hours. He waved and flashed his badge as he passed the night desk clerk.

“I’ll just be a moment,” he said.

Chopper’s office was dark, but it was easy to make his way over to the desk and place the package down next to the computer monitor. Seeing the small box sitting there, Dalton had a moment where his confidence wavered. He felt unsure, like maybe this wasn’t a good idea at all, but the feeling left him when he remembered the first time he had seen Chopper underneath the lights and the swaying branches of the cherry trees.

He left the office and closed the door behind him. If the desk clerk noticed the dreamy smile on his face as he left, she said nothing about it.

“You sure you don’t want me to take you home, boss?”

Law held the car door open with his hip, looking up at the tall apartment complex. Bepo had offered to give him a ride after Law had proved a little too drunk to drive, but instead of taking him home, Law had asked to be brought here.

“I’m sure, Bepo.”

“You’ll be okay?”

Law leaned down and smiled at him. “I’ll be fine, buddy. I got good friends that live here. I’ll see you later.”

Bepo nodded to him and waited for Law to close the car door before he pulled away and headed down the street.

Law sighed and made his way into the building. The lights were dimmed in the lobby, and there was no attendant, only a single security guard watching the doors.

“Hey, Bobby,” Law waved as he passed.

He knew the code for the elevator and leaned against the wall as the doors closed behind him. The ride up seemed to take forever, and he had plenty of time to think about how much his body hurt, how much blood he had gotten on his clothes, and how this was such a shitty thing to do. It was a shitty thing bringing his problems to his friends like this. They didn’t deserve to have a fuck-up like him in their lives. They didn’t deserve any of this. And what if they weren’t even awake?

He pulled out his phone right as the bell rang and the doors opened. He stepped out into the hall and lowered himself to the bench along the wall.

Law: Hey you guys up?

Zoro: Watching a movie why?

He sat for a minute, trying to decide what to say, and just as he was about to type a never mind, his phone buzzed.

Sanji: What’s wrong?

Law let out a soft laugh that was mostly a sob. Of course they knew.

Law: I’m down the hall

He waited a few beats, his worry and embarrassment building with every second that ticked by. But then the phone buzzed again and he glanced down to read the message.

Sanji: You hungry?

With that, Law leaned back against the wall and just let go. He laughed, even as tears started to slide down his cheeks.

Law: Yeah

TBC

Chapter Text

The message notification on Chopper’s phone woke him at ten after eight o’clock on Sunday morning. He lifted his head from his pillow, blinking, staring blearily at the clock on his bedside table and feeling profoundly disoriented. Was it really Sunday morning? Had he really slept through the second half of Saturday and all the way through the night?

His bladder told him yes.

Without looking at the phone, Chopper pulled himself out of bed and hobbled into the bathroom. He relieved himself and then washed his face and hands in the sink. When he glanced at himself in the mirror, he noted that he had no lines around his eyes, and no bags hanging beneath them either. One good night of sleep had apparently erased all traces of the recent weeks of sleepless or nightmare-filled nights. However, his skin was so pale it was almost ashen. When was the last time he had spent time outside?

Also, his hair was a goddamn mess. He ran his fingers through it a few times, trying to tame the unruly curls, but it was a lost cause. At least it was relatively clean.

Padding back into the bedroom, Chopper sat down on the bed and retrieved his phone from the charging stand.

Oh, it wasn’t a message, it was an email. From the crime lab.

Thumbing the phone open he clicked on the email and read a quick summary from one of the lab techs. The toxicology screens for Mr. Machart were in and there were traces of chemicals in his body. Law was apparently not answering his phone, so Chopper had inherited the task of releasing the lab results and passing on the information to the investigating detectives.

Chopper’s initial response was a complete emotional breakdown. There was no way he was going to be able to speak to Dalton after what had happened yesterday. He had sat in the shower for the better part of an hour while his skin turned red and his fingers wrinkled, sobbing, trying to reconcile his feelings and convince himself that even though it was disgusting and wrong to use Dalton like that to get himself off, it wasn’t like Dalton knew. No one knew. Everything that was happening to Chopper was still pretty much all in his own head, so the embarrassment and shame and self-loathing he felt was still secret. He could deal with it. He could handle it.

He had emerged from the shower, a shaking, soggy, red-faced mess, but had managed to towel off, drink a glass of water, and then clean his toy and put it back in its box, which he had hid at the back of his closet. Without getting dressed he had then slipped into bed and pulled the covers over his head before falling asleep.

All of those feelings that had been so powerful, so overwhelming yesterday, were still present. He was still ashamed, still embarrassed, still sad and lonely, but after that initial freak out after reading the email from the office, they started to subside and take a backseat to his interest in the case. After just a few short minutes, Chopper’s brain had switched into analytical mode. There were chemicals in Mr. Machart’s blood? How? Why? There had been nothing in the other victims. Perhaps it was a mistake? Perhaps the killer had changed his MO? Maybe circumstances had prevented him from following through with his usual ritual?

Questions kept flying through Chopper’s head as he dressed and brushed his teeth. He ran downstairs and grabbed his shoes, not bothering with food or coffee, he could have a tech get that for him later. There were too many things to think about, too many possibilities.

Chopper: Where are you?

He didn’t expect an answer, or at least, he didn’t expect one for another few hours. If Law was on a bender, he’d show up in the evening, hung over, bruised, but ready to work again. There wasn’t anything Chopper could do about it, and it wasn’t like he had the right anyway. Chopper had his own shit that he wasn’t dealing with so how would that be fair?

He grabbed his bag and dashed outside; the bus stop was only a few blocks away. When he was seated he turned back to his phone and typed out a few quick messages.

Chopper: I can make an educated guess as to where you were last night
Chopper: I’m not judging but…
Chopper: I hope you were safe and got at least some sleep
Chopper: I can handle things at work for now
Chopper: But you better fucking text me when you’re conscious again

He was about to slip the phone into his pocket, but it buzzed in his hand.

Law: I’m ok I’m at S&Z
Law: I’m really sorry

Chopper hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath until he let it all out in one harsh breath. Relief flooded through him. If Law was with Zoro and Sanji then he was all right, even if something terrible had gone down the night before, they would take care of him. He was safe.

Chopper: Will you tell them hi for me?

Law: Sure

He slipped the phone back in his pocket and watched out the window as the streets rolled by. When he was just a block or two away from his stop, his phone buzzed again and he reached for it.

Law: Love you

There was melancholy behind those words and it tore at Chopper’s heart. Something had gone down last night and it probably had nothing to do with whatever trouble Law had gotten into. He was probably bruised and scraped and bandaged but the damage would be nothing compared to what was going on in his heart. Chopper had seen it before, many times.

He looked down at the phone, wondering if Law would understand if he said what he felt. After holding his thumbs over the keys for a few seconds, he decided to be the way he had always been with Law: honest.

Chopper: Love you too. I’m here if you need me

There were no more texts after that.

The lab was already bustling when Chopper arrived. He pushed through the doors and headed straight for his office. He would download the files from the email for easy access, but on his way he asked a tech to retrieve the physical ones for him as well. The lab would have signed copies on Law’s desk already and Chopper would just use those.

Flipping on the lights, Chopper kept his door open an inch or two to let people know he was working but could be interrupted if it was important. He set his bag on the floor and flopped down onto the seat. A quick press of a button and the computer whirred to life in front of him. It would take a few minutes, so he considered getting back up and making a pot of coffee.

Before he could move, he noticed the package.

It was small, rectangular, and plain white, like the gift boxes you got at the boutiques around Christmas. Stuck to the top was a sticky note and on it, written in a boxy, neat script, was a simple note.

Saw this and thought of you.

Excitement tightened Chopper’s chest and he picked up the box. Someone had left him a gift? Who? Why? He was almost afraid to open it and find something silly or obscene because someone had decided to play a joke, but he couldn’t think of anyone that would do that.

Carefully, he slipped his thumb into the crease and pulled the flap. When he opened the top, he found whatever was inside wrapped in tissue paper. He started breathing a little shallow as the excitement threaded through him, making it hard to pull air into his lungs. This was a present. An actual gift that someone had decided to leave on his desk. Why? Why would someone do that?

Unwrapping the tissue paper, Chopper felt all the blood in his body pump through his heart at once, a disorienting pound from somewhere behind his ribs. There was a loud thum-THUMP that rang in his ears and sent a tingling to the tips of his fingers and toes. Heat crawled up his neck and burned across his cheeks and nose. He felt himself grow faint at the sudden wave of arousal and embarrassment and overwhelming joy that washed over him as he turned his gift over in his hands, marveling at it’s simple, yet unquestionable beauty.

It was a mug, a coffee mug, white, with a rounded base and a dark handle. The pattern painted over its surface was a cherry blossom branch, it’s petals blowing in the wind, a few small, pink strays swirling along the rim and up inside the cup itself.

Chopper sighed softly as he thought about large hands picking this out, turning it over, possibly wrapping it and placing it in the box themselves.

This had to be Dalton. It was Dalton, wasn’t it? They had spoken about cherry blossoms when they first met. He had said they were is favorite. He knew Chopper drank a lot of coffee, hell, he had polished off at least six cups when they had eaten breakfast together the other morning. But… was it really him? Why? Why would he give Chopper a gift?

Men didn’t just give other men presents, not without a reason, right? It wasn’t even close to Chopper’s birthday and Valentine’s Day was a few weeks past. So, did that mean Chopper was supposed to take this as some kind of first move? A very mature, very classy flirtation?

Getting up, Chopper went out into the main office and found the community pot mostly full. He rinsed out the new mug and dried it with a paper towel before filling it and slipping back into his office. The first sip was bitter and hot and delicious. He ran his thumbs over the painted blossoms and felt a tiny shiver of pleasure tickle up his spine.

The feeling didn’t last long, however. The longer he sat staring at the mug, the more he realized it was just a mug. It wasn’t a watch, or a diamond ring, this was probably something Dalton saw in the discount isle for five bucks. There was no way it was anything more than a cute gesture from a sweet man that was grateful to Chopper for his work on the case.

The thought made him sad, but it grounded him at the same time. There was no point in getting excited when it wasn’t even that big of a deal.

Besides, he didn’t even know for sure if the gift was from Dalton in the first place.

Taking a breath, Chopper finally turned to the computer and navigated to his email. He had work to do and didn’t have time for unrealistic, wishful thinking.

Dalton stood and stretched, his muscles protesting and his spine popping loudly. Even in the midst of sergeants shouting at each other across the offices and phones ringing non-stop, Penguin still heard it from where he sat at his own desk.

“Damn,” the young man made a face and leaned back in his chair, “that sounded like it felt great.”

“It didn’t,” Dalton smiled, “Everything creaks and pops now, I’m getting old.”

“Right, and you totally look it,” Penguin chuckled and leaned back in to his computer. “We’ve been at this almost four hours, I don’t know about you, but I think this might be another dead end.”

Nodding, Dalton felt a familiar frustration come over him. It wasn’t overwhelming, it just a nagging at the back of his mind that he was missing something. “I think so too,” he said quietly. “Hey, you want coffee?”

“Please,” Penguin held up his mug and Dalton took it, and his own cup, across the office to the alcove where interns stocked coffee, tea, and an assortment of snacks and other beverages. The coffee in the far-left cravat was relatively fresh, so he filled the mugs and returned to the desk.

“Can I ask you something?” Penguin asked after another few minutes of fruitless phone record searches.

“Of course.”

Turning in his chair, Penguin took a sip of his coffee and regarded Dalton with a peculiar look. The young detective had many faces, Dalton had learned in the last few days, most of which were almost impossible to differentiate if you weren’t really paying attention. It was hard to get a read on him most of the time, but Dalton knew that would come in handy in the future when questioning suspects.

“This guy,” Penguin said softly, “do you think this string of killings we’ve got all tallied up in this case… do you think they’re his only murders?”

Shaking his head, Dalton set his mug down on his desk. “No. I guarantee when we catch him we’ll be able to connect him to at least two or three more unsolved cases, and those will be much more disorganized, much more passionate. They won’t be anything like the ones we’re looking at now.”

“You think he really could be a doctor?”

Dalton nodded again. “It makes sense the more I think about it. But we have to be careful, we don’t want to let something like that blind us. He could be a medical student, or someone who went through medical school but didn’t finish and now he’s doing something completely different.”

“What about a vet?” Penguin asked.

“Yes, see? It’s a good place to start, we just can’t get tunnel vision. I think—”

His phone buzzed on his desk, and when he moved to pick it up, he realized Penguin’s was also going off.

“Chopper!” Penguin said as he read the caller I.D.

Dalton’s heart did a faint little flutter as those brown eyes and all those adorable freckles flashed in his memory, but he picked up the phone and thumbed open the lock screen without any hint to his reaction.

Chopper: The lab results for Mr. Machart are in.
Chopper Come as soon as you can it’s important.

Penguin whistled, and a smile broke out on his face. “So bossy.”

Dalton stifled what he felt would have been an incredibly dopy smile and leered at Penguin. “You like him, don’t you?”

Penguin shrugged as he stood and grabbed his coat. “He’s fucking adorable what am I supposed to do? He’s making me question my sexuality.”

That thought gave Dalton pause but nothing more. The way Penguin had said it made it obvious he was joking, but…

Chuckling, Dalton realized what he was doing and stood. Then he retrieved his coat and followed his partner out into the parking lot.

He felt young again, unsure of himself. It was thrilling and terrifying, like how he had felt when he realized he wanted to ask Patty Felton to the spring dance back in sixth grade.

“Hey, Dalton, you good?” Penguin was looking at him funny and it took Dalton a moment to figure out why. He had been standing next to the Tahoe waiting, but he was the one with the keys.

“Sorry,” he chuckled and unlocked the door, “just thinking.”

When they reached the morgue, the front desk clerk didn’t even acknowledge them as they passed. He was on the phone and did nothing but glance quickly at their badges before he turned away and continued to type furiously on his keyboard.

A tech met them inside, telling them that Chopper was in his office, so both detectives headed in that direction. Penguin knocked but then pushed the door open without waiting for a reply, and Dalton followed close behind.

Dalton had been prepared to face Chopper in all of his charming shyness, but that unsure, lost young man that had eaten breakfast with him the day before, that had fallen apart at the thought of imposing on the investigation, had taken a backseat. The man that was standing there now behind his desk, hands on his hips, and face set in hard, determined lines, was that same man, but at the same time he was completely different. This Chopper looked ready for a fight, his stance sure and confident. When his eyes came up to meet Dalton’s, they were the same wide and innocent and beautiful brown eyes he had gazed into yesterday, but now they were clear, intense, and challenging.

This Chopper was not cute, he was handsome, he was sexy, and Dalton could feel his knees going weak.

“Come in,” Chopper said, “shut the door.”

Penguin moved to sit in one of the two chairs at the front of Chopper’s desk. “What’s up? You said it was important.”

Dalton decided to stand. He wasn’t sure that if he sat he would ever be able to get up again.

Running both his hands through his hair, Chopper let out a long breath and looked between both detectives for a few seconds before he began. “Okay, first off, this might be a little complicated, and I apologies for that. Also, I might have had thirty cups of coffee this morning already so if I talk too fast just let me know.”

Penguin snickered and nodded while Dalton glanced around, finding the white coffee mug with the cherry blossoms on it amongst the stacks of papers and files piled up on Chopper’s desk. He felt a small little thrill go through him like a ripple in a pond and he tried not to grin.

“I’m sure we'll manage,” Dalton said quietly, “just tell us what you have.”

Chopper nodded, “Okay.” He then picked up a thin file and handed it to Penguin. “This is the toxicology report for Mr. Machart. You can look through it if you want, but I’m going to give you a quick overview.”

“Oh good,” Penguin sighed, “I wouldn’t have understood it anyway.”

Chopper smiled and pushed his sleeves up to his elbows. “There are traces of a chemical in Machart’s bloodstream. It’s not something most techs have see before because it’s not approved by any legit administrations and it was basically confiscated during trials. It’s a combination of a few different barbiturates, which are central nervous system depressants, and a few opioids, which are basically pain killers. So, simply put, your guy is tranquilizing his victims while overdosing them at the same time. It’s simple and efficient.”

“But there was nothing in the bloodstream of any of the other victims,” Penguin said.

Chopper nodded and started to pace. “No, I understand, and that’s where this gets interesting. This chemical compound is very complex and extremely unstable—really, really unpredictable, I mean it does a lot of weird shit. It crystalizes when exposed to oxygen, gels when exposed to heat, and most importantly, completely breaks down when cooled.”

Dalton straightened, shocked with revelation. “Oh my God, he’s freezing the victims.”

Chopper nodded vigorously. “Yes. He’s freezing these people so the chemicals he’s using to kill them decompose almost completely.”

Heart pounding, Dalton took a step forward. “But wouldn’t there still be leftover compounds in their blood? Just because the chemicals break down doesn’t mean there wouldn’t be anything left.”

“The compounds are so simple that it’s not really traceable. The kind of screens we were doing didn’t pick any of it up.”

Penguin scratched at his jaw, his eyes wide and lost in thought. “Jesus,” he murmured softly. “So, for some reason he didn’t freeze this last one and the chemical didn’t have a chance to break down.” He turned to Dalton then. “Why didn’t he freeze this one? There’s no way he fucked up that bad.”

Taking a breath, Dalton contemplated. “It might have been on purpose. He’s already leaving the bodies for us to find, so I have the feeling he either wants to be caught, or he’s teasing us. Giving us this clue ups the game for him, makes it more dangerous and intense.”

Penguin made a noise. “Man, what an asshole.”

“There’s more,” Chopper said and both detectives turned to him.

“Really?” Penguin grinned, “You basically hand us a treasure trove of information on this case, more than anyone else has ever been able to come up with, and now you’re saying you have more? I feel like I don’t even need to do my job anymore.”

For the briefest of moments, Chopper’s confident stance wavered. He lifted a hand to his hair and twisted a few curls around a finger in the sweetest show of self-consciousness Dalton had ever seen. Then his freckled cheeks reddened, and he stammered softly.

“It’s not, um,” he swallowed, “It’s nothing. I’m just doing my job.” It was very, very hard to resist reaching out and running a thumb across that burning cheek.

“Well, we really appreciate it anyway,” Dalton said gently.

Chopper looked up at him then and Dalton’s whole world seemed to shrink down to just Chopper’s eyes. It was incredible how much this man affected him after only knowing each other a few days.

“C-come sit,” Chopper motioned to the other seat in front of his desk, and Dalton complied. When they were all huddled around the desk, Chopper leaned in and spoke softly.

“This chemical compound? I know a lot about it because I’ve seen it before—well, not seen it, seen it, but I’ve worked with it. Up until about six months ago I was working in the emergency room at Harborview. There were three doctors in charge, big shots that had their hands in all kinds of medical research and tech through the board members. I’ve never had any interest in the politics, so I stayed out of the way, did my job, never tried to make waves, but it’s hard sometimes with the close proximity and the culture and everything. You kind of just accidentally find out everything about everyone after a while.”

With this, Chopper paused and ran a hand over his eyes, taking a slow breath. It was subtle, but Dalton noticed the way his shoulders had hunched in as he spoke. Dalton still had no idea what could have happened that had caused Chopper’s trauma, but now he was absolutely sure it had something to do with his previous work environment, or at least with someone he had previously worked with. He made another note to ask Chopper about it when it was appropriate.

“Anyway,” Chopper continued, “two of these head doctors played by the rules, like, the worst kind of thing they ever did was bribe board members to give them a heads up on new science, or funnel money into the research they wanted—which is basically how every hospital works, right? But this third guy? He was a little… out there.”

“What do you mean?” Penguin asked.

“Fringe science, questionable ethics, not bad just… not completely legal. I feel like he really did want to help people, it was just the way he went about it was sort of dubious.”

“And he was using this chemical?” Dalton asked. “This specific compound?”

Chopper nodded. “He discovered it. Originally, he wanted to create an alternative for people who had problems with anesthesia, there’s a lot more of them that you would think. He started experimenting, using different combinations of different compounds on patients in the emergency room without telling anyone. It actually worked out fine for a long time, but then he got a little too zealous and things started to happen.”

Penguin held up his hand like he was in class. “Like what?”

“Lots of things, one patient developed seizures overnight, another slipped into a coma for thirteen days. It’s not totally uncommon for things like that to happen seemly at random, but there were too many cases of strange things happening to too many of our patients. Then someone died, and everything went kind of crazy.”

“Holy shit,” Penguin dropped his head between his arms and sighed. “Dalton, didn’t we just talk about this?”

“I’m sure it was an accident,” Chopper said, “at least in that specific instance.”

Dalton nodded. “What happened to this doctor?”

“Well,” Chopper sat up straighter and ran his hands through his unruly hair, “I’m not proud to say that the hospital was more interested in keeping up appearances than actually dealing with its problems, so instead of this guy losing his license, they promoted him to a position in administration.”

“What the fuck?” Penguin’s head shot back up.

Chopper shrugged. “Remember how I said these guys had their hands in a lot of stuff? He was able to pull strings to get him a better position, and the board went for it. The hospital dodged a ton of bad publicity and ended this guy’s less than ethical practicing at the same time.”

“Everybody ‘wins’,” Dalton muttered.

“Yeah,” Chopper agreed, “except the people that were injured or killed.”

“That is just…” Penguin murmured, “really fucked up.”

Chopper nodded.

“Did you transfer because of this?” Dalton asked, carefully.

Without looking at him, Chopper absently pulled his sleeves back down over his wrists and seemed to start folding into himself.

“No,” he said, just loud enough to be heard. “This all happened a year ago, I left six months after.”

Interesting. He glanced at Penguin and the young detective caught his eye. He had noticed too.

Dalton decided to move on for now, so he leaned back and pulled out his phone. “Well, next stop is obviously Harborview. We’ll question this doctor and get a read on him. Chopper, we might actually need you to come with us.”

Chopper looked at him then, his eyes wide. “Really? Why?”

“I’ve had to question medical professionals before, and to do that, you have to go through administration. I’ve learned through trial and error, that if you come in with a familiar face, another doctor specifically, it opens a lot of doors otherwise closed to anyone without a warrant.”

Looking away, Chopper seemed to contemplate the situation for a few seconds before he turned back and nodded. “Yeah, makes sense.”

“Okay,” Penguin said and stood, “let’s do this thing then. Shotgun.”

To Dalton’s delight, Chopper actually made an incredulous face and shot to his feet. “You can’t call shotgun from inside a building, you savage! Where are you from? Where did you grow up that allows such hooligan rules!?”

Penguin was still laughing as he left the office.

Dalton waited for Chopper to grab his coat from the back of his chair, and his bag from the floor at his feet. He seemed excited, but also far away, contemplative.

“Are you going to be all right going back there?” Dalton asked.

Chopper nodded without looking at him. “I have a lot of colleagues that work there, it’ll be nice to see them.”

Seeing the tension gathering again in the lines of Chopper’s shoulders, Dalton reached out a hand and gently touched the younger man’s elbow.

“I really could use your help, but if this is uncomfortable for you, you don’t have to come.”

Chopper looked at him, and then nodded slowly. “I know. Th-thank you. It’s just… I was thinking how it’s such an amazing coincidence. If it turns out this doctor has anything to do with these murders… I don’t…” he closed his eyes then and took a long, deep breath.

“I just don’t know how I’ll be able to… deal with that.”

Dalton wanted to run his fingers down one of those smooth cheeks, to press his thumbs into the line of that jaw, or maybe just pull that thin body against his. He was overwhelmed by the need to comfort Chopper, to assure him.

“There’s no way you could have known, and there’s nothing you could have done,” he said firmly. “In this job there are a thousand ways you can second guess yourself, look back with hindsight and think you missed something or messed up somewhere, but I’m telling you, you can’t do that. You always have to look forward.”

Chopper’s dark eyes studied him for a few seconds, then he nodded again, and whispered softly.

“Okay.”

He would never admit it aloud, but in those seconds where they had been standing so close, when Chopper’s eyes were staring up into his, Dalton had actually lost his breath. When Chopper turned and moved for the door, Dalton followed, but found himself light-headed.

They left the office and headed out to the parking lot where Penguin was already leaning against the passenger side door of the Tahoe. He watched them exit the building and cupped his hands around his mouth.

“Shot! Gun!”

Chopper laughed at his side, and Dalton felt his heart flutter like the beating of a bird’s wings on the inside of a cage.

Harborview was busy, but had that bustling behind closed doors kind of feeling. The lobby was quiet, even with the seven or so people waiting in front. A few nurses padded around, carrying folders and clip boards, an orderly was handing out water in Styrofoam cups, and an old man was creeping along in a wheelchair, trailing his IV bag and stand behind him.

“Um,” Chopper said softly, “just give me a minute.”

He moved toward the front desk and Dalton watched as three women behind the counter all shot to their feet at the same time.

“Chopper!” they all seemed to exclaim at the same time.

Penguin chuckled at Dalton’s side. “That was a brilliant move, bringing him.”

Dalton shrugged. “It really does help to have a medical professional on your side. If I’d had Chopper around when I was trying to clean up after Kidd’s surgery, I could have cut the paperwork I did that year in half.”

“Surgery?” Penguin asked.

“He got shot. Law kept him alive with a pen long enough for an airlift.”

He felt Penguin shift next to him and glanced over at his partner. The young detective was staring at him with another one of his unreadable expressions.

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

Dalton couldn’t help but snicker. “Actually, no. That really happened.”

Penguin shook his head. “Your life is like a movie. We’re in a fucking buddy cop movie right now, aren’t we?”

Laughing, Dalton squeezed Penguin’s shoulder affectionately and looked up as Chopper returned.

“Okay, I’ve got us upstairs… What’s funny?”

Penguin was still chuckling, trying to cover it with a fist but not doing a very good job.

“It’s nothing,” Dalton said, “Penguin likes buddy cop movies.”

“I do, it’s true.”

Chopper looked between the two of them for a moment, and then huffed a sigh. “I swear, if you’ve caught the stupid bug from being around Luffy…”

Penguin burst into laughter again, quickly trying to stifle it with a hand over most of his face.

Smiling, Dalton made a motion with his head. “You ready?”

Chopper nodded, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, this way.” He might have seemed truly exasperated if Dalton hadn’t caught the smirk that pulled at his features when he turned away.

They headed down the hall past a few more nurses and orderlies, all of which greeted Chopper enthusiastically by name and some even stopped to shake his hand or hug him. Dalton was impressed by the respect and love the young doctor invoked from his former colleagues and made another mental note: whatever had happened with Chopper was definitely not common knowledge. Otherwise, these people would be asking questions and showing concern.

When they reached the elevator, Chopper pushed the up button and Dalton remembered something. He leaned in and spoke softly by Chopper’s shoulder.

“By the way, what’s this doctor’s name.”

The doors opened, but Chopper said nothing until they were inside the car. He pressed the button for the thirty-eighth floor and sighed.

“Doctor Hogback.”

The doors closed, and they went up.

TBC

Chapter Text

In the early hours of Sunday morning, when the sun was still a few hours from rising, Law sat in Sanji’s kitchen and ate a plate of eggs and sausages. Slowly, as his jaw was beginning to get a little stiff, and even though everything on the plate was delicious, the taste was tainted by the blood still leaking from the cut on the inside of his cheek.

His head pounded; his ribs ached.

Sanji had sat with him while he ate, reading and smoking his e-cigarette. But now that Law was finished and had been staring off at nothing for an immeasurable amount of time, the cook put down his book and slid a hand over Law’s forearm. He squeezed softly.

“Hey, you wanna get cleaned up?” he asked.

Law thought about it. A shower would feel nice, the water would wash away the blood that was caked over his skin and had started to itch, the warmth would sooth his sore muscles, but his hands and wrists were bandaged. Kidd had bandaged them.

“Can’t,” he said softly, and lifted his hands to prove his point, as if Sanji didn’t already know.

Shaking his head, Sanji stood and whisked away Law’s dirty plates. When he returned, he took one of Law’s hands gently, and guided him off the stool and down the hall toward the bathroom.

Law was not shy by nature, but whenever Sanji’s hands we on him, when the cook was attentive like this, or even just focusing on him when they sparred, Law felt a special kind of embarrassment tighten up most of his body. It had nothing to with how Sanji spoke to him, or treated him, and it was not because he was anxious about being vulnerable, no, it was merely the fact that Law was sure Sanji understood him, deeply. Unlike any of Law’s other friends, Sanji seemed to be able to cut past all the bullshit, all the posturing and aloofness, the masks that Law put on every day to make himself seem normal. Sanji saw through all of that shit and seemed to know exactly what Law needed. At first, it had been humiliating, but then after their friendship had grown, and their trust had deepened, Law had started to accept the things that Sanji offered. It was still a little new, still a little frightening, but Law wanted them. They were facets of a greater whole he knew he so desperately needed.

Sanji undressed him slowly, carefully minding the bruises and scrapes, and then guided him into the shower.

“Stay there,” he instructed, “keep your hands up.”

Law did as he was told, letting his head fall back into the cascade of water, feeling it run down his back and envelop him in warmth. It dulled the pounding of his head and the sharp ache of the muscles in his shoulders.

When Sanji joined him, Law tilted his head back down and made no attempts to hide his lingering regard of Sanji’s body. The cook was long and lean, supple, all hard lines and sharp curves. His skin was light but healthy, rosy pink under the water. The way his hips moved as he reached for the soap, the way the lines of his back rolled beneath that creamy, rosy canvas, stirred more than just Law’s heart. When Sanji finally turned and Law got a good look at his long, hard cock, hanging dark and heavy between his thighs, Law moved as if to touch, to reach out and run his palms over something, anything that was Sanji. His skin, his hair, it didn’t matter.

“Stop,” Sanji said. His voice was clear, commanding, yet quiet.

Law stopped.

“You’re gonna get your bandages wet. Keep your hands up. You can put them on the wall if your arms get tired.”

A rippled of desire and embarrassment cut through Law like a knife through cool flesh. He took a sharp breath and put his hands on the wall, one on each side of him. He felt no urge to argue, no reason to resist. He wanted to obey, he wanted Sanji to tell him what to do, how to do it, how to feel.

Sanji’s soapy hands on him was torture, but he stayed still, stayed quiet. Even when Sanji’s lips ghosted across his jaw, when his hands tilted Law’s head back to rinse, he did nothing. He longed to kiss Sanji’s lips, to drop to his knees and take Sanji’s cock in his mouth, but that was not what this was about. This was about letting himself go. He wanted to put himself into Sanji’s hands and then let Sanji do with him what he wanted.

“How do you feel?” Sanji asked.

Law sighed and tilted his head. Sanji’s mouth was just barely at his throat.

“Better, my head doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“That’s good,” the low timber of Sanji’s voice caused a shiver to ride up Law’s spine despite the warmth of the water. “You gonna tell me what happened tonight?”

“Do you want me to?” Law whispered.

“Yes.”

Law ducked his head and waited as Sanji began gently shampooing his hair before he started speaking. When he did, his voice was quiet.

“I fought Vergo tonight at the club. I just wanted to hit someone, didn’t even care if I lost, but Luffy was there and I couldn’t… well, I didn’t lose.”

“Good job,” Sanji said, and Law could hear the smile in his voice. That affirmation, so simple and so easily given, startled Law and caused inexplicable pressure behind his eyes. Such a stupid thing to get emotional over.

“Hey,” Sanji said, prompting him.

“Oh, um,” Law sniffed and continued, “afterward I went up to Kidd’s to get my winnings, and I swear to God that’s all I was gonna do, but then he was… he was just being Kidd and I was just being my fucking idiot self and we ended up getting a little too close and pretty soon I was begging him to fuck me.”

Sanji hummed and tilted Law’s head back to rinse out the shampoo. “I’m assuming you didn’t though?”

Law nodded. “He said it’s not what’s best for us.”

“He’s right, you know.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

Law nodded again. “I don’t fucking care though.”

He felt Sanji’s fingers at this throat, tracing over the bruises Law had not yet seen, but could absolutely feel.

“He do this?” the cook asked.

Law nodded again. “Yeah, mostly. I wanted him to. I wanted him to hurt me so bad.”

“You still think you deserve to be hurt?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me why.” Sanji’s palms slid over his hips and gripped him in roughly between calloused fingers.

Law shivered again, and this time he had to use his hands to steady himself.

“I don’t know…” he whispered.

When Sanji spoke again, his mouth was at his jaw. “Maybe that’s why he wouldn’t do it.”

After a shaking breath, Law tried to form words and failed. He didn’t entirely understand what Sanji meant, but he was losing control very fast now. He could feel his breath coming faster, light-headedness was clouding his vision and making it hard to concentrate on what they were talking about. His dick was so hard, it throbbed and twitched every time it brushed up against the coarse hairs at Sanji’s groin.

“Maybe you should think about why you think you deserve it,” Sanji said, and his teeth nipped at Law’s jaw. “Maybe he won’t fuck you because he doesn’t want to punish you.”

“But I need it,” Law gasped.

“Need?” Sanji asked, “Or want?”

Desperate, Law let his head fall back and he keened softly. “I don’t…” he said breathlessly, “I don’t know.”

He felt Sanji’s hand on his cock and he moaned, his entire body tensing.

“Do you want me?” Sanji asked.

Without hesitation, “Yes.”

“I don’t hurt you.” Sanji’s mouth was close to his and Law was suddenly breathing in the cook’s air.

“You could, I’d let you. Shit, Sanji you could do whatever you wanted to me.”

Sanji continued to stroke him, faster, “But not punish you.”

“You don…” Law keened again, “you don’t have to.”

“No one has to.”

Law mouthed another disagreement, but the words wouldn’t come out. He was close, his body tightening, coiling like a spring.

“Say it,” Sanji said firmly. “Don’t think I’m doing this ‘cause you need it. Say you want it.”

“I want it,” Law whispered.

“Louder,” Sanji growled.

“I want it,” Law snarled into Sanji’s mouth. “I want it so fucking bad.”

With that, Sanji lowered his head and bit into the flesh of Law’s chest, just above the dark lines of his tattoo. Law groaned as the pain flowed through him, setting him alight. A few more quick strokes and he was coming, pulsing in Sanji’s fist, gasping and sucking in great gulps of air and he trembled against the cook’s body. Pleasure followed the pain, shooting through him, pumping through his heart and into his veins. The tension and dread and despair that had held on to him so tightly since leaving Kidd’s apartment finally eased and slowly started to fade.

His brow found damp, blond hair and he burrowed into it, careful to keep his hands on the wall where Sanji had instructed him to. He breathed deep, letting himself come down slowly, focusing on Sanji’s hands as they roamed over him gentle and slow. The water beat down on them, ever steady and constant.

“I’ve told you before,” Sanji said softly, “this desperate need to punish yourself is killing you. No matter what you’ve done, or what you think you deserve, you have to start fucking forgiving yourself.”

Law shook his head. “I doesn’t matter, it won’t fix what’s wrong with me and Kidd.”

“Maybe not,” Sanji pulled away and looked up into Law’s eyes, “but I’m not trying to help you with your problems with Kidd. I’m trying to help you.”

His heart swelled painfully and the pressure was back. Law closed his eyes, hoping that Sanji wouldn’t notice, but of course he did. He felt the cook’s hands on his cheeks, and then those sweet, chapped lips touched his and he was lost to the kiss. Chaste, and slow, but overwhelming in it’s sincerity.

He was crying again when Sanji shut off the water, and still when he was gently toweled dry and led into the bedroom. Zoro was waiting there, glasses on, reading from his tablet, but he put everything down when he saw Law’s face. He pulled back the covers and motioned for Law to join him.

Law went easily, curling up against Zoro’s solid frame. He sighed as those impossibly strong arms came around him, and little by little, the tears topped. Zoro’s hands were gentle as he started to dig fingers into the sore spots in Law’s shoulders and back. It was uncanny how the swordsman seemed to just know where to press, how hard to push, where to slide his palms to ease tension and get Law to relax even further against him.

“Feels nice…” Law whispered against that solid chest.

“I know.”

Fingers curious, Law slid his hand up to the scar that ran from shoulder to hip. It was smooth and dark, merely a shadow of the damage that had no doubt been horrifying. He didn’t know how this had happened, and he had never asked, but he knew it had something to do with Hawk, a famous swordsman Zoro had beaten a few years back. He also knew Sanji had somehow been involved, but he had never had the courage to bring it up.

In fact, this was the first time Law had even touched the scar. The last time this had happened, there had not been a lot of time for reflection, no time for lingering touches. Law had left a fight, bloody and broken in more ways than one, but had not been able to go to Chopper, and Luffy was great but he had no foothold when it came to the specific problems Law was facing. Instead, Law had come here, knocked on the door, and stood trying not to cry in the hallway as Zoro answered.

Sanji had invited him in, touched his bruised face so gently, and then Law had lost it. He hadn’t stopped apologizing for what felt like hours. At first, Sanji had comforted him with soft words, holding him gently on the couch. His touch had been simple and soft, but then those soft touches had turned intimate, and eventually, the three of them had ended up in bed together, Sanji’s arms around him, his deep voice gentle in his ear, and Zoro’s mouth around his cock.

That time had been desperate, a quick release of tension before Law had been cleaned and bandaged and tucked in, Sanji wrapped around him, and Zoro pressed up against his back. He had never been able to express how much that night had meant to him, but it had never seemed like he needed to. They talked about it often, like it was normal and like they didn’t regret it. That was the only reason he was here again.

Well, okay, maybe not the only reason…

“You fall sleep?” Zoro said softly.

Law lifted his head and looked up into Zoro’s eyes. “Would you be mad?”

Shaking his head, Zoro pushed a few locks of damp hair from Law’s brow. “Of course not.”

Law smiled. “I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

Acutely aware that Zoro was nude beneath the blankets, Law shifted his legs, feeling out the smooth skin of the swordsman’s thigh. “About how nice your mouth felt on my cock last time we were here.”

A sweet smile stretched Zoro’s lips and Law actually shivered.

“I’ll do it again if you want.”

“I need a minute,” Law murmured softly. He lowered his mouth to Zoro’s chest and ran his lips over that warm, tanned, skin. “Sanji took care of me in the shower. While we wait though…” to emphasize his point, he slid his hand down Zoro’s chest, down to the dip where hip met thigh.

Zoro’s stomach muscles twitched, but other than that there was no indication that he even registered what Law was doing.

“You okay to do that?” Zoro asked.

“Oh, hell yeah,” Law moved, sliding down between Zoro’s legs, burrowing in the warmth of the blankets. “You have any idea how long I’ve wanted this?”

Zoro leaned back against the pillows, one hand came up to rest behind his head, while the other continued to run gentle fingers through Law’s hair.

“Don’t know,” he said softly, “how long have we known you?”

“Exactly.”

With that, Law licked a long line up the underside of Zoro’s length. He felt the swordsman tense beneath him, and he propped himself up on an elbow. He wanted to watch Zoro’s face as he slid his mouth down over him.

It happened just like it did in every fantasy he’d ever conjured up involving the handsome swordsman. He got himself down around Zoro’s cock, sucked slowly back up, and Zoro bared his teeth, growling deep, the vibrations of it humming through his body like a bassline.

“Fuck…”

Law groaned softly and moved over him again, a little faster this time. The texture of soft skin over ridged muscle felt perfect over his tongue, the press of Zoro’s round head at the back of his throat sent a tremor down his spine. He circled his hand around the thick base and added a little pressure as he moved up and down that hot shaft over and over, all the while watching as those dark eyes became darker, more intense.

Zoro made another deep, guttural sound, and his fingers tightened in Law’s hair, adding just the perfect amount of pressure, just the right amount of pain to get Law going. He felt himself getting hard again against the sheets, getting off on Zoro’s semi-rough treatment.

He responded by sucking harder, pumping faster with his fist. Law didn’t actually have a lot of practice at this, but he knew what felt good, and he was a quick study.

When the tension in Zoro’s stomach got to the point where the swordsman started to curl in, almost sit up, Law bore down, taking him deep, and pressed hard circles into the base.

“Ah…” Zoro breathed, “gonna come…”

Law felt Zoro’s fingers loosen in his hair, and he reached for them, twisting them back in where they were, giving permission to be as rough as he needed. He heard Zoro grunt in response and then that strong hand gripped him so tightly. Law moaned and his rhythm faltered, but Zoro pushed him down, pressing up with his hips effectively choking Law as he came. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe as Zoro pulsed on his tongue, the hand in his hair holding him captive, sending ripples of pleasure and pain through his body, his mouth, his jaw. The whole experience was overwhelming and terrifying and absolutely perfect.

When Zoro finally let go, Law pulled off and coughed, sputtered, tried to swallow. He sucked in a few gulps of hair, dizzy with pleasure and the adrenaline of having his airway closed and not having the strength to get away.

“Oh my god…” he gasped against Zoro’s stomach, “oh my fucking god…”

Zoro lifted his hands and ran both through Law’s hair, pushing it all back from his eyes.

“You okay?” he was out of breath too, and Law was more please by that than he probably should have been.

“Yeah,” Law whispered, still trying to catch his breath, “I’m good… I’m really fucking good. You?”

When he looked up, Zoro’s sweet smile was back, “You were great. Come here.”

Law crawled up Zoro’s body. He was a little shaken, wobbly with his weight on his arms, but he managed to get to where Zoro wanted him: straddling the swordsman’s waist, his trembling hands holding the pillow on either side of Zoro’s head. Law hovered there for a moment, just above Zoro’s mouth, unsure if it was okay to kiss him or not.

“Hey,” Zoro said softly, and his hands came up to Law’s cheeks, “you okay?”

Law wasn’t sure what Zoro meant until his vision started to blur around the edges. He was fucking crying again. Why? There wasn’t even a reason to cry this time.

He couldn’t even look at Zoro anymore he was so ashamed. Ducking his head, he rested his brow in the curve of Zoro’s neck and squeezed his eyes closed. There was no way he was going to break down in front of Zoro again. He had already done it once and it had been humiliating. There was no way, no fucking way.

Then he was on his back, and Zoro was kissing him. That strong, unshakeable, swordsman’s hand was cupping his face so gently, touching his cheek so tenderly it was almost like pain.

“It’s okay,” Zoro was whispering, “it’s all right, you don’t have to apologize.”

Oh, he had been rambling apologies again. Why? Why the fuck did he do that? What the hell was wrong with him?

“Hey,” Zoro said, taking Law’s jaw in his fingers, “look at me.”

Law opened his eyes reluctantly and tried not to pout. That would be even more humiliating.

“Listen, I understand the pain thing, a little,” Zoro said softly. “Sometimes it’s good. Sometimes it’s a better relief to have the pain then the pleasure. It makes you stronger, it’s tangible, it’s something real that you can feel even when he’s gone.”

Startled, Law nodded.

“But,” Zoro continued, “there are a lot of different kinds of pain. Pain from training, from injuries, from too much of a good thing, from getting your ass beat... You’re shit at seeing the difference.”

Staring up into Zoro’s face, Law found himself speechless. No one had ever put it into such simple terms for him before. He opened his mouth to try and speak but nothing came out, a good thing because Zoro was shaking his head and looking up. There was a dip in the mattress at Law’s right and he froze.

“You want pain that’s not going to hurt you,” Sanji’s voice was soft, gentle, and Law was almost too afraid to turn his head. How long had Sanji been there? And why did it matter? Why was he too ashamed to look at Sanji now?

A cool hand slid up his throat and replaced Zoro’s warm touch on his jaw. He closed his eyes, let Sanji move him, and he felt the soft kisses on his forehead, his cheeks, and down his neck.

“S-Sanji…” he murmured.

“I’m here,” Sanji said.

Law tilted his head up, catching Sanji’s lips and opening himself wide for a deeper kiss than the ones they had shared before in the shower. Sanji responded and pressed him down in the sheets, letting one of his hands go into Law’s hair. Law moaned softly and wrapped his arms around Sanji’s neck, clinging desperately as he opened more than just his body for Sanji to take.

Then Sanji pulled away, bracing himself on an arm beside Law’s head.

“We’ve gone way past the part where I told myself I’d stop,” Sanji growled, his breath labored, “so you need to tell me what you want.”

Law’s entire body hummed with electricity. His cock ached, pressed up against Sanji’s muscled thigh, his breathing was out of control and his heart was beating so frantically it was possible he was about to die.

Pulling Sanji close, Law whispered, “Please, fuck me.”

He hadn’t meant it to sound so fucking pitiful, but Sanji seemed not to mind. The cook kissed his lips once, and then turned to look at Zoro. The swordsman leaned in and kissed Sanji’s mouth, long and deep and lingering, but then they parted and Zoro was sitting up, rummaging around in the night stand.

Law’s already frantic heart skipped.

Zoro returned with a condom and a bottle of lotion, lying back down close to Law’s side, resting on his elbow. Law started shaking, he hadn’t thought they would agree to this, and he wasn’t sure he was ready. What if he was bad? What if he couldn’t get off anymore like this? Kidd was the only other man he had ever been with, and it had been such a long time.

Sanji looked up from the bottle of lotion he had in his hands and smiled. “It’s all right. I’ve never been with another man either.”

Oh shit, had he said all that out loud?

He felt Zoro’s lips at his ear and he shivered.

“He’s going to fucking destroy you…” Law could feel the smile in Zoro’s words. It sent a ripple of pleasure through his body, like a jolt of electricity from touching a live wire.

“Yeah?” he panted.

Zoro bit at his earlobe, “Yes.”

Sanji was kneeling between his legs, fingers coated with lotion. He leaned in close and Law felt the pillow sag underneath Sanji’s free hand. The cook’s mouth was warm, and his breath was sweet and cool from toothpaste as he whispered against Law’s lips.

“You said it’s been a while, so I’ll start slow.”

He felt Zoro’s hand at the back of his knee and then he was spread wide. He glanced down and watched as Sanji’s hand moved to tease him, slowly slide over his skin just behind his sack, and then press inside.

He sighed and relaxed when the intrusion was smooth and not at all painful. Sanji slid his fingers back out and then in again, teasing the inside of him like he was some kind of instrument, primed and tuned and now ready for playing. On his third press inside, the pressure from Sanji’s fingers caused a small wave of pleasure to lick up inside of Law’s body, pulsing through his loins and tightening the breath out of his lungs.

“Ah…” he sighed and arched.

“Good?” Sanji whispered.

“Yeah,” Law couldn’t form any other words, he was already spinning into bliss.

Sanji shifted and stroked his fingers up inside once more. Law groaned as another bolt of pleasure shot through him, this time a little more intense than the last.

“Damn,” Sanji grunted, his breath puffing against Law’s throat, “this is going to be easy.”

Those fingers withdrew and Sanji straightened. Law watched him tear open the condom as he felt Zoro lean in and trail kisses up his shoulder. Lifting a hand Law found the swordsman’s jaw, and then his cheek, and then his hair. He needed something to hold on to as Sanji spread his legs and moved between them.

Law made a broken kind of sound as Sanji slowly pushed into him. It stung, but the pain was more from the pressure than anything else. Zoro kissed his jaw, whispered things into his ear as Sanji moved back, and then started forward again.

Kidd had never taken him slow like this, it had always been quick, frantic, a painful first push and then a few agonizing first thrusts. That was how Law liked it, how he preferred it, but this… Sweat was rolling down his temples, and the sheets beneath him were damp. His muscles were tense and his limbs were shaking, his knuckles were probably white as they pulled at Zoro’s hair, tangled in the pillow case above his head.

This was nothing like anything he had ever experienced.

Fully seated, Sanji adjusted himself, bringing his knees up under Law’s thighs. He put his hands on the mattress and gave one experimental thrust with his hips. That was more like it, that was more like what Law remembered, what he understood. Except there was no pain.

He arched, trying to get Sanji deeper, but the cook did not take the bait. He hovered above Law, sweat trickling down his own temples, but he seemed neither fatigued or even out of breath. In fact he looked every inch a warrior, muscles flexing as he leaned down to catch Law’s lips, skin glistening, mouth curved into the slightest of smiles.

Sanji didn’t ask Law how he wanted it, which was what Law had expected, instead he just moved, snapped his hips forward and then pulled back slowly. The ripples of pleasure Law had almost gotten used to became bolts of lightning. They rocketed through him with every thrust of Sanji’s hips. He tried to keep it together, tried to watch Sanji’s gorgeous face as he fucked him, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t do it and keep himself under control.

Law lifted a hand, catching the back of Sanji’s neck and pulling the cook closer. He nipped at those soft lips, growled into that cool, sweet mouth.

“Harder,” he panted, “come on.”

He felt the smile against his skin.

“Oh, but what if I don’t want to?” Sanji’s thrusts slowed, but the power behind them stayed the same as he spoke. “What if I want to keep you right here until you go batshit insane?”

Law arched again, tilting his head back. He let go of Zoro’s hair in favor of pulling all of his fingers through Sanji’s.

“I’ll kill you,” he rasped, “I’ll fucking kill you. Son of a bitch.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Sanji whispered, “let go, let me hear you.”

He felt warm fingers at his neck and he almost screamed. He was so overwhelmed, so fucking close, and then Zoro’s hand wrapped around his throat, gentle, but no mistaking what he was offering.

“Yes,” he choked out between those powerful thrusts, “yes, Zoro. Please.”

He gripped Zoro’s wrist and coaxed the swordsman to hold him tighter, just like he had with Kidd. Exactly like he had just a few hours ago.

But Zoro didn’t give in, he didn’t squeeze like Law so desperately wanted.

“Open your eyes,” Zoro’s voice was deep and rough. “Look at me.”

And Law was terrified to find that he couldn’t. He couldn’t open his eyes, couldn’t look at Zoro while his hand was on his throat.

“Open your eyes or I won’t do it.” Zoro didn’t sound angry, he actually sounded worried, sad even.

Sanji continued to move, his body rolling into Law again and again, building the pleasure, the intensity so slow it was astonishing. Tears were leaking from the corners of Law’s eyes. Shame had washed over him and he could feel his heart breaking in his chest. If he opened his eyes now, they would see, they would see him—Sanji would see him completely and he would be disgusted.

“I can’t…” he said softly, “I can’t…”

“You can,” Sanji said, breathless, lips running over his eyes. His thrusts slowed almost to a stop, it was just gentle movements now, an easy roll of hips that didn’t separate them in the slightest.

“You can. You can, Traf.”

Something warm and terrifying tore at Law’s heart and he let out a sob. His hands went to his face, covered his eyes and cheeks.

“Don’t call me that,” he cried. “He’s dead… he’s fucking dead.” He didn’t even know what he was saying anymore. The emotions that were crashing through him seemed to have taken over. The pleasure from Sanji’s cock inside him, the adrenaline that had been building from having Zoro’s hand around his throat, the feeling of his friends being here with him and tearing back layers upon layers of charred, dead skin that no one had even been able to see. Five years’ worth of guilt and sadness and loneliness peeled away as he lay there crying, begging, and trying to hide it all behind his fucking hands.

Sanji’s fingers were in his hair, Zoro’s hand was still around his throat, and then Sanji kissed him softly.

“Traf,” he murmured, and Law shuddered, pain and pleasure ripping through him, “open your eyes. Look at me. Zoro will give you your pain, and I’ll fuck you harder than you’ve ever been fucked in your life. All you have to do is let go, let go of that shame. I’ve got you.”

He leaned in and kissed him again. “We’ve got you.”

Law couldn’t get his breathing under control, his legs were shaking with the strain of squeezing Sanji’s thighs. His body ached, his heart was full to near bursting. Could he do it? Could be just open his eyes and let it go? He wasn’t even sure what he was letting go of exactly, Sanji had said shame, but how did you let go of shame? How did you let go of guilt and memories that haunted you every moment of every day?

Letting his hands fall away, he took a breath and slowly opened his eyes. He found Sanji there, looking down at him, smiling softly.

“Hey…” he whispered.

He couldn’t quite get himself to smile, but he managed to look at Sanji for several long seconds without falling apart. Then he turned slowly and met with Zoro’s impossibly dark eyes. Terror rushed through him, threatening to pull him apart under that gaze.

“Don’t look away,” Zoro said, his voice much softer than Sanji’s.

Law swallowed. “I’ll try…”

Zoro squeezed.

Immediately, Law’s world became hazy. He locked eyes with Zoro and watched as those dark eyes became like the night sky, like the darkest parts of the deepest ocean. The intensity grew, tightening the swordsman’s features. Law could feel himself slipping away, the colors and shapes around him melting together.

Then what was left of his adrenaline kicked in, his survival instinct went into high gear and his vision cleared. His hands went to Zoro’s wrist and he grunted softly. The terror he felt started to make way for something new, something he couldn’t quite name.

Zoro’s eyes flashed and his grip tightened ever so slightly.

“Fuck yeah, that’s what I wanted to see.”

Then Sanji laid into him.

He wasn’t ready, how could he have been ready? Sanji fucked like he did everything else in his life, with precision, with grace and ease and talent. When Law finally managed to turn away from Zoro and look up into Sanji’s eyes, he understood, and he knew he couldn’t last. Everything was too overwhelming, too intense, too much.

“Sanji…” he choked out, “I can’t… ah Zoro let go I’m coming.”

Zoro released his grip then and Law almost lost consciousness. Everything seemed to hit him at the same time, all feeling, all sensation, all emotions rushed into him from every side. He gasped, trying to take in air and remember how to breathe at the same time. His orgasm was almost an afterthought, threading through him on the aftershocks of the relief from the pressure from Zoro’s hand.

He didn’t realize we was cursing, breathlessly stringing together a flow of vile, dirty things until he heard Sanji growl deeply and still over him. The words tumbled from his lips as Sanji shifted and gave a few last gentle thrusts, groaning softly into Law’s mouth.

They lay there for a few minutes, just breathing, coming down, fingers touching damp hair and thumbs rubbing gentle circles into hot, sweaty, flesh. Then Sanji shifted and pulled his softening length from Law’s body.

“You’re a fucking bastard…” Law said softly, trying very hard to swallow. “You’re both fucking bastards.”

“No,” Zoro grinned into his ear, “we’re both bastards that fuck you real good.”

It was almost half an hour later when Law realized he felt better physically as well as emotionally. It had crept up on him the way muscle aches from particularly hard workouts creep up on you the day of. Except instead of pain, it was the opposite. The absence of that terrible ache in his chest surprised him and he actually put a palm over his heart, rubbing, as if it was a trick and he could release the ache if he applied a little pressure.

Sanji was dozing against his back but he noticed the movements.

“What’s up?” he asked.

Law shook his head. “Nothing.”

“You lying to me?”

He shook his head again. “No, I mean it. Besides my throat I feel better.”

“Isn’t that good?” Zoro asked, his voice muffled from the pillow.

“Of course,” Law cleared his throat. His voice was going hoarse. “It’s just weird is all.”

Sanji slipped an arm around his waist and pulled Law tighter against him. “Not too weird I hope.”

Law shook his head. “No.”

In the morning, Law was awakened by Sanji as he slipped out of bed and pulled on a sweatshirt.

“What time is it?” he murmured, his voice scratchy and raw.

“Um, about eight.”

“Jesus,” Law turned to his side so he could face the cook, “it’s Sunday, why not sleep in? Aren’t you on vacation or something?”

Sanji snorted as he grabbed a pair of socks from the dresser. “This is sleeping in. I’m usually up by five.”

“Oh my god, that’s terrible.” Law ran his hands over his face and glanced over at Zoro’s back. The swordsman seemed to still be sleep, snoring softly. Apparently Sanji’s morning routine didn’t disturb him at all.

“I’m going for a run before I make breakfast,” Sanji said, “you want to come with me?”

Law almost burst out laughing. “Hell no. I’m gonna drag my lazy ass out of bed when the food's on the table. And not before.”

Sanji chuckled. “Suite yourself.”

“I will,” Law grinned.

Sanji gave him a little wave as he left the bedroom.

It was only about fifteen minutes later when Law realized he wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep, so he pushed the covers away and threw his legs over the side of the bed. His lower back didn’t like the new position, and some of his more sensitive parts protested the pressure of his weight on the mattress, but overall, he felt good.

He stole a sweater that was hanging on the rack inside the closet door and pulled it over his head. It smelled like Zoro. Padding down the hall, he used the bathroom and washed his face and hands. Looking at himself in the mirror, he took note of the swelling at the side of his jaw, and the watercolor of bruises across the canvas of his throat. There was no way he was going to be able to hide those unless he went out and bought a turtle neck. Maybe he could wear a scarf.

His phone was sitting on the island where he had eaten last night. He picked it up and found a number of messages from the crime lab. There was also an email, but he ignored it after seeing he had a few texts from Chopper.

Chopper: Where are you?
Chopper: I can make an educated guess as to where you were last night
Chopper: I’m not judging but…
Chopper: I hope you were safe and got at least some sleep
Chopper: I can handle things at work for now
Chopper: But you better fucking text me when you’re conscious again

That last line had been sent less than a minute ago, probably as he was walking from the bathroom. He quickly typed a response so Chopper wouldn’t worry.

Law: I’m okay I’m at S&Z

Then, without really thinking, he typed a quick I’m sorry. There were a lot of things he was sorry for, but he was sure Chopper would understand. Sure enough, when Chopper texted back, he seemed neither angry or annoyed with him.

Chopper: Will you tell them hi for me?

Law smiled at that and responded. Chopper must be having a good day, or at least not a bad one. Recently there had been a few things regarding Chopper that had struck Law as extraordinary. He was definitely eating more, he talked more, and he was actually socializing. He had actually gone to breakfast with Dalton! Law had no idea what could have happened to cause these changes, maybe including him in the case was giving him something to distract himself with? Or maybe there had just been enough time since what had happened, and Chopper was starting to heal a little on his own? Maybe it was the new people in his life? Whatever it was, Law was grateful for it.

Chopper deserved everything. He deserved happiness and love and contentment. He deserved someone who would take care of him and put him first in everything. Law had wanted to give him all that, but he knew now that he couldn’t. It was true, he did love Chopper, but sometimes love wasn’t enough. Law was too screwed up, he would be bringing too many things to the relationship that Chopper didn’t need.

Besides, Law didn’t deserve someone as good as Chopper. He wasn’t even going to kid himself.

Law: Love you

He hoped Chopper understood the gravity behind those words.

When Chopper texted back, Law felt that traitorous pressure behind his eyes again, but this time he was able to push it back. He felt a little stronger than he had the night before, so he didn’t respond and just put the phone back on the counter.

When Sanji returned, he started breakfast and soon enough, Zoro found his way into the kitchen. As they sat and ate together, Zoro laughing at the ridiculous things Sanji was saying, Law swallowed his bite of food and realized that light feeling he was experiencing in his chest, that sensation of being full even though he had only eaten part of his quiche, that was happiness. It was so stupid, so obvious that he actually laughed. Sanji paused in his diatribe and eyed him suspiciously.

“You okay?”

Law shrugged, his manner turned serious.

“I just…” he said softly, “You guys mean a lot to me, is all.”

Sanji took a breath and set his coffee on the counter. He exchanged a quick look with Zoro, who rested his elbows on the counter. The swordsman’s face was soft and gentle, so unlike Zoro’s expression on the regular.

“You mean a lot to us too,” Sanji said, and Zoro nodded in affirmation.

Law laced his fingers together in his lap and his smile returned. “I know… That’s why I don’t think I’m going to come to you like this again.”

Zoro watched him carefully, his features still soft, but completely unreadable. Sanji’s brow furrowed, not in confusion, but in thought.

“Are you sure?” Sanji asked.

Law nodded. “You guys are great—you’re amazing. You know just what to say and do to make a lot of the stupid shit go away. You also make me think about stuff I never would have noticed on my own. But if I keep coming here and we keep…” he sighed and closed his eyes. “I’ll get too attached and I won’t do that to you guys, to your marriage.”

There was silence for a few minutes, and then he heard Zoro’s fork clink against his plate, and Sanji’s quiet sip on his coffee.

“It’s up to you, of course,” Sanji murmured, “but know our door is always open.”

Law opened his eyes and his smile returned. “Yeah, I know.”

He left Sanji and Zoro’s an hour later and took the bus back home. There was a sense of urgency at the back of his mind to get into work, mostly because of the email, but he really couldn’t make himself move any faster than a slow Sunday pace. Yes, he knew that if the crime lab had emailed him the results, and they had tried to contact him by phone, then there had probably been some kind of development. He just… was having trouble caring at the moment. Chopper was perfectly capable of handling it. He should be handling it, he was the most qualified to be the stand-in medical examiner anyway. Law was just playing the part.

He showered quickly and changed into more respectable clothes, made a sandwich for later, and then went back out to catch the bus to the parking lot by Kidd’s club. His car was there, and he might as well get it now before it was too late, and the buses were no longer running.

As he sat on the D line, heading into inner Seattle, Law finally pulled out his phone and opened the email from the crime lab. He read through the report, skimming over the names of the techs that had the unfortunate job of trying to get ahold of him. He would have to apologize later.

Then something caught his eye.

Chemicals in the blood. A complicated compound. That was incredible in itself, just the fact that there was something in the blood they could trace, but what really pulled at Law’s attention was the fact that he recognized the strange compound. Where had he seen this before? Why did it have him feeling dark and dismal and absolutely creeped the fuck out?

Looking up, Law gazed out the window, trying to relax and let his memory recall naturally where he had seen those strange combinations before. He had definitely seen them. Not at work… it was, in a report? No, he would have remembered if this had been used on another victim. A case study? One of his classes—

Oh shit.

Chopper.

Chopper had shown him that shit.

This was the chemical that fucking guy at his work had been using! This was the thing that had killed a guy and put another one in a coma for weeks! What was his name? Hogland? Heckbeck?

Hogback.

They had moved that asshole to administration, he wasn’t practicing anymore, but shit, if he still had the means to mix up that fucking compound, it wasn’t a very farfetched idea that he might have moved his not-entirely-legal-or-sane practices to his leisure time.

Law pulled out his phone and his fingers flew over the keys, or at least as fast as his scabbed, bandaged knuckles would let him.

Law: So what are you doing right now?
Law: Because I just read the report and you my friend
Law: Are not so good at staying safe when it comes to malpracticing doctors
Law: Didn’t we just have a conversation about this?
Law: Like where you were checking up on me to make sure I was being safe?

The phone buzzed in his hands.

Chopper: Holy shit man calm down. I’m here with Dalton and Penguin

Law: Okay so you explained the situation?

Chopper: Yes

Law: The whole situation?
Law: Like how YOU are the reason that dick got caught?

Chopper: I may have left that part out

Law: Jesus pantshitting Christ
Law: Are you at Harborview right now?

Chopper: Yes

Law: Okay I’ll be there in 15

Chopper: You don’t have to come. I’m fine
Chopper: Dalton is being this amazing wall of “don’t touch Chopper”
Chopper: It’s really sexy I might die

Law: Did you just call Dalton sexy?
Law: Or were you referring to him protecting you?

Chopper: Definitely both

Law: Woa really?
Law: I mean I totally understand Dalton is the shit
Law: And his shoulders are like DAMN

Chopper: Ok this is embarrassing cause he’s standing right next to me
Chopper: So can we just agree that Dalton is basically the sexiest man on the planet
Chopper: And move on?

Law: Sure. What were we talking about?
Law: Oh that’s right a murdering doctor. Sorry had to scroll up

Chopper: Holy shit if you’re coming down just come down already. We’re on the admin floor

Law: Ok see you soon

TBC

Chapter Text

The lobby on the admin floor was comprised of soft, neutral, colors and mostly wood furniture. There were no scrubs up here, everyone was wearing suits and ties, sharp, solid color blouses, and high heels. A lot of high heels. Damn.

Penguin tore his eyes away from a pair of pumps that clicked smartly down the hall and shifted his focus on his companions. Something was up, not in a bad way, but definitely something, and it was kind of adorable.

The moment the three of them had entered the hospital, Dalton had switched into protective mode. His eyes had never strayed too far from Chopper’s back, and he had been doing this kind of benevolent, guardian, papa bear thing ever since the elevator. It wasn’t creepy, quite the opposite in fact, especially since Chopper seemed to be into it.

It hadn’t been all that hard to figure out Chopper was dealing with something. Penguin hadn’t noticed right away, since Chopper was so goddamn professional, but on the ride to the hospital, the doctor’s shoulders had started to slump. He had started to fold in on himself, lower his gaze and had stopped making eye contact. It was classic trauma behavior, Penguin had seen it a thousand times. He guessed it had something to do with Chopper’s old job, and this mess with this crazy doctor they were about to meet, but Penguin didn’t actually know Chopper all that well, so it really could be anything. Chopper had told them this whole fiasco had taken place a year ago, but then he had left the hospital only six months ago. That was interesting. He didn’t want to go behind Chopper’s back and look into him, but he was curious, and he was pretty sure Chopper wasn’t going to tell him if anything had happened.

For now, he would focus on the case, and let Dalton protect their little doctor friend because, well, goddamn, it was fucking cute.

“Um, I’m sorry,” Chopper said quietly and reached into his pocket, “my phone is going crazy.”

“It’s okay,” Dalton said.

The two women behind the front desk hadn’t been as friendly as the nurses downstairs. They had looked at Chopper like he was some kind of insect and it had caused Penguin’s hackles to rise. Who the fuck didn’t like Chopper? Seriously.

“We need you to fill these out,” the red head said and placed a clipboard and a stack of papers on the desk. She pursed her lips like she had eaten something sour and set a pen with a silk daisy attached to the end down next to the stack. “I-thirty-fives and all that.”

Penguin saw Dalton’s hand reaching for the paperwork and he moved, snatching up the stack and the pen before his partner could get to it.

“I got this,” he said, “I don’t mind paperwork.” He flashed his best, most disarming smile in her direction and he saw the falter in her sour expression. Penguin knew he was handsome, and sometimes—okay maybe more than sometimes—he used it to his advantage.

“You sure?” Dalton asked.

Penguin nodded. “I need the practice. Besides,” he looked down at the paperwork and flourished the pen, “this lovely lady here is going to help me if I get stuck, she’s an expert.”

The red head scoffed but he could tell by her manner and the obvious smile he was in.

“Oh my God,” Chopper said under his breath, his eyes still on his phone, “did Sanji teach you that line?” He moved away from the desk and Penguin tried not to laugh.

Dalton eyed Penguin as his partner grinned innocently and went to task on the paperwork. He had no doubts that Penguin was capable, but this seemed a little deliberate. Was he being obvious? He hadn’t meant to come on too strong. Had Chopper noticed? He really didn’t mind if Chopper had noticed but this was a bad time, they were working for god’s sake.

“Well,” he said softly, probably to no one but himself, “I guess we’ll just wait over here.”

Chopper had already moved to one of the grey and uncomfortable looking couches. He was typing away on his phone, his face a pinch of annoyance. Dalton figured he wouldn’t bother him and sat in the adjacent chair. It was also grey, and very uncomfortable.

He didn’t have to wait long. Dalton had barely opened the Men’s Health magazine when Chopper sighed and slipped the phone back into his pocket, then his hands came back up and he pushed them into his eye sockets.

“He’s such an idiot…” he sighed.

“Everything okay?” Dalton asked.

Chopper nodded and lowered his hands. “Law’s on his way.”

That was interesting. “Really?”

“Yeah just, don’t be surprised if he comes in with two black eyes or a limp or something.”

Dalton smiled softly, Chopper cared for his friend so much. “The fight not go well last night?”

There was a moment of surprise, when Chopper’s body froze and his eyes widened like he had been caught, but then, almost as quick as it had come, his expression relaxed and he melted back into the seat again. “Wait,” he waved a dismissive gesture in Dalton’s direction, “of course you know, I’m dumb. I don’t know the details about what happened, but he ended up at Zoro and Sanji’s, so at the very least he won’t be actively bleeding when he gets here.”

“He does this a lot then?” Dalton asked, already knowing the answer but wanting a read on Chopper’s feelings about it.

Chopper shrugged. “I don’t know. How many times does one have to come home from an underground fight with skinned knuckles and broken collar bones before it’s ‘a lot?’”

Dalton felt his smile widening despite himself. “I’d say twice.”

He was pleased to see the corners of Chopper’s mouth turn up, even if it was only slightly. “He does it a lot then. It doesn’t affect his work—well, not usually, and he hasn’t ended up in the hospital yet so…” another shrug, “It’s not like I could talk him out of it anyway.”

“It sounds like you’re handling it well,” Dalton said softly, “you support him, but you also try and ground him, that’s more than a lot of people would do.”

Those brown eyes finally, finally looked up from where Chopper’s hands were clasped in his lap and Dalton felt a small tremor ripple through him when their gazes met.

“I think you give me too much credit,” Chopper murmured, “but thank you for saying that anyway.”

Dalton nodded. “You’re welcome.”

Then to his surprise, Chopper put his hands on the end of the couch and scooted forward, perching himself on the edge of the cushion. Then he clasped his hands back in between his legs and glanced around the lobby for a moment, his features returning to those focused, determined lines Dalton had begun to enjoy far too much.

“I haven’t…” Chopper stopped for a moment and cleared his throat. “I wasn’t completely forthcoming back at the morgue.”

Dalton sat forward too, leaning in so he could speak softly. His heart jumped when their legs touched, but it was nothing more than that, he was too interested in what Chopper had to say.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Chopper glanced around at the women behind the desk, currently laughing at something Penguin was saying. Wringing his hands, he took a breath and turned back to Dalton.

“Doctor Hogback probably would have gone on for years dosing people with his drug and causing all kinds of problems if he hadn’t accidentally killed that patient.”

Dalton turned up his palms. “You’re still maintaining that it was an accident?”

Chopper nodded. “I am, but that’s not… we can come back to that.”

“Okay.”

“The patient that was killed, he came in after a heart attack. He got a bypass and he seemed to be recovering, but he died a few hours after the surgery.” At this, Chopper’s face pinched slightly and his next words were thicker. “I did that surgery. It was a complete success, that man’s arteries were like new when I was done, there was just no reason…” he took a breath and Dalton, feeling Chopper’s anger, put a comforting hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

“I just couldn’t accept what had happened. There was too much weird shit happening; too many unexplainable mishaps in such a small section of the hospital, so I ordered a blood test and, sure enough, I found an unidentifiable compound in his blood. I don’t know what possessed me then but that same night I ordered blood tests on the patient that had slipped into a coma unexpectedly, and a few others that were exhibiting symptoms that had nothing to do with their conditions. They all had it, every single one of them. It made no fucking sense, I couldn’t even figure out what it was, so I showed it to my direct supervisor and she took it to the inchief.”

Dalton let his hand slip to Chopper’s forearm and he squeezed gently.

“You were the one that caught him.”

Looking away, eyes downcast, Chopper said nothing.

“Chopper,” Dalton said, his voice suddenly breathy with admiration, “you caught him. Do you understand how many other lives you probably saved?”

A blush creeped out over those pale cheeks, covering that splash of freckles. “Someone would have figure it out, I just got lucky.”

“I don’t think luck had anything to do with it.”

Chopper turned back to him slowly, and it took a few long moments before he managed to look at Dalton again. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, I didn’t even think to actually.”

“It’s all right,” Dalton murmured, his heart was fluttering, “it wouldn’t have changed anything.”

Frowning, Chopper tilted his head. “Really?”

“I still would have asked you to come. All we’re doing is questioning him, and it’s not like I was going to have you sit in on the questioning. He’ll probably never even know you were here.”

“Oh, he’ll find out,” Chopper muttered.

“Still,” Dalton straightened as he noticed Penguin handing the paperwork back to the attendants, “I’m glad you told me. If anything comes of this, you’ll be an excellent witness.”

Chopper made a noise but seemed to agree.

“Okay, well that was painful,” Penguin said when he joined them a few seconds later.

“What, the paperwork, or flirting with Drizella and Anastasia?” Chopper asked.

“Aw, rude!” Penguin grinned. “Those stepsisters weren’t so bad, have you seen Cinderella Three?”

Dalton chuckled, “Is there a movie you haven’t seen?”

“Yeah, that last Fifty Shades thing. I couldn’t take any more.”

“Oh God, you saw the first two?” Chopper made a face.

“I thought maybe in the second one she was gonna start whipping him.”

“Bet that was disappointing.”

“Yep.”

As much as Dalton was enjoying the conversation, he noticed the door to the offices open and a blond woman emerged. She stood staring at them with a blank expression, as if waiting for them to notice her.

“Hey,” Dalton said, tapping Penguin’s arm, “look alive.”

The two detectives stood, and Dalton shot Chopper one last look. “You going to be all right?”

“Yeah,” Chopper answered, “Law just texted me, he’s probably here.”

“Good, when he gets here, don’t leave his side.”

He saw Chopper smile up at him at the corner of his eye. “I’ll be fine, Dalton. Thanks.”

They parted, Penguin and Dalton following the blond woman through the office doors. Dalton looked back at the last moment, suddenly and inexplicably worried for Chopper’s safety. It was absurd, what could possibly happen to him in the admin lobby at a hospital? Besides, Law was on his way.

Chopper waved to him, and Dalton’s already fluttering heart skipped.

Law: I just parked you upstairs?

Chopper: Yeah Dalton and Penguin just went back with Hogback’s weird assistant

Law hadn’t expected that Dalton and Nick would let Chopper accompany them to question Hogback, but he felt a sense of relief after reading Chopper’s message anyway. He typed out a response quickly before he moved through Harborview’s entrance and flashed his badge at the desk. The woman behind the counter gave him a funny look, but he shrugged and made up some half-truth about coming here for a meeting with the board.

In the elevator he typed another message.

Law: Did you tell Dalton?

Chopper’s response was almost instant. He must be sitting there staring at his text log.

Chopper: Yes and he took it real well somehow?

Law: That’s good. Maybe he wants to get in your pants

Chopper: Stfu don’t say anything
Chopper: Please don’t
Chopper: I’ll die

The elevator door opened, and Law stepped through, trying not to grin. The lobby was brighter than he had expected but was decorated in boring colors so whatever effect they were going for was sort of lost.

Chopper saw him and stood, a glare pulling down all his features.

“I swear to God, Law,” he said in a barely restrained whisper as he came close, “you say even on thing that could be—oh my fucking shit.”

Confused, Law stopped and marveled at the way Chopper could go from angry to a frightened kind of concerned in mere seconds. What the hell was he freaking out about? What was he looking at? His shirt? His neck—oh…

“What the hell happened?” Chopper came close and fingered the bruising at Law’s throat. Law hadn’t even thought about it as he had gotten dressed. He had noticed it in the mirror after the shower, but it hadn’t been foremost on his mind. Damnit, he had meant to wear a scarf.

“This is terrible,” Chopper was still fussing, “did whoever you fought last night do this?”

“Um,” Law murmured, remembering the way Zoro’s eyes had flashed and his hand had squeezed, “sort of.”

“Jesus, he could have killed you! And your hands!”

“Okay, okay, Chopper,” Law backed away, out of his friend’s reach and made a sign of surrender. “You have got to calm down. I got in a fight, I’m a little bruised and scraped but I’m fine. I even won.”

He got a punch straight in the diaphragm for that and he coughed, his lungs cramping up. “Ouch,” he wheezed.

“Come with me, asshole,” Chopper growled and started for the elevator.

“No, Chopper you don’t have to—”

“—I wanna get off this floor anyway. Come on.”

Law sighed, his breath coming back to him and his heart aching at little at the attention.

“Okay, fine, fine.”

The place was quiet, almost eerily so, as Dalton and Penguin followed the silent blond down the corridor and past another common area. There were a few conference rooms and what looked like a small, private café, but most of it was just regular offices with solitary people sitting behind computer screens or talking on the phone behind closed, glass doors.

“I’m not sure if I’ve hopped into American Psycho or The Belko Experiment,” Penguin muttered, “either way, this is creepy.”

Dalton had to agree, there was a strange emptiness in the atmosphere of this floor. It was sterile, hollow without the caring of nurses and compassion of doctors breathing life into its spaces every day.

“Let’s just do what we came here to do and get out,” Dalton murmured softly.

The blond woman took them to the end of the hall, opened a large, wooden door, and ushered them inside. The left wall was lined with bookshelves holding all manner of journals, encyclopedias, and textbooks, a painting of a dark landscape hung on the right, and there in the center, situated directly in front of the window, was a wide desk. It was bare except for a computer monitor, a fountain pen, and a glass paperweight.

A round man with thinning hair and a pointed nose sat behind the desk. His spectacles were dark, transitional lenses that hid his eyes. Dalton didn’t like any part of this man but found the fact that his eyes were obscured to be particularly disturbing.

“Thank you, Cindry, that’ll be all.” The man’s voice was a high tenor, not at all in line with what Dalton had been expecting.

The blond woman left without a word, and for some reason, that was disturbing too.

“Welcome, detectives,” the man said, but his tone was not welcoming at all. “I’m Doctor Hogback. How can I help you?”

Dalton pulled out his badge and Penguin followed suite. They had already shown the badges at the front, and obviously Hogback needed no further proof, but Dalton was following every protocol in the book.

“I’m Detective Drum, this is Detective Petruzziello. We’re here to ask a few questions about your conduct here about a year ago.”

Hogback nodded and motioned to the two seats in front of his desk. “Yes, you aren’t the first, let me tell you, but it’s been a while since anyone has come around asking about it. May I inquire as to why that particular part of my life is being brought up yet again?”

Dalton clenched his jaw against a few choice words and took a seat. Penguin sat as well, his face calm, completely unreadable.

“We’re working a case in the area, homicide, and the recent toxicology screen came up with a formula that you might recognize.” He nodded to Penguin and his partner pulled out a photo copy of the chemical compound Chopper had made before they had left the morgue. He set it down and slid it across the desk. “We’re wondering how a formula that you created ended up in a dead man’s bloodstream.”

Hogback picked up the report, with his right hand, Dalton noticed, and looked it over for a few seconds. He then glanced up at Dalton with a peculiar twist of his mouth. “The specifics of what happened a year ago were locked away in my file by the DA. Only a handful of people know about this compound, so how is it you traced it back to me?”

Dalton had expected he would ask that and was ready. “Multiple murder cases become the DA’s priority. You can get a lot of information unlocked when the city’s highest officials want something like this solved.”

Hogback grinned at him, it was a terrible sight. His lips pulled back to his gums, revealing a row of surprisingly sharp teeth.

“Oh, you’re on the Frankenstein case.”

Dalton shrugged easily. “I’m not at liberty to say either way.”

There was a long moment of silence where Hogback just studied Dalton, watching him like a bug underneath a jar, but then he huffed a soft, strange laugh, and returned the photo copy to the desk. He slid it back to Penguin. “Well, you’ve done good work, but I’m afraid I’m only the first stop in a long journey. After my work was sabotaged—”

“—You killed someone,” Penguin interrupted suddenly, “you sabotaged yourself.”

Hogback’s gaze might have turned to Penguin, but Dalton wasn’t sure. He seemed taken aback for a moment, not by what Penguin had said, but by the very fact that Penguin dared to say anything at all. Finally, after several tense seconds, Hogback continued.

“After my work was… unrealized, I was forced to give all my research to analysts. I don’t have it anymore. Those analysts sent it over to a pharmaceutical corporation for research and now my formula is a classified item. Only one person is allowed to study it.”

“We need the name of the company,” Dalton said.

“Why do you need the name from me if you got my files unlocked?” Hogback grinned as if he had won some kind of prize.

Dalton wasn’t fazed. “We could only request certain information. Didn’t know the formula was something that could be sent somewhere.”

Hogback deflated a bit at that. “It’s not something I can just keep in my head, it’s a complex chemical compound. It would be like asking you to memorize several volumes of the dictionary.”

Dalton shook his head. “Okay, I get it. We still need the name.”

“It’s called Vegapunk Industries,” Hogback muttered. “They’re the leading name in all things chemical and biological. It’s a conglomerate of several corporations that date back twenty or thirty years. Their offices here are somewhere in Bellevue. My assistant Cindry can get you their address.”

Dalton watched as Penguin typed the information into the note app on his phone. “And you said there’s only one person allowed to work with it?”

Hogback nodded. “His name’s Caesar. I don’t know if that’s a first or last name.”

“He a doctor?” Dalton asked.

“No, he’s a chemist,” Hogback sighed. “Is that all you detectives need? Because I hate to break this up, but I have work to do.”

“Just one more question,” Penguin said, his voice was even but his hand was clenching in a fist in his lap. “Can you give us your wareabouts on these dates?” The young detective stood and placed his phone on the desk directly in front of Hogback.

Hogback was very round, big, but somehow Penguin seemed larger, broader in the chest and shoulders, a presence that rivaled Hogback’s physical one. If the doctor was intimidated by the show of force he said nothing, but his face reddened, and his fingers gripped the edge of the desk hard enough to make the shiny wood creak. He looked down at the phone’s screen for perhaps a second and a half, and then glanced back up and pushed the phone away.

“I wasn’t even in country for the first three. Conference in Italy, check my bank records. And February fourteenth I was at a gala in South Seattle. Hundreds of people saw me the entire night.”

Penguin took back his phone. “Thank you,” he said through his teeth.

“So,” Hogback sighed, “do you have what you need?”

“Yes, I think we do,” Dalton said and stood. “Thank you for your time, Doctor.”

Hogback nodded but said nothing as they moved toward the door. They were almost free, but then Dalton felt Penguin stop and turn around. When he looked back, Penguin’s calm features had slipped just the tiniest amount.

“I was just wondering,” Penguin said softly, “after everything, you managed to make it out on top, but the fact is you still killed someone. How do you justify that to yourself?”

Hogback studied him behind those dark glasses, but when he spoke, it was not an answer.

“Cindry will see you out.”

With that, he turned away, and the detectives left.

Law sat quietly as Chopper unwound the bandages on his hands and cleaned the scrapes. They looked better than they had the night before, but then again, there had been a lot of blood and he hadn’t been able to get a clear look.

“You look like you were punching a brick wall,” Chopper murmured.

Law scoffed and almost shrugged but then decided not to move. “I did, sort of.”

Chopper’s eyes were burning when they glanced up at him.

“Not literally!” Law exclaimed. “I meant the guy was built like a brick wall. I’m not fucking crazy.”

Chopper returned to his task and shook his head. “I would argue that but what’s the point?”

Smiling, Law relaxed and watched Chopper work.

The ER was relatively quiet, nurses bustled around them, attending to patients, but for the most part, it was just Chopper and Law in the large examination room. An old man had come in for oxygen but had left soon after Law had arrived. Once in a while, someone would stop in and exchange a few words with Chopper, mostly pleasant greetings and a quick anecdote about something that had happened since he had left. Chopper seemed at ease, focused, the same way he had been while working on Mr. Machart’s body.

Chopper was always so put together when he was working, Law was a little jealous.

When Chopper was finished, he unstrapped Law’s arm from the papoose, his right middle knuckle had needed two stitches, and started to clean up the table.

“You ever, uh,” Law asked softly, “think about coming back here?”

Chopper didn’t look at him and continued to gather up the dirty gauze and tape. “Sometimes.”

“There’s nothing stopping you,” Law continued gently, “except yourself, I guess.”

Chopper nodded. “I probably will, eventually. I don’t know.”

Law heard a buzz and watched as Chopper pulled off his gloves and grabbed his phone from his pocket. He thumbed the screen and after reading, started typing.

“Dalton and Penguin are done questioning Hogback. They’ll meet us in the lobby.”

“Done?” Law asked, “That’s it, we’re just leaving?”

Chopper shrugged. “Must have not panned out.”

“How could it not pan out? That asshole’s drug is in Machart’s bloodstream!”

Chopper sighed and stood, heading for the disposal bin by the door. “I don’t know, why don’t we meet up with the detectives and find out what happened?”

They waited in the lobby, back in the corner where the chairs were hardly more than the metal fold-outs used in elementary school gyms. When Dalton and Penguin stepped off the elevator, Law could tell by the stiff way Penguin was holding is shoulders, something had happened.

“Hey,” Dalton said softly.

Law nodded to him. “Hey.”

“What happened?” Chopper asked.

Shaking his head, Dalton motioned towards the doors. “Let’s talk in the parking lot.”

Penguin watched the features of Chopper’s face twist in confusion and disappointment. He understood that feeling very well, especially at the moment. The interview had been unsettling and had lit a fire in Penguin’s gut to work on taking that dirtbag Hogback down after they resolved this Frankenstein shit.

“So, it can’t be him.” Chopper’s voice was breathy, soft.

“We haven’t officially ruled him out yet,” Penguin said. “We still have to follow up on his alibis, call the banks, get witness statement swearing they saw him in those places at those times.” He turned to Dalton then. “I can do that, if you want. I’ll head over to the precinct.”

Dalton slipped his hands into his pockets and nodded to him. “That would be great. I’ll contact admin at Vegapunk so we can question this Caesar person, and anyone else this guy might work with.”

“I’m gonna re-run the blood samples for the other victims,” Law said, “get confirmation that this chemical was in their bloodstreams too.”

“You’re gonna go home,” Chopper said, his face and manner saying he would not take no for an answer.

Law looked at him and made a face. “What? No way, I gotta get this—”

“—I’ll do the goddamn bloodwork,” Chopper growled. “Law, look at yourself, you need to rest and put a fucking icepack on your neck.”

Penguin grunted. “Yeah, bro, no offence, but you look like sht. We got this.”

Law looked begrudgingly between his brother and his friend for a few moments, but then he sighed heavily and shrugged his shoulders. “Fine. I’ll go home, but am I at least allowed to research? Like from the comfort of my couch or something?”

“Whatever,” Chopper said, “you can watch tentacle porn for all I care. Let’s go, gimme your keys.”

“No, I’ll take him,” Penguin cut in. “I’ll drop his car off at the morgue later.”

Law grinned at him. “It’s the tentacle porn that got you, huh?”

Penguin tried very hard not to laugh as Dalton turned to him. “You sure? You and I are going to the same place.”

Nodding, Penguin took the car keys from Law’s freshly bandaged hand. “I’m gonna make sure this guy gets settled. Besides,” he glanced up at Law’s face then and gave him a penetrating look, “we got a few things to talk about anyway.”

Law didn’t hold his gaze and looked down at the pavement by his feet. If Penguin didn’t know any better, he would have said Law looked ashamed.

“All right,” Dalton shifted and motioned to Chopper, “I’ll get Chopper back to the morgue. I’ll text you when I know about Vegapunk.”

Penguin gave him a salute, winked at Chopper, and then followed Law to his car.

Chopper stared at the ground, mortified suddenly. They had left him alone with Dalton. Had that been on purpose? Why was he suddenly alone with Dalton?

“Do you need to stop anywhere on the way?”

Chopper’s head shot up and he blinked stupidly for a few seconds.

“Sorry, what?”

Dalton’s smile was warm and gentle. “Do you need me to take you anywhere besides the morgue?”

Genuinely confused, Chopper tried to think if there was anything he needed to do, and what Dalton could possibly be asking about. He didn’t have to question anyone, or check leads anywhere, that wasn’t his job, so where else would he need go besides back to work?

“Um, I don’t think so,” he said softly. “I just need to get back and order the blood tests, then I can… I don’t know, study the compound, I guess. Or, you know, do the things I normally do.”

He heard Dalton chuckle and looked back up. “What?”

Dalton’s smile had widened. “It’s almost three. I was thinking you might need to eat.”

“Oh,” Chopper found himself breathing a little shallow. Was Dalton offering because he was hungry himself, or was he just making sure Chopper ate something? Had Dalton noticed how bad his eating habits were? Maybe Dalton was just worried because Chopper was too skinny? Was he too skinny?

“Ah,” Dalton pulled his hands from his pockets and fiddled with his keys, “you have a lunch back at your office?”

Chopper shook his head. “No, I… forgot one again.”

“You want to get a sandwich?”

Actually, getting a sandwich with Dalton sounded like the most amazing thing anyone had ever offered him, but Chopper didn’t want to seem too eager.

“Don’t you have to contact Vegapunk Corp? I don’t want to keep you.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Dalton said, shaking his head, “there’s time, and if I don’t eat I’ll regret it when I’m stuck on the phone with them or I’m standing in a waiting room signing a stack of paperwork.”

Chopper nodded. “I could order the blood tests over the phone…”

“All right, it’s settled.”

Following Dalton to the Tahoe, Chopper felt as if he was moving through a dream. There was no way this was happening again, it was just too good to be true.

When they were seated, and Dalton turned the key in the ignition, he looked over at Chopper and tilted his head inquiringly. “You know a place, or should I just drive until we see something?”

Chopper though about it. “There’s a Cuban sandwich place on Fremont called Paseo. It’s real good.”

“Roger,” Dalton nodded and shifted into drive, “Fremont it is.”

The drive was nice. It was only a few minutes, but it was a few minutes that were spent in companionable silence. It was easy, comfortable, and Chopper found himself sighing softly and relaxing back into the seat. He pulled out his phone on the way and ordered the blood tests, then he checked Instagram for vacation photos from Sanji. There were two new ones, posted earlier that morning: the first was of their quiche breakfast, and the other was of Zoro getting face kisses from a very large dog in what appeared to be a park. Chopper smiled and tapped the little heart on both.

Paseo’s was right on Fremont, not much more than a shack, but it was clean, and run by a hardworking family that served an amazing Caribbean Plato, second only to Sanji’s. Chopper and Usopp had made this place a regular stop back in their college days and the woman behind the counter recognized his face. She waved a hearty hello and asked if he wanted the Plato, but Chopper chuckled and told her he was going for the Paseo Press. Dalton ordered a steak and swiss and they hunkered down at one of the small tables to dig in.

“Wow, this is great,” Dalton said between bites.

Chopper swallowed and smiled into his napkin. “Told you.”

“You know a lot of these kind of hole in the wall places?”

Chopper nodded. “In high school, Sanji would take Kaya and I to all kinds of hidey-holes like this. He’s a regular Anthony Bourdain, knows all the city’s food secrets.”

“Kaya is… married to Usopp, who restores the cars?”

Chopper nodded. “He restores classics as a hobby, he’s actually an engineer. One of the best in his field. I hope you get to meet them soon, Usopp is one of my closest friends. We’ve known each other since kindergarten.”

“Wow, that’s a long time.” Dalton took a breather, setting his sandwich down in it’s basket and taking a long drink from his glass. “Is that how you all know each other? High school buddies?”

Chopper shook his head. “No, well, kind of. It’s two different groups of friends from two different schools, brought together by Luffy. Me, Zoro, Usopp, Kaya, and Vivi at one, everyone else at the other. Nami was friends with Kaya and Vivi, so when she and Luffy started dating he insisted that everyone party together. Franky and Robin came along later when some of us were in college, and Brook when Sanji hired him at his restaurant.”

“And then Law when he and Kidd moved up here four years ago.”

Nodding, Chopper looked down at his food again, that warm shyness sliding over him like a gentle tide. “And now, Penguin, Shachi, and… you.”

He felt Dalton still and worried for a moment that maybe he had said something stupid. Too forward. But then he heard that low chuckle and managed to glance up for a moment to see Dalton’s soft smile.

“If you’ll have me.”

Heat bloomed across Chopper’s cheeks and his eyes darted back down to his food. Everything started to tingle, his hands, his feet, his skin. He felt dizzy, lightheaded from embarrassment and joy and so many other things he hadn’t even dared to want to feel in so long. He nodded quickly and took a huge bite before he could start rambling or he choked on his own tongue or something.

As they both continued to eat, Chopper watched Dalton’s hands. They were rough and calloused, but his nails were clean and trimmed. There were a few scars marring the dark skin, one across a knuckle on the left, and another, a long line that stretched across the back of his right, all the way to the wrist. Chopper found himself watching this scar, thinking about how Dalton could have received it.

“Drunken disorderly,” Dalton said, startling Chopper out of his examination.

“Um, what?”

“The scar,” Dalton held up his hand, “a drunken disorderly. I was young, got a little cocky when I was arresting him and he broke a bottle over the bar and…” he made a swiping gesture with his hand.

“Oh,” Chopper breathed. Damn, had he been wondering about the scar out loud? “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…"

Dalton smiled and shook his head. “Don’t worry, people ask about it all the time.”

Taking another bite, Chopper chewed thoughtfully. “Have you ever been seriously hurt in the line of duty?”

“Yes,” Dalton swallowed his last bite and wadded up the paper in the basket. “As a soldier I was shot once, and as a cop I’ve been shot and stabbed in the shoulder blade.”

“Oh my God!” Chopper hadn’t meant for that to sound quite as horrified as it came out. He glanced around sheepishly, hoping he hadn’t disturbed anyone too much. Then he leaned in and spoke softly, “Are you kidding me? You’re been shot twice?”

Dalton smiled, obviously enjoying Chopper’s reaction. He waved his hand superfluously, as if doing nothing more than refusing a tray of iced tea. “It wasn’t that big of a deal, they were both through and though. The stabbing was a lot harder to deal with, rehab was a nightmare.”

Shocked and interested, and perhaps the tiniest tiniest bit turned on, Chopper made a soft noise and finished the last few bites of his sandwich with wide eyes. He didn’t pry, however, it felt like asking too many questions would kill the mystery. Dalton laughed at him more than once as he finished his food. The look on his face must have been priceless.

When they climbed back into the Tahoe, Chopper was full and warm and completely relaxed. He might just take a short nap when he got back to the office and then work later into the evening. Not strictly professional, but he had been working overtime voluntarily for weeks and his supervisor was out today with injuries from an underground fight. Normal lives they did not have.

Dalton pulled up on the street in front of the morgue so Chopper wouldn’t have to walk far. His smile was kind and nothing in his manner was expectant, but Chopper still felt that maybe the detective was waiting on something. When it came to him, embarrassment washed over him once again and he felt his traitorous cheeks flare with heat. He had been reaching for his bag, a thank you and a goodbye sitting on the edge of his tongue, but he stopped, set the bag in his lap and looked out the window.

“Um…” he said softly, his heart starting to pound in his chest.

“Um?” Dalton echoed.

It took more effort than it really should have, but Chopper managed to take a breath and turn to look at Dalton. The man’s eyes were so dark and his smile was so warm, Jesus H. Christ how was he supposed to deal with all of that!

“I was just…” Chopper felt he was going to choke. He couldn’t swallow.

“Did you, um…” he cleared his throat one last time. “The coffee cup?”

Dalton’s smile widened into a full-on grin and Chopper felt he was going to have a heart attack.

“Did you um the coffee cup?” Dalton teased.

Chopper laughed, breathless, and the tightening in his chest started to lessen. He could breathe again, but his hands were gripping the strap of his bag so hard he was probably going to have bruises.

“Is the coffee cup from you?”

Dalton nodded slowly, his smile slipping back into something so soft and sweet that Chopper felt a little hypnotized.

“I figured it was something that wasn’t too extravagant but would get the point across.”

Nope, nevermind, he couldn’t breath again.

“What point are you trying to get across?” Chopper asked, his voice almost a whisper.

“Do I need to spell it out?” Dalton chuckled.

“Yes, I’m a slow learner.”

“Have dinner with me tomorrow night.”

Chopper didn’t—couldn’t do anything but nod vigorously. Yes. Hell yes. Absolutely.

“Great,” Dalton flashed his perfect teeth at him again, “I’ll text you later?”

Chopper nodded again and managed a soft, “Okay. Bye.” He then fumbled with the door handle, managed to slip out of the Tahoe without falling onto the pavement, and then shut the door behind him. Good, nice job. Now step away from the curb. Wave. Don’t pass out from happiness. Keep it together.

Dalton gave a little wave and then drove away.

It was about fifteen minutes later, sitting at his desk and staring off at nothing, Chopper’s phone buzzed. He glanced down and lunged for the thing when he saw the message was from Dalton. He was grinning even before he opened it.

Dalton: Are you still blushing?

“Was he still blushing,” what a question. He was having heart palpitations, and his hands were trembling, he was hot and cold all over at the same time, and he was painfully, achingly hard. Of course he was still blushing.

Chopper: Yes

The response came less than a minute later.

Dalton: Good. I hope the rest of your day goes well

Still grinning, Chopper responded You too and then screamed silently into his hands before he went back to work.

Penguin looked around the living room of the three-bedroom, two-story house Law and Chopper shared and tried not to get handsy. He just wanted to touch everything. There were so many pictures of Law and Chopper and all of the wonderful people he had met in the last few days. There were so many memories, so many stories surrounding him.

There was also a lot of fun, nerdy stuff like Pop! and action figures, stacks of board games and puzzles, shelves of DVDs and video games. The place looked a lot like the place he shared with Shachi.

“Okay,” he heard Law start clumping down the stairs, “I’m in my pajamas, I’ve got slippers, I even brushed my teeth.” When Law met him in the living room, Penguin smiled at the Ninja Turtles covering the pants but said nothing. “What else do I need to do so you’ll be satisfied?”

Penguin motioned to the couch. “Sit.”

Law rolled his eyes and flopped down on the cushions, taking one of the throw pillows and hugging it to his chest. He looked overly pathetic and it was kind of funny.

“I said we have a few things to talk about,” Penguin said as he removed his jacket and loosened his tie.

Law watched him warily. “Like what?”

Slowly, Penguin sat next to his brother and folded his hands in his lap.

“First, I want you to understand that I’m only asking you this because you’re my brother, and I love you. I’m not judging, and I promise I won’t be mad no matter what you say.”

When he was quiet for a moment, Law turned over his hands. “Okay, I get it. What’s your question? Or, what are we talking about?”

Penguin took a breath.

“Will you tell me about Kidd?”

TBC

Chapter Text

The message alarm went off, waking Shachi from sleep and he rolled to his side, worried that it was work and he needed to come in early. Snatching the phone from the nightstand, he then rolled to his back and blinked his eyes blearily at the bright screen. No, it was just Penguin. Shachi heaved a sigh of relief and tried to make sense of the number and words in front of him. An address? Why had Penguin sent him an address?

Then, as he watched, a few more messages popped up.

Penguin: That’s Law’s address
Penguin: Ur like three blocks away
Penguin: Racecar
Penguin: Do NOT bring alcohol

“Racecar” was code for no one’s dying but it’s still important get over here. They had a few codes: “Dollop” was not an emergency but I have something to tell you, “Elephant” was help get me out of here, “Scarecrow” was I might be having sex in the common areas when you come home—Penguin used this one far more than Shachi—and “Zephyr” was for emergencies. There was no theme to their code words, they were just words that Penguin and Shachi knew they would never use in context with anything else.

Shachi threw off the covers and heaved himself out of bed. The clock on the nightstand said it was a little after three o’clock, so he’d had a little less than seven hours sleep, which was plenty. After Law’s fight the night before, the crew had thrown an after party and Shachi had volunteered to stay and pour drinks. It had been worth it; his coworkers were fun and he had gotten the chance to show off his skills to his supervisors. He would be working again tonight, but it was Sunday, so it would be mostly just cleaning and stocking.

Stumbling into the bathroom, he clumsily brushed his teeth. Then he moved back into the bedroom, pulled off his boxers from the night before, and looked around for something clean to wear.

A knot tightened in Law’s stomach.

“Will you tell me about Kidd?” What exactly did that mean? Tell him what? He narrowed his eyes at Nick and took a slow breath.

“I don’t understand,” he said softly. Despondently.

Nick seemed unphased, which in Law’s mind was kind of intriguing. He really had grown up since they had last seen each other.

“I just want to understand your relationship with him.”

That stung a little. Law knew Nick hadn’t meant it as a blow, but those words had hit him, hard. He turned away and hugged the pillow he was holding just a little harder. It was the pink, fuzzy one Chopper had insisted they buy at the recent festival downtown.

“‘Relationship’ is a complicated word,” Law grumbled.

Nick nodded. “I know, that’s why I was thinking maybe you’d explain it to me.”

“There’s not a lot of explaining to do,” Law gestured with his hands, already more on edge than he really should be. “We were partners when I was undercover, I saved his life, then he saved mine. He came with me when I came up here because neither one of us had anywhere else to go.”

Nick opened his mouth to say something, but a knock on the door interrupted him.

“Who the hell is that?” Law wondered aloud, moving to get up.

Nick put a hand out to stop him. “It’s Shachi, I’ll get it.”

“Shachi?” Law asked, confused as he watched Nick stand and move towards the door. “Why is Shachi here?”

“I texted him,” Nick said. Apparently, that was all the explanation Law was going to get.

The door opened, and Law heard Nick sigh. “I told you not to bring alcohol.”

“It’s not alcohol!” Shachi’s cried, “It’s the Jones we had in the fridge! I couldn’t come with nothing!”

“Yeah, guess you’re right. Law’s in there.”

Shachi rounded the corner and smiled when he saw Law. “Sup bro?”

Law nodded to him and wrapped his arms a little tighter around the pillow. He was actually getting a little nervous. This was obviously some kind of intervention and while he appreciated that his brothers cared, he also knew there wasn’t anything anyone could do for him.

Without ceremony, Shachi kicked off his shoes and took a seat right on the coffee table. He placed a six pack of Jones soda on the wood beside him and motioned to it with his hand.

“Maybe later,” Law said.

Shachi shrugged and opened an orange for himself.

“Law and I were just talking about Kidd,” Nick said softly.

“Hm,” Shachi took a swallow from his bottle and nodded, “Kidd’s awesome. I’ve only talked to him a couple times, but he’s already the best boss I’ve ever had. Dude,” he motioned to Law, “Vergo really fucked up your neck.”

Law sighed, he should have put on a sweatshirt or something.

“That’s not from Vergo,” Nick said. His voice was quiet, laced with hidden meaning, and Law looked over at him with mounting trepidation coiling in his gut.

“How the hell would you…” Law stopped, swallowed, and then started again. “So?”

“Oohhh,” Shachi said, scratching at his forehead, “we’re having this conversation.”

Law shot a glance from one brother to the other, his anxiety ramping up. “What the hell does that mean?”

Shachi held up his hands. “Don’t freak out, bro, we’re not here to judge or point fingers or nothin’.”

Anger boiled in his gut. They had blindsided him, caught him in a trap of familial trust. How could he have been this stupid? “I don’t have time for a fucking intervention,” Law growled. “You guys have been back in my life for what, four days? A week? What makes you think you have the right—”

“—We got more right than anyone!” Shachi snapped.

“—Don’t you think for a fucking second—”

Nick’s hand came down on Law’s shoulder and pushed him back down onto the couch. It was gentle, but firm. Law found himself breathing heavily, snarling up at Shachi, who really only had sad eyes directed at him and a sympathetic twist to his mouth.

“Calm down,” Nick said softly, “it’s okay. Deep breaths.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Law spat.

“Look at me,” Nick said. “Traf, look at me.”

Reluctantly, Law turned from Shachi’s eyes and met with Nick’s. They were just as sad, just as sympathetic and it was awful. They were looking at him like he was weak, like he had been broken during his time undercover and now there were here trying to help him. They were trying to fix what was broken. Shame and humiliation washed over Law so thickly it was suddenly hard to breathe.

“Listen to me,” Nick said. “We’re you’re brothers. Your brothers, man. We don’t care what you did, or what you had to do when you were wherever you were. We don’t fucking care.”

Law held his breath. Here came the “but”, the point where they tried to steer him away from what was hurting him. He dreaded that “but”. Everyone had given him a version of this spiel: look we’re not judging you for this and that but if you want to do this, you have to bla bla bla.

We love you and care about you but you gotta face facts.

It’s okay to be angry but you have to start forgiving yourself.

No one is blaming you for what happened but maybe it’s better this way.

But. But. But

Fucking hell.

However, that “but” from his brothers never came.

“We’re here for you, man,” Nick said softly. “We’re with you to hell and back. To the end of the fucking line.”

“You don’t have to justify anything,” Shachi added, “just tell us what happened so we can support you.”

Nick’s hand tightened on his shoulder. “You’re messed up, anyone can see that. We just want to know why. Tell us if we need to kick someone’s ass, or if we need to tie Kidd up and throw him in the trunk so you guys can have it out, or whatever.”

“Uh…” Shachi held up a hand, “okay, I might not do that part, but I’ll support Penguin if you need him to do it.”

Law sat for a few long moments, trying to understand what his brothers were saying. They just wanted to know what happened? They weren’t going to tell him what to do? How to get better? They just wanted…

“You guys,” Law whispered, worried his voice was going to fail him. “You guys just want… you’re just…”

Penguin slid his arm around Law’s shoulders. “We’re just here to listen.”

Shachi nodded. “Just tell us everything. We can’t have your back if we don’t know what the fuck’s going on.”

Law looked down at the plush throw pillow, fighting back the wave of emotion that swept him up. His vision blurred for a moment, but he was able to hold it back, get himself under control. After a few moments, he sniffed once and looked back up at his brothers. They were sitting patiently, waiting, encouraging with just their presence.

“Hand me the strawberry Jones,” Law said softly, “I’ll tell you the whole story.”

Law told them about Kidd. He told them everything. How they had met, how Kidd had latched on to him, knowing that Law was going to climb ranks. He told them how Kidd had supported him when he had gone against the area underboss, taken over control of the territory, gotten the blessing from the higher ups, and then expanded.

Penguin listened with more surprise than he let on. He had known Law had done some shit, but he really hadn’t any idea. Not really. The life Law had led had been hard, not just because of the constant threat of violence, the drugs, and the competition, no. It had been the double life. That looming danger of being caught hung over Law’s head every second of every day. It became harder and harder to ignore because as he got deeper, Law had realized he had come to care for his men, the very ones he was there to bring in. The partitioning of his heart between his feelings for his crew and his feelings for his job—his duty—almost killed him in the end, and it had been more painful than any bullet.

“I didn’t…” Law stopped and cleared his throat. He had been working up to something for the last few minutes and it was something big enough to trip him up.

“I didn’t know what was happening right away, it was just a feeling like… I felt safe or comforted or something when Kidd was around.” Law’s eyes had lowered to the floor and he seemed to be staring far away as he spoke. “He was so cold to everyone except me. He would… just show up at my place and we’d… we wouldn’t do anything actually, we’d just sit around and talk or watch a movie. I hadn’t had that in a long time, not since you guys.”

Penguin glanced at Shachi but his brother only saw Law. He was rapt, eyes wide, barely breathing as he listened.

Law continued, quieter. “Laura and I had separated before I went under, like I told you. I hadn’t seen her in years, hadn’t been with anyone in a long time. After a while I realized it was because I just… wanted to be around Kidd all the time.”

Having already suspected this, Penguin said nothing, but Shachi made a soft noise and tried to hide it by finishing off his Jones.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Law sighed.

“No,” Shachi said defiantly, “you have no idea what I’m thinking.”

Penguin kicked him and Shachi whined.

“I told you man,” Penguin said, “we’re not here to judge.”

Law shook his head. “Whatever. So, Kidd felt kind of the same way and we… ended up together. It—”

“—Woa woa,” Shachi interrupted, “you skipped a lot of shit just now.”

Penguin kicked him again, but he ignored it as Law looked up at him, his brows furrowed. “What do you mean? You want me to spell it out?”

Shachi sat up straighter and spread his hands. “Um, yeah kind of? I want to hear how you guys got together! Come on! Don’t leave important shit out!”

Law looked at his brother like he had just sprouted horns, and when he turned to Penguin for help, Penguin merely smiled. “Yeah, don’t leave shit out.”

There was a moment then when Penguin thought Law was going to bail. He looked almost frightened, like if he told them these secrets, these particular parts of his life, he would be breaking a spell or releasing something out into the world. However, after almost a minute, Law seemed to reign in back in and he glanced back down at the throw pillow he still held tightly against his chest with both arms, his Jones finished long ago and sitting empty on the coffee table.

“Uh… I’ve never really told anyone…” he cleared his throat and swallowed thickly. “It just happened one night. I had just taken over the territory and was telling Kidd how he was my consigliere—that’s like a right-hand guy… and he just… the way he was looking at me I couldn’t…”

“Your passion was just too much?” Shachi grinned. “You made sweet, sweet love down by the fire on a bearskin rug?”

“Uh no,” and Law actually chuckled then, “we fucked on the desk.”

“Nice!” Shachi exclaimed. “But aw, but no bearskin rug.”

“I had my gun,” Law said with a smirk, “Kidd told me to keep the safety off.”

It was the combination of that last bit of information combined with the look on Shachi’s face that got Penguin laughing. He threw his head back and cackled at the ceiling.

“Jesus, Law,” he cried, “that’s amazing.”

When he was able to get himself under control again, he looked over at Law, who shrugged and turned a sly smile towards Shachi.

“Well,” Shachi breathed out, “that’s pretty intense.”

The story came easier after that. Penguin supposed it was because Shachi and he had taken the confession of Law being with Kidd intimately so well. But really, how else were they going to take it? They didn’t care if Law fucked dudes. Shachi had fucked a few dudes. It hadn’t been anything serious, and he was pretty sure he was more into girls, but what did any of that matter between the three of them? Nothing.

Law told them things about his three years with Kidd, about how they came at everything as a unit. How they sometimes didn’t even need words, Law could just think something, and Kidd would do it.

The story of how Kidd found out about Law being undercover was difficult, but Law powered through it.

“It was so stupid,” Law had relaxed against the couch and he was telling this part of the story to the ceiling. “I’d been discovered. I was fucking burned, and all I could think about was Kidd. Not about how he was probably going to kill me, but how he was going to be pissed that I’d been lying to him.” He recounted how Kidd had snuck out of the hospital after his surgery and slipped into Law’s house while Law had been in the shower.

“I thought he would be mad, but he was more… hurt. He thought I was only with him for the undercover job.”

“Oh shit,” Shachi breathed.

Law huffed a laugh and closed his eyes. “I was ready for him to kill me, I really was, but he just…” he paused again and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know how to explain this part so let’s just say we had sex, and it was great, and he said he wouldn’t tell anyone, but that the thing between us was over.”

“No…” Shachi’s face was pathetic. He had always been a sucker for a tragic love story.

Penguin felt the need to interrupt and scooted closer to where Law sat. “He really didn’t tell anyone?”

Law nodded, but kept his eyes closed. “He never told a soul.”

Amazed and intrigued, Penguin sat back and shared a look with Shachi. “Why?”

Law shrugged. “He said he loved me.”

That struck a chord in Penguin’s heart. He’d had some idea of the pain Law was going through, but he had never imagined that it was this deep. Law and Kidd had been together, and they had loved each other. Law probably still loved Kidd, so much that it was killing him. Suddenly, the closed-off attitude, the shifty answers, and the destructive behavior all made sense.

And Kidd?

Penguin quickly went through his memories of meeting Kidd the night before. The way he had watched Law’s fight on the edge of his seat, the way his amber eyes had followed every move Law had made. It was hard to tell, Penguin didn’t know him well enough.

After that,” Law said softly, “it was all the shit that happened here, the big show, the fight with Blackbeard… Then a year later there was the raid where I ‘died’. You know all that.”

Shachi nodded. “You moved here, and got job and shit, but something else must have happened ‘cause now you’re all fucked up and he’s a recluse.”

“Yeah, that’s one way of putting it.” Law chuckled humorlessly. “We moved here, and everything went to shit.”

Law ran his thumbs over the seam of the pillow, unsure how to tell this next part. The falling out between himself and Kidd had happened gradually, little bits of things over time that weakened the bond between them. It hadn’t been something obvious, no single event in their past Law could point a finger at and say, “that’s what did it, that right there.” Unless one counted the thing that had happened with Chopper, but that had been more like the straw that had finally broken the camel’s back. No, it had definitely been an accumulation of things, of different wants and needs.

At least, that’s how Law saw it.

“When we moved to Seattle,” Law started slowly, “we had to deal with the fallout from the raid first. We went to Kaku and Lucci, they were the guys that ran the scene up here. They also owned the club—Kidd’s club—and happened to be friends with Luffy and Zoro and all them. We requested asylum, and then with Dalton and help from the DA down in Cali, I got a new ID. It was a lot easier than I had imagined.

“Kidd and I got an apartment, some shithole in Georgetown, it was just this one room studio thing. We didn’t have any furniture except a couple of mattresses and a foldout table and chairs. It didn’t matter, we were at the club almost all the time. We took whatever jobs Kaku sent our way, and then at night we fought in the pit. For a few months we just worked and fought and saved whatever we made until I had enough to go back to medical school. Kidd insisted, he wasn’t hearing anything else.

“In the year I was in residency, I didn’t fight as much, I didn’t have time, but Kidd kept at it. He told me about how Kaku was thinking of moving, expanding up in Canada, and how he was going to take the opportunity and buy the club. I tried to get back into fights to help him with costs, but he talked me into only focusing on my studies.”

“That’s a good thing, I think,” Shachi murmured.

Law nodded. “Yeah, I wouldn’t have made it if I’d been fighting on top of the forty-eight-hour shifts.”

Shachi whistled, “Damn.”

“Right around the time I graduated and started working at the morgue full time, Kidd bought the club and started renovations. I started looking for houses because we could afford it and I was tired of living in a studio in the middle of the ghetto. I found this one,” he gestured around him absently, “I thought Kidd would like it and it wasn’t too far from both the morgue and the hospital.

“He didn’t go for it though, and I should have known. Kidd had been building the club with the apartment on top for himself, and never had any intention to move in with me. I don’t know what I was thinking, getting a house together? We weren’t even really together together anymore, there wasn’t really…” he took a slow, painful breath as memories of amber eyes looking at him with something like despair flooded his mind.

Clearing his throat, Law continued. “He said I couldn’t be a doctor and live in the legitimate world if I was shacked up with a criminal and condoning illegal fights. I said I absolutely could, I could stop trying to be legitimate and just leave, go underground with him, work at the club and make extra money patching up fighters. The club needs that kind of shit desperately anyway.

“But he didn’t go for that either and we got in a big fight over it and didn’t speak for a few months. I kept my job at the morgue, worked my ass off, got closer to Luffy and Sanji and all them, started hanging out with Chopper… life got pretty normal and boring. Just what Kidd wanted for me.”

“But you guys are sort of talking again,” Nick said, his face a tiny twist of confusion.

Law nodded again, wondering how to tell this part without actually telling it. “I went back to the club one night because a guy I knew when we were undercover had come to town. He’s… big, one of the biggest, and I wanted to straighten some things out with him.”

“Who was the guy?” Nick asked.

“He’s got a lot of names but the most popular is Doflamingo.”

Nick’s eyes went wide then, and his skin lightened a few shades. “Are you talking about Donquixote Doflamingo?”

Law shrugged. “Unless there’s more than one Doflamingo ruling over most of the California territory.”

“Jesus, Traf.”

“What?” Shachi pipped up. “Who’s this Flamingo guy?”

“He’s a fucking crime lord,” Nick breathed, “a fucking dangerous one. I can’t believe…” he ran a hand over his eyes and took a few deep breaths. “Okay, not important right now. Finish your story, Traf.”

“There’s not much to tell after that,” Law said. “It got heated, I went a little crazy, he went a little crazy, and then Kidd had to step in. He made the fight official, and I got my ass handed to me. Luffy challenged Doflamingo and the next night beat the shit out of him.”

“Woa what!?” Nick’s eyes were saucers.

Chuckling, Law tilted his head to the side and smiled fondly, “Remember what Dalton called Luffy? ‘A force of nature’? It wasn’t an exaggeration.”

“Jesus…” Nick whispered. “Holy shit son of a fucking… goddamn…”

“I’m missing something kind of important, huh?” Shachi pouted.

“I’ll explain later,” Nick waved his hand at his brother, shushing him, and then turned back to Law. “Okay, so you had kind of a slow churn fallout with Kidd, and then this thing with Doflamingo happens.”

“Kidd figured it was impossible to not be in each other’s lives, so we called a very delicate kind of truce. We stay in touch so we’re not worrying about each other all the time—that was for him, and I’m allowed to fight in the pit if I want, but no more than two fights a month—that was for me. It’s worked out all right so far.”

Nick gave him a very intense sideways glance, “And that’s it?”

“That’s it.” Law hated lying to them, but the last bit of the story was not his to tell. When Chopper was ready and was finally dealing with what he needed to be dealing with, then he could tell it himself.

Shachi sat for a moment, not saying anything, but then stood abruptly and stretched. “Okay, I need to pee, I drank like three Jones. Penguin,” he turned to his brother, “bro, you go ahead and tell him whatever you need to tell him, but when I get back I’m ordering food and making Law eat.”

Nick nodded but said nothing as Shachi moved out of the room.

For a long stretch of moments, there was a very pregnant silence filling the room between the two men. They sat so close, only a few feet apart on the couch, but there was a chasm between them, a giant ravine of things that had not been said, and probably should have been said, and for that stretch of endless moments, Law waited for Nick to start in on any number of those unspoken things…

However, again, none of those things ever came.

“I’m sorry,” Nick said softly.

“What?” Law asked, startled.

Nick shrugged. “I know you’re not telling me everything, and that’s okay, I get the idea now. And I’m just… really sorry that all this happened to you.”

Touched, Law squeezed the pillow to his chest again and buried the bottom half of his face in the soft, pink plush. That powerful wave of emotion had come washing over him again, and this time, he wasn’t sure he could keep it at bay.

“Thanks, man,” he said softly.

“I have to go,” Nick murmured, “I got about a thousand calls to make, but Shachi’s gonna take care of you, okay?”

Law nodded again.

Another handful of seconds passed, then he felt movement, the couch cushion dipped beside him, and Nick’s strong arm came around his shoulders again. Law let out a pathetic sound, closed his eyes, and leaned into his brother’s embrace.

“You’re okay,” Nick said softly, “you’re gonna be just fine.”

Time passed without Law’s knowledge. He felt the warm comfort of Nick’s arm around his shoulders, then the calloused pads of Shachi’s fingers sliding across his palm, the weight of a second body pressed against his side, and the tickle of that wiry, red hair on his cheek.

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, and at the same time, a horrible ache in his chest finally, finally started to fade. He felt safe.

For the first time in almost fifteen years, Law was home.

TBC

Chapter Text

The rest of Sunday was a slog. Both Dalton and Penguin were bleary-eyed and exhausted by the time they finally switched off their computers and said goodnight to their colleagues.

“Okay, I’ve decided,” Penguin said as he pulled on his coat, “I officially hate paperwork.”

Dalton nodded and rubbed at his eyes. “You don’t have to like it, just respect it. It’s tedious and makes you want to punch things but so often it’s the key to bringing someone in.”

“I know, god… it just sucks.” Penguin put his hands behind his head and stretched as the two of them made their way towards the exit.

Dalton continued to be impressed by Penguin’s work ethic. He dove into his tasks, immersed himself into even the most monotonous parts of the job with the same passion and focus he had shown during the walkthrough of that first crime scene. This afternoon and evening, the kid had spent almost six hours straight compiling bank records and trying to track down witnesses that could place Hogback at the South Seattle gala on February fourteenth, and he had done it. He now had two witnesses on record stating they had not only seen Hogback, but had talked with him most of the night.

Penguin was an amazing partner, and Dalton was beginning to believe there were forces at work beyond his understanding that had brought the two of them together. Their partnership was, for lack of a better word, fate.

“Well,” Penguin sighed as they descended the steps toward the parking lot, “I least we have that interview with this Caesar guy tomorrow to look forward to.”

Between bouts of tracking down witnesses, Dalton had also spent hours trying to contact the higher ups at Vegapunk Industries. After getting the run around several times and actually getting hung up on twice, Dalton started to think he might actually have to get a warrant just to talk to this Caesar guy. However, he was transferred to the right persons finally and they informed Dalton that Caesar was scheduled to be in his lab at seven o’clock sharp the next morning. Dalton booked an appointment online and filled out the necessary paperwork and tried not to be too frustrated at how easy it turned out to be after all the phone tag.

“I wouldn’t say ‘looking forward to’, but I get what you mean.”

“Hey what are you doing tomorrow evening?” Penguin asked suddenly. “My girl’s been asking about you. She wants to have you over for dinner sometime.”

Smiling, warmed by Penguin’s kind gesture, Dalton shrugged. “I would love to, but I have plans tomorrow night. Later this week?”

“Yes, definitely. She’ll be thrilled.”

When they reached their vehicles, which happened to be parked next to one another, Penguin fidgeted with his keys for a moment. He obviously had something sitting on the tip of his tongue but either he wasn’t sure how to say it, or he was deciding whether or not he should say it at all.

Dalton took pity on him. “What’s up?”

“Uuuuhh,” Penguin grinned, “I wanna ask you something that’s totally unprofessional and really, kind of personal, and I really really want to know the answer, but if I’m being an asshole or prying please don’t take offence and I won’t mind if you don’t want to answer. Okay?”

Stunned and intrigued, Dalton took a moment to blink. “Okay, shoot.”

“Okay,” Penguin came in close and his voice dropped conspiratorially. “Today I noticed some… stuff between you and Chopper like, I don’t know. You seen the way he looks at you? I mean, you look at him like that too and I was just wondering if you… noticed? Or…”

Dalton felt his face almost split with a smile, he couldn’t help it. Thinking of Chopper lifted any mood he was in, even if his mood was already light.

“I uh, noticed… yes,” he said softly.

Penguin moved in close and grabbed Dalton’s arms. His face was open and happy and he was practically vibrating with excitement.

“Yes? Yes! Good. Okay, so, that wasn’t my question, this is my question: Is this Chopper and you thing going to be a Thing, thing? Because I ship it. I totally ship it.”

Dalton laughed whole-heartedly, warmed and touched by his partner’s enthusiasm. “I would like it to be a thing, yes.”

Penguin stepped away and fist-pumped, silently cheering.

“The plans that I have tomorrow are with Chopper actually,” Dalton added for further effect.

That got Penguin turning around, waving and cheering to an imaginary crowd. Blowing kisses into the night air. “Holy shit! It’s canon! My ship is canon!” He whirled around again and cuffed Dalton’s shoulder. “That’s so great, Dalton, that’s so great. I’m so fucking excited and I’m not even a part of it!”

Still chuckling, Dalton nodded. “Thanks.”

Then something happened to Penguin’s expression. It changed suddenly, sliding into something more serious. When he came closer, his voice dropped again, but this time, it was less playful.

“You take care of him, yeah?” he said, “You’ve noticed it, right? He’s got like… something major bothering him.”

Dalton’s stomach did a flip. He shouldn’t be surprised, of course Penguin had noticed. The kid my not have the experience Dalton had, but he had gone through the same victim advocacy classes. Truth be told if you knew what you were looking for, the signs Chopper exhibited were almost impossible to miss.

“Yeah,” Dalton said softly, “I plan on bringing it up some time, but I have to get him to trust me first.”

Penguin nodded, studying Dalton for a few long seconds. Then that seriousness faded away, slipping behind another wide smile.

“Okay, I’ll leave you alone now. Have a good night.”

Dalton gave him a salute and watched as his partner got in his car and drove away.

Pulling himself up into the Tahoe, Dalton sighed softly and took his phone out of his pocket. He wondered if texting Chopper again would be too forward, or if maybe it would be considered immature. How did dating even work nowadays? His indecision was dismaying and reminded Dalton just how long it had been and how out of practice he was.

Looking out the window at the night sky and the tiny bit of stars he could see haloed around the top of a tall maple tree, Dalton thought back to Chopper’s face when they ate lunch together earlier. The flush of his skin, his wide-eyed stare when Dalton had told him how he had gotten his scar, the way his lashes danced across his cheeks when he looked down or looked away embarrassed.

“Fuck it,” Dalton whispered, and thumbed his phone open.

Chopper stumbled through the doorway and dropped his bag by the coat rack in one off-balance motion. He was so tired. After returning to the morgue after lunch, he dove into work with a renewed vigor, sorting files and compiling data on Hogback’s compound. He had organized the results of the first Frankenstein victims, getting the data ready for presentation once the new blood tests results were in.

After that he had busied himself with a few things he had been putting off for the last week or so. He had managed to make it a fairly productive day, despite stopping every few minutes to stare off into space.

His lunch with Dalton had been at the forefront of his mind all day no matter what he had actually been doing. He couldn’t get the detective’s handsome face out of his head. The way his mouth curved into a smile as he watched Chopper fumble over words. The way the edges of his eyes crinkled when he laughed. The strength of his hands when he did practically anything, and the gentleness that lay underneath every move he made.

Shutting the door behind him, Chopper was startled by a shout from the living room.

“Chopper!” a familiar voice called. “Chopper, is that you!?”

A flutter started in Chopper’s chest. “Luffy?”

He made it halfway to the living room before he was attacked. A solid chest slammed into his face and strong arms wrapped around his shoulders before Chopper could even process what was happening.

“Chopper!” Luffy said merrily. “I haven’t seen you in forever!”

Scoffing, Chopper put his arms around Luffy’s waist and breathed in his friend’s spicy, clean scent.

“I was at the party on Friday. You were just too drunk and busy playing that stupid chopstick game to notice.”

Luffy pulled away and looked down at him. His dark hair was wild and hanging down into his equally dark eyes. His smile was gentle, even more so than usual.

“I saw you,” he said softly. “I just wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me.”

That tugged at something in Chopper’s heart. He had never wanted his friends to think he didn’t want to see them. How had his life come to this? Had he really cut himself off so thoroughly? God his friends didn’t deserve the way he had been treating them. He was such a fucking asshole, how the hell had he let this happen?

“Woa,” Luffy said, “come on, no tears.”

Chopper hadn’t realized his eyes were wet until Luffy had said something, but even then, his friend didn’t give him time to apologize, or even think about it. Before Chopper could react, Luffy picked him up and threw him over his shoulder. Chopper made an undignified squeaking noise and grabbed the back of Luffy’s shirt as he was carried into the living room and flung down on the couch.

Panting, head reeling, Chopper took a moment to take in two dozen or so cans of Coke and another dozen cans of beer piled in a pyramid on the floor. A high stack of pizza boxes sat next to two tubs of mostly-eaten ice cream on the coffee table.

Law was next to him on the couch, wrapped in a checkered blanket and grinning.

“Luffy brought food,” he said happily.

“I see that,” Chopper chuckled.

“Now that you’re here, Chopper,” Luffy said as he plopped down on the couch and pulled a pizza box into his lap, “we can start Stranger Things.”

“You’re watching it too?” Chopper asked.

Luffy shook his head. “I’ve already watched the whole thing, but it’s fun watching it with people that don’t know what’s going on.”

Law chuckled softly and grabbed the controller. As Netflix popped up on the screen, Chopper kicked off his shoes and grabbed a piece of whatever pizza was closest. Sighing in contentment, he leaned back between two of his best friends, and got read to enjoy the show.

They got through the rest of the first season and had just started season two when Chopper’s phone buzzed. He had no idea who it could be, thinking it was too late for the lab to be calling.

When he saw it was a text from Dalton, he threw himself off the couch, almost spilling his Coke.

“Woa there,” Law said sleepily, “where’s the fire?”

“I uh,” Chopper stammered, “don’t worry about me, keep watching. I’ll catch up later.”

“You going to bed or something?”

“Um no, just…” Chopper racked his brain frantically for an excuse but came up with absolutely nothing. “I’ll be back in a bit okay?”

“Don’t be too long, we’re not pausing,” Luffy said around a mouthful of chocolate pretzels.

“Yeah, yeah,” Chopper was already moving out of the living room, “it’s fine.”

He bolted up the stairs, two at a time, and tried not to run into his bedroom. Closing and locking the door behind him, he threw himself down on his bed and thumbed open his phone.

Dalton: Hey, what are you doing?

Chopper’s heart raced at those words, so simple and yet they held so much potential.

Chopper: Watching a show with Law and Luffy

Dalton: Yeah? What show?

There was something in his throat that was making it hard to swallow. Or perhaps his mouth was just dry?

Chopper: Stranger Things

Maybe he should have said something else. Maybe Stranger Things was silly. Maybe it was too immature, or maybe Dalton didn’t like that kind of thing?

Dalton: Ah, that’s a good one. The first season is better than the second but I still really like the idea and I really like Dustin

Chopper: Dustin is adorable. My favorite is Eleven

Dalton: She’s great too. Her and Hopper have a great character arc together

Chopper: Oh I can’t wait. Season 2 is gonna kill me

Was he really lying here on his bed having a text conversation with Dalton about a tv show? Were they in high school? Chopper’s face was hot and his heart pounded against his ribcage, so maybe. Somehow Dalton made him feel seventeen again, young but fearless, self-conscious but ready for anything. He was completely high on the realization that Dalton was interested. It made him dizzy, terrified, a bumbling kind of flirtatious.

Chopper: So you texted me in the hopes of discussing my Sunday night binge watching?

Dalton: No I texted because I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day

All the air left Chopper’s lungs like he had been hit, like he had been sucker punched. His heart pounded so hard he could hear it in his ears. He had to put the phone down on his chest for a moment and take a few deep breaths. Trembling fingers covered his mouth, which was stretched into a wide smile, so wide it was making the muscles in his face sore. When he picked his phone back up he didn’t know what to say at first, but then his thumbs started typing.

Chopper: That’s funny, I was pretty distracted all day thinking about you

He hit the send button and immediately regretted it. What was he doing? He wasn’t good at this, not at all.

Dalton’s reply quelled some of his fear but got his heart pounding even harder.

Dalton: Yeah? Care to elaborate?

Chopper: Like what I was thinking about specifically?

Dalton: Sure.
Dalton: You tell me and I’ll tell you its only fair

Shaking all over, Chopper rolled to his side and burrowed into his pillow. Arousal thrummed through him, warm and slightly electric. His breath was shallow, faster than it had been just a minute ago, so he tried to calm himself, breathing in through his nose and out his mouth.

Chopper: Your hands mostly

Dalton: Why my hands?

Chopper: They’re big and obviously strong
Chopper: But they have a gentleness to them that makes me feel
Chopper: I don’t know. Safe?
Chopper: Wow that sounds stupid I’m sorry

Dalton: No that’s not stupid at all
Dalton: I’m actually feeling inadequate now

Chopper: Why?

Dalton: None of the things I was thinking about are as…
Dalton: Thoughtful as yours

Chopper: What were you thinking about?

Dalton: How gorgeous you are
Dalton: How your freckles disappear when you blush
Dalton: The way you look when you’re focused on work
Dalton: Serious. Unshakable.

Chopper let out a clipped sigh and brought the phone to the space between his eyebrows and squeezed his eyes shut. This was just too overwhelming, he couldn’t handle it. His breath had turned ragged, his heart was beating a neck-breaking cadence, pumping the blood through his heart so fast he was dizzy. Sweat beaded on his forehead and at his temples. His cock throbbed in the confines of his jeans, hot and needy. Just the friction of his legs rubbing together was almost too much to bear.

It was unbelievable, just a few simple words of praise and he was completely wanton, ready to call Dalton up and beg him to just come over, push him down on the bed, and fuck him raw.

He was such a mess. A goddamn, ridiculous mess.

He had just enough sense to realize it had been over a minute since Dalton had sent his last text. He was probably waiting for a response. Chopper looked back down at the phone, reading over the words again, groaning softly as he imagined Dalton’s voice saying them aloud.

Forcing his thumbs over the keys, he responded as neutrally as he could.

Chopper: That seems pretty thoughtful to me

Dalton: I guess there was a little thought to it
Dalton: You were very inspiring today
Dalton: You were brave and selfless
Dalton: And you’re so goddamn smart

Rolling to his back, Chopper tried to catch his breath. His head and his heart were both going a million miles an hour, and that was fine, but he was going to hyperventilate if he didn’t get his breathing under control. He clutched the phone to his chest again and closed his eyes.

Did he have some kind of praise kink? Was that what was happening? Was that why he felt he could come right now? With just words? Without even being touched?

Chopper: Flatterer

Dalton: I can keep going

Chopper: No please I can’t handle it
Chopper: You’re lucky I don’t know where you live

Dalton: Is that lucky? I would call that unfortunate

Chopper: I’ve only known you for a few days. Not even a week
Chopper: You don’t think that’s moving too fast?

Dalton: Wait. I was thinking you’d come over here for movies and cuddling
Dalton: What were you thinking?

Chopper: Omg so embarrassing

Dalton responded with a laughing emoji and Chopper threw both his arms across his face and rolled to his other side. He was too cute. Too fucking cute and too sweet. He wasn’t real, he couldn’t be.

His phone buzzed again.

Dalton: Don’t be embarrassed
Dalton: I can assure you we want the same things

A soft whimper escaped from between Chopper’s lips. He had no idea what to say to that, what to even feel or think. “We want the same things.” There was no way Dalton wanted the same things Chopper did. Chopper wanted some pretty dirty, nasty shit done to him. He wanted to get wrecked, he wanted to be eaten alive, torn apart and then put back together again. Did Dalton want anything even remotely like that? There was no way.

He was about to text back, but the phone buzzed again and a wall of text filled his screen.

Dalton: In all seriousness though, as much as I want you
I’ve also noticed you have things you’re dealing with so I
don’t want to rush into this if you’re not ready. I’d rather
work with you and help you through whatever it is, and get
you to a point where you can enjoy and savor being with me
as much as I know I’d savor being with you.

It took several minutes for everything that Dalton had written to process in Chopper’s head. When it did, his chest tightened up painfully, and his eyes filled with tears. There was an unsteady pulsing in the back of his head, and a quiet, high pitched whine coming from somewhere behind him. Or maybe in front of him. He couldn’t tell. He knew it was the onset of a panic attack, just like the ones he would get during those first few terrible weeks after what happened. He hadn’t experienced one in a while, but now that he knew that Dalton knew?

Dalton knew

He tried to calm himself with a few simple breathing techniques. In and out slowly, count to ten. In and out slowly, count to nine. Count to eight. Slow.

As his heartrate slowed, he read over the message again, and in his calmer state, he realized it wasn’t what he had immediately thought. No, Dalton didn’t know what happened, he just knew something had happened. That was all right. Dalton was kind and caring and of course he would notice if something wasn’t totally screwed tight in Chopper’s head, that was his job.

He took a deep breath and picked out specific words and focused on them. Dalton said he wanted to help. He said he wanted to savor them being together.

Dalton said he wanted him.

He knew he should answer but he didn’t know what to say.

The phone buzzed.

Dalton: Don’t be scared

How did he know? How could he fucking know what Chopper was thinking?

His thumbs flew over the keys.

Chopper: Too late I’m fucking terrified

Dalton: I’ll protect you

The arousal that had fled beneath the minor panic attack returned in force. Chopper was hit with a fresh and powerful wave. It swept through him, sending electric fingers trailing up his spine, jumpstarting his heart, caressing his loins, and bringing his cock back to full hardness. He moaned again, caught in between his almost paralyzing terror, and his goddamn, burning need.

Chopper: I don’t know what to say
Chopper: You’re so fucking sexy
Chopper: And so sweet
Chopper: I don’t know what to do I’m so afraid

Dalton: It’s okay to be afraid there’s nothing wrong with that
Dalton: You can always come to me. I’ll always be here for you

Chopper: You barely know me

Dalton: I want to remedy that

Chopper: Do you really want me?

Dalton: More than anything

Chopper: Do you still want to have dinner with me tomorrow?

Dalton: Of course

Chopper: Will you come pick me up at the morgue at 6?

Dalton: Yes

His fear had subsided, and his shaking had almost completely stopped. His panic attack, if it had even been a panic attack, was over, and now all he had left was that incessant, pressing throb between his legs, and the almost painful pounding of his heart behind his ribs.

Rolling to his back, Chopper slipped one hand down and ran his fingers over the hardness under his jeans. He tapped the keys on the phone one-handed, and closed his eyes as he pressed “send”.

Chopper: Ok thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow then

The phone buzzed one last time, but Chopper was too busy to read the text.

Dalton: Ok see you tomorrow

Dalton let out a shaking breath and set the phone down on his table. With a soft groan he rested his elbows on the polished wood and rested his head in his palms.

Goddamnit goddamnit Chopper was so fucking adorable and—goddamnit—so fucking sexy. Dalton had played his cards and shown Chopper that he would be the responsible one, the protector, the reason in the midst of all Chopper’s turmoil…

…but fuck it if he didn’t want to just get back in his car and drive to Law’s place. He wanted to find Chopper and pull him into the closest bedroom, tear all of his clothes off his body, and fuck him until he screamed. There were so many filthy things he wanted to do to Chopper’s body, so many things he wanted to try. He had never felt this way about anyone before, not even his wife, not even in his deepest, darkest fantasies back in high school or college. Chopper made him feel things and want things he had never even considered before.

Taking another long, deep breath, Dalton stood and moved into the kitchen to get a glass of water. His mouth and throat were dry and scratchy as sandpaper. After gulping down two glasses, he pulled himself together and resigned himself. He wasn’t going to lose this chance at something he wanted so badly just for some sex. That wasn’t him. As appealing as running his hands all over that beautiful face, and body sounded, he wanted to do right by Chopper.

He wanted to take it slow and get Chopper to trust him enough to open up about what happened to him. Any relationship Chopper tried to have before he dealt with his trauma was going to be hard, maybe even impossible. Well, not impossible, but it definitely wouldn’t be as good as it could be.

Besides, there was also the fact that he just really wanted to help. At the end of the day, even if he didn’t end up being with Chopper at all, Dalton wanted to help him. Chopper deserved that at the very least.

Grabbing his phone, Dalton headed down the hall, through his bedroom, and into the master bath. He decided to take a shower in the morning, and just washed his face and hands, then he brushed his teeth, and moved into the bedroom to strip out of his clothes.

A few minutes later, lying in bed, watching the lights of a passing car through the slits in his window blinds, Dalton put one hand behind his head and let the other one slide low, down past the waistline of his cotton pants, and take himself in his palm. He stroked himself slowly, letting the familiar tension build gradually as he thought about curly brown hair and freckles hiding beneath flushed skin. He found himself wondering if Chopper was properly flustered, would he flush like that all over? Did he have more freckles hiding somewhere for Dalton to discover? Maybe sprinkled over a pale shoulder? Decorating his collarbones? He was going to have to peel away those clothes carefully and inspect every inch, and when he found them, he would kiss every single one. He would lick his way down to those skinny hips, to the valley between thigh and groin, spread those long legs and run his tongue up pink, puckered flesh, and listen to a breathless voice cry out softly yes… yes… Yes!

He came silently, his body taught and his eyelids heavy, watching a few thin ropes of white roll out across his abs as pleasure seared through him. He growled once, shuddering as he gave himself one last tug, savoring the way those last few strands of tension released and he was left with nothing but a boneless satisfaction.

It was almost an hour later when he looked at the clock. Almost two in the morning, he had dozed off. He got up, cleaned himself off, and then returned to the bed. This time he slipped under the covers and tucked the pillow up more comfortably under his head.

Thoughts of Chopper still floated through his head. He dreamt, but when he woke he couldn’t remember anything about the dream, except for he was sure at one point his fingers were running through soft, curly brown hair, and he was looking down into sad, dark eyes.

Monday was overcast, and a little less than sixty degrees, a typical day for Seattle in February. There was a small chance of showers, which meant that there would definitely be rain at some point during the day, but it would catch people by surprise and only last a few short minutes.

Planning on this, Penguin had dressed in his usual black suit and dark tie, but had traded out his loafers for a pair of Oxford ankle boots, and as an afterthought, grabbed his leather jacket—which wasn’t actual leather but it looked authentic enough.

Dalton met him at the station early so they could ride together into Bellevue and miss the morning’s rush hour traffic. Penguin was still shoving the last of his muffin into his mouth as he got out of his car and made his way over to where Dalton was parked. Pulling himself up into the Tahoe, he grinned around the blueberry and bran and handed Dalton the Tupperware holding the last two of the five he had brought with him.

“Wow,” Dalton smiled, “thank you.” He took the container and nodded toward the console where two Styrofoam cups sat in the cupholders. “One on the right’s for you. Two sugars.”

“It’s like we’re two halves of the same person,” Penguin cooed dramatically, and took the coffee after buckling his seatbelt. “So, appointment’s at seven thirty?”

Dalton nodded, chewing on the muffin. “I tried to get it for seven when he comes in, but they said seven thirty was the earliest we could see him.”

Grabbing the file sitting on the center console, Penguin drank his coffee and looked over what they had on Ryusei Caesar. It hadn’t surprised either of them that the guy had a record: two years in juvenile detention for intentionally injuring a teacher in high school. The specifics of what he had done were unclear, but it had involved parts of a fire extinguisher and a generous amount of ammonia. He had spent his early twenties making up for it doing community service, and at first there were no colleges that would take him, but then Vegapunk Industries had shown interest in one of his online experiments and offered him a scholarship. With backing from such a prestigious company, Caesar had his pick of schools. As of the beginning of January, he had been working in Vegapunk’s labs for almost seven years with no incidents.

Pulling a picture from the file, Penguin studied the image. The photo was a few years old, clipped from a science journal. The man was tall and thin, with pale skin and long, dark hair. His eyes were a strange color, light brown maybe, and his mouth was much too wide for his face. Penguin couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly that bothered him about the way Caesar looked, but he was nevertheless unsettled.

“What a freaky lookin’ dude.”

“Agreed,” Dalton murmured.

They took the five-twenty bridge across the water and then Interstate four-hundred and five, or the “four-oh-five” as it was called locally, south towards the business district. When they arrived at Vegapunk Industries, Penguin realized they were only a few blocks away from Bellevue college.

He whistled when he stepped out of the car. “Damn…”

The building was basically a tower of steel and glass, all clean lines and angles. It wasn’t unlike the Avengers Tower in the Marvel movies, except this one was a lot more foreboding. It was at that moment, staring up at that looming monstrosity, Penguin realized he had been expecting something like a warehouse made out of cement or brick with dark windows. Wasn’t that the kind of place where they tested chemicals? Not this place that looked like a fashion firm. It was too weird.

He followed Dalton through the large, front doors and waited patiently as his partner spoke to the woman at the front desk. She seemed friendly enough, and soon the two of them were getting badges to wear around their necks and following an escort towards the elevators.

Apparently, the main research labs were on the twenty-fifth floor. Another thing that struck Penguin as odd. Wasn’t it really unsafe to have hazardous chemicals so high up? Shouldn’t they be… underground or something?

Dalton chuckled at his side. “You have a ‘look’, which for you is a big deal.”

Penguin shrugged. “I guess I just don’t understand science stuff. It seems like if you’re dealing with crazy chemicals you shouldn’t do it in a high tower made mostly of glass.”

The woman in the suit that was escorting them snorted behind her hand. She turned and looked at Penguin over her shoulder and smiled. Penguin had the decency to blush, she was very attractive behind her large, round glasses.

“It’s not like we’re testing nuclear weapons up here,” she said softly, her voice was melodious, “we take chemical compounds apart at the cellular level and study them. There’s not a lot of chance to blow things up.”

“I’m not as worried about explosions as I am infectious diseases. One animal activist breaks in, lets out your monkeys, and you’ve got the apocalypse on your hands.”

The woman laughed. The sound was throaty, rich, a little condescending. Penguin might have liked it a little more than he should have.

“We don’t do animal testing here, detective,” she said. “Again, what we study is purely compound cellular structure. Their… applications, are tested elsewhere.”

“What do you do here?” Penguin asked. “I mean you, specifically.”

“I’m a research assistant for Doctor Caesar,” she stated.

“What’s your name?”

“Monet,” she said softly. “Harley Monet.”

“Hm,” Penguin hummed and typed the name into his notes app. Purely for professional purposes of course.

“We were told Caesar wasn’t a doctor,” he stated.

Monet sniffed. “Well, based on the work Dr. Caesar is doing and where it came from, I’m assuming Hogback is the one that told you that, and well, Hogback thinks no one is a doctor but him.”

Penguin hummed and made another note.

When the elevator reached their floor, Penguin and Dalton followed Monet out through a carpeted, lobby-type area and down a long hallway decorated in marble. The place seemed more like a fancy hotel than a research facility.

They stopped in front of a door that ran from ceiling to floor. Monet pulled out a key card, or perhaps it was a badge, and swiped it over the security box to the left. There was a beep, a click, and she pulled the door open. Inside, the place finally looked like what Penguin thought a place where they made science happen should look. There were long counter rows covered in all manner of lab equipment: beakers, microscopes, stacks of files and paperwork, specimen trays, and many other things Penguin couldn’t identify.

“Ah, this is more what I was envisioning,” Dalton said softly.

Monet chuckled again.

They made their way down one of the rows towards what looked like portable offices at the back of the wide space. There were three, the two on the left were obviously unused, no paperwork or equipment sat on the desks, and one of the cubicles didn’t even have a mouse or keyboard for the computer. The third was the only one occupied. The white board was covered in what looked like complex math equations, and paperwork covered every surface. The computer was on, but they were not close enough yet to see what was on the screen.

“He might have stepped out for a coffee or to use the restroom,” Monet said. “I can text him.”

“Yes, please do that,” Dalton said.

Penguin was getting a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something about the atmosphere, the way Monet seemed so calm and sure. He glanced in Dalton’s direction and his partner gave him a pointed look. He was feeling it too.

Monet was sighing, looking at her phone. “Hm, he’s not answering. I wonder what happened to him.”

The way she said it made it obvious what was happening. Penguin’s hand went to his belt and put out his hand.

“Hand over the phone, ma’am.”

Dalton turned on his heel and headed back the way they had come. “See if you can find out if he’s running or if he’s just hiding somewhere on the floor!” he called out as he moved swiftly towards the door.

Monet handed over her phone with a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. When Penguin took it and glanced down at the screen, his suspicions were confirmed.

Monet: Police are coming to question you today

Caesar: What!!? Why!!???!1!

Monet: I don’t know

Caesar: How long do I have???

Monet: They’re in the lobby now

Caesar: D:< Stall them!!

“Damnit,” Penguin growled under his breath. He turned back to Monet and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “Sit on the floor, hands behind your back.”

“Oh, kind of kinky, aren’t you?” she teased.

“Shut up,” Penguin said, all playfulness gone from his voice. “Sit.”

She did as she was told, smiling the entire time. Penguin handcuffed one wrist, passed the cuffs behind the leg of one of the counter tables, and then snapped the second cuff around her other wrist. The table legs were metal, about four inches by four inches, and were bolted to the ground. She wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’ll be back for you later,” he said.

“Oh,” she tilted her head to the side, her stare was unsettling, “I’m looking forward to it.”

Penguin sprinted out of the lab. He knew that most large building’s security rooms were on the first floor, and so he took a chance and snagged the closest elevator. On the way down, he called Dalton.

Dalton picked up and immediately started talking. “There’s a parking garage below the building, I’m headed there now.”

“Perfect,” Penguin breathed, “I’m headed to the security room.”

The woman at the front desk jumped in surprise when Penguin rounded the corner.

“Doctor Caesar!” he barked. “You know him?”

The woman’s hand clutched at her chest, but she managed a nod.

“Has he left? Did you see him go out these doors?”

Her eyes widened. “N-no.”

“Security room. Where’s the security room?”

She pointed and, in what Penguin later thought to be an incredible show of foresight, handed him the key card from around her neck. He took it, thanked her, and sprinted down the corridor.

Dalton stepped through the elevator doors and into the cool, metallic air of the underground parking garage. The only light was from tubular fluorescent lights along the ceiling every one hundred or so feet. He still had his phone to his ear and was listening as Penguin flashed his badge in the security room and commandeered the security feeds. It might not be enough, however, Caesar could already be gone.

Making his way towards the large, garage door exit, Dalton pulled his own badge from his coat. The security guard sitting in the booth, an older gentleman with kinky, graying hair and a slight build, came out to meet him.

“Anyone left here in the last ten, fifteen minutes?” he asked.

The man glanced down at the badge for a moment and then back up to Dalton’s face. “No, just a few coming in.”

“You have surveillance down here?”

The man nodded. “Cameras in sections A all the way through J. Sections K and L are used for storage so we don’t have them set up that far down. But it’s a dead end anyway, you have to pass through J to get in there.”

“You hear that, Penguin?” Dalton asked into the phone.

“Yeah I got it.”

“Sir,” Dalton nodded to the guard, “would you mind calling the West Precinct? Ask for Lieutenant Smoker, tell him Dalton needs backup and give him our location.”

The guard gave a quick nod and slipped back into his booth.

“Dalton,” Penguin’s voice was breathy, excited, “you were right, he’s down there. Security cameras caught him coming out of the elevator about seven minutes ago.”

“Good,” Dalton started moving, “he hasn’t left through the gate so at least we know he’s still in the building. Any other elevators down here?”

“Three. Ones in C, F, and I. He hasn’t used any of them, he’s still down there.”

“Do you know where he went?” Dalton asked.

“He headed passed D but he disappears after that. He must have gotten in a car. I don’t see any civilians on any of the feeds but I can’t be sure.”

Dalton drew his nine-millimeter but kept it high and pointed at the ceiling to be safe. Penguin might not be able to see anyone down here on the cameras, but that didn’t mean there couldn’t be someone sitting in a car.

The lights became progressively dimmer as Dalton made his way through section C. By the time he turned the corner into D, it was getting hard to make out the letters on the license plates only a few feet in front of him. He checked the signs over the groupings of parking spaces and found the isle to his right was all employee parking. If Caesar had a car here, that’s where it would be.

He crouched, scanning the ground underneath the cars as best he could, even in the lower light the space from the frames to the concrete was obvious. There was no one hiding in the row.

“Damn,” he said softly.

“What?” Penguin’s voice was suddenly tight. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Dalton straightened and continued on, checking the opposite side. “Do you think you could—”

There was a crash behind him and Dalton turned swiftly. A flash of lab coat glowed beneath the fluorescent lights for a mere quarter of a second before it disappeared around the corner.

“Oh shit!” Penguin shouted in his ear, “I see him! He came out from behind the van! He knows where the cameras are he’s ducking them! Heading towards the elevator!”

Dalton ran back the way he came, arms tucked at his sides, feet pounding the pavement. He was quick on his feet, always had been, but he didn’t think he was going to get to the elevator in time. He put the phone to his ear as he flew passed cars and cement pillars.

“Once he’s in the elevator, we’ve got him. You sealed the building?”

“Like a hundred years ago.”

“Good work.”

He dropped the phone from his ear again but left the call open. He still needed Penguin’s eyes.

The elevator doors were closing as he came near. He spotted Caesar, white face beaded with sweat and thin lips dark stretched into a terrifying grin.

“Caesar! Stop!” he called out. “There’s nowhere to go!”

Caesar’s grin widened as the metal doors closed completely. Then the numbers above the door started to light up in sequence, and Dalton cursed again.

“I got him, I got him!” Penguin was saying as Dalton lifted the phone to his ear again. “Grab the next one!”

Penguin almost ran out of the security room to see if he could catch the elevator before it passed the lobby floor, but he knew it was too far away. He would wait and then pursue when Caesar got off.

“Penguin, what’s happening?” Dalton asked.

“He’s still climbing,” Penguin answered.

In fact, Caesar didn’t get off the elevator until he was on the one of the highest floors. When he exited the cab, he ducked around a corner and was gone.

“Sixty-one, Dalton!” Penguin cried. “He’s on floor sixty-one! You,” he turned to the security guard, “we need your eyes, you got walkies?”

The guard handed over a walkie and Penguin sprinted out of the room.

“What’s on the sixty-first floor!?” he called to the receptionist as he ran by.

She was flustered but managed, “Um, uh, bio chem!”

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Penguin chanted as he slapped his hand against the elevator button. The door opened, and he rushed inside. “I’m gonna die. I’m gonna get turned into a fucking zombie.”

The ride up was excruciatingly slow, and by the time Penguin hit floor sixty-one he was jumpy with adrenaline. He slipped his phone into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out his badge to hang it around his neck—something he should have done a while ago but oh well. He kept his gun high in case he was met with civilians, but as he looked around it seemed there was no one in the lobby and the nearby offices looked deserted as well.

Now, as he moved out into the hall, he put the gun at the ready and thumbed the walkie.

“All right,” he said into the receiver, “help me out here, Powell. Where is he?”

A static crackle came through the walkie speaker and then a voice answered. “We haven’t seen him since he ducked under the first camera.” A pause. “Also, my name’s Oblinger, not Powell, detective.”

“Oh, no no,” Penguin said into the walkie, “you’re totally Powell and I’m McClane. Haven’t you seen Die Hard?”

There was another long pause and when Oblinger answered, he was chuckling through his words. “All right, you can call me Powell.”

“Excellent,” Penguin said, his voice a little quieter as he moved down the corridor, “okay, I’m heading in the direction I thought I saw him going. East, I think? What am I going to find?”

Another crackle. “It’s all labs on the east side. Good news is it’s easy to find your way around, bad news is all the dangerous stuff is also that way.”

“Fuck,” Penguin muttered, and then he spoke into the walkie again, “Roger, thanks Powell.”

“Your backup is here, we’ll send them up after you.”

“Roger.”

Switching out the walkie for his phone, Penguin found Dalton had either hung up, or the phone had ended the call after being jostled in his pocket. He texted a quick message just in case and continued on.

The floor was dark, almost as dark as the parking garage had looked on the screens. There were windows, but most appeared to be shuttered or had thick blinds pulled to keep the light out. Penguin held his weapon at the ready, a steady two-handed grip, and moved through the door at the end of the corridor. There wasn’t really a lot of choices. He checked the right side of the lab he had just entered and then slowly started to move down the left.

“‘Come out to the coast,’” he muttered softly, “‘we’ll get together, have a few laughs.’”

He heard a click and a soft clatter behind him and whirled to find a small canister rolling towards him on the ground. Smoke billowed silently from the top, gray and thick.

“Nope,” Penguin muttered, “not happening.”

He stepped forward and kicked the thing towards the right side of the room. When he glanced back at the door, he saw a figure with a wide mouth spread across a pale face. A grin like one from a nightmare clown flashed, and then the door slammed shut. The light on the small panel blinked, turned red, and Penguin realized he was locked in the lab with the gas canister.

“Shit shit shit shit,” he moved towards the door, coughing, and rattled the handle. Yep, definitely locked. His eyes were starting to tear up. He was fucked.

He grabbed the walkie. “You guys wouldn’t happen to have remote access to any of the doors would you?”

Static. No answer.

Penguin made a warbling noise and rubbed at his eyes before he shoved the walkie back into his belt. He reached for his phone, but froze as his fingers touched the cold plastic of the receptionist’s badge. Letting out another soft noise, he took the card out and prayed it opened the doors on this floor.

The light blinked and then turned green.

“Ha!”

He pushed open the door and took a gulp of fresh air, but then was surprised to find Caesar standing in the corridor, a flabbergasted look plastered across that ridiculous face.

“Don’t move!” Penguin growled and lifted the gun.

Caesar let out a little shriek, turned, and ran down the corridor.

“Son of a bitch!” Penguin breathed and ran after him.

However, Caesar didn’t get far. Just as he was about to round the corner, a tall, solid form came into view. One thick arm came up and Caesar ran straight into it, clotheslining himself. There was a woof and a wheeze, and Caesar was falling to the ground.

Penguin slowed, watching as the scientist’s body went limp at his feet, and then lifted his gaze to grin at his partner.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asked.

Dalton grinned at him.

Chopper: Having a good day so far?

Dalton: Actually yeah how’re you?

Chopper: Good. We stayed up late watching Stranger Things
last night but it was worth it. Got some work done and I actually
ate breakfast AND lunch

Dalton: Excellent

Chopper: What’d you do today?

Dalton: Oh, same old same old. Got some cardio in, Penguin got
gassed, caught a suspected murderer, and now we’re questioning
him

Chopper: Wow. Okay that’s pretty impressive
Chopper: I’m literally swooning right now

Dalton: It’s not for sure if he’s our guy, I don’t think he is, but
he ran from us and then attacked us with a kind of tear gas so
he’s definitely not innocent

Chopper: Jesus

Dalton: Actually Penguin is already drilling him, it’s kind of
hilarious to watch

Chopper: I can imagine
Chopper: Well have fun doing your interrogating thing
Chopper: Are you Good Cop?
Chopper: You’re Good Cop aren’t you?

Dalton: You’re adorable
Dalton: And yes

Chopper: We’re still on for dinner right?

Dalton: Definitely

Chopper: Good. I’ll see you later then?

Dalton: Yes. Looking forward to it.

TBC

Chapter Text

Dalton: Hey there, this is Dalton. I’m sorry to just text you without warning.
Dalton: I got your number from Law.

Sanji: No problem man how goes it?

Dalton: Good. I was just wondering if I could ask you a food related question

Sanji: Of course. I am a literal encyclopedia of food knowledge

Dalton: Okay maybe less food and more where to eat food kind of question

Sanji: Oh I’m also good at that. What’s it for, who’s with you, and what’s
your budget?

Dalton: Dinner date, someone very sweet and might be a little traditional when
it comes to this kind of thing, and money is a non-issue

Sanji: Lucky girl.
Sanji: Bar Cantinetta: intimate, great Tuscan food, candlelit. Copine: fucking
amazing French cuisine. Spinasse: best Italian food, authentic atmosphere.

Dalton: Damn do you just know these places off the top of your head?

Sanji: I told you I am a literal dictionary

Dalton: Well thank you. I appreciate it

Sanji: No problem
Sanji: Also Zoro says hi

Dalton: Hi Zoro
Dalton: Again thank you. I’ll talk to you later

Sanji: Later

The wall Dalton was leaning against was made of large cement blocks, worn smooth with age, and painted different shades of blue and gray every few years. Where it was peeling at the base of the window Dalton could see that one of those paint jobs had been orange. Bad decision. However, it had probably been back in the 70’s and an orange interrogation room was probably the least of the bad decision the precinct had made during that decade.

The detective stood sipping at a cup of lukewarm coffee as he watched Penguin interrogate their strange suspect. This was only the kid’s second time doing this, but just like Dalton had predicted, Penguin was a natural.

“I just don’t get why you ran,” Penguin was saying, his face a stony and unsettling neutral, “if you weren’t doing anything wrong, and you had no idea why we were there, why did you text your assistant to stall us?”

Caesar held his hands up in a defensive gesture, or as much of a gesture as the handcuffs would allow—they were looped into the ring bolted to the table. “Ya’ know? It’s not every day detectives come to the office. I thought maybe Vegapunk had been fingered in something and I didn’t want to get caught up in whatever it was.”

“But you didn’t just run,” Penguin leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, “you assaulted an officer, namely me, so forgive me if I take offence and call bullshit on your story about trying not to get caught up in someone else’s shit.”

Caesar made another limited gesture with his hands and shook his head. “That gas was nothing, a mixture of harmless chemicals! Not even as strong as tear gas!”

“I don’t think the type of gas you used is going to be a focus point for the prosecution.”

Abandoning his friendly manner, Caesar’s mouth lifted into a snarl and he pulled on the handcuffs, one quick jerk that banged against the metal of the restraining ring. “You can’t do this! My research can’t wait! You’re not even really hurt! This is crazy!”

Unphased, Penguin leaned forward again and folded his hands on the tabletop. “You know, your research is the reason we wanted to talk to you.”

Suddenly, Caesar’s face shifted dramatically. He relaxed that terrible snarl and his eyebrows lifted, surprise seeped into every part of his features. “Really?” His voice was no longer angry, now it was playful, almost conspiratorial. “What do you mean?”

Dalton kept himself still, forgotten in the corner of the room as he watched and silently cheered Penguin on.

“Take a look at this,” Penguin said, and pushed a file across the table. Caesar took it and opened it awkwardly, scanning the pages that Chopper had compiled for them. “The right side is a chemical compound found in the blood of the latest Frankenstein victim. The left is the compound you’re studying… the one only you have access to, apparently.”

Caesar nodded and looked up at Penguin. “They’re the same.”

“Ah, you noticed,” Penguin replied sarcastically.

Sighing, Caesar shook his head and returned to scanning the file. He flipped through the pages and seemed to be taking notes in his head.

“You know, I’m not the creator of this compound, I just study it. Maybe you should talk to the guy who made it.”

“Oh, we did,” Penguin said, “but he has alibis, so if it’s not the creator, and there’s only one other person who has access to the compound, well… you can connect the dots I’m sure.”

Still studying the contents of the folder, Caesar said softly, “You really think I’m the only one that has access to this thing? I have bosses just like anyone else.”

“Well, you give us a list of anyone that does have access to it, and maybe I’ll make sure these assault charges go away.”

That made Caesar look up from the file. His eyes were suspicious, wary.

“You’d do that?” he asked.

Penguin nodded. “Yeah, and then you can continue researching, or whatever it is you do. You’ll still be watched, and I don’t have any say as to what kind of disciplinary action Vegapunk will take, if they take any at all, but at least you won’t go to jail.” With that, Penguin leaned forward and smiled coldly. “Of course, all of this means dick if we find out you did have any part in the murders.”

Clearly shaken by Penguin’s words, Caesar shook his head and closed the file. He shoved it back across the table and laced his fingers together so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“I didn’t,” he said. “I mean I didn’t have anything to do with them. I’ve done some stupid shit, but I’ve never killed anyone.”

“Not yet anyway.”

Caesar shook his head. “Look, I’ll get you a list, but I don’t think anyone I work with, or for, is capable—let alone smart enough to pull off something like the Frankenstein murders. My direct supervisor is probably the most likely candidate because he’s an asshole, but I’m sure once you talk to him you’ll get why I say it’s not him. He’s like nine hundred years old.”

Penguin studied Caesar for a few moments, and then nodded. “Okay, we’ll let you alone for now to write your statement. I’m also going to need you to provide alibis for a list of dates and times. The station will hold you here for forty-eight hours and then let you go, but don’t leave town in case we have to question you again.”

Caesar nodded. “You need me I’ll either be at my condo, or in my lab.”

After the door closed behind them, Dalton put hand on Penguin’s shoulder. “Nice job.”

Penguin shook his head, “I could have dug deeper, questioned him further about the compound or about his superiors or whatever, but I just… I didn’t…” he growled softly then and sighed.

“It’s not him,” Dalton said softly, “and he really doesn’t know anything. I understand. I feel it too. He might be involved with some terrible stuff, but it has nothing to do with our case.”

Penguin nodded, the tension easing out of his shoulders. “At least he’s got a spotlight on him now. If he is Moreau-ing it up somewhere or creating the t-virus we’ll find out.”

“That’s right,” Dalton nodded, “don’t sell yourself short, you really did great in there. I wouldn’t have done anything different.”

Dark eyes lifted and regarded Dalton with some fairly intense admiration for a few moments. It startled him somewhat, but it also made Dalton feel like he was doing something amazing, something worthwhile. For the first time in a long time, his professional life wasn’t only about secrets and drug smuggling and just getting through the day. Penguin was on his way to becoming an amazing detective, and Dalton was proud to know that he’d had a hand in that accomplishment.

“I’m going to get some coffee and then we can start following up on some names.”

“I have…” Penguin stopped and cleared his throat. For a moment, Dalton was almost sure he looked embarrassed. “I have one more idea. If you’d let me run point for another few minutes?”

Dalton nodded, “Of course.”

“Okay,” Penguin ran a hand through his hair and then loosened his tie. “Got any breath mints?”

Interrogation room three was darker than the others because it had no window. It hadn’t been on purpose, it just happened that it sat in the center of the building. The effect it had on the detainees questioned inside it however was profound, who would have known a simple thing like a window would throw most people off balance enough to lose their cool.

The current resident of interrogation room three however, seemed not only unphased by the lack of natural light, but seemed to prefer it that way.

Monet sat at the table, her wrists in handcuffs but not bolted to the table like Caesar’s. She held a cigarette between two slender fingers and rested in the chair like it was something floral and padded in her own kitchen.

When Penguin entered the room, her eyes lifted, and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“Well hello, detective,” she said softly, “I thought maybe you’d forgotten about our date.”

“Oh,” Penguin let loose a small smirk, “this is a date then? Sorry, I should have brought you flowers.”

Monet shrugged. “No worries, I’m not a flowers type of girl.”

“Oh good, I didn’t think you were.”

He pulled the chair from the opposite side of the table and moved it closer to her. When he sat, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He had rolled his sleeves up to his biceps, and her eyes flickered to his exposed arms for a moment, at all the color that decorated his skin. He was inked solid from forearms to back, but she couldn’t see most of it. The sneak peak however, had the effect he had been hoping for.

She raised the cigarette to her lips and took a long drag.

“So,” she said coyly, “you here to try and pry information out of me? Threaten me with obstruction if I don’t roll over on my boss?”

Penguin’s smile this time was genuine. She was feisty.

“No, your boss is a nerd who I’m sure will create Reverso toxin eventually, but he’s not our Frankenstein killer.”

Monet actually chuckled. “Was that a Wonder Woman reference, detective? Doctor Poison?”

Surprised and impressed, Penguin sat up straighter and tried not to think about how Monet understanding his joke was a complete turn on. She was a manipulator, he couldn’t forget.

“I’m just here to ask some questions. If you don’t know, you can just say you don’t know. But, if you do, it would help your boss a lot if you gave me any information you could think of.”

“I already know what you’re going to ask,” Monet said and took another drag. “You want names of anyone that has access to the toxin, which my boss will have already given you, or he’s going to give you because he has no spine.”

Penguin nodded. He wished he didn’t like her so much.

“Except you still think he’s holding back, so even though you’ve technically got what you were looking for from Caesar, you’re still coming to me because you think I have more to lose and therefore will give you everything.”

Making a face, Penguin sighed and folded his arms across his chest. It was a lazy posture, not at all aggressive like the way he had been for Caesar. Right now, he sat like he would on a friend’s couch, or in the passenger seat of their car.

“Not exactly,” he said.

Monet tilted her head thoughtfully. “What exactly is it like then?”

“You’re an intelligent woman, but you’re stuck in your position because you’re a woman. You’re also very beautiful. Those two things don’t go over well when it comes to science and technology industries. I have a feeling you see and hear things that Caesar doesn’t because, well, I don’t think he’s listening, but also because people talk around you because they don’t think you pose a threat. You don’t matter because, hey, what could you possibly do? You’re just some eye candy assistant.”

Monet’s lips pursed in subdued anger and obvious frustration. She looked away, crushed her cigarette out in the provided ashtray, and let her hands fall into her lap. She seemed to be thinking things over, rolling ideas around in her head while weighing consequences. Well, at least that’s what Penguin was hoping she was doing.

Finally, she lifted her hands to her face and took off her glasses. A pair of startling, amber eyes looked up at him and Penguin felt his stomach do a strange kind of flip.

“Caesar is brilliant,” she said, “the best in his field. But when it comes to anything not involving chemicals… he’s a fucking moron.”

Penguin felt the smile pull at his features. He couldn’t have stopped it if he wanted to.

“He’s probably going to give you a list of his supervisors and maybe some of the Vegapunk board members, but it’s all going to be dead ends. What you need to look into are the donors.”

“Donors?” Penguin asked.

Monet nodded and then tucked a lock of her wavy, brown hair behind her ear. When she did Penguin noticed the plugs in her earlobes and the impressive amount of metal through the lines of cartilage. He knew showing his tattoos had been the way to go. Kindred spirits and all that.

“Granted,” she said, pulling Penguin from his thoughts, “if I were you I’d go back and investigate that prick Hogback some more, but if he’s got alibis then you’ll have to try something else. I’d start with Jones.”

“Jones,” Penguin repeated, making a note in his app.

“Yeah, he’s one of the donors I was talking about. Ex-military asshole that’s friends with some of the bigwigs at Vegapunk. He’s also got a lot of politicians in his pocket. He gets really involved in some of our research, like more than a normal donor would. I think he might be doing some deals with some of the guys in narcotic studies, and I get that doesn’t make him a murderer automatically, but he’s shady and has access to the information on the compound and he’s fucking...”

Penguin looked up, noticing her strained expression.

“He’s what?”

She sighed and glanced at him out the corner of her eye.

“He’s fucking grabby.”

Anger flared in Penguin’s gut, surprising him. He didn’t know this woman, didn’t know anything about her. They had met less than a few hours ago, and she had been complicit in him getting gassed by a crazy mad scientist, but for some reason he was feeling protective. It really was sad how weak he was to a pretty face. He was weak to his girlfriend in that way too, enough that it might be getting a little unhealthy, but wow, he didn’t want to think about that right now. Shit.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply, trying to shake off all the feelings that had just bombarded him at once. “I know that’s shit women in your position have to deal with all the time.”

“Thank you for that,” she said softly and looked away. “I can handle myself, but it’s still annoying.”

“This Jones,” Penguin said, returning them to the line of questioning, “he has access to the compound?”

“Not officially,” Monet explained, “he just knows the right people and has a lot of money and influence. He has access to a lot of compounds, and by that, I mean drugs.”

Penguin nodded. “You know here I can get his contact info? Where he lives?”

“You could call Vegapunk and ask for them, but they’ll probably give you the runaround.”

“Yeah, they did that to my partner when he was trying to get an interview with Caesar.”

She shifted in her seat, turning to face him fully, and crossed one leg over the other. Penguin tried not to watch.

“Tell you what,” she said softly, “you leave my idiot boss alone and let me go back to work and I’ll get you that info.”

“That’s it?” Penguin asked, “You’ll help me bypass your company’s rigorous phone tag operation, and all I have to do is send you back to work?”

Her smile was predatory again, and for the second time, Penguin thought about how he shouldn’t like it so much.

“Your phone number might be a nice bonus.”

Penguin chuckled and looked down at his hands. “I got a girlfriend.” Boy Howdy at that moment he wished he didn’t.

“Too bad,” she sighed. “Whatever, I’ll do it anyway.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “Been wanting to stick it to that fucking company for a while.”

Nodding, Penguin stood slowly and slipped his phone back into his pocket. “Well, thank you for your help, we appreciate it.”

She tilted her head in that way that made Penguin’s stomach clench, and her eyes flashed.

“My pleasure, detective.”

Dalton: Your brother is a natural

Law: At what?

Dalton: Interrogation

Law: No way, he used to be the kid that would look up when you told him
gullible was written on the ceiling.

Dalton: Well, whatever he was when he was a kid, he just steamrolled a
suspect and then charmed a lady into stealing information from her
company for us

Law: Ok well him charming the ladies isn’t a surprise that’s been a thing since
he was like 10

Dalton: He was great today, you’d be proud

Law: Already am :)

The day moved too fast. When it was time to clock out Chopper found himself wishing he had more time. Dalton was going to be there in twenty minutes to pick him up for their date and he was so nervous he actually felt faint.

After logging his hours in the online timecard, Chopper turned off the lights and shut the door to his office. Then he headed down the hall and stopped in the doorway to autopsy room five. Law was there, inspecting a collection of bones for a detective working a cold case.

“I’m um,” Chopper stammered. God damnit, he couldn’t even talk. “I’m heading out. Do you need anything before I go?”

Law shook his head before he glanced up. “We need milk but I can get that on the way home.” A second passed and Law straightened. “You okay, man? You’re really red, you got a fever?”

Chopper shook his head and stepped back into the hallway. “No, I’m good. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He didn’t wait for Law’s reply and continued down the hall. There was a locker room in the east wing, and Chopper intended to take a shower and change. He really didn’t want to smell like chemicals or something worse if Dalton was going to maybe get close, or try and hold his hand or…

Stop, stop, stop.

He showered quickly, scrubbing his skin red and raw, then he shampooed and conditioned his hair with new product he had bought earlier that day. He also had fresh deodorant, along with his toothbrush and toothpaste. After spitting in the sink, he looked up at himself in the mirror and tried to will his heartrate to slow. No sense getting worked up before it even started, right?

Padding back between the lockers, he set down his toiletry case and opened his bag. The night before, he had spent nearly an hour agonizing over what he should wear, and he was mortified that such a simple thing had caused him to panic so easily. It was so stupid. Ultimately, he had chosen jeans, a dark green button up with a nice, crisp collar, and a sweater vest with a simple brown and green pattern. He had considered wearing just the button up, because sweater vests were, well, sweater vests, but at the last minute he had decided to wear it anyway because he was already too skinny and wearing the button up just made it that much more obvious.

When the clock on the wall read five fifty-eight, Chopper quit trying to make his hair cooperate and turned from the mirror. He put his toiletry case inside his bag, snugged it up next to his dirty clothes, and zipped the flap. Then, with a deep breath in, and a long whoosh out, Chopper slipped the bag over his shoulder and left the locker room.

Chopper: I’ve clocked out are you here?
Chopper: I can come out and meet you in the parking lot

Dalton: I’m parked over by the bike racks

Chopper: Ok on my way

Dalton smiled and set the phone down on the dash. He was surprised to find himself a little nervous, but that was expected since he hadn’t actually gone on a date with anyone in over fifteen years. He’d had some lovely nights out with his wife back in the day, but when you’re married, it’s not the same thing.

He just hoped he wasn’t too serious for Chopper. Or boring. God, that would be terrible.

Pulled from his thoughts when the passenger side door opened, Dalton turned, and tried not to let the grin that wanted to split his face in half actually split his face in half.

“Um, hi,” Chopper said. “Is it okay if I put my bag in the back?”

God he was gorgeous, and sweet. Look at those fucking eyes, that hair.

“Of course,” Dalton said, and his voice was a steady as he could expect it to be.

“Thanks,” Chopper smiled and disappeared to open the rear passenger door. His small duffle landed on the backseat, and then the door closed. When he climbed up into the Tahoe, Dalton noticed delightfully, that his face was redder than it had been a moment before and wondered what could have set that off.

“Reservation’s in half an hour, but we have to park a few blocks away and walk.”

Chopper nodded but said nothing. His eyes were wide and his hands were clenched into fists in his lap. It seemed Dalton wasn’t the only one that was nervous, and that realization made him fell a lot better.

“Is…” Chopper said softly, and Dalton waited until he collected his thoughts. “Is it okay that we’re doing this? I mean, there’s the case and all the following up with witnesses and things you have to do. I don’t want to get… in your way or anything.”

Dalton shook his head. “Don’t worry about that, you’re not in the way at all. We’ve gone through our list of witnesses and we can’t question this next suspect until tomorrow anyway.” He shifted and started to back out of the parking spot. “Besides, I have to have some down time once in a while or I’d go crazy.”

“Yeah,” Chopper said softly, “that’s true.”

The drive was only a few minutes, and even though they spent it in relative silence, it didn’t feel awkward. Neither felt the urge to fill the space with words, the excitement and sweet tension between them was enough.

Dalton parked in a lot with decent rates he had discovered beforehand, and then led Chopper out of the lot and onto the street heading west. The sky grew darker and a cool breeze bit at their noses but when Dalton looked over at Chopper, he seemed to be just fine with the temperature.

“How long have you lived here?” he asked.

Chopper looked up at him, apparently surprised by the question. “Uh, here as in, Seattle?”

Dalton chuckled, “Yes.”

“My whole life.”

“Ah, no wonder the cold doesn’t bother you.”

Chopper smiled softly and Dalton felt something inside him relax that he hadn’t even realized had been tense in the first place.

“I have a low body temperature,” Chopper explained. “I can actually go out into the snow without a coat and be fine.”

“Really?”

Chopper nodded. “Freaks people out when I do it—not that I get a lot of opportunity to. Not a lot of snow here. Slush once in a while, but not like the pretty powder stuff.”

“I can hardly even remember snow,” Dalton said wistfully, “I moved to California fifteen, almost sixteen years ago and it’s not like they ever have snow down there.”

“That’s so sad.”

“You like the cold weather?”

Chopper nodded again. “I would move to Alaska if I could. Or Canada. Somewhere where it doesn’t get above seventy.”

Dalton chuckled and then made a motion with his head as they neared their destination. Chopper followed where Dalton was indicating and slowed his step.

“Oh, Bar Cantinetta!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been meaning to go here! Sanji says it’s really good!”

“Excellent,” Dalton grinned and moved ahead to open the door. When he stepped aside to usher Chopper through, Chopper faltered as if surprised, then his face went scarlet. He tried to duck inside before Dalton could see, but it was done, Dalton had seen it, and it was adorable.

His heart was pounding so fast Chopper was sure he was going to have a heart attack. Dalton was such a gentleman, he was so sweet, and the way his hand rested on Chopper’s lower back, just a comforting touch as they made their way through the small crowd of people by the door, was so welcome, so unbelievably reassuring.

He stood silently, his hands folded tight and elbows locked in at his sides as Dalton gave the host his name. When they were led to a small table in the back, away from the noise and chatter from the bar, Chopper found himself light-headed again. The lights were turned down low and there were candles on the tables, the atmosphere was perfect, everything was perfect, but the sight of those candles finally drove the point home.

Oh my god this is happening I’m on a date I’m here with Dalton and this is a date what am I doing I can’t do this I’m not good enough to be with him everyone is staring why did I think I could ever—

That hand was on his back again and Chopper felt Dalton’s warmth as he leaned in to speak softly into his ear.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, his voice deep and soothing, “there’s nothing to be afraid of. Breathe. It’s okay. There’s no expectations here at all. That’s it, breath slow. If you need to leave, we can leave and get pizza. Or, I can even take you home if you want.”

Chopper let out a shuddering breath. Dalton’s voice seemed to caress that part of his mind that sometimes felt like it was slipping. He reached out and his hand found the buttons of Dalton’s shirt. Pressing there, he found packed muscle underneath his palm.

“Jesus no,” he whispered, “don’t take me home, I’ll never forgive myself. I… I’ll be fine.”

To prove himself, he slipped his coat off his shoulders and put it on the back of the closest chair. Then he carefully sat down and waited for Dalton to join him. He couldn’t look up though, he couldn’t face Dalton just yet. He was too embarrassed.

By the time they were seated, and someone had brought them waters and menus, Chopper felt almost normal again. He ran his fingers over his fork and shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” his voice was barely a whisper.

“Don’t be,” Dalton said, “it’s all right.”

The fact that Dalton was being so kind and patient with him gave him the courage to look up. He found Dalton sitting across from him, his elbow leaning on the table and his cheek resting in his palm. He was smiling softly, waiting, watching Chopper as if there was something about him that was worth Dalton's interest.

Chuckling self-depreciatingly, Chopper scooted in and leaned his elbows on the table. “I was hoping I could hold off a panic attack until the second half of the date, but I guess the bright side is it’s over now and I can focus on something other than not making a fool of myself.”

“You don’t have to worry about making a fool of yourself,” Dalton said, “not with me.”

Chest fluttering, Chopper’s voice dropped to below a whisper. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Be so cool about everything all the time.”

“I’m not cool about everything all the time,” Dalton’s said. “I was pretty nervous earlier, thinking about tonight.”

“You were?” Chopper was amazed.

Dalton nodded. “I’m getting old and I’m pretty straight-laced. Also, my work hours are a nightmare and my job is upsetting. What do I have to offer a handsome twenty-something year old doctor?”

Suddenly, Chopper was very warm, and there was a smile tugging on his lips that he couldn’t hold back.

“I can think of a few things,” he said.

The waiter returned, and Chopper realized he hadn’t looked at the menu and had no idea what he wanted. Thankfully, Dalton offered a few suggestions that made it easier, and then ordered for the two of them. The Pappardelle alla Bolognese for Chopper, and the Casarecce, braised rabbit, oregano, pecorino for himself. The way the words fell off the handsome detective’s lips so easily was fascinating. Did he already know and understand what everything was? Or had he researched beforehand to make things smoother when ordering? Chopper found both scenarios appealing.

“What?” Dalton smiled when the waiter left with their order.

Chopper fought the urge to duck his head, hide the way his cheeks were burning, but then thought better of it. It wasn’t like he had to hide his interest anymore. Dalton knew.

“You’re um…” he wanted to say you’re so handsome, or I can’t believe how sexy you are, but the words wouldn’t fit past his tongue. He smiled and shook his head instead.

“I’m not good at this when it’s not a text conversation.”

“Not as good at what?”

Chopper shrugged. “Being flirty, I don’t know. Saying what I’m thinking.”

For a moment, Dalton just sat smiling at him, then he tilted his head as if thinking about something, and then reached into his pocket and pulled out his own phone. He gave Chopper one last grin and then slid the screen open and started typing.

“Ah, no,” Chopper sputtered, “you don’t have to—”

“—It’s okay. If this is easier, we’ll do it this way.”

Chopper didn’t have time to respond before his phone buzzed in his pocket. He met Dalton’s eyes when the detective looked up and grinned at him, then he sighed and pulled the phone from his pocket.

Dalton: Tell me what you’re thinking

Smiling, Chopper said softly, “We’re going to look so silly if we’re talking on our phones when we’re two feet from each other.”

“I don’t care,” Dalton whispered back. “The only thing that matters to me right now is you.”

Chopper had to duck then, he couldn’t meet that gentle gaze any longer. He felt like crying, like laughing, like screaming at the top of his lungs. There was not enough room in his entire body to house all the feelings he was suddenly feeling.

He started typing.

Chopper: I wanted to tell you that you’re handsome. And sexy

After hitting send, he set his phone down and folded his arms on the table. He was too nervous to look at Dalton as he read the message, even if it was out the corner of his eye, so he lay his head on his hands and listened to the buzz of Dalton’s phone.

After a short minute of silence, Chopper’s phone buzzed again.

Dalton: So are you. I can’t stop looking at you

Heat flared up from Chopper’s gut and spread through his limbs. He had no idea what to say or what to do, or even how to breathe. He slid a hand through his hair and hid his face in the crook of his elbow as he typed a response, his fingers trembling just the tiniest bit.

Chopper: You need to ease up on the compliments I’m going to go into
cardiac arrest.

Dalton: Well, we wouldn’t want that
Dalton: How about we talk about something neutral until the food comes

Chopper: And after the food comes?

Dalton: We’ll be stuffing our faces. No time for talking

Looking up slowly, Chopper tried once again to meet Dalton’s eyes and not faint. It turned out it was easy, Dalton’s expression was still kind, but he had dialed back the intensity.

“Okay, deal,” Chopper said softly.

They talked about Luffy, and Ace, about college, and how Chopper had wanted to be a doctor since he was very small. They talked about their favorite foods and favorite animals, simple things to keep the air simple and easy. When the food came, Chopper found Dalton had been right, the food was so good neither of them had much interest in speaking.

When their plates had been cleared, and the bottle of wine Dalton had ordered arrived, Chopper found himself wanting to return to more intimate conversation but didn’t know where to start. He was about to pull out his phone again when Dalton spoke softly.

“When…” he started, stopped, and cleared his throat. He filled Chopper’s wine glass and took a sip from his own.

Intrigued, Chopper took the glass and took a drink. “When what?”

“When did you know you were gay?” he asked.

Chopper took another swallow and then traced a finger around the rim. “I was… six? Seven maybe?”

“That young?” Dalton’s eyes were wide.

Chopper nodded. “I was staying the night at a friend’s—Usopp, the one who restores the cars. We were watching a movie in the living room and at the end, the couple gets married. Usopp turned to me and asked if I wanted to marry him some day and I said sure. When he told his mom later she laughed and said we couldn’t get married because we were both boys. I didn’t understand, neither did Usopp, but what I did know was that hearing I couldn’t marry Usopp hurt more than anything I’d ever experienced before.” He took a breath and let it out slowly, he had never told anyone that story.

“When… did you know?” he asked.

Dalton took another sip of his wine and looked down into the glass thoughtfully. “Two years ago.”

Glass halfway to his mouth, Chopper froze in surprise. “Really?”

Dalton nodded. “It never even crossed my mind before.”

Stunned, Chopper took a long swallow to mask the fact that he was so surprised. Not knowing something that important for that long was an incredible idea. What had been going on in Dalton’s life that had made it so he never knew? Had he just been too busy?

“You’ve got a look,” Dalton chuckled.

“Oh,” Chopper snapped his attention back, “I’m sorry.”

Shrugging, Dalton picked up the bottle and refilled their glasses. As he did, Chopper watched him and thought about his friends, specially Zoro and Sanji, about their lives and all the pain they had gone through to discover who they were. He thought about Law and how it had taken an almost unrealistic situation to sort out what he wanted. He realized it wasn’t as easy for everyone else as it had been for him. In a way, he had been very lucky.

Thoughtful, Chopper pulled out his phone and typed against the race of his heart. He hit send before he lost his nerve.

Chopper: Am I your first?

Dalton checked his phone and then looked up at him. He smiled softly and nodded.

Chopper felt the heat blossom on his cheeks and he felt a familiar and welcome ache in his body.

“Wow…”

They spent another forty or so minutes drinking wine and talking about safe things. Dalton told him the details of their apprehension of Caesar, and even though Chopper was at first concerned at hearing about how Penguin had been gassed, he was soon laughing at Dalton’s recounting of all his partner’s movie references during the heat of it all.

“He’s a pop culture dictionary,” Chopper giggled.

Dalton made a face, “Kind of, it’s more like just movies.”

Dalton insisted he pay, and Chopper relented only when he was promised he could pay next time.

Next time…

They made their way outside, and before he could stop himself or get too nervous, Chopper slipped his arm through Dalton’s and leaned against the larger man’s side.

They walked slow, choosing a longer way back than the one they had taken to the restaurant. When they passed a church with a beautifully manicured lawn and trimmed hedges, Dalton slowed and studied the place.

“That’s beautiful, even in the dark.”

Chopper nodded. He noticed there was a cluster of cherry blossom trees along the church’s south wall. They were the hanging kind, his favorite.

“Why cherry blossoms?” Dalton asked.

Chopper took a breath. “My grandfather.” Swallowing, he found the story didn’t stick in his throat like it usually did. It had been a long time since he had talked about his grandfather. “He was a doctor and I looked up to him, I wanted to be just like him. He loved cherry blossoms, and so I associate them with him.”

Dalton hummed next to him.

“Sorry it’s not a very interesting reason.”

He felt Dalton shift against him, and when he spoke, his lips were down close to his ear, almost in his hair.

“I think it’s a beautiful reason.”

Chopper shivered, but not from the cold.

When they made it back to the Tahoe, Chopper felt Dalton stop suddenly. He turned and looked up into his handsome face curiously.

“What is it?” he asked.

Dalton seemed to be rolling something around in his head for a moment, unsure of what he wanted to say. It was a strange and unfamiliar look for him, but for some reason it didn’t bother Chopper at all.

“I want…” he started, then he sighed softly and scratched at the back of his neck. The gesture made him seem young and innocent. It was charming.

Chopper moved closer and slipped his hand into Dalton’s.

Their eyes met and Dalton took a breath. “Should I text? I don’t want to overwhelm you but there’s something I need to say to you.”

Trembling, Chopper shook his head. He felt hot and cold at the same time, his heart was beating so fast he was sure something was going to explode. His chest was so tight.

“Go ahead and say it,” he breathed.

Dalton leaned in and spoke so softly it was almost a whisper. “You’re amazing, do you know that?”

Chopper’s frantic heart skipped. The ground seemed to fall away beneath his feet and it was suddenly very hard to breathe.

“What do you mean?”

Dalton’s hands found Chopper’s hips and he came closer. His eyes were hooded but still intense and bright. They looked right through Chopper to his heart, to his very soul.

“I know that you’ve had something terrible happen to you, I can see it. It’s made it hard for you to do even simple things, things that everyone else takes for granted. Everyday tasks are milestones, enormous steps you have to take.” He paused then, studying Chopper carefully, and for that infinite stretch of seconds Chopper held his breath.

When Dalton continued, his voice was so gentle it almost broke Chopper’s heart.

“But you take those steps. Even though they’re difficult and even though you have to kill yourself to do it, you still do extraordinary things. You’re amazing at your job. You care so much about your friends. You’re fearless when you’re focused on what you believe is right or what you need to do to stop someone from doing wrong. I wish you could see how fucking incredible you a—"

Chopper’s hands slid into Dalton’s hair and pulled him down to meet his lips. He kissed Dalton like he needed him, like he needed air to breathe. Dalton was surprised at first, but quickly responded, pulling Chopper against him tightly and leaning in, slanting his mouth to slide his tongue along the roof of Chopper’s mouth. Whimpering softly, that familiar ache intensifying to an almost painful throb, Chopper wrapped his arms around Dalton’s neck and gave himself over. He opened himself up and let Dalton guide him back a step. His back hit the side of the Tahoe and he gasped as Dalton’s body pushed up against his.

They kissed slowly, desperately, stopping periodically for a moment to breathe each other’s air, press their foreheads together, but then one of them would lean in again, teasing the other’s lips. Dalton’s hands slipped into Chopper’s jacket and his fingers trailed up his sides, pressing gently against his abs, running that touch over his ribs.

“God, you taste good,” Dalton growled, “you smell good. You feel so good.”

Chopper gasped softly, shuddering at the words, and at the tone in Dalton’s voice. Dalton could talk to him like that every day for the rest of his life and he would never get tired of it. The sound made his heart ache, his skin warm, his cock so hard he wanted to scream. He wanted to tell Dalton all this, he wanted to tell Dalton he made him feel things he’d never felt before, made him want things and want to try things he had been too afraid to think of only months ago.

Then Dalton was kissing him again, and those thoughts flew out of his head.

When they finally slowed and pulled back slightly, Chopper stared up at Dalton with glazed eyes. His breath was still coming in short gasps, and his arms were still tight around Dalton’s neck.

“You okay?” Dalton whispered breathlessly.

Chopper nodded, still unable to speak. He was overwhelmed by how tightly Dalton was holding him, the way he panted against his skin, how his large body trembled when Chopper moved even slightly against him.

“I need to take you home,” Dalton said, “I think my self-control is all used up.”

Chopper nodded again. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than for Dalton to lose that control, to pick him up and push him into the Tahoe. He was perfectly fine with Dalton fucking him senseless in that backseat, in the middle of an empty parking lot on a weeknight in a part of the city he didn’t know very well.

But he also knew he wanted Dalton to stick around. He wanted this to last. He wanted to do this right from the beginning, so he could look back and be proud of how he handled himself this time. This time.

Dalton kissed him a few more times, just chaste touches to his lips, and then let him go. The ride back to Chopper’s house was as comfortable as before, especially since this time Chopper’s arm rested across the seat divider and his fingers were tangled with Dalton’s. When they said goodnight Dalton’s gaze lingered on him for a few extra moments, studying him in a new and much more intimate way.

“I had a great time,” Chopper said softly.

Dalton smiled. “Me too.”

With that, Chopper hopped out of the Tahoe, grabbed his bag from the back, and shut the door. He turned around once he got to the front door and for a moment, just a quarter second of time, he almost said screw it. He wanted to run back to the car, climb up into Dalton’s lap, and just fuck right there on the street where any of his neighbors could look out their window and see them.

But he didn’t. He smiled, waved, and then slipped into the house.

TBC

Chapter Text

Wednesday was uneventful, the day was spent tracking down a few of the last witnesses and dealing with the fallback from Vegapunk industries. At first Smoker was livid that Dalton and Penguin had Caesar arrested, only to release him a few hours later, but when he learned of the information the scientist and his assistant had provided he cooled down. “Fine,” he had growled, “I trust you know what you’re doing.” However, Thursday was much the same, maybe even worse. It turned out Jones, the donor Monet had told them about, was out of state for the next week and no one at his work, or any of his acquaintances, knew exactly how to reach him.

Dalton was fairly sure most of them were lying, but he had no evidence to charge them with obstruction. He could tell Penguin was getting frustrated, but the kid held it together and kept on doing his job like a seasoned vet.

Luckily, a friend of Penguin’s in the cyber division named Clione, was on point and emailed a report to Dalton Thursday afternoon. It turned out Jones’ various bank records were extremely fishy. Large cash deposits appeared every two or so weeks with no traceable source. It seemed even if this guy didn’t have anything to do with the Frankenstein case, they could still hit him with possible tax evasion. A court order was obtained easily, and by Friday morning they had a warrant to search Jones’ office, his house in Ballard, and his condo in West Seattle.

It was almost funny how easily it was to find the drugs stashed at the condo, like Jones wasn’t even trying to hide them.

Dalton stood in the kitchen, chuckling softly as Penguin pulled another bundle of white powder from the fridge. “Well, I guess we better get that arrest warrant, huh?”

Penguin grinned at him. “Yeah, I guess.”

But now it was back to the waiting game. Jones was scheduled to return in a few days, and because their suspect had crossed state lines, the FBI had been notified and his bank accounts frozen, but a guy like that probably had plenty of money stashed away somewhere offshore and he wasn’t in any hurry to come back.

Reluctantly, Dalton called up his friend at the Seattle Field Office and passed the tracking of Jones’ to the FBI. He was assured West Precinct still had full jurisdiction, but it was still disappointing to have to hand something like that off to someone else.

“Gaahhh so frustrating,” Penguin sighed. “It felt like we were getting close and now…” he made a swooping gesture and then plummeted his hand towards the floor.

Dalton nodded. “This happens more than you would think, but despite what the movies try and make you believe, the police and FBI actually work very well together.”

“Well, that’s good,” Penguin groaned and stretched. “You gonna head home?”

“Yeah, I think my sink’s got a leak. That’ll be my project until tomorrow.”

“Wow, that sounds very fun. I’ll see you later.”

Dalton gave his partner a half wave and watched him leave the office. Then he took his jacket from the back of his chair and pulled his phone from his pocket. As he thumbed open the screen, he settled back into his chair.

The day before, Chopper had sent Dalton a picture of himself looking away from the screen and taking a sip out of the cherry blossom cup Dalton had given him. He was gorgeous, backlit by the setting sun through an office window, his hair and face a perfect silhouette against the gold and orange behind him. Below the picture, Chopper had texted Wow, don’t you hate it when your phone goes off on accident? followed by a few laughing emojis.

The picture was now Dalton’s wallpaper.

The last two days had been a near constant dialogue with Chopper, and Dalton was so grateful for it. The waiting and the minor politics of questioning and the paperwork had been bearable because whenever he had started to feel overwhelmed or annoyed or frustrated, he had just pulled out his phone and texted something short, a quick How are you? or What are you doing? or just continue the conversation they were already having. Chopper would always answer with either something unbelievably sweet, or something interesting about whatever he was working on at the moment. Chopper never initiated the conversations, but Dalton didn’t mind because Chopper would always enthusiastically answer questions.

For example, Dalton’s text window was currently filled with an explanation of why Japanese anime was better in Japanese and to never watch anything dubbed. He read through it, chuckling, and answered.

Dalton: Well I’ll watch whatever you recommend in whatever language you want
Dalton: I’ve only watched One Punch Man because my old partner insisted

It was maybe thirty seconds before Chopper answered.

Chopper: Oh I got a list. I’m not as into the crazy shonen things Luffy and Zoro watch but
Sanji showed me some really great movies like Summer Wars
Chopper: We can watch that together sometime
Chopper: If you want

Dalton’s smile widened.

Dalton: Of course. What are you doing Saturday?

Chopper: I work until 6 but I’m all yours after that
Chopper: We can get Thai food there’s a really good place close by
Chopper: Law works so we’ll have the house to ourselves

The thought of being alone with Chopper in his house was so appealing Dalton had to set the phone down and breathe for a bit. Something tightened in his chest as he imagined sitting on the couch with Chopper curled against him, his fingers running through soft hair, and maybe his lips stealing a few gentle kisses.

Realistically, Dalton knew there was no way he was going to be able to keep his hands to himself, and he was sure Chopper was setting this up so Dalton would stay over, but he also knew that they probably weren’t ready for that. There were too many variables. He knew sex wouldn’t ruin their relationship, but Dalton liked to think of himself as a gentleman, not to mention cautious. Even though Chopper was doing better, he still had a lot going on and wasn’t really dealing with it. Sex complicated things, and if there was one thing Chopper did not need right now, it was something complicated.

Then there was the fact that Dalton had never had sex with a man before. He had done some research but reading and watching videos were very different than actually experiencing it. Chopper obviously knew how things worked, and could probably show him, but that didn’t make Dalton any less nervous about it.

God, he was nervous about sex… He hadn’t been nervous about sex since… high school?

Shaking his head, he picked his phone back up.

Dalton: Well I’m in
Dalton: It’s a date

The lights were off when Penguin stepped into the apartment.

“Rose?” he called. “Babe?” Shouldn’t she be home by now?

He turned on the lights and felt slightly disoriented when a large section of wall was bare. Where the hell was the television? Quickly glancing around, Penguin looked for signs of a break in or a struggle, but besides the TV being gone and a chunk of the books missing from the shelves, all seemed normal.

The kitchen was a different story.

The toaster, microwave, and most of the dishes were gone. There was also an envelope sitting on the island counter with Nikki scribbled in a loopy, feminine handwriting on the front.

A stone dropped into Penguin’s stomach and he ran a hand through his hair. He knew what that was, it was obvious.

It took him a moment to gather the courage to cross the few feet to the island and pluck the envelope from the marble surface. When he opened it and started to read, that stone in his gut turned to ice and he felt it moving through his veins.

Dear Nikki,

I’m going home to Portland. I hate my job. I don’t have any friends. You’re never around so there’s nothing keeping me here anymore. I’m sorry I didn’t stay and tell you face to face but I know you’d give me those puppy dog eyes and I would change my mind and be miserable for another week or whatever before I tried it again. Have a good life.

I’m sorry,
Rose

P.S. You probably already noticed but I took the TV. I paid for most of it so I thought it was fair.

Penguin set the letter down and put his hands on his hips. He felt a little nauseous. Had he really been neglecting her that badly? Yeah, he had been working long hours but he still had made time for her. Hadn’t he?

He pulled out his phone and thumbed over Shachi’s name.

Penguin: Dollop
Penguin: You at work?

He knew exactly where Shachi was but he felt he should be considerate and not just show up in a terrible mood with bad news out of the blue.

While he waited for Shachi’s reply, he moved into the bathroom—now missing the fuzzy rug by the toilet and the Batman toothbrush holder—and started to strip out of his clothes. He dropped everything on the floor in front of the sink and moved to turn on the water for the shower, thinking absently how it was nice she had at least left his Runescape shower curtain.

His phone buzzed just before he was about to step into the tub.

Shachi: Yes
Shachi: Shit dude u ok?

Penguin: No

Shachi: Get ur ass down here then

Penguin: Taking a shower real quick

Shachi: Please tell me it’s cause ur dirty and not cause u have blood all over u

Penguin: Just dirty

Shachi: Thank god ok I’ll see u soon then
Shachi: Txt me when u pull up I’ll let u in that side door

Penguin: Ok see ya

He stood under the spray for longer than he needed to, until his hands and feet were pruning and his skin was red and somewhat raw, and tried not to think about anything. Except that was stupid, like he could stop himself. They’d been having problems for a while, little things mostly, but there were so many of them it had been getting harder and harder to talk about any of it. Penguin knew it was his fault, of course it was, he was always gone and when he was home he hadn’t known how to talk to her because everything in his head was always shit about the case.

Pushing the thoughts from his head he washed his hair and skin, rinsed, and turned off the water. After drying, he padded down the hall naked to his bedroom and tried not to look for all the things that were missing. He grabbed a pair of boxer briefs, jeans, and a Deadpool t-shirt that was just a little threadbare. Whatever, he covered it with a black hoodie and grabbed the hat he had worn the first time he had visited the club. He pulled on his pair of steel-toed boots, got his wallet and phone from the bathroom, and grabbed his keys on the way out the door.

Penguin: Parking now

Shachi: K one sec

It was the same as before, Shachi met him at the service entrance and the two stepped inside. They said nothing as Shachi led Penguin past the bar and up a flight of stairs.

“Where are we going?” Penguin asked, shouting to be heard over the din of music and voices.

Shachi turned around and spoke loudly against his ear. “It’s VIP night tonight and I’m working the upstairs.”

“Damn,” Penguin said, impressed despite himself, “movin’ up in the world.”

Shachi gave him a smile and continued up.

The club’s second level, or maybe it was technically the third, was significantly quieter. There was still music, but the decibel was much lower, Penguin could actually hear snippets of conversation all around him. It was also darker, with lights built into the floor and whisky bottle lamps hanging over tables. The bar was at the far end of the space, completely enclosed, with the alcohol rack suspended above on chains as thick as the ones that held boat anchors. Shachi offered Penguin a seat at the far corner and then reached behind the bar and grabbed two beers.

“Don’t you have to work?” Penguin asked.

Shachi motioned with his head. “See that guy there? Blond?”

Penguin looked behind the bar and found the person Shachi was indicating. The man was tall and had an X shaped scar on his chin.

“That’s Drake,” Shachi explained. “He’s subbing for me for a while. He’s a cool dude, and almost as good a bartend as me.”

Penguin couldn’t help but grin at his brother then. “So modest.”

“I learned from the best.” With that Shachi opened both the beers, and handed one to Penguin before he sat down. “So, what’s going on?”

Penguin sipped at the brew and then sighed softly. “Rose left.”

Shachi froze with his bottle halfway to this mouth. “Really?”

Penguin nodded. “She took most of our dishes, the microwave, the mat in the bathroom, and the TV.”

Shachi made a pained face. “The mirco and the TV? Come on, how am I supposed to survive?” He shook his head and took a long swallow. “You okay?”

Penguin shrugged. “You don’t seem all that surprised.”

It was Shachi’s turn to sigh. “I’m not gonna say it was obvious, but I mean… there were signs. She wasn’t happy, man, she just sat around the apartment and pouted all the time, hated her job—”

“—I wish she had said something,” Penguin growled, “I know there isn’t really anything I could have done, but I could have at least—”

“—Ah, no,” Shachi cut the air with his hand, “don’t fuckin’ do that. This isn’t all your fault.”

“Yeah it is.”

“No,” Shachi scooted closer, “no fuckin’ way. I know you bro, and you’re gonna take all the blame if I don’t beat some sense into you right now. Yeah, she was lonely, yeah, she didn’t have any friends, but holy shit I offered to take her out all the time, help her meet some people but she always said no. She didn’t want to, man, she didn’t even try. She was a walking fucking pity party.”

“So why didn’t she—”

“—She just wanted to go back to Portland.” With that Shachi drained the last of his beer and placed it behind the bar top. “Look, she’s not a bad gal, she was actually great, she just hated it here. So don’t get all depressed ‘cause you think you let her down or whatever, get depressed ‘cause you’re not getting any on the regular anymore.”

At that Penguin had to chuckle, even if there was no real humor behind it. “You know I haven’t gotten any in a while.”

Shachi made a few gestures with his hands and grinned lopsidedly. “I work nights man, I don’t know shit about it.” He then turned to the bar again. “Hey Drake! Drake, buddy!”

The blond with the scar nodded to a few club-goers and made his way to their side of the bar. “What’s up, kid?” He turned his blue eyes to Penguin and nodded. “Everything okay?”

Penguin shrugged but said nothing.

“Can we get another round?” Shachi asked. “I promise I’ll get back to work after this one.”

Drake shook his head as he reached under the bar to get their drinks. “It’s okay, I actually missed this. Besides, it gives me a chance to ignore Barty if I want to.”

“Aw,” Shachi made a face, “so mean.”

“Who’s Barty?” Penguin asked.

Drake said “A pain in my ass” at the same time Shachi said “This cool, crazy dude.” It was a little disorienting.

When Drake set their beers on the bar top, he flashed Penguin a toothy smile that was maybe a little more menacing than was necessary, and then left them alone again to drink.

“He seems okay,” Penguin said. “He ex mob too?”

“Oh yeah,” Shachi nodded. “He was a hitman, worked directly under one of Law’s rivals.”

“For real?” Penguin tilted his head to the side. “That sounds kind of convenient.”

Shachi shrugged. “This is coming from Bepo. That guy usually knows what he’s talking about.”

“I like Bepo.”

“Me too,” Shachi said. He took one last swallow from the bottle, emptying it, and placed it behind the bar top. “Okay, I’ve got to get back. Are you gonna be okay? I mean, I’m not really going anywhere. I’ll be literally right here if you need me.”

Penguin smiled. “I’ll be fine. I’ll probably just have one more after this and then head home.”

“Roger,” Shachi said and stood to go trade places with Drake.

Penguin sat for a while watching his brother work. At times he would let his eyes drift toward the dance floor or to the tables on the other side of the room, but there was nothing and no one interesting to watch in any of those directions. He nursed his beer and then ordered one more, and then another, and then another. After getting through half of his sixth, he reached for his wallet to grab his card, but Shachi hissed at him.

“You try and pay me for those drinks and I’ll fucking sucker punch you.”

That made Penguin laugh, and suddenly, inexplicitly, he felt better. He had his brother—he had both his brothers. He had new friends, his dream job, an amazing partner and mentor, yeah he might have fucked things up with his girl but that shit happens. He was good. He was going to be fine. Just fine.

Then a presence moved up behind him and put a hand down on his shoulder. It was warm, and large, and shockingly strong. Every alarm in Penguin’s body and mind went off and he instinctively went for his gun which was, of course, not at his hip.

“Calm down,” a deep voice growled behind him.

Penguin turned slowly and met with those familiar and dangerous, amber eyes. Kidd’s face was all hard lines and pale skin, scars. He was just as frightening as the last time Penguin had seen him, though his attire was less flashy, just a maroon Henley and a pair of acid wash jeans. No rings, no necklaces, and his hair was pulled back in a bun at the nape of his neck. Penguin supposed he dressed down when he was just walking the club and not spectating at a fight.

“Kidd,” he said simply.

“Nicholas,” Kidd replied.

“Everyone calls me Penguin.”

Kidd nodded once and indicated the stool at Penguin’s side. “May I sit?”

Penguin wanted to chuckle, but he held it in. “It’s your club.”

“That it is,” Kidd’s mouth twitched at the corner and he moved to sit. Shachi had a glass of something in front of him before he was fully situated, and his brother quickly threw a grin in Penguin’s direction before he went back to serving the other club-goers.

“I looked into you,” Kidd said as he picked up his glass and swirled the liquid just beneath his nose. “Detective has a much nicer ring to it than cop.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Penguin took a sip of his beer, unsure where Kidd was going with this.

“And your partner is Dalton,” Kidd continued, “that’s an interesting twist. I didn’t know he was here in Seattle.”

“He’s only been here a week.”

Kidd nodded and took a slow swallow before he went back to staring at what was left in the glass. A long minute or so passed before he spoke again, and when he did, he turned to face Penguin fully. “I’m assuming ‘cause you’re Law’s brother, and ‘cause Dalton’s your partner, then you know what happened to Law when he was undercover.”

Penguin nodded.

Kidd turned away then. “And you know about me and him.” That wasn’t a question, but Penguin answered it anyway.

“Yes.”

“Then when I ask you to do something for me, you’ll understand why and not give me any lip, right?”

Surprised, Penguin turned in his seat and leaned against the bar. He tilted his head to the side and pushed up his cap with one finger so he could look at Kidd without craning his neck.

“That totally depends on what you’re about to ask me to do.”

“You gotta get him to stop coming here,” Kidd growled. “He’s gonna get himself killed, or worse.”

Penguin shuddered at the thought of what Kidd could mean by “worse” but at the same time, he felt that same sadness he had felt when Law had told their story. Kidd’s words now were filled with that same sadness, that same regret, and Penguin didn’t have to dig too deeply to understand that neither Law nor Kidd was happy being apart from the other.

Also, this was all a little frustrating, especially with the night he was having.

“Jesus,” Penguin said as he picked his beer up off the bar top. “How do two people who are so obviously crazy about each other fuck things up so badly?”

He didn’t look at Kidd to see his reaction, but he did feel the other man’s anger radiating in his direction. When Penguin glanced over at Shachi, his brother was waving his hand at his own neck and mouthing abort! abort!

“You don’t fucking understand,” Kidd growled.

At that moment, Penguin found he wasn't as afraid as he probably should be, and he turned his best glare on Kidd, “You're right. I don’t fucking understand. Why can’t you two just sit down and try to figure out a way to work things out like adults?”

“Because it won’t make any difference!” Kidd snarled and pounded his fist down on the bar.

Penguin didn’t flinch. “Well, it can’t make anything worse than it already is, now could it?”

Kidd stared at him for a few long moments and then his features lost some of their edge, then he straightened and flattened his hands out on the bar. Taking a few deep breaths, he nodded his head.

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“Oh, good, I’m glad we can agree on something.” Penguin tipped the bottle back and downed the rest of his beer before he stood. “Now, if we’re done here, I gotta pee, and then I’m going home to wallow in my own fucking problems.”

“I’m sorry about your girlfriend,” Kidd said softly.

Surprised, yet again, Penguin frowned and leaned in towards the other man.

“How do you know about Rose?”

When Kidd looked at him, there was a small smile tugging at his lips. It was barely there but having never seen anything like it before on Kidd’s face, it was kind of obvious.

“There isn’t a lot that goes on in this town I don’t know about.”

Penguin raised an eyebrow and hummed, not particularly sure what that was supposed to mean, but impressed all the same.

“Well, anyway, thanks for—”

“—Boss.”

A tall man with long, blond hair obscuring his face moved in behind Kidd.

“Killer, wha—”

The man cut him off and whispered into his ear. Kidd’s eyes went wide and he shot to his feet.

“Where?”

The blond man made a gesture with his hands. “Somewhere in Clyde Hill.”

“Shit.”

“What?” Penguin said.

Kidd turned to him.

“You better call Dalton. You guys got another Frankenstein murder.”

“But how are you already there?” Dalton asked.

Penguin’s voice went from Dalton’s phone and out through the speakers in the Tahoe as the detective drove to the address his partner had given him. “It’s a long story, I’ll explain when you get here.”

“Does Law know? Smoker?”

“Yeah, I called Smoker right after I called you the first time.”

Dalton sighed and ran a hand over his eyes. “Okay, I’m about ten minutes out. Maybe less since it’s one in the morning and there’s no traffic.”

“Why’d he do this again so soon?” Penguin asked. “We found Machart a week ago.”

“He’s escalating,” Dalton said. “We saw the beginning of it when he started taking eyes and fingers and things. It’s something I anticipated would happen but not this fast. Something must have triggered it.”

There was silence on the other end and Dalton turned the Tahoe down a residential street. He was about four minutes from Clyde Hill.

“Do you think…” Penguin paused for a moment. “Do you think it was us?”

“The trigger?” Dalton asked. “Yes, it’s possible.”

“Damnit.”

“It’s okay, Penguin, don’t let it get to you. Nothing this guy does is on us, you got that? Nothing.”

Another pause, and then Penguin’s voice came in clear and confident once again.

“You’re right. This asshole does all this shit on his own.”

“Good,” Dalton said, “stay focused. Hold things together until Law and I get there.”

“You got it.”

Chopper almost screamed when Law swung open the door to his bedroom. The book he was reading flew out of his hands and landed on the floor by his bed, and he gripped the sheets around him as if they were the last line of defense against whatever was coming to attack him.

“I’m sorry,” Law panted, “they found another body.”

Chopper’s startled fear instantly gave way to dread, and his blood slowly started to turn into ice. “Oh my God. Is it…”

“Yes. Will you assist when they bring it in?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you,” Law relaxed his shoulders and might have swayed a little on his feet. “It’ll be a few hours, so you can sleep for a bit. I’ll call you when I’m on my way back.”

Scoffing, Chopper threw the blanket to the side and slid out of bed. “Are you kidding me? I’m not sleeping now.”

“What are you going to do?” Law asked.

Chopper opened his closet and grabbed a sweater. “You want me to assist, right? Then I’m going with you.”

Dalton and Penguin did an outside walkthrough the same way they had done it at their first crime scene together, except this time Dalton let Penguin lead. They found a few possible points of entry, but like Machart’s home, it seemed the killer had driven in through the garage. It was all pretty straightforward.

When they tried to question the witness, however, she was so hysterical they barely got anything out of her.

“Take her down to the station,” Dalton said softly. “Get her some water and make sure she’s comfortable. Call someone from counselling.”

The patrolwoman nodded to him and gently helped the woman into the back of a patrol car. After the car pulled out onto the street, Dalton motioned Penguin away from prying ears and out towards the Tahoe.

“Okay, now that we’ve got a minute, are you going to tell me how you got here so fast?” Dalton asked.

Penguin swallowed and scratched at his forehead. “I went to see my brother at work…” He glanced up, hoping Dalton could put two and two together.

Oh, he could.

“How the hell did they know?”

Penguin shrugged. “I’m assuming they have a police scanner. I had a friend who had one in high school.”

Dalton pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a breath. “Well, okay, that’s not as bad as I thought it was going to be. There’s nothing wrong with overhearing people talking about stuff they heard on a police scanner.” He shot a meaningful look at his partner and asked, “Kidd?”

Penguin shook his head, “No, one of his guys.”

Nodding, Dalton watched a pair of headlights turn the corner and start heading for them. “Hopefully this is Law.”

It turned out it was, and he had Chopper in tow.

At the sight of Chopper in crisp black slacks and an official “Coroner’s Office” jacket, Dalton felt a flutter in his chest. Even with everything that was going on, flashing lights, rubbernecking neighbors, a fresh murder merely twenty yards from where he stood, Dalton could not keep his feelings under control. Just the sight of Chopper shook him to his very soul.

When Chopper saw Dalton he smiled softly and waved. It was professional, courteous, but that twinkle in the young doctor’s eye was not. Dalton waved back but kept it as subdued as possible.

“Damn,” Law said as he neared the two detectives, “this is exactly what I wanted to do tonight. I was just thinking about how I haven’t had my hands up in some murdered, puzzle person in like, a week.”

Penguin clapped him on the back and then turned to Chopper with a big smile. “What are you doing here?”

Chopper returned the smile and fished his badge out from his pocket to clip it to the front of his jacket. “I’m assisting since Law may or may not have had a few beers right before Smoker called.”

Penguin’s smile only widened. “Aw, well you’re in good company, I am also not entirely sober.”

“Fuck yeah,” Law shook his head, “we are so prepared for this.”

“We’ll follow you in in about fifteen,” Penguin said.

Law shrugged and motioned with the hand not carrying the kit. “Come with us now.”

Penguin’s eyes widened. “We can do that?”

“Yeah,” Chopper said, “just follow egress and stay back until we do the initial. Should be fine.”

Penguin glanced at Dalton with a kind of desperate expression. Dalton figured it was because he was excited to watch his brother work, and of course Dalton understood. He wanted to watch Chopper too.

“Let’s go,” Dalton said.

From what they had been able to get from the hysterical witness, the victim, Kady Johnson, lived here in this three-story house alone. She had no pets, and no boyfriend or girlfriend. She was a designer for a high-end jewelry company and traveled so much that she was actually out of Seattle more than she was in it.

When the detectives stepped into the house, they were hit almost immediately with the smell.

“Oh shit,” Penguin hissed and ducked his head. “He must not have cooled this one.”

“No reason to,” Law muttered, “we know about the chemical.”

“Here,” Chopper said and handed Penguin a small, round container. “This is Mentholatum. Just put a little under your nose. It’s like Vicks but it won’t open your nasal passages as much, which, trust me, you don’t want.”

“Thank you,” Penguin said, and opened the container.

Dalton thought about using it as well, but he was a little more used to the smell, and both Law and Chopper seemed fine. He could bear it.

“Well,” Law said as he rounded the corner into the kitchen, “fuck me.”

Kady Johnson had been displayed all right, and unlike any of the other victims. Her body was standing by the sink, held upright by wires sewn into her flesh and connected to the ceiling. The points of contact looked like her shoulders, neck, and elbows.

Or what would have been her elbows if she had any.

“What the hell?” Penguin breathed.

Chopper took the kit from Law’s hands, set it on the floor, and opened the top. “Here,” he said, and handed Law the camera. “Get the initial so I can get in there.”

Law did as Chopper instructed and started snapping pictures of the entryway to the kitchen. Dalton and Penguin stayed back as Chopper slipped on a pair of gloves and started putting down numbered markers for the rest of the crime unit. “Here,” he would say, and Law would snap a photo. “Right there,” he said a few minutes later, and Law followed.

“Hey,” Penguin teased, “I thought you were his boss.”

Law made a face and shook his head. “I don’t pretend to be better than Chopper at anything.”

“Oh my God, shut up,” Chopper muttered, and Dalton noticed the tiniest blush creep across the young doctor’s cheeks.

“We good?” Law asked.

Chopper nodded and returned to the kit. For the next ten minutes, the two of them examined the body. Miss Johnson had been a large woman, easily over two hundred pounds. She was also tall with wide shoulders. The killer had dressed her in a floral-patterned sundress to show off her arms and legs. All four of the limbs had the joint removed, the elbows and the knees, and then the two parts had been squeezed shut at the ends and sewn together, giving the appendages the look of giant, pale, sausage links.

Dalton’s stomach rolled at the thought.

“I'm going to guess she’s been dead about two days.” Chopper said and then carefully unbuttoned the dress to inspected the torso. Sure enough, it had been replaced by, what was no doubt, Mr. Machart’s lower chest, skin, and internal organs.

“You know,” Law sighed, “this one is just enough to creep me out.”

“You weren’t creeped out before?” Chopper asked incredulously.

“Naw, I mean they were fucked up, but nothing…” he huffed out another sigh. “This one just sucks.”

“You guys can come in now,” Chopper said softly.

Dalton moved in first, careful to duck the wires suspended from the body’s shoulders. He pulled on a pair of gloves and came in close to Chopper to inspect the seeping lines where one body had been connected to the other. The stitching was the same as it had been before, large, black thread, messy hand but sturdy. When he turned to ask Chopper what he thought of it, he noticed the doctor was staring intently up at the wires.

“What is it?” he asked softly.

Chopper swallowed. “That’s medical wire.”

Dalton looked up and straightened. The wires looked like fishing line but slightly thicker. “How do you know?” he asked.

“The size, the thread. I don’t know, I’ve seen a lot of it over the years.”

“What’s it usually used for?”

“Uh,” Chopper breathed out, “pacemaker installment, sometimes bone pins. There are a lot of uses.” He reached up and pointed to the place the wire was connected to the body. “What’s most interesting though, is how he’s attached it.”

“Why?” Penguin asked, moving in behind Dalton.

“It looks like he’s gone around the bone,” Chopper explained. “He knows the weight of the body, even with multiple supports, wouldn’t hold if he had just gone through the flesh. It would have torn eventually. This one right here,” he indicated the connection on the right shoulder, “is probably woven around the clavicle.”

“Why did he go through so much trouble to stand her up?” Penguin asked.

Chopper turned then and shrugged. “Sorry gentlemen, that’s your job.”

After a few more photos and last-minute sample gathering, Chopper and Law packed up the kit and started to head out and make room for the rest of the crime unit.

“This one might take longer,” Law said as he leaned on the kitchen doorframe, “but we’ll have it done by morning. Any labs we’ll put a rush on, so you should get your results by afternoon.

“Thank you,” Dalton said.

When Chopper turned to him, it seemed the doctor had something to say, but then thought better of it, and simply whispered, “Bye.”

Dalton smiled and nodded his head, then watched Chopper’s back as he moved out of the house.

After another hour, the body was removed, and Dalton searched the house with Penguin. They found nothing of interest, and so they exited the house and scanned the crowd of people standing along the police line.

“Should we question them?” Penguin asked.

Dalton shook his head. “We will later. It’s easier to go door to door, then the information is easier to catalogue. People also tend to exaggerate when the crime scene is still active. Get them in their houses when things have calmed down, they’ll be more inclined to recount actual facts.”

“It’s not priority to get them when stuff is fresh?”

“If someone actually saw something, we’d know already.”

In the Tahoe on the way back to the precinct, Penguin drank four bottles of water and ate two of the burgers they had grabbed from a fast food joint. He seemed to be doing better, not that his slight inebriation had hindered his investigational skills at all, but there had been a certain sluggishness to his movements at the beginning of the night and now he seemed back to his normal self.

“I feel like I should never drink again,” he sighed.

Dalton chuckled. “You can’t not live your life just because you’re a cop. Going out and having fun is something everyone should do once in a while, especially guys like us.”

“I wasn’t having fun,” Penguin said, and the melancholy in his voice was obvious.

Dalton glanced at him. “What happened?”

He was silent for a few moments, and when he finally spoke his voice was quiet.

“My girlfriend left.”

Dismayed, Dalton let out a sigh and shook his head. “God, I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Dalton asked.

“Not really,” Penguin said, “I already talked to Shachi… and Kidd, sort of.”

“You talked to Kidd about your girl—I’m sorry, ex girlfriend?”

“Uh, kind of? I don’t know, he sort of… knew about it and told me he was sorry. It was kind of creepy.”

Dalton hummed and let the silence settle over them. It was easy, comfortable, even thought it was somewhat melancholy. When they reached the precinct, Dalton turned off the Tahoe, but Penguin made no moves to get out. Dalton unbuckled his seatbelt but stayed put, waiting, giving his partner a chance to formulate whatever he wanted to say.

“Your ex-wife,” Penguin said softly, “you never told me what happened.”

Knowing this was an attempt at an easy transition, Dalton relaxed into the seat and took a breath. “It’s complicated,” he said, “the job was taking a lot out of both of us—”

“—But it wasn’t just the job though, right?” Penguin cut in. “I mean, she couldn’t have expected you to just abandon important shit ‘cause she’s fuckin’ bored or whatever, right?”

“You didn’t let me finish,” Dalton said gently. “The job was part—”

“—I mean what was I supposed to do? I’m trying to save people’s lives! I’ve worked so fucking hard for this and I swear to God I tried to be there for her, I just…” he let out a harsh breath and lifted his arm to rest his elbow on the window sill. Digging his fingers into this hair he shook his head. “I’m sorry… shit, I’m sorry this is such a stupid thing to be talking about right now.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes while Penguin cooled off. Dalton watched the street out the window, watched the sky as it slowly went from the deepest black to a dark blue, and then a beautiful purple towards the east side of the city.

“Carla and I had been having problems for a long time,” he said softly, “for years before we officially split up. The toll the job takes is excruciating, it tears families apart all the time. It’s not your fault, it’s not her fault. It happens.”

“How did you deal with it?”

“I didn’t for a while, I blamed myself, like you’re doing now. It took time to understand that it wasn’t anyone’s fault. The stress on my side and the neglect she felt on hers opened doors that led to other things. It made her reach out to someone else, and it made me dig myself even further into work, which of course, created a kind of… vicious cycle. The stuff that came later exacerbated everything and made the situation worse.

“What came later?” Penguin asked.

Uh,” Dalton sighed, “intimacy issues, we couldn’t talk about anything. Our son was getting upset and acting out. We split up less than six months after the twins were born.”

“Jesus,” running a hand over his eyes, Penguin turned to him, “I’m such an asshole. I’m sitting here bitching about my girlfriend leaving and you lost your whole fucking family.”

Dalton had to chuckle at that. Penguin had a way of sensationalizing everything so easily.

“I only lost Carla. My kids and I are still close, especially my boy, Aiden. I told him about you, he’s excited to meet you.”

“Oh shit, really?” Penguin’s face lit up like nothing Dalton had seen before coming from his mostly stoic partner. “That’s so cute I’m gonna die!”

“I have to warn you though,” Dalton laughed, “he might think you’re an actual penguin with a badge. You never know with him, his imagination is crazy.”

“That’s great,” Penguin turned away, smiling, looking out the window at nothing. “That’s so awesome.”

Dalton waited a few beats and then asked. “You gonna be okay?”

His partner turned back to him and nodded. “Yeah, thanks for letting me yell at you for a bit.”

Dalton shrugged and opened the door. “Anytime.”

They found their witness asleep in Smoker’s office when they went inside. Dalton didn’t want to wake her so after Penguin offered to fill their captain in on the crime scene details, he agreed heartily and sat down at his desk to start in on the paperwork. He didn’t have all the information yet, but he could definitely fill out the physical report and add in details later. Always a good idea to get a head start.

About ah hour later, at quarter to five, his phone rang. Curious, because no one seemed to do anything but text anymore, he pulled out his phone and checked the caller ID.

His breath caught in his chest. Anger, fear, trepidation, and a thousand other emotions surged up through him all at once.

Shaking, he thumbed the call open, and brought the phone to his ear.

“Carla?”

TBC

Chapter Text

The autopsy of Kady Johnson took almost twice as long as any of the other victims, mainly because they had to separate the torso and divide the organs into two separate files. Law and Chopper managed to get most of everything cleaned up and tagged, but around six thirty that morning, one of the techs came into the room to tell Law the mayor was on the phone.

“What?” Law glanced up, a look of complete and utter confusion on his face. “What the hell does the mayor want with me?”

The tech shrugged her shoulders. “I have no idea, all I was told is that the mayor’s office wants to talk to you since Doctor Mallory isn’t here.”

“Jesus,” Law straightened and pulled off his gloves. “Mallory owes me like, thirty years of vacation. Are you gonna be okay, Chopper?”

Chopper nodded at him. “Of course.”

“Thank you,” Law said, then he pulled off his apron and followed the tech out. It was about a half an hour later that he texted Chopper.

Law: Where’s your purple tie?

Chopper: Hanging in the bathroom
Chopper: Why are you looking for my tie?

Law: I don’t have one

Chopper: I know that why do you NEED a tie?

Law: Mr Government Man says I need a tie when I talk to the mayor
Law: He’s sitting in the livingroom now reading my nice copy of 100 bullets
Law: If he bends the pages he’s paying for that shit

Chopper: Holy shit Law this is so stupid! Mallory needs to be there you can’t
just go around talking to political officials! Someone is going to take your picture
or something! You’re in fucking witness protection for fuck sake!

Law: No ones going to be taking pictures it’s a private meeting with the mayor
to explain the situation with Frankenstein
Law: Smoker and Dalton and Penguin are going to be there too

Chopper: Jesus fuck

Law: Wow language. Your momma know you suck dicks with that mouth?

Chopper: Omg be serious for like 2 seconds

Law: Ok fine I’m sorry
Law: Don’t worry just finish with Johnson and get everything together for Dalton
Law: I just realized I said don’t worry which is like telling you to not breathe but…
Law: I’ll be fine. I’ll come back afterwards and help you with the data compilation

Chopper: No. You’ll go home and sleep. We both know you’re basically shit when
you’re going on more than 24 hours
Chopper: I’ll get all the data together, walk our detectives through it, and then I’ll
come home and sleep too

Law: I can’t just leave everything to you that’s not fair

Chopper: I’m not giving you a fucking choice

Law: Fine

Chopper didn’t respond, and it was a few minutes before Law sent his next message.

Law: Thank you btw I need the rest

Chopper: I’ll see you later

Penguin sighed heavily as they left the mayor’s office and headed outside. The meeting had gone well, Smoker had explained the escalation of the situation and Law had walked the mayor and the one FBI consultant through their findings. Even though they hadn’t caught anyone, and they only had one possible suspect, the mayor was still impressed with the amount of information and leads Dalton and Penguin had dug up in only a week. “More than all the others combined,” he had said. Penguin had answered questions and explained some of the nuances of the work, and he had made sure to include Chopper in the credit. Without him they wouldn’t even be following this trail in the first place.

The young detective looked over at his partner and frowned. Dalton had been quiet through most of the interview, speaking only when he was directly spoken to. At first, Penguin had thought it was because Dalton wanted Penguin to take the reins and maybe get the collar, but then he had noticed Dalton wasn’t really all there. He was distracted.

“Okay, man,” he said quietly as they made their way across the parking lot, “I’ll bite. What’s wrong?”

Dalton frowned down at the gravel and shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

Penguin stopped and put one hand gently on Dalton’s chest. “Okay, wait. I pour out my fucking heart to you in the wee hours and now you’re obviously going through something and all I get is a ‘it’s nothing?’ What the hell? Come on, we’re partners.”

Dalton looked at him then, finally, really looked at him and the pain and confusion in his eyes was so obvious Penguin felt he was going to start crying right there in the street.

“My wife called.”

Penguin blinked. “Your ex-wife, you mean.”

Dalton shook his head in frustration. “Shit, yes. Sorry, I do that when I’m upset.”

Anger started to burn in Penguin’s chest and he put his hands on his hips. “Okay, what the fuck? We get done talking about her like, a few hours ago and then she’s calling you? What, did we summon her or something?”

It didn’t seem like Dalton was listening. “It makes me so mad how much of a hold she still has over me.” His voice was so soft and suddenly Penguin felt helpless. “She’s making plans and deciding things without me and I can’t even defend myself properly or get her to listen…”

“What’s she trying to do?”

Dalton slid a hand up into his hair and he glanced around like he didn’t want people to overhear their conversation. Luckily, they were alone, the parking lot was deserted.

“She’s sending the kids here.”

Penguin felt his eyes bulging. “Wait, like, right now?”

“Not right this second but sometime this week.” The confusion and frustration and utter terror Dalton was feeling spilled out across his face and Penguin felt another rush of anger towards this woman he had never met.

“That... that's kind of messed up.”

“She’s not… I mean she’s not a bad person or anything, she’s not doing this purposefully to make me angry, she’s just caught up in whatever is going on over on her end and isn’t listening to anything I say.”

Penguin huffed. “Well she sounds like a real piece of work.”

Dalton’s mouth twitching in a tiny, grateful, smile he and slipped his hands into his coat pockets. “I’m sorry I wasn’t any help in there. I just… can’t focus on anything right now.”

“You’re fine,” Penguin’s hand came down on Dalton’s shoulder, “we’ll figure it out. We got good friends.”

“Does anyone besides you even know I have kids?” Dalton said absently. “Law, I guess… I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

“Come on,” Penguin pulled Dalton with him gently toward the Tahoe, “let’s go see Chopper and finish up with the puppet lady and then we can go home and rest and figure this shit out.”

“All right,” Dalton said, “okay, yeah. That sounds good.”

He handed Penguin the keys and pulled himself up into the passenger seat.

Penguin tried not to get too excited about driving the Tahoe because really, it wasn’t that big of a deal, but it did make him feel like he had leveled up or something.

It had taken Chopper two more hours to finish the autopsy and catalogue his findings after the text conversation with Law. Once he had everything bagged and organized, bloodwork sent off to toxicology, and another fifty or so pictures of small details saved on his pad, he texted Dalton, Penguin, and Law to let them know, and then headed into the locker room to shower and change. He grabbed a Cup Noodle from the break room and managed to suck it down without really tasting it just in time to meet with the detectives as they came in to the office.

“How did the meeting with the Mayor go?” Chopper asked.

Penguin shrugged. “Uh, well we still have jobs, so…”

Chopper had to chuckle at that. “I’m sure he was impressed with how you guys are handling it. You’ve done more than the last few detectives.”

“Actually, he might have said something along those lines.”

“See?”

Penguin’s smile turned sly. “I made sure to let him know you were helping. Like, how most of the stuff we’ve discovered was because of your findings.”

Chopper felt himself blushing and wondered if Penguin had figured out his penchant for flailing from compliments.

“Uh, well, thank you,” he mumbled.  

Penguin gave him a thumbs up, but that and the smile didn’t do much to hide the state young detective was in. He was rumpled, puffy-eyed, as if he had slept in his car. Dalton looked much the same, except it was obvious by the way the older man’s eyes were wide and bloodshot that he had not slept at all. In fact, he looked terrible.

“Are you okay?” Chopper asked. He wanted to put out a hand and touch Dalton’s arm, but there were too many people around and he didn’t want to make things awkward.

“I’m fine,” Dalton said distractedly, “let’s get to it.”

Startled by Dalton’s abruptness, Chopper backed away and nodded. “Uh, yeah, sure.” As he turned and headed for the autopsy room, he felt shame wash over him, embarrassed by how much the detective’s slight had hurt. It wasn’t that big of a deal, the man had just finished a long, terrible night, and now it was probably going to turn into a long, terrible day. Chopper didn’t have the right to feel bad just because Dalton was distracted and had better things to do then fawn all over him.

“Pending the blood tests, I can’t tell you officially if the torso is Mr. Machart’s, but I’m sure we can assume without too much repercussion.”

Penguin chuckled, “Unless you know someone else in this town that’s missing their torso.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Chopper said. He pulled gloves out of the box and slipped them on. Kady Johnson’s body was laid out on the center table, her organs, and what they were assuming were Mr. Machart’s organs, were laid out in bags on a parallel table.

“Okay, so the killer took her elbows and knees, which, professionally speaking, is quite a feat. He stapled the stumps and twisted the extra flesh like you do when you close a bread bag, and then took the two twisted parts and sewed them together.”

“Gross,” Penguin made a face.

“Were the wires tied to bone, like you first thought?” Dalton asked. When Chopper looked at him, their eyes met for a moment and Chopper was struck by how tired and worn and… sad the older man seemed. What had happened? Why did he look so defeated?

“Uh, yes,” he blinked and looked away, trying to focus on what he was supposed to be doing. “Wires were wrapped around the clavicles, and there were holes drilled into the llium near the crests—basically the hip bones. That’s where the weight was held, the remaining wires were more for show.”

The rest of it was pretty straightforward, most of her internal organs were not hers. Initial blood samples indicated that the parts were male, and a different blood type, but that was all Chopper could determine without DNA. The stitching matched the other victims, even though the thread was different, but Chopper explained that the killer had been forced to use a thicker thread with the torso lest everything come spilling out on his display.

She had been killed sometime Wednesday and, save for the internal organs, she had not been frozen or even cooled, so the decomposition was farther along than any of the other victims.

“Either he doesn’t care that we know his method, or he’s specifically mocking us with it,” Dalton said quietly. “We might start getting letters soon.”

“Shit,” Penguin growled, “I do not need a Zodiac situation.”

“They never caught the Zodiac, did they?” Chopper asked.

Penguin scratched at his jaw, “No. And I’m sorry, that might have been a bad comparison.”

Chopper lifted his chin defiantly. “We’ll catch this one.”

A smile spread across Penguin’s face and he nodded. “Yeah we will.”

“I’ll text you guys the moment the tox results come in,” Chopper said. “Bloodwork might take longer, we’re sort of backed up.”

Dalton shook his head, “It’s all right, you’re already doing so much. We wouldn’t be—”

A phone rang, and Chopper was startled to see Dalton’s face go pale. He seemed afraid, confused. What the hell was going on?

When Dalton pulled his phone from his pocket, the pallor of his face went from pale to ashen. He swallowed and shook his head.

“Is it her?” Penguin asked.

Dalton nodded.

“Is everything okay?” Chopper asked, suddenly afraid. “Who is it?”

Dalton shook his head again. “My wife.” With that he ran his fingers over his forehead and turned to slip out the door. Penguin started to follow but held back a moment to turn back to Chopper.

“Thank you, Chopper. Call us when the results are in.” Then they both were gone.

Chopper stood by the table, his hands balled up into fists in front of his stomach. The latex of the gloves was sweaty against his skin and it creaked as he started to clench tighter and tighter. The room around him had fallen away, the table with the body, the organs, the samples, they were all gone. He was standing in darkness, the only light was faint, silhouetting the door the detectives had just stepped through.

His heart wasn’t beating, his breath had halted. Standing there in the autopsy room, time had suspended itself and Chopper was now floating in the colorless void of shock.

Wife?

Dalton… had a wife?

He swallowed, throat dry, like sandpaper. He needed water. He needed air. Why was there no air in the room?

Blinking, Chopper looked around, taking in the table, the body of Kady Johnson, the bags of organs and tissue lined up on the table on his other side. He could leave everything here, tell a tech to place it all in the cooler. His notes were thorough, he could take them home and write his report there. Yeah, that sounded good. He wanted to go home.

He pulled off his gloves and dropped them into the waste, then he turned and walked out the door. He grabbed the first tech he saw and asked them to finish up in room one. It was room one, right? He was sure it was. At least it had been earlier.

Chopper gathered his things, slung his bag over his shoulder and started towards the front of the office, but a wave of something heady and disorienting washed over him and he staggered on his feet, catching himself on a nearby desk.

“Doctor Chopper?” a tech’s voice, “Doctor? Are you okay?”

Her hands were warm on his arm, but he straightened and pulled away gently. “Oh, yeah, sorry just tired. I’m gonna go splash some water on my face.”

He made it down the hall, closed and locked the door to the bathroom behind him, and then he dropped his things and rushed into a stall just in time to vomit into the toilet. He wretched, sending the Cup Noodles and Sprite he’d had earlier back up. Then it was just bits of bile, over and over, until there was nothing left.

When it finally stopped, he fumbled for the flush, and then straightened. He backed out of the stall, shaking, dizzy. His back hit the wall and he slid to the floor, still dazed.

Dalton had a wife?

What did that mean?

Were they separated? Was Dalton cheating? Was Dalton cheating on his wife with him?

It didn’t seem like it was possible, but in reality, Chopper didn’t actually know much about Dalton at all, besides the basics. They had talked a lot during their date, but because Chopper had been too terrified to talk about important things, they had stuck to stuff that didn’t matter. Cocktail party bullshit.

He let out a breath and ran a hand over his mouth. What if it was true? What if Dalton was married and he was cheating? That would mean… no no no oh god it was happening again! Chopper had gotten himself involved with someone completely inappropriate! He had homed in on the one person that could most effectively tear his already broken heart to pieces! What the fuck was wrong with him!? Why did this always happen!?

Fucking slut!

No, this couldn’t be, not Dalton, no way. Not with those kind eyes and the gentle way he coaxed the panic out of him at dinner. There was no way that man was married and cheating on his wife! There was no fucking way!

Worthless little bitch!

How could this have happened again? What was wrong with him? Did he attract this? Had he just been made the catalyst that was going to break up Dalton’s marriage? If the wife was calling and Dalton looked like that, all pale and terrified it must be because she had found out about their date. Maybe she had followed them. Maybe she had seen them. Oh god what if she had seen them? Was Dalton going to be angry at him? Was Dalton going to hate him for it?

He was keening softly, tears running down his face. He was so fucking stupid. Dalton was going to be so angry. Dalton was going to hate him.

But he deserved it. He fucking deserved all of it.

He stood, wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, and picked up his things. He rinsed his mouth out and splashed water on his face at the sink, but he was still crying when he left the morgue through the back door, still weeping softly as he rode the bus home, and by the time he arrived home and opened the front door, he still hadn’t gotten it under control.

Law was standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, waiting for something to cook in the microwave. When he saw Chopper, he smiled, waved, but then took in Chopper’s face, his tears, and straightened.

“Chopper?”

He was so handsome, his face so open and caring. It was everything Chopper wanted and he couldn’t resist it anymore. He dropped his things and slammed the door shut, locking it behind him.

By the time Dalton hung up the phone, he and Penguin were back in the Tahoe, sitting in the parking lot at the precinct. Penguin had driven them back while Dalton had argued, or not argued, with his ex-wife and hated himself the entire time.

“So, what’s happening?” Penguin asked.

Dalton shook his head, his self-loathing at an all-time high. Why had he just sat there and taken it? Did he still feel guilty? He must.

“The kids are coming later this week, Thursday. They’re going to stay about ten days.”

“Okay,” Penguin said softly.

“She’s going on some cruise thing with her husband for his work. It’s last minute and they don’t want to say no and ruin his chance for relations with their clients, or his superiors or something. They don’t allow children on the cruise and her parents are gone for the next two weeks visiting extended family in Spain. I’m apparently the only other option on short notice.”

“What the fuck…”

“She’s also mad at me because I haven’t seen the kids in a few months. I’m… ‘slacking in my fatherly duties’.”

They were silent for a moment before Penguin shifted in his seat. “Well, you’ve got a few days to prepare at least. What do you need to do?”

Dalton started to think through everything and it slowly started snowballing in his head. The obligations at work, the things he needed to fix at home, the planning, the details, and his heart started to beat very fast.

“I really, really want to see my kids, I do, but I don’t understand how she thinks this is even remotely okay. We have the case. There’s a fucking murderer out there that we have to deal with and I don’t have anyone to watch the girls while I’m working, and I can’t just not work. I don’t even have anywhere for them to sleep yet, I’ve barely unpacked myself! And is she pulling them out of school to send them here? Is she okay with Aiden missing weeks of class so she can go on some cruise? What… what is even happening? Who is this person she’s turned into!?”

“Woa, woa, Dalton, it’s cool,” Penguin reached across the console and gripped Dalton’s forearm. “It’s okay, man don’t freak out. I’m sure we know someone who knows someone that’s good for watching kids. We’ll get some beds, I might even have air mattresses somewhere. We’ll figure it out.”

He turned to Penguin then and met his partner’s kind and concerned eyes.

“We?” he asked.

Penguin nodded. “Of course. I’m your partner and this is your buddy cop movie. I’m the Mel Gibson to your Danny Glover, your Eddie Murphy to your Nick Nolte.” His smile widened, and he tapped Dalton’s chest. “I’m the Nick Frost to your Simon Pegg!”

Despite the ridiculousness of Penguin’s words, Dalton actually started to feel cool relief wash through him and he smiled. “Isn’t the Pegg and Frost movie about the zombie apocalypse though?”

“They did a buddy cop movie!” Penguin made a face. “You’re a cop and you’ve never seen Hot Fuzz?”

Dalton shook his head.

“Jesus, you gotta fix that.” With that, he turned back to the steering wheel and pulled the keys from the ignition, handing them to Dalton. “Why don’t you go home and rest for a bit and I’ll write the report.”

“I can’t leave you—”

“—Don’t worry about it, partner. Go home, I’ll write the report. I need the practice anyway.”

Sighing, Dalton knew Penguin was right. He wasn’t in a good frame of mind to be doing anything but going home, eating something, and then hitting the sack. He could deal with everything after he rested.

“Okay,” he said softly, “I’ll call you later.”

“Excellent,” Penguin opened the door and slipped out, but before he could shut the door, Dalton called out to him.

“Penguin!”

“Yeah?”

It took a moment but Dalton finally formed the words and pushed them past his lips.

“Thank you.”

Penguin’s smile was blinding before he shut the door.

When he was alone, Dalton thought about texting Chopper. He had been curt and unfriendly towards him without meaning to, and that had probably been confusing. But when he pulled out his phone another wave of shame washed over him, and he couldn't open the text window. He hadn't told Chopper about his ex-wife. He hadn't even told Chopper he had kids. It wasn't like he had meant to hide it, it just hadn't come up in conversation naturally, and if he was being completely honest with himself, telling someone in their twenties, whom you were trying to court, that you already had three children? It was utterly terrifying.

So he ended up slipping his phone back in his pocket with a tired sigh, and moving to the driver's seat. He started the Tahoe and pulled out of the parking lot.

He would tell Chopper next time he saw him, shame or no shame, and if Chopper was angry with him because of it, well...

He would cross that bridge when he came to it.

Law’s heart pounded so hard he could feel it in his throat. Panic slammed into him so violently he was breathless. There had been one other time he had seen Chopper like this and that night had turned into one of the worst in his recent memory.

And that was fucking saying something.

“Chopper?” he asked, his mouth suddenly dry.

Tears ran from his friend’s eyes, and his skin was pale and blotchy. There were stress rashes around his nose and the top of his cheeks which meant he had probably been throwing up.

Fuck. What happened?

Then Chopper dropped his jacket and slipped the strap of his bag over his head. The door slammed, and the bag found its way to the floor with the rest of Chopper’s things. Something changed in his friend’s eyes then and Chopper started across the floor towards him. Maybe it was the way he was moving, or maybe it was just the obvious fact that Chopper needed someone—needed something—so desperately, that lit a fire deep down in a place that Law thought had been long dead. He shuddered with want as Chopper came close and slid his hands up into Law’s hair. Fingers pulled, tugging him down, and then their lips touched.

The kiss was not gentle, it was not sweet, nothing like Law ever thought kissing Chopper would be like. It was rough and dirty, and everything that Law actually liked. He growled low in his throat and leaned in, running his hands over Chopper’s hips, pulling the two of them flush. Chopper was hard, and trembling, groaning breathlessly into his mouth. It was heady and intoxicating and fucking hot as hell. Law hadn’t known Chopper was capable of this, but now that he did? Shit.

Chopper’s tongue licked at the inside of his mouth, his hands pulled desperately at whatever he could reach and Law moved in, doing what Chopper’s body language instructed. He heard the beeping of the microwave, but it seemed far away, insignificant. He wasn’t even sure what it was.

Cold fingers trailed down his neck and started pulling at his shirt, jerking the buttons apart one by one and sliding that cool touch across his skin. That touch shocked Law out of his singular focus on Chopper’s mouth and he pulled away, but not that far. He leaned his forehead against Chopper’s and panted across his lips.

“Chopper, babe, are you okay?” his voice was breathy, unsteady.

“Shut up,” Chopper whispered and kissed him again. He pulled at Law’s shirt, trying to get it off his shoulders. Law felt himself going with it, his trepidation overpowered by the force of his desire. He reached around Chopper’s hips, grabbing a few nice handfuls of that tight little ass, and lifted Chopper onto the counter. Chopper gasped as his back hit the cupboards, and he tilted his head back. Law took the opportunity and feasted on that pale skin, kissing and sucking, biting softly as Chopper made the most amazing noises and pulled desperately at his hair.

When Chopper’s legs came around Law’s waist, Law groaned and gripped those thin hips hard enough to bruise. They rolled together slowly, the tension and the heat building between them until Chopper let out another gasp and reached up behind him to try and find something to grip. He found the handle to the cupboard and used the leverage to grind down harder.

“Fuck me…” he said breathlessly into Law’s hair. “Please, please fuck me…”

Something tugged at the back of Law’s mind and he pulled away, breathing hard and trying to stop getting at Chopper’s lips. It was almost impossible.

“Are you sure?”

Chopper didn’t answer, still desperately trying to push Law’s shirt from his body. It didn’t settle right in Law’s mind and he pulled back farther. He stopped rolling his hips and used his grip on Chopper’s hips to stop his movements as well.

“Chopper,” he said softly, trying to catch his breath, “Chopper stop, wait.”

“No,” Chopper growled and ducked, avoiding Law’s eyes, and started kissing up Law’s throat.

Law’s eyes slipped closed, the warmth of Chopper’s soft lips on his skin felt so good, it was just what he had wanted for so long, so very fucking long. But then he took a breath and shook himself, reluctantly—so very fucking reluctantly—pulling himself together again and he whispered, “Chopper, stop.”

Chopper froze and then started to tremble. He wrapped his arms around Law’s shoulders and buried his face into the place he had just been kissing, clinging to Law like his life depended on it.

“Please don’t…” he whispered. “I want you so much. Please just pretend you want me.”

Law shuddered and pushed at Chopper until they were far enough apart to look at each other. He put his hands on Chopper’s cheeks and came in close, close enough to kiss.

“I do want you,” he growled, “I’ve wanted you for years, how can you not see that?” Before his next words passed his lips, Law thought of Kidd and his eyes filled with tears. “But what I want, and what’s best for both of us isn’t the same thing.”

Chopper’s mouth turned up in a snarl and he pushed at Law, sending him backwards.

“What’s best for both of us?” he wasn’t shouting, but he was working up to it. “What is best for us exactly? Pining? Wallowing in self-pity? Throwing ourselves at people that can’t be with us, or won’t?” He slid down from the counter and backed Law up against the island. “Why can’t we just be miserable together! Why don’t you just fuck me so I’m not saving it for someone who’s never going to fucking exist!?”

Law let out a painful breath and put up his hands. “Chopper, you’re too good for that. I can’t—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Chopper was crying again, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Don’t fucking say that about me! You don’t know shit about how good or how bad I am! You don't fucking know anything!”

Law pushed off the island and closed the distance between them. “Don’t say that, please don’t say that. I know you think that way because of what that asshole did to you but—”

Slap!

Law’s cheek stung suddenly. The side of his face was tingling, and he could taste blood. Confused, he lifted a hand and brought it to his face, pressing his palm to the hot skin. He turned back to Chopper and found his friend standing there, a look of shocked horror on his face.

“Oh… oh my god, Law,” he said softly, “I’m sorry.”

Still stunned, Law straightened and rubbed at his cheek. “It’s okay.”

Chopper shook his head and tears started to fall again. They ran down his cheeks and dripped from his chin. He covered his mouth with both his hands and he let out a terrible moan.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

Law reached out and pulled Chopper to him. He didn’t care about the slap, he’d had worse, he had asked for worse, but as Chopper came to him and collapsed, sobbing against his chest, Law felt his helplessness and his fear and his worry finally reach a breaking point and he slid to the floor with Chopper in his arms.

“It’s okay,” he whispered into curly hair, and held him as tightly as he could without hurting him, “it’s okay, Chopper. I love you. I love you, baby, it’s okay.”

Chopper wept against him, hands clenching in the fabric of his shirt. “I’m sorry,” he said brokenly when he could take a breath, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Law held him for a long time, until the light started to fade and the colors in the kitchen turned from white, to yellow, to orange. He might have cried too, but he wasn’t sure. Chopper’s wracking sobs were the only thing he could focus on, the only thing that mattered.

Finally, when the shaking stopped, and Chopper was resting against him and breathing regularly again, Law tilted his head and kissed those curls.

“You still with me?”

He felt hands retreat from his clothes and tuck in under Chopper’s jaw.

“Are you mad?”

“No,” Law whispered.

“Are you telling the truth?”

Law nodded, “Yes. What happened today?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Chopper said quietly.

“Chopper, I think that might be your biggest problem. You need to talk about what happened to you, and I don’t mean today, I mean before. You need to see someone that can help you.”

There was silence for a few moments and then Chopper whispered, “I know.”

“Here, my legs are asleep, get up for a second.”

They climbed to their feet and Law led them upstairs to his room. He stripped Chopper down to his boxers and pushed him down into his bed and then did the same for himself. When he was under the covers, he pressed himself up against Chopper’s back and put an arm around the smaller man’s waist. He kissed the back of a pale neck and whispered softly, “I’m here for you. You can tell me anything, you know that, right?”

Chopper settled back against him. “I can’t, it’s too embarrassing.”

“I’m not gonna judge you,” he huffed out a self-depreciating laugh, “me of all people.”

“I don’t want you or Kidd to get in trouble.”

“We won’t get in trouble. Besides, that doesn’t matter, you have to talk to someone.”

Chopper breathed deep, letting it out slowly. He ran a hand tentatively over the one Law had resting against his chest, slipped his fingers between Law’s.

“Fine…”

That was probably as good as he was going to get, so Law kissed Chopper’s neck again and settled onto the pillows.

“Okay, goodnight.”

He didn’t fall asleep for a while, neither of them did. When Chopper’s shoulders started to shake, and he was whispering apologies into the darkness, Law held him tighter. He knew it would be the easiest thing in the world to roll Chopper onto his back and run his hands all over that pale skin. He could kiss away the pain and fuck him slow and sweet until he came so hard he’d sleep for months.

But then what would happen when they woke? Where would they go from there? Heartbreak is where they would go, and it would be completely Law’s fault.

So he kissed Chopper’s neck and whispered sweet, comforting things into his ear, held him tight, and when Chopper’s breathing finally slowed and evened out, Law relaxed and let himself drift. He let himself bury his face into soft, curly hair, and breathe in that clean, fresh scent.

Finally, he slept.

TBC

Chapter Text

Chopper lay awake well into the night. The weight of Law’s body pressing against his back had been welcome and deeply comforting, but it did not stop the thoughts that were racing in his head, or the tempest of feelings that crashed through him as he lay sometimes shivering, and sometimes so hot he could barely breathe.

He was so embarrassed, so angry and confused, and so very fucking heartbroken.

Everything hurt. Everything hurt so bad he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to pull himself out of bed in the morning. The ache in his body felt deep enough to be in his bones. However, after lifting his head and seeing the clock on the bedside table read half past two, he realized all attempts at rest were futile, and he needed a distraction before he went crazy.

Besides, he needed to pee.

His phone was in the side pocket of his bag. Luckily, it had not been in the pocket of his jeans like it usually was because when Law and lifted him onto the counter, it probably would have fallen out into the sink or down to the floor.

Chopper felt his face flush as he remembered the way Law’s hands had touched him, the way Law’s lips had trailed down his neck. He was so ashamed for the way he had acted; how could he have put one of his best friends in that kind of situation? What the fuck was wrong with him? There was no excuse. It didn’t matter how terrible he had felt or how fucked up he had been, what he had done to Law had been much, much worse.

When he climbed back up the stairs, his shame was heavy on his shoulders and settled painfully in his gut. He stood in the doorway, looking at the long line of Law’s back as he slept. He should just go to his own room, deal with this shit like an adult, Law didn’t need this on top of everything else.

Then Law stirred suddenly, and Chopper jumped, startled. That head of messy, dark hair lifted and after a second, Law sat up, looking around frantically. When he spotted Chopper at the door he breathed out slowly, relaxing a little, but concern lined the features of his face that were visible in the low light.

“Hey,” he whispered, “you okay?”

Chopper nodded, “Just had to pee.”

Law nodded back and pulled the covers down in invitation.

The offer made Chopper’s heart break all over again. Even after everything he had done, everything he had put Law though, he was still there for him, still willing to help, no matter the cost to himself. Chopper almost shook his head and politely declined. He should have. He should have just gone back to his own room and gotten in his own bed and left Law the fuck alone because he didn’t need Chopper’s shit…

…but his bed was cold, and he knew for a fact that lying next to Law, or wrapped in Law’s arms, was better than what he knew awaited him if he did go back to his own bed, so he slowly padded across the carpet and climbed back up onto the soft mattress. He lay facing Law this time, his head taking up half the pillow as Law pulled the covers up and settled back down beside him. Chopper ran a hand over dark hair, brushing a few wild strands out of his friend’s forehead.

“I’m sorry,” Chopper whispered.

Law made a sound like a grunt, “I told you, you don’t—” but Chopper shushed him and told him to just go back to sleep.

He lay there for a long time, watching the rise and fall of Law’s chest. It grounded him, kept him from thinking about things that made his chest hurt and his stomach tie into knots. When he phone buzzed in his hand, he stirred, realized he had actually dozed off. It was a little after five, and when he looked down at his screen, his heart started slamming hard against the inside of his ribcage.

Shaking, he thumbed open the screen to read the text from Dalton.

Dalton had woken early that morning, head aching. He had not slept well, and after tossing and turning for nearly three hours, he had gotten up and done a hundred pushups plus a few hundred jumping jacks. Usually this routine worked to get his mind off whatever was bothering him and forced his body to relax, but not last night. He had sat up another few hours afterward reading various news stories and wiki articles on his phone, and when he finally did fall asleep, it was after glancing at the clock and seeing it was after one in the morning.

Yawning, he rolled to his back and pressed the heels of his palms into his temples. Memories from the day before started to slip through his groggy consciousness and his thoughts started to collect. When he remembered the way he had spoken to Chopper, he groaned and closed his eyes again, suddenly regretting every decision he had ever made.

There was just no excuse, he had kept something as important as his family a secret from Chopper and Chopper didn’t deserve that. Dalton knew he should have texted or called Chopper last night and apologized, explained the situation, but he had been too afraid—he was still afraid. What was he supposed to say? Was Chopper going to be angry with him? Would he be angry enough to break it off?

Heaving a sigh, Dalton sat up and took the phone from his night stand. He held it in his hands and stared down at the black screen for several long seconds. He was weak when it came to his ex wife, Dalton knew this, but he also knew that if he wanted to have something with Chopper, something that meant something, maybe something that was permanent, he needed to get himself to together and apologize.

Thumbing open his text window, he typed out a message with shaking fingers.

Dalton: I’m so sorry about yesterday. I was rude and cold and I didn’t mean to
be. Obviously there are some things I haven’t told you about myself but I’d like
to fix that if you’ll let me.
Dalton: Can we meet up today to talk?

He didn’t expect a response since it was barely after five in the morning, but as he threw his legs over the side of the bed and started to stand, the phone buzzed. He looked at it, surprised, and sat back down.

Chopper: I don’t think we should meet up
Chopper: Just call me after 6 when I’m off work

A cold, hard, stone dropped into the pit of Dalton’s stomach. Chopper was angry, furious even. How was he going to fix this? Could he fix this? Running a hand over his mouth Dalton thought about the prospect of losing Chopper and started to feel sick to his stomach. An invisible hand squeezed his lungs, cutting off his supply of air and he sat on the edge of the bed, breathing as if he had just run a mile.

“Shit…” he said softly, “shit… shit…”

Floundering, terrified, Dalton looked back down at his phone and started to type.

Chopper sat up in bed as the texts started to come. He wanted to cry, or scream, or something. Actually, he had absolutely no idea how he felt, or how he was even supposed to feel. If Dalton had a wife, and he had lied about it, pretended she didn’t even exist, why after being found out—no, caught—would he be trying to patch things up? What was the point? Did Dalton think Chopper would still want to be with him? Was he that egocentric? Could he be that selfish? No, it was impossible, how could the man that had treated him so gently, so kindly, be the same person that was cheating on his wife and even now was still trying to get—

“Chopper? Chopper… hey, hey pal. Calm down.”

Law’s voice was sleep-slurred and gentle at his ear. Strong hands were rubbing his back gently, and Chopper realized he was hyperventilating. He pressed the button on the side of the phone that turned the screen black, and then he tried to take some slow, deep breaths.

“Nightmare?” Law asked.

Chopper shook his head. “No, he’s…” he swallowed, “he’s texting me. He’s trying to say he’s sorry, but he’s married and I can’t… I just can’t…”

Law was quiet for a moment, and then reached down and traced his fingers over Chopper’s. “Lemme see, I’ll tell him to fuck off.”

“No!” Chopper snatched the phone away and pressed the phone to his chest. “I… I can do it.” Oh god, if Law found out Chopper had been fraternizing with Dalton that would put an enormous stress on the case. Chopper couldn’t do that, he couldn’t be the reason his friends and colleagues were anything less than at their best.

Besides, Law probably already knew Dalton was married and would be angry at Chopper for not saying anything. Shit, he could have avoided all this if he had just said something!

“It’s a colleague,” Chopper said softly, “so I need to handle it delicately. I’ll be all right.”

He turned and scooted to the edge of the bed and hopped down to the floor, the carpet soft against the bottom of his feet as he headed for the door.

There was a rustling behind him, and then Law was pulling gently on his arm, turning him around, and drawing him into a tight embrace. He pressed his face into Chopper’s hair and sighed softly.

“It’s not your fault.” Law whispered. “I know what you’re thinking and it’s not true, okay. Just… don’t think you have to handle this by yourself.”

Chopper nodded and nuzzled his face into tattooed skin. “I know, I’m not… don’t worry. I was upset last night but I’m okay now. It was just a shock, I’ll figure it out.”

Law nodded into his hair and squeezed him gently.

“Will you let me go now?” Chopper chuckled. “It’s hard to stay focused when your morning wood is digging into my stomach.”

Law laughed and released him, putting his hands up in surrender. “What can I say? My head’s in the right place but my body still wants to fuck you.” With a flourish, he rolled back into bed and covered himself with the blanket.

Chopper smiled, “Yeah, I understand.”

He felt Law’s eyes on him as he moved towards the door, and he didn’t quite make it into the hallway before that gravelly, sleep-muffled voice stopped him.

“I meant what I said.”

Putting a hand on the doorframe, Chopper asked softly, “Which part?”

There was no hesitation before Law replied, “All of it.”

When Chopper reached his own bedroom and closed the door behind him, his adrenaline had spiked. His pulse was racing and his breathing was shallow and fast. He leaned against the door and tried to calm himself. He forced himself to breathe slow and deep, placing a few fingers against his carotid. When he felt a little less light headed, he moved away from the door and sat on his bed. It took him another few minutes to work up the courage to check his messages, but he finally unlocked the phone and opened the window.

Dalton: Whatever you’re feeling right now is understandable. I meant to tell you
right off the bat but it’s not something you can just bring up
Dalton: I’m so sorry you had to find out that way
Dalton: And I’m so sorry for not just bucking up and talking to you about it yesterday
like I should have but my head wasn’t in the right place

So, Dalton had meant to tell him eventually. Well, he said he had meant to anyway, that didn’t mean it was the truth. At this point Dalton could say anything, how was he supposed to believe anything the detective said?

Blinking back tears, Chopper crawled up the bed and lay down, head resting on his pillow. What was he supposed to say?

Chopper: I don’t need an explanation. We should just end everything here and g

He stopped typing and closed his eyes. A well of hurt came up from somewhere deep inside, threatening to drown him, to wash him away and leave only a shell lying curled on its side atop his blanket. Law would find him here, a few hours from now, cold and broken and completely dead inside.

He wasn’t strong enough to walk away. He couldn’t make himself let go. Something icy and dark swallowed up his heart and squeezed at his lungs as realization crept over him, consumed him. He had completely fallen for Dalton, for his charms, his kindness, the way he looked at Chopper with those impossibly dark eyes. He had fallen so hard and now there was no way to get out or get away without completely destroying himself.

“S-shit…” he whispered and looked back down at his phone. What the fuck? What the fuck should he do?

His message was still there, waiting to be finished and sent. He could end it. That was the right thing to do. The only thing to do.

He erased it.

Chopper: I’ll call you when I’m off. I still have the house to myself tonight

When Dalton arrived at the precinct, Penguin was waiting for him with a grin and a cup of coffee. Both were welcome.

“Feds caught Jones trying to cross the border,” Penguin said as he handed the coffee over. “Guess he’s got another house in Vancouver so they were watching the crossings.”

“That’s excellent news,” Dalton said. “They questioning him up there?”

“Nope,” Penguin’s grin widened, “they’re bringing him back here for us like they said.”

Relief filled Dalton’s chest and relaxed his shoulders. “Small favors.” FBI were cooperative most of the time, but there was always that one agent that wanted the collar, and this case was a career maker. He took a sip of the coffee and hummed, pleased with the taste.

“Your guy Newgate called,” Penguin continued, “talked to Smoker for a while. He seems cool.”

Dalton nodded. “We go way back. When I was taking courses in criminology at the bureau he was a mentor of mine. Man’s been around forever and he’s closed a million cases himself. He won’t take credit if it’s not his.”

“That’s awesome,” Penguin said softly before taking a sip of his own coffee. Then he eyed Dalton and tilted his head. “How’re you doing, by the way?”

Dalton shook his head. “I’ve been better. And I never got around to…” he sighed and then looked straight at Penguin. “I was too afraid to tell Chopper, so now I have to fix that somehow.”

Penguin’s eyes widened. “Oh shit. Is he mad?”

Dalton nodded. “He took it way harder than I expected. Well, no, I expected it would be hard, but I thought… I don’t know what I thought.”

“It’ll be fine, man,” Penguin put a hand on his shoulder. “Chopper’s cool. Just explain it to him, tell him what happened with her. He’ll get it.”

Dalton nodded again. “It’s just so terrifying.”

Penguin might have meant to say something further, but there was a commotion at the front and both detectives turned to see what was happening.

“Detectives!” an officer called as he came up the stairs, “They’re here! They just brought in Jones but he’s freaking out!”

Dalton and Penguin set their coffees on the desk and followed the officer down to processing. What they met with was a commotion by the desk as four armed officers and two agents struggled with a very large figure with sallow skin and curly, black hair. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, crazy.

“Lemme go,” the man snarled, “get your fuckin’ hands off me!”

Dalton watched as the officers and agents wrestled the man to the ground and pinned his arms behind his back. Why the man hadn’t been handcuffed already, Dalton couldn’t understand.

“What the hell is going on here?” Smoker’s voice was cool and tinged with annoyance as he stepped between Dalton and Penguin.

“This is Jones, I guess,” Dalton said.

“Hm,” Smoker huffed. “Newgate said he was on something when they found him, didn’t think he’d still be this out of if by the time they got him here.”

“He’s tripping balls,” Penguin said, amazed.

“Come on, he’s just one guy!” Smoker barked at the struggling officers. “Get him up! Get him in a room!”

Dalton moved in and helped slip the cuffs on Jones’ wrists. “Calm down,” he said softly into Jones’ ear. “Stop struggling and I’ll get you a seat, maybe something to drink, okay?”

Jones fought with him for another few seconds, but when he realized Dalton’s hands on him were firm and unmoving, solid, he relaxed and nodded into the tiled floor.

Dalton nodded and with Penguin’s help, hoisted him up and moved him into an interrogation room. An officer chained the cuffs to the ring in the table and left the three of them alone, closing the door behind her.

Penguin looked at Dalton and adjusted his tie, indicating with his head that Dalton should be the one doing the questioning. Dalton accepted and moved to sit in the chair across from the prisoner. He straightened his suit jacket, adjusted his own tie, and then folded his hands in his lap.

“You okay?” he asked.

Jones huffed a laugh and leaned to the side, almost like he was going to fall off the seat, but then he righted himself and put his elbows on the table.

“I’m not any worse than usual,” he growled. “Thought you were gonna get me a drink.”

Dalton looked at Penguin, and without hesitation, his partner nodded and moved toward the door. When they were alone, Jones turned back to Dalton and sneered.

“There a reason why every cop in Washington is after me today?”

“Well, originally it was just to question you, but then you ran.”

Jones sneered again and coughed, a wet, slimy sound, and then turned and spit a glob of something pink onto the floor. “Question me about what?”

“You have your hands in some research happening at Vegapunk Industries,” Dalton said. “We were curious as to why, but now it’s pretty much obvious.”

“Whaddya mean?” Jones asked.

Dalton smiled, “Well, it’s a research company that specializes in biological compounds—drugs. Your appearance pretty much gave me all the answers I needed.”

Penguin returned then with a tall glass of water. “Doc says you need to drink this. He’ll be here in a few minutes to check you out, make sure you aren’t gonna pass out or die on us.”

Jones, surprisingly, accepted the water and drank two thirds of it in just a few long gulps.

“I may be fucked up right now,” he said, glaring at Dalton, “but I’m not a moron. The cops and FBI don’t go on a manhunt to nab a guy for drug possession. Why’d you really want me?”

“Your affiliation with Vegapunk is primarily in donations, one of which funds a researcher named Caesar. We wanted to know—”

“—I don’t got anything to do with that freak,” Jones snarled, sitting forward and fixing those wild, red eyes on Dalton’s face. “That asshole can rot in fucking hell for all I care.”

“So, you know him,” Dalton said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah, I fucking know him,” Jones said. “He’s a crazy son of a bitch. I donate to his section ‘cause they supply me but I don’t want nothin’ to do with anyone there personally. I got my own shit to deal with now that supply’s been halted down at the docks. That fucking Kidd guy came rollin’ into town and fucked up all drug trade from here to the fucking North Pole.”

Penguin’s eyebrows rose when Dalton turned to him. This was unexpected.

“So,” Dalton said carefully, “let me get this straight: You run drugs from here, over the border?”

“Yeah.”

“And you used to be supplied by the trade down at the docks, but that was stopped when Eustass Kidd moved in and took over everything down that way?”

Jones nodded. “I don’t know if he still runs or not, but all movement up North just fuckin’ stopped one day. There’s a few capos in Canada that had plans to run him out but Kidd’s legit. Don’t know the details but those capos are gone now.”

Penguin snorted at Dalton’s side, but Dalton continued. “So Vegapunk is your supplier now?”

“Not Vegapunk exactly,” Jones said, “more like a small group of guys that work for Vegapunk. Guys high up in the business, upper management.”

“Why are you giving us this information so freely?” Dalton asked.

Jones took the glass of water and tipped it back, draining the last little bit into his mouth. “Like I said, I’m not a moron. I know why you’re really after me, and I’d rather tell you about the actual shit I’m in, than get stuck with murder charges. Guy like me’s the kind of guy you assholes like to pin things on.”

“Why do you think we were after you for murder?” Penguin asked.

Jones turned to him then, smiling wide. His teeth were pearl white and unnaturally long.

“Frankenstein puts his dolls to sleep with Caesar’s juice. I fund Caesar’s research, so it’s only natural for you to think I’m in on it.”

Dalton sat forward, “How the hell do you know that? We’ve kept the details of the chemical out of the papers.”

Jones’ smile widened to an impossible stretch. It disturbed Dalton profoundly. “You can’t keep everything a secret around here. I told you Caesar’s an asshole, but he’s also not stupid. He’s been blabbing to anyone that’ll listen about his precious compound being used to kill the Frankenstein victims. He says it’s an atrocity it’s being used in such ‘barbaric and wasteful’ ways.”

“Shit.” Penguin ran a hand over his eyes.

“But anyway,” Jones leaned back in the chair, “again like I said, I got nothing to do with killin’ those people. I just like Caesar’s juice.”

At that moment, the interrogation room door opened, and Law came inside.

“Morning, gentlemen.”

He carried a doctor’s satchel and placed it on the table. He opened it and looked down at Jones. “I apologize for the interruption, we don’t usually do this, but the captain wanted you checked out immediately.” He turned then and spoke to Dalton and Penguin. “I’ll only be a few minutes, you can wait in here or outside, I don’t care.”

They waited outside.

When Law was finished, he packed his things and left the interrogation room, still pulling off his gloves as he closed the door.

“Okay, he’s high but I can’t tell from what. Only the blood tests will be able to determine that. He doesn’t seem to be in danger of overdose either so get some more fluids in him and feed him sometime today and he should be fine. It’s two or three days from now when it’ll start to get dangerous.”

Penguin nodded to him and gave his brother’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze before Law saluted them and headed out. Dalton almost stopped him to tell him what they had discovered about Kidd, but at the last moment he decided to stay quiet. He knew now was not the best time.

Three hours later, Jones was in a holding cell, and his statement had been taken officially. It was in Penguin’s handwriting, but Jones had signed it. Everything had been recorded and videoed in case down the line some defense attorney wanted to try and use the argument that Jones had been coerced. He had not. Dalton had made sure all the I’s were dotted and T’s were crossed, so that defense would never see the light of day.

Tired and hungry Dalton made his way back to the second floor of the precinct. Penguin trailed behind him, a look of complete and utter disbelief on his face. When they reached their desks, the two of them sat and stared off at nothing for a few minutes, drinking their cold coffee. Stunned.

“Okay,” Penguin said into his cup, “I’m gonna recap because I still don’t believe that just happened.”

Dalton nodded. “Go for it.”

“So, we follow a lead based on chemicals we found in a body, to a chemist that’s researching that same chemical, and then his assistant points us in the direction of the guy who’s funding the research, and that guy turns out to be one of the biggest drug king pins on the west coast. And not only that, we find out that he’s actually been losing business and having to take his product into Canada because Kidd—Law’s Kidd—has somehow stopped drug trafficking in the south of Seattle and most of the north almost completely. Did I leave anything out?”

“No,” Dalton said, “that sounds about right. What movie does that put us in?”

“This is too unrealistic to be a movie.”

Despite himself, Dalton chuckled. Then he tilted his head back and laughed at the ceiling, guffawing, hands on his stomach and chest, until tears started to gather in his eyes. Penguin was not any better off. When the two were calmed down enough to look at each other again, they almost started in once more, but got themselves under control.

“How the fuck did this happen?” Penguin asked, grinning.

Dalton shrugged. “Apparently, I can’t escape narcotics, or organized crime.”

“I mean, I’m not complaining, this is amazing. Taking down drug lords is really fucking great… but…”

“We’ve also just hit a wall in the Frankenstein case,” Dalton nodded, “I know. It’s frustrating, but we have to take the wins when we get them.”

Penguin nodded. “Yeah… yeah, I should just focus on that.”

"We're going to have to pass this portion off to narcotics if we don't want to get stuck the with paperwork," Dalton said offhandedly.>/p>

Sighing, Penguin nodded again. "What about Caesar?"

Dalton waved a hand in dismissal. "He's already done his damage. No use wasting time and manpower. Let him whine and carry on."

Penguin started chuckling again.

“You want to get lunch?” Dalton asked.

“Yes!”

As they stood, an officer came up the stairs and waved to Dalton. She came around the desk as he was grabbing his coat from his chairback and she moved in close.

“There’s someone here to see you, detective,” she said softly.

Curious, Dalton laid his coat back down. “Who?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “He just said his name was Chopper? I don’t know, he looks really upset.”

Dalton’s heart slammed against his ribcage a few times before he remembered how to breathe. He felt himself go a little faint, his body swaying slightly on his feet, but he caught himself and looked back at the officer.

“I…” he cleared his throat and tried again. “Can you send him up here?”

“Sure,” she said, and disappeared down the stairs.

Dalton turned to Penguin but didn’t speak. He didn’t know what to say.

Luckily, Penguin did.

“I think Smoker’s still down in processing with the feds. I’ll tell him you’re using his office.”

Dalton nodded but still said nothing, his mouth and throat were too dry. Then Penguin nodded over his shoulder and Dalton turned, realizing that he had again forgotten how to breathe.

Chopper was standing at the top of the stairs, wrapped in a wool coat and scarf. His hair was messy, and his eyes were slightly puffy, red around the edges. He was looking at Dalton with sadness in his eyes so deep, it broke Dalton’s heart.

“Hey,” Penguin put a hand between his shoulder blades, “go on.”

The first few steps were almost impossible; the rest were merely just painful. When he came close enough to touch Chopper, he stopped and made a small motion with his head.

“I got, um…” he swallowed thickly. “Smoker’s office is open, we can talk in there.”

Chopper nodded and followed.

Smoker’s office was cluttered, but in an organized way. Books were shoved haphazardly on the shelves but seemed to be separated into catalogued sections. Papers were stacked on every surface but the desk and the cushioned seat along the wall. Framed pictures of government officials hung on the wall alongside plaques displaying service medals from both the marines and the force.

Dalton shut the door and moved toward the desk. He meant to offer Chopper one of the seats, but Chopper went to the single window and slowly closed the blinds. When he turned back, he still said nothing, and they stood for a moment in a silence that was so tense it made Dalton’s muscles twitch with pain.

Finally, Chopper spoke, staring at the floor.

“I couldn’t wait until tonight. I needed to talk to you now.”

Dalton leaned against the large, wooden desk and slipped his hands into his pockets. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way. I was going to tell you.”

Chopper lifted his eyes, and the look he gave Dalton was full of remorse.

“You think that would have changed anything?”

Pain tore into Dalton’s chest. He could see where this conversation was going and he couldn’t stand it.

“I—”

“—No,” Chopper interrupted, “you don’t talk right now. You listen.”

Dalton closed his mouth and nodded.

Tears had already started to well in Chopper’s eyes, but he batted them away with his fingers and stepped closer. “I just don’t know what to do. I’m so angry with you for lying—no, not lying, just… keeping this from me. And I’m so fucking disgusted with myself I can’t even…”

When Chopper didn’t continue, Dalton asked carefully, “Why are you disgusted with yourself?”

Chopper shook his head. “I can’t stop myself. I should, I mean I shouldn’t be with you. I can’t do this again, I can’t, but I want to be with you so much it h-hurts… it hurts so much.” Tears were streaming down his cheeks now, and Dalton’s heart was aching because of it. He understood how finding out he had been married once before would be a blow, but he didn’t understand why Chopper was taking it so hard. It was excruciating, he wanted to go to Chopper, wrap his arms around him and never let him go, tell him everything was going to be all right.

“If you want to be with me, then just be with me,” Dalton whispered.

“I can’t…” Chopper cried, trying desperately to wipe the tears from his face and jaw. “I came here to break it off because I can’t do this again, it’ll kill me. But I’m just… I’m not strong enough. I’m not… not strong enough to say no to you.”

“Why do you have to say no to me?” Dalton moved then, straightening and taking a few steps forward. Chopper recoiled and moved backward, slamming into the bookshelf behind him.

“Stop!” he gasped brokenly. “Stay back!”

Dalton was on the verge of tears himself. He was missing something, something important and it was killing Chopper. It was breaking his heart right in front of him, Dalton could see it. What was happening? Why was Chopper acting like this?

“Chopper,” Dalton said softly, carefully, as he moved closer but made no attempt to reach out or touch the other man in any way. “Chopper, I don’t understand. Tell me why we can’t be together. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Shaking, Chopper shook his head violently as if to say no! and gripped the shelves behind him so hard the wood creaked. His eyes shone with another well of unshed tears as he looked up into Dalton’s face, took one sobbing breath, and spoke so softly Dalton almost couldn’t hear him.

“All I’ve ever wanted is someone to love me. Just me and no one else.”

Chopper took a moment to breathe then, and in that moment, Dalton felt the world fall away. Those words were so terribly sad, so unbelievably lonely they shook Dalton to his core, his soul.

He whispered before he could stop himself.

“I could love you like that,”

But those words seemed to make Chopper even more upset. His face pinched and he bared his teeth, angry.

“How can you say that to me?” he keened. “How could you do that to your wife?”

Confused, Dalton straightened. What did that mean? Why was he worried about how it affected Carla? His wife wasn’t a factor in what he did anymore, they had been separated for…

His wife.

His wife.

It hit him then and everything clicked into place. Dalton ran his hands through his hair, suddenly frantic, suddenly aware, suddenly completely understanding of the situation and how thoroughly he had fucked it up. Without heeding Chopper’s meek attempts to keep him away, Dalton gently put his hands on Chopper’s shoulders and came in close.

“Chopper,” he said softly, calmly, even though what he felt was anything but calm. “Chopper, you need to listen to me. Look at me, love, please. Look at me.”

Chopper had squeezed his eyes shut and at first just shook his head. Then Dalton lifted his hands to cup Chopper’s cheeks and he let out a long, pained sob from between Dalton’s palms, but Dalton pressed on, his voice continuing to sooth as his thumbs gently wiped the tears from flushed, freckled cheeks.

Finally, Chopper took a breath and opened his eyes. They lifted and met Dalton’s gaze, settled on him, penetrated into him with their unbridled sadness and pain.

“Listen to me,” Dalton said, “Ex. Wife. She’s my ex-wife. I said ‘wife’ yesterday because I was married to her for sixteen years and I don’t talk about her often. I messed up and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please understand. Please, please forgive me.”

The body under his hands had not stopped shaking, but Chopper’s breath was more even now. There were still tears running down his cheeks, but his eyes had calmed. That horrible sadness had been replaced by hope, and perhaps a tiny bit of fear.

“She’s your… ex-wife?” Chopper asked, his voice sounded far away, hoarse.

“Yes, we’ve been divorced for almost a year, separated for a lot longer. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry, I would never do that to her—to you. Never.”

Chopper was still for a long stretch of moments, long enough that Dalton was sure he was going to suffocate in his own inability to draw breath. Then Chopper’s hands lifted and those strong, dexterous, doctor’s fingers slipped in between Dalton’s. He felt rough and clumsy under that touch, his scarred, calloused skin seemed inferior, unworthy to be graced by hands that did so much good, that were made to heal.

“I…” Chopper whispered, “I thought you were cheating… with me.”

Dalton let out a huff that was some kind of hybrid of a laugh and a sob. He felt weak, like he wouldn’t be able to stand much longer. He closed his eyes and leaned in to rest his forehead against Chopper’s.

“I’m sorry…”

Those fingers slid to his wrists, down his arms. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry for not…” a soft sob, “for not trusting you.”

“You didn’t have any reason to trust me,” Dalton whispered. “God, I can’t even imagine what I put you through.”

“It’s okay,” Chopper slipped his hands up and behind Dalton’s neck, pulling them closer together. “It’s okay.” He was crying again softly, tears trickling down his skin and over Dalton’s hands. Dalton lifted his head just barely and kissed Chopper’s cheek, his nose, his forehead.

“Oh,” Chopper’s voice wavered, broke as if under strain, “oh my God. I almost made a stupid, terrible mistake. I was so angry and confused and I wasn’t—”

Dalton kissed him then, swallowing any other confessions Chopper might have had. Dalton kissed him greedily and ran his hands gently over flushed skin and curly hair, not caring what Chopper had or hadn’t done while he dealt with Dalton’s careless slip of the tongue. He didn’t care about anything but making things right, making Chopper happy, making sure Chopper still cared about him and wanted him just as much as Dalton wanted—no, loved. He wanted Chopper to love him just as much as he loved Chopper.

Clarity struck Dalton then, and he gasped. Chopper took it as a gasp of pleasure, an invitation, and he wrapped his arms around Dalton’s neck, pulling himself flush. Dalton responded by pressing him back against the bookshelf, kissing him deeper, licking into his mouth and caressing parts that were now open and willing. He tasted amazing, and the small, desperate noises he made when he scraped his teeth over Dalton’s lips were unbelievable.

This was it, he loved Chopper. It was so simple and yet, so profound and so completely unbelievable. It had happened so fast Dalton wasn’t sure he was ready. How could he possibly be ready for something like that?

Pulling back, breath shallow, Dalton looked down into bright, brown eyes. He thought back to the very first time he had seen Chopper, that night by the pond, by the cherry blossom trees in the garden. Maybe he had loved Chopper since then. Maybe, Dalton had always loved him, and he just hadn’t understood because he had never been in this deep before.

“Are we okay?” Chopper asked, his voice was quiet, breathy. “You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?”

Chopper lifted his shoulders in a small shrug. “I blew everything out of proportion. I overreacted and almost did something I couldn’t take back.”

Dalton spread his hands over Chopper’s back and breathed in the scent of his clean hair, his salty tears, his skin. He wanted to tell Chopper what he had been thinking about, but not just yet. He was still too afraid.

“Considering what you thought, I don’t think you overacted at all. It was my fault for not paying attention to what I was saying. So no, I’m not mad. Not even a little.”

Nodding slowly, Chopper kissed him again, but this time it was chaste. When he pulled back he let his hands slide from around Dalton’s neck and down to his chest. His gaze lowered and all Dalton could see was the fan of his dark lashes over his cheeks.

“Can we still…” he cleared his throat and started again. “Will you still come over tonight?” He bit his bottom lip in one of his charming displays of shyness. It made Dalton’s knees feel even weaker than they already were.

“I’d like that,” Dalton said.

Chopper smiled and nodded, pulling himself in close and resting his head against Dalton’s chest. They held each other for another handful of moments that seemed to stretch on forever, but also seemed to end too quickly.

“Hey,” Dalton said when they finally separated, “are you off now?”

Chopper was straightening his scarf and smoothing the front of his coat when he nodded. “Yeah, I asked for the rest of the day.”

“Would you like to go to lunch with me and Penguin?”

When Chopper looked up at him, flushed but smiling, hair wild and hanging down in his eyes, Dalton found he was suddenly a very different kind of hungry. He wanted to snatch Chopper up and carry him away, somewhere where they could be alone and Dalton could kiss every single one of those amazing freckles. Over and over.

“I would love to,” Chopper said.

Dalton smiled and motioned toward the door with his head.

Later. They would have plenty of time later.

When Dalton and Chopper emerged from Smoker’s office, Penguin almost shot to his feet. The suspense of sitting there at the desk waiting for something to happen was excruciating. He had tried to work, he really had, but names and numbers and whatever else he had been looking at had all started to blur on the screen and he kept finding himself watching Smoker’s office door.

No one had tried to disturb them in the half an hour or so they had been in there. Smoker was still downstairs doing god knew what, and the office door being closed had deterred anyone else from even coming close.

Dalton met his glaze and beckoned him with one hand. It took maybe three and a half seconds for Penguin to jump up from the desk and traverse the fifteen feet to where his partner was standing. He noted that Dalton looked much better, the color was back in his cheeks, and his eyes were clearer.

“What’s up?” Penguin asked, trying not to sound too eager, or desperate, or nosy.

“Chopper’s coming with us to lunch,” Dalton said, “if that’s okay.”

Penguin inclined his head to peer around Dalton’s wide shoulder and grinned down at Chopper, who also looked better. Flushed, but not crying. Smiling. That was good.

“Hell yeah,” Penguin chuckled. “Where are we going?”

TBC

Chapter Text

They drove from the precinct down into Lower Queen Anne. Chopper seemed to know where all the best lunch spots were, so they had gone with his suggestion. Collections Café apparently had amazing fish and burgers, and since Penguin had eaten nothing but Shachi’s leftover Chinese for three nights in a row, a burger sounded practically heaven-sent.

The place was bright with lots of lime green, and along the walls and built into the tables were an assortment of nick knacks, safety pins, Troll dolls, Christmas ornaments, buttons, and every other collectable thing one could imagine. Penguin grinned unabashedly at the hostess—waitress?—as she showed them to their table and took their drink orders. Then when they were seated, he watched happily as Dalton took Chopper’s coat and whispered something into his ear. When Chopper smiled softly in response and whispered something back, Penguin momentarily had a vision of himself puking rainbows all over the table. The whole thing was so fucking cute. Being the third wheel wasn’t going to be so bad if this was how the afternoon was going to go.

“So,” Penguin said as he rested his chin in his hand, “are we taking a break from work stuff, or are we filling Chopper in on what Jones told us?”

Chopper’s eyes went wide and his attention snapped to Penguin. “Jones? The donor? You found him already?”

“FBI found him,” Dalton explained, “but they sent him here for questioning.”

They spent the next fifteen minutes recounting the details of the morning, carefully going back through the interrogation and confession, but then stopping for a bit when their food arrived. Penguin practically inhaled his cheeseburger, and Chopper wasn’t far behind him, his tuna melt disappearing in less than a few minutes. Dalton snickered softly at both of them as he worked on his BLT at a normal pace and motioned for Penguin to continue with the story.

When they came to the part about Kidd and the drug running, Penguin paused for effect, but the revelation didn’t seem to phase Chopper in the slightest. That was interesting, but not surprising when Penguin really thought about it.

“Okay, so basically,” Chopper said when they had finished, “we’re back to where we started.” He seemed to deflate at the prospect and shoved his plate away so he could put his elbows on the table.

“Not necessarily,” Dalton said, “there’s still the fact that the compound was used to sedate the victims. It’s not some random person. Whoever it is, they’re connected to Vegapunk.”

“Or to Hogback,” Chopper murmured.

“That’s right,” Penguin nodded slowly, “or to Hogback.” Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed his eyes and rolled his head from side to side, trying to crack his neck. He was sore and tired, but at least he wasn’t hungry anymore.

“I would love to get a second look at Hogback,” Dalton said, “except he has all those alibis. Thirty-five different people interacted with him during the time Machart was taken, and four of them took photos.”

“Do you two have any ideas as to…” Chopper’s question faded, and he cleared his throat.

Interested, Penguin asked. “Ideas for what?”

Chopper shook his head and leaned down to fish something out of his satchel. Dalton moved their plates, stacking them in front of the empty seat so Chopper could place his computer pad on the table. The screen opened with a swipe and a quick code, and then files and autopsy photos flashed into focus.

“I was looking back through some of the victim files trying to figure out the ‘why’,” Chopper said. “There’s got to be a reason he’s taking these particular body parts, right? I mean, it can’t be random, can it?”

Dalton shrugged, but the look in his eyes was serious. “It could be.”

“I thought you said the ‘why’ was our job,” Penguin grinned, his voice teasing.

Chopper flushed a little, and shit, that was cute. Then he wrung his hands and murmured, “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to do your job, I just want to help and I thought I could establish some kind of victimology with the taken parts.”

“It would help,” Dalton nodded, “did you find anything?”

“No,” Chopper sighed, “Mr. Machart had an ulcer in his intestine, and Mr. Nassar had terrible plantar fasciitis—that’s when there’s inflammation in the ligament that connects the heel to the toes. He actually had release surgery at one point, but that’s all I could find, and both of those things are pretty common. I’m not exactly sure what I was looking for anyway.”

Penguin made a face, “What exactly does release mean?”

“They went in and cut the ligament to release the pressure.”

Shuddering dramatically, Penguin looked away and made fake gagging noises. The thought of cutting a ligament in the bottom of his foot grossed him out more than talk about bodies being dismembered… for some reason.

“We haven’t found any reasoning in his method either,” Dalton said softly, “don’t beat yourself up too hard.”

Chopper was quiet for a moment, flipping through the pictures on his pad, then he looked up and glanced at Dalton and Penguin in turn.

“I did find something interesting. It’s not really related to the case, but I thought I should let you guys know anyway.” He turned the pad around to show the detectives an ex-ray photo of a wrist. Two pins stood out starkly and seemed to be holding the smaller of the two wrist bones together.

“This is Kady Johnson’s left wrist. She broke it in a minor car accident about a year and a half ago. I didn’t have any reason to be looking for it when I was doing the autopsy, so I didn’t know about it until after her medical records were sent over.”

“What significance does the broken wrist have?” Dalton asked.

Chopper pointed to the picture. “I did this surgery. I put those pins in.”

Penguin sat up straighter. “Really?”

Nodding, Chopper flipped through the file. “I felt like I knew her, but I couldn’t place her. I was working the shift when she came in after the car accident but there’s just too many people and too many names to remember something like that. It took the ex-ray for me to really jar my memory. I only saw her once after and that was only for a follow up exam.”

“So, she was a patient at Harborview?” Dalton asked.

“Yes,” Chopper answered, “and more frequently than what’s normal. I think she was a little bit of a hypochondriac.”

Penguin tapped his finger on the table top, suddenly excited. His heart was thumping in his chest like the steady pounding of a drum.

“You know what?” he said. “I remember when I was talking to Machart’s friend, he mentioned Machart was a bit of a germaphobe.”

Dalton’s attention turned to Penguin and his dark eyes flashed. “You’re right. He said Machart was excessively clean, to the point where he would wash his hands raw.”

“That makes sense,” Chopper nodded. “His ulcer was pretty bad, and stress, while it doesn’t cause ulcers, it definitely makes them worse.” He looked down at the screen and thumbed through another few files. “He wasn’t a patient at Harborview though.”

“It might be worthwhile to cross reference the victim’s medical records,” Dalton said, “if for nothing else than to rule out a connection.”

“I can do that,” Chopper said, “I can head back to the morgue and run a check through our sys—”

“—Nope,” Penguin interrupted. Dalton and Chopper looked at him in surprise.

“I’ll go back to the precinct and do the cross check. You two,” he waggled a finger at his colleagues—no, friends—and felt a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You two have had a rough day. Dalton, you take Chopper home so you can, you know, talk or whatever.”

Chopper’s face flared red at that and he ducked his head to hide it. “N-no, that’s okay, I’m okay. I can go back—”

“—Nope,” Penguin stopped him again with a wave of his hand. “I have to go meet up with Law anyway and tell him about this shit with Kidd. I’ll make him help me sort through the medical shit, and I swear I’ll call you if we find anything. Dalton will drive you home, or to a cliff face somewhere where you guys can watch the sunset and make out. I’ll just grab an UBER.”

“That’s not really fair to you,” Dalton said, with just a hint of humor in his voice.

“Yeah,” Chopper added, “we can’t just leave and make you do all the work.” He looked positively mortified. It was a little funny.

“No please,” Penguin held up both his hands, “please go live your life. Go be romantic on the beach or frolic in the park or something. Do it for all of us that can’t.”

“But—” Chopper started, but Penguin was already on his feet and tossing a ten and two fives on the table.

“Oh shoot, I can’t hear you,” he grabbed his coat and started to back up, “I’m going through a tunnel. Chopper? Chopper, you still there?” He made a phone with his hand up by his ear, but then made a defeated face and pretended to hang up.

“I’ll talk to you guys later.”

He turned around and exited the restaurant, but not before he saw the grin that spread across Dalton’s face, and the soft smile that broke through the redness of Chopper’s like the sun through a patch of clouds.

It was too hard not to laugh. In fact, it was nearly impossible, but since Chopper looked mortified, Dalton merely chuckled as Penguin left the restaurant in a flourish of drama and sly smiles.

“Well,” Chopper ran a hand over his hair self-consciously, “that was embarrassing.”

Dalton shrugged, “He makes a good point though.”

Chopper looked at him in confusion, the features of his face scrunched, and Dalton’s heart leapt into his throat. He shouldn’t be allowed to do that kind of thing, it was too cute.

“What do you mean?” Chopper asked. “He didn’t have any kind of point except to tease us. What did you tell him anyway?”

“Nothing,” Dalton was on the verge of laughing again. “He said that he ‘shipped’ us.”

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Chopper’s hands came up and he covered his face.

What Dalton had said about Penguin making a good point however, was true. The spectacle had given Dalton an idea, one that had been in the back of his mind for a little while, and he thought now might be a good time to do it.

It was a little sudden, and possibly proof that he and Chopper were moving too fast, but what the hell, they were grownups. Dalton knew what he wanted, now that he had almost lost it.

However, before all that, there was something else he needed to open up about.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Chopper ran his hands down his face, but when he saw the seriousness in Dalton’s features, he sat up straighter and leaned in.

“Everything okay?”

Dalton nodded, but his heart thumped wildly in his chest. He knew that this was one of those make or break kind of things, and he was fairly sure it wasn’t going to scare Chopper off, but it was still almost as terrifying as talking about his ex-wife.

“I uh,” he stopped, cleared his throat, and tried to start again. “I… there’s something else I need to tell you.”

Chopper reached out and put a hand on Dalton’s arm, almost as if it had been a reflex. His touch was gentle, soothing, his thumb rubbing soft circles into the meaty part of Dalton’s bicep.

“Something bad?” he asked.

Dalton shook his head and smiled a little, a nervous smile. “No, it’s good, it’s a good thing, it’s just…” he took another breath and tried to calm the anxiety that was rising in his chest. To center himself he looked away from Chopper’s big, brown eyes and focused on the tabletop.

Just go for it. Do it now.

“I have kids. Three kids. A boy and two girls. They live with their mother, but they’ll be staying with me sometimes.”

He waited, not sure what to do now. The words had been said and he couldn’t take them back so was he supposed to wait for Chopper to answer? Give him the floor? What was standard protocol for this kind of thing?

Risking a quick glance out the corner of his eye, Dalton almost sagged in relief when he found Chopper smiling, beaming at him. He was practically vibrating.

“Really?” Chopper whispered.

Dalton nodded.

“How old?”

“Aiden is ten and Sophia and Emma are six.”

Chopper’s eyes widened, and his hands flew to his mouth in excitement. “Oh my God, twins!? Do you have pictures?”

Dalton pulled his phone out and thumbed it open with trembling fingers. He never anticipated that this conversation would affect him so deeply. Knowing that Chopper was okay with him having children seemed to have lifted a terrible weight from his shoulders that he hadn’t even know was there. He was suddenly so happy he thought he might be able to fly.

He opened the folder and handed the phone over, leaning in so he could watch Chopper scroll through the album.

“Oh my God…” Chopper breathed as he saw the first photo. It was of the girls. Sophia and Emma were dark-skinned and dark-haired like their Mexican mother, but had inherited their grandfather’s light blue eyes. It was a contrast that never ceased to amaze Dalton, and apparently, it had the same effect on Chopper.

“Oh, they’re so beautiful…” he whispered, in awe. “Those eyes are incredible, and all that curly hair…”

The next few photos were still of the girls, playing with dolls, swinging on the swings at the park, eating pancakes the last time they had eaten breakfast at Dalton’s apartment. Chopper made noises as he scrolled through, soft bursts of breath or tiny squeaks when something tickled him.

“They love music,” Dalton said softly, still nervous but not able to hold back the pride he felt when talking about his kids. “They dance for a studio in California and they’re great. Well, I think they’re great, I wouldn’t actually know a great dancer if I saw one but…”

Chopper paused for a moment to look up at Dalton. His smile was wide and genuine. “I bet they’re amazing.”

You’re amazing Dalton thought but said nothing. There was something caught in his throat.

The next photo was of Aiden, and Chopper gasped.

“Oh my God,” he said, breathless, “Oh, Dalton, he looks just like you!”

Dalton felt a swell in his heart that was dizzying. He loved his girls, loved them with every bit of his soul and his heart and he would move mountains for them if they needed him to, but Aiden was his world. When Aiden had come into his life, Dalton had been forever changed. The universe had shifted, and nothing had ever been the same after that.

“He’s uh…” that something was caught in his throat again, so he coughed, trying to clear it. “Aiden is so smart, sometimes I don’t understand what he’s talking about. He’s won first place in his school’s science fair every… well, okay, I don’t think he’s ever not gotten first place now that I think about it.”

Chopper chuckled, “And he plays baseball?” He held up the phone to flash the picture of Aiden in his catcher’s outfit.

Dalton nodded again. “He’s very good. His little league team has won Districts both years he’s played for them.”

Chopper looked at him again. “Did you teach him?”

“Yes.”

“Your family is beautiful,” Chopper said softly, and lifted a hand to gently touch the side of Dalton’s face. “Your kids are so cute and they sound amazing. I think I kind of understand why you were so nervous to tell me about them.”

Dalton brought up his own hand to cover Chopper’s as a wave of emotion hit him. It was swift and overwhelming, just like his feelings for Chopper. He was almost carried away by the sensation but he remembered what he had been thinking about before and said softly,

“I want to take you somewhere.”

The flush that had mostly left Chopper’s cheeks and nose returned, spreading to his jaw and down his neck.

“Some cliff face somewhere?” he joked.

“Not quite,” Dalton smiled. “Will you?”

Chopper looked at him for a moment, his eyes searching Dalton’s face carefully, but then he smiled back and nodded.

“Okay.”

Chopper fidgeted the entire ride to wherever it was that they were going. Looking through the pictures of Dalton’s kids had been wonderful, and it had distracted him from being too self-conscious, but now he was nervous again. Where were they going? What did Dalton have planned?

He could tell Dalton was nervous too, and that alone sent butterflies swirling in Chopper’s stomach. What could he possibly have to be nervous about? He had already come clean about his wife and his children, what could make him more nervous than that?

When Dalton slowed and turned into the parking lot of Seward Park, Chopper sat forward, excitement tickling his skin, replacing the nervousness, if only for a few moments.

“Oh wow!” he said, “I love this place, what are we doing here?”

Dalton smiled softly and opened his door. “You’ll see.”

The sun had come out, so when they left the car, they tossed their coats and scarves in the back seat, then they moved onto one of the main pathways. As they walked, Chopper tilted his head back and breathed in the smell of the gardens and the breeze blowing in slightly salty from the ocean. He glanced over at Dalton and smiled, feeling light, almost giddy. When Dalton smiled back, it crinkled the corners of his eyes and seemed to relax some of the tension from his shoulders. Feeling brave, Chopper took the opportunity to reach out and take Dalton’s hand, which the detective squeezed gently, and without hesitation.

The sounds of laughter followed them as they made their way past the playground and then up onto one of the trails.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this way,” Chopper said, and grinned at a pair of mothers pushing strollers. The women smiled and waved.

“I think you’ll like it,” Dalton said.

And oh, he was right.

When they made it out of the tree line and into a clearing, Chopper had to stop for a moment to find his breath. When he did, he gasped and leaned against Dalton’s side for support. His heart swelled and started to beat so hard in his chest Chopper thought he could feel it thrumming through his entire body.

“This…” he said breathlessly, “…oh my God…”

It was a grove, a cherry blossom grove. Trees lined the grassy area in regular intervals, their blossoms almost blotting out the sky with their pastel pinks and soft whites. The colors spread as far as the eye could see, and as Chopper watched, the wind blew schools of petals across the grass like troops of tiny dancers.

It was amazing, the most amazing thing anyone had ever shown him. Dalton was the most incredible, most thoughtful, sweetest person Chopper had ever met.

Feeling his eyes grow wet with emotion, Chopper leaned even closer into Dalton’s side and rested his head against a strong shoulder.

“This is… perfect,” he said. “How did you know about this place?”

“My mother brought me here when I was younger,” Dalton said. “It’s always been one of my favorite places.”

“It’s unreal…”

Dalton squeezed his hand again and spoke into his hair. “Come here.”

They walked to the base of one of the trees and Dalton pulled away, turning to face him. He looked above Chopper, to the branches that were hanging down a few feet from where they stood, and he smiled softly. The air was thick with the sweet tension between them, and Chopper felt excitement welling in his gut for no other reason than because Dalton suddenly looked inexplicitly confident. Strong. Unbearably handsome.

“The Duwamish,” Dalton began, “well, actually, it’s mostly just my family, have this tradition. It didn’t always involve cherry blossoms, since they didn’t come here until after Japan gifted them to the city a hundred years ago, but it did involve a blossom. Most of the time it was a lewisia, or a satin flower because they’re native.” At this, he stopped and scratched the back of his neck. Chopper smiled, thinking, not for the first time, the gesture was endearing.

“Anyway, the point is, when someone in the family has strong feelings for someone, and wants to express them, or make clear their intentions, they bring this person to one of the cherry groves, or the gardens, or out to one of the fields, and gifts them a single blossom.”

Trembling, his heart pounding wildly in his chest, Chopper watched with bated breath as Dalton reached above his head and plucked a single cherry blossom from the lowest branch. He brought it close, turning it over between his fingers, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“It’s not a marriage proposal, and it’s not some kind of promise binding you to me,” he took another breath, then continued. “The tradition is simply… the blossom represents my feelings for you.”

Slowly, Dalton looked up, meeting Chopper’s eyes, and held out the small, pink blossom.

Chopper felt faint, like he was about to fall right through the earth, like his chest was about to burst from too much emotion. His heart was beating so fast it was leaving him short of breath. He couldn’t believe this was happening, this kind of thing only happened in dreams. It was a beautiful fantasy, the ending to a fairy tale, one that was never supposed to happen to him in real life.

But here he was, not sleeping, not dreaming, standing in the most beautiful grove he had ever seen, with the most wonderful man he had ever met, and that man was offering him… offering him what? His heart? His love?

Well, if that was true, either one was fine. Chopper was going to take it all.

Reaching out, Chopper let his fingers touch the soft petals, trail over the rough skin of Dalton’s hand.

“Do I have to do anything special to accept?” he asked.

Dalton smiled and shook his head. “All you have to do is take it.”

Chopper did. He took the blossom between his fingers, and then closed the distance between himself and Dalton, pulling the larger man close with his free hand. When Dalton’s arms came around his waist, Chopper tilted his head up so he could smile against Dalton’s lips.

“I accept,” he whispered. “I accept everything you want to give me.”

Dalton huffed out a broken breath that stuttered through his chest, then his smile widened, and he leaned in and kissed Chopper senseless.

“Okay so… fuck…”

Law pressed both of his palms into his eye sockets and groaned loudly. Penguin sighed and rested his chin in his hand.

All things considered, Law had taken the news rather well. Not that the news was bad per say, but it was news, and it was big, and since Law seemed to react in all manner of volatile ways when the subject of discussion was Kidd, Penguin considered himself lucky.

“He’s driving me crazy,” Law said softly.

Penguin scoffed. “Yeah, that much is obvious.”

“You know this doesn’t mean he’s stopped drug trafficking. He’s probably just figured out some other channel or channels to use and it’s so far underground that you guys haven’t picked up on it yet.”

“It’s possible,” Penguin said, “but running drugs so far underground that the police and opposing drug lords don’t know about it? Not very likely.”

Law sighed again and ran his hands through his hair roughly a few times. It did nothing for how it stuck out at odd angles, but the look worked for him. It gave him a cool mad scientist kind of vibe.

“Well, whatever,” he murmured, “let’s shelf it for another day. You have bigger things to deal with right now.”

“Not really,” Penguin shrugged. “We got no leads and no new evidence to go over. I was just going to cross reference medical records of the victims and then go home to… I don’t know. Binge Breaking Bad or something because I don’t have enough drug related drama in my life right now.”

A small chuckle escaped between Law’s lips and he sat forward to lean on his desk. “You know, you could have one of my techs do that for you.”

Penguin perked up. “Cross reference medical records? Or binge Breaking Bad?”

“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer.”

“Okay, okay,” Penguin grinned and sat back in his chair. “One of your techs would do that?”

“That’s what they’re for.”

“Oh,” nodding slowly, Penguin threw up his hands. “Okay, you talked me into it.”

“Cool,” Law stood and grabbed his coat. “I’ll grab Carly and you can give her the details of what you want.”

Penguin stood as well and started to follow Law to the door. “Where are you going?”

“I need a drink, wanna come?”

“Uh, are you going where I think you’re going?”

“Probably.”

“Okay, then I’m coming. Shachi’s probably already there.”

Law nodded to him and turned off the office light.

“Sounds good. We’ll have to stop on the way though so you can change. You look like a cop.”

“I am a cop.”

“No one’s perfect.”

TBC

Chapter Text

“I’m just not sure, uh, I mean—”

“—You look great, just get in the car.”

Reluctantly, Penguin opened the door and slipped into the passenger side of Law’s ’69 Camaro. It was cool, one of those classic yellow and black jobs you would always see in those great 70’s Vice films. He was sure he had never seen Law drive this before and wondered offhandedly how many cars Law actually owned.

“I’m just not used to dressing like this,” he said softly, “I’m more of a button-up, flannel kind of guy.”

Law turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. “That’s ‘cause you’re a nerd. I told you, you need to show off that ink more.”

“I’m not trying to be particularly memorable when I’m heading to a club run by former gangsters.”

Shaking his head, Law pulled out of the driveway and turned onto the road. “Everyone there already knows who you are and doesn’t give a shit.”

Penguin glared at him, “Then why did you tell me I had to change because I looked like a cop?”

“Did I say that?” Law smirked and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, “I meant you looked like a square.”

Penguin made a face as Law rolled down the windows, but he wasn’t really bothered by his brother’s words at all. In fact, this felt very familiar, very safe. It was like they had slipped back into their old selves, just talking and teasing each other while Law drove them to school. All that was missing was Shachi, but soon, even that wouldn’t be a problem.

It was still too early in the day for the club to be open, so when they neared the tall, brick building, Penguin wasn’t surprised most of the lights inside were off. He was surprised, however, when Law drove right by the parking lot and turned down an ally.

“What’s this?” he asked.

Law motioned with his head and Penguin followed his gaze to a sign reading VIP Parking Below. Leaning out his window, Law swiped a card over a reader and a large garage door groaned open. As they entered and drove down a short ramp, Law said, “The Pit’s actually underneath the next building over, this is what’s directly below the club. Kidd owns both.”

“Kidd owns both buildings?” Penguin asked, trying not to gawk. "Wait, you have VIP access?

“Of course. I'm on the fight team.”

At least he didn’t have a labeled spot because that would be too weird. Kidd did, and, Penguin saw as he pulled himself from the car, so did Luffy, but besides another few marked “Killer” and “Bepo”, those were the only spots that were spoken for.

“That’s cool,” Penguin said, “at least you don’t have to worry about someone messing with your ride.”

Law nodded, finished his cigarette, and moved toward the stairwell.

Inside, the club was like a completely different place than the last time Penguin had seen it. It seemed smaller somehow, more crowded without the mass of bodies and darkness messing with your depth perception. From the outside, it had appeared the lights were off, but that was because the windows were blacked out. Heavy fluorescents hung from the ceiling, filling the room with harsh, electric light. A few people waved to Law as he made his way across the floor, and a few nodded to Penguin as well.

They spotted Shachi unloading a stack of boxes from a pallet and stacking them behind the bar. Law grabbed one without ceremony and took it back as well, obviously knowing what he was doing and where the product was supposed to go. When Shachi realized who was helping him, a grin broke out on his face.

“Hey guys!”

“Oh, hey,” Law said, faking disinterest, “didn’t see you there.”

“What’s up?” Penguin said, grabbing not one, but two boxes and lugging them easily to the far side of the bar where Law had set his down.

“Oh, you know, another day, another shit ton of booze to sell. Wow, what the hell are you wearing, bro?”

“Shut up,” Penguin muttered.

“No, I’m serious, dude, you look great!”

“Shachi, seriously, can it.”

“Fine, whatever,” Shachi sighed and grabbed the last of the boxes. “What are you guys doing here? I thought you had a serial killer to catch or something.”

“We do,” Law had moved around the bar and was now sitting on one of the stools typing into his phone, “but we hit a dead end.”

“Oh shit.”

“So, we came here to get a drink and relax for a bit,” Penguin added, glancing at Law, “at least, that’s what I think we’re doing anyway.”

“Hell,” Shachi held up his hands, “you help me put all this in the cooler, I’ll buy your first round.”

Penguin turned to him, cocking an eyebrow. “Really?”

Shachi nodded.

Penguin lifted a box and set it on the bar. Then he pulled his pocket knife from his jean’s pocket. “Well then,” he said and slit the box open, rattling the line of amber bottles inside, “let’s get to it.”

Not long after Dalton had dropped Chopper off at his house, Chopper had gotten a text from Law.

Law: Out with my brothers tonight, won’t be back until morning

Making a face, Chopper responded.

Chopper: I thought you had night shift tonight
Chopper: Not that I think you going out with your brothers is bad
Chopper: Actually, forget I said that. Delete it. I’m really glad you’re
going out, especially with Penguin. We could all use a break

About thirty seconds later, his phone buzzed again.

Law: You ok?

Chopper sat for a moment, thumbs hovering over the keys, thinking about how Law had taken care of him, how he had comforted him, and he wondered if he should tell Law what had happened this afternoon.

First thing was first though.

Chopper: I’m so sorry for what happened last night. It was cruel of me to do
that to you and I hope you can forgive me
Chopper: You’re always there for me even when I’m being such an idiot and
I can’t even begin to tell you how much that means to me

Law: There’s no need to apologize you’d do the same for me and I know that

Chopper: Everything is fine btw
Chopper: It was a big misunderstanding and I freaked out instead of talking to
him. You know like that thing I usually do

Law: That’s great!
Law: Not the freaking out I mean the other part

Chopper: We’re actually doing another date night so…
Chopper: It’s all good

Law: I’m really happy to hear that
Law: Also, you’re welcome
Law: For stopping last night
Law: I mean if it weren’t for my amazing willpower you’d have some serious
explaining to do

Chopper: You’re right, I’m sorry. Thank you for what you did

Law: Holy shit I was kidding

Chopper: Oh
Chopper: Well thanks anyway <3

Law: I love you man I hope your date goes well

Chopper: Love you too I’ll see you tomorrow

Law: Use protection you don’t wanna get pregnant

Chopper: I take it back. I hate you and I’m moving out

Law: ;D

Chopper smiled and dropped the phone on his bed. Then he sat for a while, looking at the clock. It would be another couple of hours before Dalton returned. The detective said he had a few things he needed to do today but would be back around seven.

Laying back on the bed, Chopper stared at the ceiling, knowing that waiting was going to drive him crazy.

Use protection…

Huffing out a laugh, Chopper shook his head. No, Dalton was coming over to have dinner and watch a movie, they weren’t going to have sex. It was too soon anyway, they’d only known each other a few weeks.

He lay staring, unmoving for a few long moments.

They weren’t, were they?

Maybe?

What if the night went really well, and it sort of just… happened? Dalton was very romantic, he was so sweet, and sexy… Realistically, if they were alone and Dalton started kissing him, or touching him, there wasn’t a lot to keep Chopper from pulling off all his clothes and start begging. He would probably get on his knees and offer himself up like a sacrifice, like some kind of slave.

Sitting up, Chopper ran his hands down his burning face and took a long slow breath.

“Shit.”

He stood and moved into the bathroom to take a shower.

Better safe than sorry.

Sitting at the bar, polishing off his third beer, Penguin listened to Bepo rattle off another story about Law back in their California days. Shachi was howling with laughter, and Law himself was smirking down into his glass.

“There were only two of them though,” Bepo was chuckling, “so boss turned to Kidd and was like, ‘well, just break one arm each and we’ll see how that goes’.”

Shachi was practically on the floor now, and Penguin wasn’t much better. Not only was the subject matter entertaining as hell, but Bepo had a way of telling a story that made it seem like it was actually happening right there.

“But wait,” Drake said at Bepo’s side, “why were there only two? Didn’t the informant say Jerry was dispatching all his guys to the rendezvous?”

“Yeah,” Bepo grinned, “but they got lost.”

Another howl of laughter rang out around the bar and Penguin watched Law’s smirk turn into a genuine smile.

“South Side was always so fuckin’ stupid,” Bartolomeo growled, “might as well have been run by a bunch of fuckin’ monkeys.”

“Who says it wasn’t?” Bepo snickered.

Through the laughter, Penguin snuck a quick glance around at the small group surrounding him and Law. A few, like Drake and Bonny and supposedly come from military backgrounds and had been searching for something that could be dangerous but not quite illegal. Others, like Bartolomeo and Bepo had actually come up from the mob scene in California. He already knew Bepo had worked for Law, but Bartolomeo was another story. The man had originally worked for Hawkins, one of the bosses down there, and had been tasked to come here to Seattle and keep tabs on Kidd. However, it turned out Bartolomeo grew to love the place, and apparently Luffy, very quickly, and requested that he be put here permanently. Penguin was fuzzy on the details of how that had come about but it had involved a lot of money and someone’s teeth? Or something? Penguin had tried to stop listening after that.

Now, as Law finished his drink and stood, the small gathering seemed to back away and make room for him as he turned and took his jacket from Bepo. “It was great seeing you guys,” he said softly, “I’m heading upstairs if anyone wants to join me.”

Bepo nodded, just like Penguin knew he would, but the others respectfully declined, stating they had work or they were involved in the fight themselves. When Law nodded to them they parted like the goddamn red sea to make way as he headed to the VIP booth.

It like he’s still an underboss, even now, Penguin thought, amazed. They treat him like he’s in charge.

“I’ll see you later, bro!” he called out, and Law waved to him over his shoulder.

“Dude,” Shachi said from behind the bar, and Penguin turned to him.

“What’s up?”

“You notice how people treat Law here?” Shachi’s eyes were wide, thoughtful. “It’s like he’s still the boss.”

Penguin pointed at his forehead and then at Shachi’s. “Are you like, reading my mind right now?”

“Maybe?” Shachi’s eyes grew comically wider.

“Hey, Shachi,” Bonny made a motion with her hand and Shachi turned to her. “Make sure Peng—I mean, Nick…?”

Penguin smiled and shook his head. “Just call me Penguin.”

“Cool. Shachi, make sure this guy doesn’t pay for any of his drinks, okay?”

Shachi saluted without question.

“No, that’s okay,” Penguin held up his hands, “you don’t have to do that.”

Bonny shrugged her shoulders. “Not my orders. Kidd says you don’t pay.”

That gave Penguin pause, and he turned back to Shachi. "You ass!" he exclaimed. "You made me unload and carry all that shit and my drinks were free anyway!?"

Shachi's grin just widened and he shrugged helplessly.

Laughing, Drake clapped Penguin on the back. “We gotta get to work, have a good time tonight.” Nodding once to Shachi, he put his hat back on his head and then headed off with Bonny towards the service exit.

Penguin had no time to reflect on any of that because Bartolomeo flopped down on the stool next to him and leaned an elbow on the bar top. He was a little more into Penguin’s space than he would like, but Bartolomeo seemed like he was okay. At least, Penguin wasn’t getting murder vibes from him or anything. Sort of.

“These are cool,” Bartolomeo said, his voice rough, like he had been shouting recently. He was pointing to Penguin’s arms, and the ink that colored his skin from forearm to up and over his shoulder.

“Thanks,” Penguin said softly.

“Shachi's are too. Where’d you guys get 'em done?”

Penguin shrugged. “A small shop in Portland. They’re not very big but they’re good. They got a wait list that’s like six months long.”

“You got any more?” Bartolomeo asked.

Penguin shook his head, confused at the man’s sudden interest in his tattoos.

“Not really into tattoos," he said gesturing to himself, "I’m more of a piercing kind’a guy." And yeah, that it obvious with the amount of metal that flashed in his nose and ears and eyebrows and everywhere else. Bartolomeo leaned back then and motioned to Shachi with his fingers. Apparently, that meant get him a drink because one appeared in front of him a moment later. Good thing Shachi spoke weirdo.

“Don’t you need to get to work too?” Penguin asked.

“Not until the doors open,” Bartolomeo grinned and knocked back the contents of his glass. “I got another half an hour, so you’re going to entertain me.”

Penguin blinked and sat up straighter, his heart thumping a little in his chest. Shachi started snickering.

“I am? How?

Bartolomeo stood and reached behind the bar, bringing two shot glasses into view and setting them down on the bar top.

“We’re gonna have a fucking drinking contest.”

That was easily the last thing he had expected to hear, and the sight of Bartolomeo—who seriously looked to be straight out of an 80’s punk rock movie—sitting there looking so excited and expectant, won Penguin over.

“Okay,” Penguin laughed, “you’re on.”

By the time Chopper heard Dalton’s SUV pull up into the driveway, he was a mess. Not a real mess, just an emotional one. He was so nervous his mouth was completely dry, and his legs were so weak he had trouble getting up from the couch to answer the door.

However, the sight of Dalton standing there on his porch, looking so sweet and maybe a little disheveled, calmed Chopper’s heart almost completely.

“Hey,” Dalton said with a smile. “I know you said to wear pajamas, but when I got home I realized I didn’t have any.” He was wearing Seattle Police Department track pants, and a gray, SPD hooded sweatshirt. Compared to the suits and ties he wore every day, they might as well have been pajamas.

Chopper smiled and shook his head. “It’s fine, come in.”

He stepped back to let Dalton in and then closed the door. Dalton started to look around but then seemed to remember something and turned back to Chopper and handed him a fantastic-smelling bundle in a plastic bag. Chopper had ordered Thai food and paid with his card, and Dalton had offered to pick it up on his way over.

“You order from this place a lot, don’t you?”

Chopper took the bundle from Dalton’s hands and shrugged. “Yeah, maybe. Why?”

“Because the lady there told me to say hi to you and tell ‘Thomas’ to stop slacking off.”

Chuckling, Chopper moved into the kitchen and placed the bags on the counter. “Mrs. Young is meddlesome, but we love her.” He started opening the bags and separating the containers on the countertop.

“This is really nice,” Dalton said from the junction where the living room met the dining room.

Chopper looked up. “Thank you,” he said softly.

When Dalton turned back to him, Chopper had to look away, he could feel the blush creeping over his cheeks and up his neck. Dalton’s hair was slightly messy, like he had taken a shower and toweled at his hair, but then had left it to dry wild. That, combined with his sweatshirt and soft pants, made him seem so much more vulnerable, even more approachable than he usually was.

“I thought we could eat in the dining room, but if you wanted, we could just eat out of the boxes in front of the tv.”

He heard Dalton shift, as if he was double-checking the living room. “No, I agree. Let’s eat in the dining room.”

For some reason, that calmed Chopper somewhat as well. It wasn’t surprising, most everything Dalton did or said had that effect, even if his very presence was the source of Chopper’s anxiety. It was a complicated thing, being completely smitten with someone.

“Um, plates are up here,” Chopper said, pointing toward one of the cupboards, and then another, “glasses are here. And I have wine if you want.”

“Definitely,” Dalton said as he came back into the kitchen.

They sat at the dining table which had been mostly for show up until then. Chopper couldn’t remember ever using it for anything besides paperwork, which was kind of funny when you thought about it. The sun started to set as they ate, and the lamp overhead provided perfect, if unintentional, mood lighting. It reminded Chopper of their first date and he felt that traitorous blush return to his cheeks. If Dalton noticed, he was kind enough not to say anything.

The conversation turned easily to Dalton’s kids. It was a topic that obviously made Dalton happy, and that in turn made Chopper happy. He learned that Aiden, the oldest, wanted to be a rocket scientist, and how it wasn’t even that unrealistic of a goal. The girls were still in their princess phases, and Dalton confessed that he hoped they never grew out of them.

“They’re going to be here next week,” Dalton said softly. He set his fork down on his empty plate and folded his hands.

An indescribable lightness filled Chopper’s chest, it was warm and sweet and made him feel like he could float away if he let himself.

“Really?” he tried to say but his voice only whispered. “Can I meet them?”

“Of course, Penguin’s already planning on taking them to every park in the city, so you’ll have to fight him for their time,” Dalton said, but his eyes were suddenly far away, sad.

Troubled, Chopper reached out and slipped his hand over Dalton’s. He ran his thumb over that rough skin and squeezed.

“Are you… not happy they’re coming?” he asked.

Dalton looked up at him then, surprised. “Oh, no, I’m happy. I can’t wait to see them. I’m just… sorry.” He closed his eyes then and shook his head as if to shake away whatever was bothering him. Unclasping his hands, he took Chopper’s between his palms, and brought it to his lips to kiss across Chopper’s knuckles.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a downer. We don’t have to talk about this.”

Chopper pulled away and stacked the plates, shoving everything to the side so he could pull his chair closer to where Dalton sat. He tucked one leg underneath himself and leaned an elbow on the table. This way, he was still technically sitting, but now he was on Dalton’s level, and their mouths were only inches away from each other.

When he took Dalton’s hand back, he tucked it into his chest and held it there firmly. “Since we met, two weeks ago or whatever, you have been nothing but patient and understanding with me. I’ve given you a thousand reasons to run away, but you haven’t. You’ve listened to me and treated me so gently it’s made me want to cry. It has made me cry. So, I can assume that you’re fully aware and fully prepared to deal with my shit, right?”

Dalton watched him, his eyes studying the lines of his face intently. “Yes.”

“Well, I’m fully prepared for your shit too,” Chopper said softly, lifting his hand to cup Dalton’s face. “No matter how bad it is, I’m here for you.”

Dalton swallowed and nodded.

“You can tell me anything,” Chopper continued, knowing full well he was being a hypocrite, but actually, he had every intention of telling Dalton everything that had happened to him. This just wasn’t the time for it. Right now, this was about Dalton.

Something flashed in Dalton’s eyes then and he leaned in a little closer, brushing his nose against Chopper’s lightly.

“You’re so perfect,” he whispered.

Chopper’s breath caught but he was able to shake his head and smile against those lips. “Shut up, this isn’t about me.”

“I could make it about you right now.”

Chopper felt one of those large, strong hands slide around his waist, and then he was being pulled from his chair. It was gentle, more of a coaxing, but the strength behind that touch made it seem like if he resisted, Dalton would just lift him and bring him close anyway. He ended up siting in Dalton’s lap with his feet to one side, and Dalton’s hands holding his hip and thighs firmly. Sliding his arms around Dalton’s neck, Chopper shivered at the thought of being completely at this man’s mercy.

But after one slow, gentle kiss, Dalton pulled away and his touch became tender. Chopper felt the hesitation in his body and slid his hands into the close-cropped hair at the back of Dalton’s neck.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push.”

Dalton shook his head. “You weren’t pushing, I’m just…” he sighed, “I’m just not used to being able to talk about this.”

Chopper kissed his forehead. “We have time.”

Dalton nodded against his neck. “I know, but there are some things you should know before my kids get here.”

Nodding, Chopper wrapped his arms back around Dalton’s neck.

Letting out one, long sigh, Dalton started to speak, softly and slowly.

“I’m happy my kids are coming, I haven’t seen them in a long time—months. The reason I’m upset is because my ex-wife… won’t listen to me. I tried to tell her that I’m going to be too busy to really spend time with them, and she knows why I’m here, she knows I’m in the middle of a huge case, but that doesn’t seem to matter. She’s just doing her own fucking thing, not caring what I say or how I feel, or how dangerous it is to send our children here.” His grip tightened as he spoke, and Chopper could tell he was getting more upset. “I mean, I get it, I understand that she’s still furious with me… but don’t take it out on the kids, Jesus.”

Chopper ran his fingers over Dalton’s scalp and pressed his lips into dark hair.

“What happened between you two?” Chopper whispered.

Dalton pulled away but only far enough to glance up into Chopper’s face. Then he looked down again.

“We were having problems for a while, but what ended it was when I told her I thought I might be gay. I knew she’d be upset, but I had no idea she would go as far as she did.”

“What did she do?” Chopper asked.

“She tried to take my custody rights away. She comes from a very religious family and when they found out about it they helped her build a case around how my sexual orientation was against their belief system and was therefore bad for the kids.”

Chopper’s jaw dropped, “Oh my god…”

Dalton shook his head. “I understand, I do. I have nothing against their beliefs, but…”

“It’s your fucking kids!” Chopper exclaimed.

“It’s my kids,” Dalton agreed. “The judge said that wasn’t a good enough reason to deny custody, especially with my record. I have years of decorated service in both the army and police force. It wasn’t going to happen. Judge granted joint custody, I can see them whenever I want.”

“Good,” Chopper growled, seething, “stupid bitch.”

Dalton chuckled softly and his arms tightened around Chopper’s waist. “She’s not a bitch, she’s just trying to do what she thinks is right.”

“She’s a bitch and she tried to take your kids away because you embarrassed her,” Chopper snarled. Angry tears were forming at the corner of his eyes and he didn’t even try to wipe them away. The rage he felt toward this woman he had never even met was insane. “She doesn’t deserve you or your kids.”

Dalton looked up at him then and froze when he saw the tears trailing down Chopper’s cheeks. He lifted his hand and gently wiped them away with his thumb. He seemed mesmerized, completely shocked and taken by surprise, like he wasn’t even sure the tears were real.

“You…” he said softly, “you’re really upset.”

“Of course I’m upset!” Chopper cried. “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met and your stupid ex-wife, who’s supposed to help you and be there for you and support you until death do you part, wanted to punish you for something you can’t change! Something that’s a part of you! How can she fucking do that?!”

When Dalton said nothing, merely stared at him in shock and wonder, Chopper realized what he had just said and felt shame wash over him. He looked away and wiped at his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, “that was uncalled for.”

He felt Dalton’s fingers on his cheek, turning his face back, and then Dalton was kissing him. It was sweet, and mostly gentle, but also a little eager. Hungry. It was over very quickly and when they pulled away, Dalton threaded his hands into Chopper’s hair, pulling him close so their foreheads could touch.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever defended me like that before,” he breathed.

Chopper shook his head. “That’s so fucking sad.”

“I just… I never know what to say to her because I feel so fucking guilty. And now? Now that she’s married to this new guy she’s like a completely different person that doesn’t care what happens to the kids. It’s like she threw away all those beliefs that were so important to her before, and now she doesn’t care what happens to me, or the kids, anything else but herself.”

Chopper wrapped his arms around Dalton’s neck and held him tightly. He buried his face into Dalton’s neck and whispered all the things that were in his heart.

“It’s because those beliefs she had? They were fucking bullshit. She just wanted to punish you. So stop feeling guilty about something that isn’t your fault and isn’t your responsibility. I’ll take care of your kids when they get here. I’ll protect them like they were mine, because I care about you and everything single thing that’s a part of you.”

Dalton’s breath stuttered in his chest and Chopper made a small noise as those strong arms came around him so tightly he almost lost his breath.

“I don’t deserve you,” Dalton said softly.

“Oh, I disagree,” When Chopper pulled away, he let his eyelids get heavy and he licked at his lips. He almost laughed when he saw Dalton’s eyes follow the movement.

“I think I’m exactly what you need.”

Dalton watched him for a moment, gaze heated and growing hotter by the second. Then his arms moved from around his waist and his hands slid up Chopper’s sides. When Chopper leaned in to kiss him, he breathed in deeply, as if trying to breathe all of Chopper in at once. The kiss was long and slow, exploratory, but not gentle.

“What do you want to do now?” Dalton asked, breathless when they pulled away again.

Chopper was trembling, but he knew the smile on his face was wide. “Help me with the dishes, and then we can move to the living room. See what happens.”

Dalton returned the smile, and kissed him again.

Penguin wasn’t completely drunk when the club had opened, but he had been close. His game with Bartolomeo was cut short when Bartolomeo had gotten a call on his walkie saying there was a group of underage kids trying to sneak in through the service door. He’d grinned at Penguin and told him “another time” before disappearing.

Now the club was packed and Penguin’s drinking was a little more solitary. He didn’t mind, this was exactly what he needed. The music thrummed through him in a steady pound, the people that filed in and filled up the spaces around him were that special Seattle brand of cordial but cold that he kind of liked, and the whole time Shachi was close by, slinging drinks, entertaining, and making sure that whatever Penguin had in his hand was never empty.

It was sometime after ten when a long, lean body slid into the seat next to him.

“Well, look what we have here…”

Penguin turned to find Sanji Black sitting next to him, leaning back against the bar, a small, mischievous smirk on his face. He was wearing an expensive-looking silk shirt and what was probably a five-hundred-dollar watch. The jeans he was wearing were probably even more expensive.

“What’s up, GQ?” Penguin grinned.

Sanji tipped back his head and laughed, the sound light, musical. “Oh, so charming. You here with Law?”

Penguin nodded. “He’s up in the VIP booth.”

“Ah, excellent,” Sanji said and smiled at something over Penguin’s shoulder. “Of course, not sure how much of a fight there’ll actually be.”

Penguin turned, following where Sanji was looking, and found Zoro on his other side. The swordsman wasn’t paying attention to either of them and was fishing around behind the bar for a beer. He was dressed in all black, a black bandana wrapped around his head.

“You fighting tonight?” Penguin asked.

Zoro grunted as he opened his beer, but Penguin wasn’t sure if it was an affirmative grunt or not, so he turned back to Sanji.

“Yes,” Sanji nodded. “Babe, hand me one will ya?”

Zoro tossed him one without looking and Sanji caught it easily.

“I’m heading to the tent,” Zoro said, “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Love you,” Sanji called after him.

“Love you more.”

Penguin watched the swordsman’s back as he made his way through the crowd and disappeared through the service door, then he turned back to Sanji.

“Gross.”

Sanji just grinned at him and took a sip from his bottle. “So, nice outfit. Those Law’s pants?”

Penguin groaned and looked down at himself. The jeans were too tight and had too many rips. The tank was tight too but Law said he needed to show off his ink and this was the only sleeveless he owned.

“I feel like a gigolo.”

“You look like a gigolo.”

Penguin cocked an eyebrow at him.

Sanji held up his hands. “I mean that in the best way possible.”

Penguin snickered and lifted his glass to his lips.

Sanji swiveled around on the stool and leaned forward against the bar. “How’s work? How’s Dalton—working with Dalton, I mean.”

Penguin sighed and rubbed at his eyes, “Uh, well, we thought we had our guy, but it turned out we didn’t. Then we thought we had our guy again, but then we didn’t. Then we thought we at least had a guy that would get us to our actual guy, but then that turned out to be a break in an entirely different case.” He paused in his story to tip the last bit of his drink into his mouth, thinking that he was finally fully drunk and he might be rambling a little. “So, it’s going… well?”

He heard Sanji chuckle again and decided that it was a good time to rest his elbows on the bar top. Especially since his head was getting so heavy.

“Last time I talked to Law about it he said you guys were killing it,” Sanji said.

Penguin snorted. “I don’t know. I’m sort of discouraged ‘cause we’re technically not any closer to figuring this out then we were when we started. And I don’t want it to take another body for us to get this guy.” Suddenly, Penguin thought of something and sat up, looking at Sanji with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m not supposed to be talking about this with you. I’m kinda drunk.”

Sanji held up a hand in surrender, his smile gentle. “I won’t tell.”

Sighing, Penguin relaxed and put his elbows back on the bar top. “Other than that, working with Dalton has been amazing. He’s already taught me so much, he’s a fuckin’ supercop. He knows like, everything and he makes this shit seem so simple and easy. Chopper’s great too, he sees stuff we never would have thought of. I’m so fuckin’ lucky.”

Sanji was silent for a moment before he asked casually, “So Chopper’s doing okay?”

Penguin nodded and almost, almost blurted out something along the lines of how Chopper was probably doing really well right about now because damn it looked like he and Dalton were about to snap and start going at it right in the middle of lunch earlier that day… but he stopped himself before he said any of it.

“Chopper is good,” Penguin said softly, just loud enough to be heard over the music if Sanji leaned close. “I don’t know what happened between him and all you guys, but I promise, whatever it is or was, he’s working through it.”

Sanji looked away then and studied his bottle for a moment. Then his smile returned little by little, and he nodded.

“Thank you,” he said, “I appreciate you looking after him.”

“Ah, well,” Penguin said, “it’s more Dalton looking after him then me. They’ve really… hit it off the last few days… I guess.”

Hm, he hadn’t meant to say all that.

Sanji was looking at him funny, thoughtfully, and twirling the bottle between his fingers. “Yeah?” he said.

Penguin nodded and then busied himself with catching Shachi’s attention. One more drink, just one, and then he’d go watch the fight.

“Well,” Sanji said and straightened, “I’m going to head to the tent. Enjoy the fight, yeah?”

Penguin nodded to him and took the fresh drink from Shachi’s hands. Sanji nodded to him and Shachi saluted him with a smile.

Then, Sanji leaned in close and spoke softly into Penguin’s ear.

“Before you head up to the VIP booth I thought you’d like to know, there’s a smoking hot brunette out on the dance floor who hasn’t taken eyes off you in like fifteen minutes.”

Penguin’s head shot up and he made a face. “My kind of smoking hot brunette? Or yours?”

Sanji laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Trust me, friend, it’s both.” With that, Sanji put his hands on Penguin’s shoulders and turned him around. “Straight ahead, green dress, gold shoes.”

Penguin scanned the crowd, and when his eyes landed on that beautiful, familiar face, his jaw dropped.

“I’ll be damned.”

Upstairs in the VIP booth, Law sat in his usual seat sipping at, what would be for anyone else, a seventeen-dollar glass of Cognac. He had heard the door open and close a few times, but he hadn’t looked up to see who it was. He was comfortable, feet resting on the back of the seat in front of him, listening to Bepo at the bar. Law was grateful Bepo was still his man. That was loyalty, tried and true, and if anyone ever challenged the fact that Law reciprocated that loyalty, he would swear an oath in his own blood that he would give his life for Bepo if it came down to it.

As he sat drinking, watching the Pit below, thoughts played through Law’s head like a slideshow on fast forward. He tried to block them out as he watched Zoro step up into the home box, bandana tied around his head, his shirt off, scar striking against his tanned skin. He could almost concentrate on that display, because Zoro was quite the sight, but with everything Law was trying not to think about, it still didn’t prove an adequate distraction. Even with Sanji, standing close behind Zoro, periodically running his fingers down the swordsman’s arm or slipping a hand around his waist, those thoughts still intruded on Law’s quiet moment.

Zoro’s smile was faint, but if you knew what to look for you could see it, and Law felt a spark of jealousy flash through him.

He wasn’t jealous of Sanji, or of Zoro, no, he was jealous of what the two of them had together. Law wanted the kind of bond they had, the kind of trust they shared. That was the root of all the images and thoughts his restless mind was forcing him to examine. If he could just get Kidd to trust him like Sanji and Zoro trusted each other, then they could probably figure out a way to make things work. He knew deep down Kidd wanted to be with him. They both wanted desperately to be with each other, but that trust, that bond they had shared while Law had been undercover had been broken.

How could he get that back? What could he do?

He had been thinking a lot the last few days about what Sanji had told him. Sanji had said that he wanted pain, but he needed to learn how to tell the difference between feeling pain, and getting hurt.

Maybe that was a good place to start.

Kidd had always been so good at reading what Law wanted. He had given Law pain when he wanted it. He had always known just how hard to hit, just how tight to tie the cords. He had known the exact moment just before the bite would draw blood, the instant Law needed him to let up and give him air.

So, what had changed? Why was he so against hurting him now? Had the fact that Law had hidden his true identity from him really messed him up that much? Maybe Law was mistaken, maybe he was thinking about this all wrong and Kidd did want him still, but he no longer loved him.

Shit. Goddamnit, if that were true…

He shook himself and took another sip from his glass. The Cognac burned on the way down, but it was a satisfying burn, it filled him up and killed a bit of his anxiety with every swallow.

For once, he hadn’t come to the club to try and patch things with Kidd; Law finally understood that wasn’t going to happen until he figured his own shit out. He was really here to talk to his former partner about the Seattle trafficking scene and how apparently Kidd had stopped, or at least, hidden it better than anyone else before him. Law wanted to know if it was true. Had the movements really been slowed? Or had they just found better routes?

If Kidd had found a better way to deal and trade, that was one thing, but if he had actually stopped it, that meant Kidd was making enemies unlike any they had dealt with before, enough that for the first time ever, Kidd might be in real fucking danger.

On one hand, Law was worried for Kidd, but on the other… if he had slowed traffic for real? What did that mean? He had been serious before? About going straight? Law had thought Kidd was just feeding him a line, what if he had really meant that?

The door opened again, and this time, Law knew who it was. He didn’t look up, but he was given a little satisfaction when the footsteps entering the booth halted and hesitated for a moment before they started moving again.

There was a soft click as the door closed again and Law heard Bepo call a soft greeting from the bar. A few seconds later Kidd was at his side, sliding into his own seat with an empty glass in his hand. Kidd held it out and Law smirked as he poured him few fingers of the Cognac.

“Come to watch Roronoa?” Kidd asked.

Law shrugged, “I didn’t actually know he was fighting tonight. It’s like a bonus.”

Kidd hummed and sipped. “How’s your throat?”

Law shivered and forced himself to keep his hand at his side. He wanted nothing more that to run his fingers over the flesh that was almost back to its natural color but was still just the tiniest bit tender.

“It’s fine,” he said softly. “I iced it and I wore a scarf to work for a few days.”

Kidd snickered into his glass. “I can’t see that.”

“What? Me wearing a scarf?”

Kidd nodded. “It’s so fucking… mundane.”

Law chuckled softly and turned back to the Pit. “Who’s he fighting?”

Kidd shrugged. “Some asshole from New York. Indigo or some shit, I don’t care. Sanji’s fighting his partner Red or Blue or Orange or something tomorrow. They’ll both win without even trying.”

“You sound pretty sure of that.”

“I am sure,” Kidd took another slow swallow. “Your friends are good fighters.”

Law tilted his head and then rested it against the chairback. “They’re your friends too you know.”

Kidd grunted. “I guess. I have to admit, they’re some of the least annoying of the crew here.”

Law laughed, “Whatever, you love Luffy.”

Shaking his head, Kidd took another drink to hide his smile. “No way, I’mma kill that kid and eat him for breakfast.”

Law laughed again and settled into his seat to watch the fight.

TBC

Chapter Text

As the credits rolled, Chopper sat up and fumbled for the remote, muting the sound on the tv. Then he turned to Dalton with a smile on his face.

“Well?” he asked. “Did you like it?”

Dalton turned wide eyes to him and nodded slowly.

“It was… so good.”

“Yes!” Chopper chuckled. “I told you, it’s seriously one of the best anime films out there.”

Dalton shook his head, still seeming as if he was in disbelief. “Not just anime, that was an incredible movie period. What’s it called again?”

“Summer Wars.”

Nodding, Dalton ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll have to ask Aiden if he’s seen it. He’s never been too into anime, but he likes it in general. And he’d definitely love this one.”

Proud of himself and his suggestion, Chopper set the controller down and moved back to rest against the cushions. This time however, instead of facing the television, he turned his body to face Dalton and pulled his legs up underneath him. His nervousness had returned somewhat after they had finished cleaning up dinner but had left him again when Dalton had mentioned the movie. Now, he could feel it creeping back, slow and gentle, tight in his chest and curling softly in his belly.

“Can I ask you something?” Dalton said suddenly.

Chopper nodded.

Dalton also turned his body and rested an elbow on the back of the couch. Chopper tried not to get distracted by the way his shoulder and chest muscles pulled at the thin fabric of his t-shirt, but it was very difficult.

“I’m confused with your… timeline, I guess you could say.”

Chopper frowned and reached for his wine glass. Both his and Dalton’s were sitting on the coffee table, empty, but the bottle was there as well. “What do you mean?” he asked as he poured what was left into their glasses.

“You said the thing that happened with Usopp and the stitches happened nine years ago, when you were finishing up med school, but I thought you were in your late twenties. So, either you’re a good liar and you’re actually in your thirties, or you were in medical school when you were still a teenager.”

“I finished when I was nineteen,” Chopper said as he took a small sip from his wine glass. “I started working as a full-time resident in the ER a few months before I turned twenty.”

He didn’t look up because he knew the look that would be plastered across Dalton’s face, he had seen it a thousand times before. It wasn’t that he minded the look, actually it was quite flattering, but the fact of the matter was, if he saw it on Dalton’s face right now he might lose it and crawl right over into the other man’s lap.

“So…” Dalton said softly, and Chopper could hear the smile in his words, “I feel like I should make a Doogie Howser joke.”

Chopper laughed, “Yeah, I might have heard a few of those over the years. It didn’t catch on though, not even after the news did a story on me.”

“Are you in the Guinness Book of World Records?”

“No,” Chopper chuckled again and finally looked up, “but I am in the top ten.”

“Jesus…” Dalton had picked up his own glass of wine and now downed half the contents in one smooth swallow. “I got an award in grade school for a poem I did about a caterpillar.”

Another laugh erupted from Chopper’s chest and he threw back his head to giggle at the ceiling. He was so warm, so happy, and when he felt Dalton’s fingers on his jaw, coaxing him back, he went easily.

Dalton kissed him slow, exploring the parts that Chopper opened to him with a gentle enthusiasm. His tongue slid against Chopper’s easily, like it was a dance the two had perfected over years. His lips were soft and when Chopper pulled the bottom through his teeth Dalton groaned softly. When Chopper broke away, Dalton was smiling at him, and under that sweet gaze, Chopper felt safer, and more at home than he had felt in years.

“Give me this…” he whispered and took Dalton’s wine glass from his hand, then he set them both back down on the coffee table. When he turned back, he moved before he lost his nerve, coming into Dalton’s space and turning so he was sitting in Dalton’s lap. Dalton accommodated him, leaning back against the arm of the couch, and pulling Chopper back against his chest. They stretched out on the couch together, legs tangled on the cushions, and Dalton’s large arms wrapped around Chopper like a comforting blanket.

When he felt fingers running gently over the backs of his hands, Chopper glanced down. He turned Dalton’s hands over and laid his own over the tops so they were touching palm to palm.

“Your hands are so big…” he said softly.

He felt the flex of muscle beneath him as Dalton huffed a laugh, and he felt the puff of air in his hair.

“Maybe you’re just tiny.”

“I wonder if that’s a thing,” Chopper said, smiling as Dalton laced their fingers together.

“You wonder if what’s a thing?”

“Maybe that’s part of the reason you’re attracted to me,” Chopper explained. “You’re huge and so you like me because I’m small, or something.”

Dalton chuckled again, and then nuzzled into the curve just below Chopper’s jaw.

“That might be true, but if it is, it’s only a part of it.”

“Oh, there’s more?” Chopper asked, teasing.

He felt Dalton nod, and when he spoke again, his voice had gone even softer, lowered into a register that Chopper could feel in his bones.

“There are a lot of reasons why I’m attracted to you.”

Chopper felt Dalton’s lips in his hair, kissing his temple. He sighed and turned into the touch, effectively placing his forehead into the curve of Dalton’s throat. “Like what?”

“The way you can get so passionate about things, for one,” Dalton said softly, his voice still deep and rumbling. “I also really like the way you bite your lip when you’re deep in thought, or how your eyelashes are long enough to cast shadows over your cheeks when you’re being shy.”

Chopper felt his breath catch in his throat. He hadn’t expected Dalton to answer him, and he sure as hell hadn’t expected him to answer in such an honest and straightforward way. He should have known though, Dalton was straightforward about whatever he was speaking about, that was one of his greatest strengths. His openness and his self-assured, confidant nature were what made him so easy to trust, what made Chopper feel so safe.

Swallowing past a lump in his throat, Chopper realized his heart was beating fast, and hard enough that he was sure Dalton could feel it. He could feel Dalton’s, strong and steady against his back, not too fast, but harder than what should be normal.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” he asked, his voice soft.

Dalton froze, and for a moment, Chopper worried he had said something wrong, but then Dalton curled in and kissed a line up Chopper’s neck and jaw.

“Yes,” he said, almost in a growl, “if that’s what you want.”

Chopper’s breath was starting to feel labored, as if he had been running. He couldn’t find it in himself to speak so he swallowed again and arched against Dalton’s body, trying to slide his way up closer to Dalton’s mouth, and his kisses. But Dalton’s hold was firm and he held Chopper where he was.

“Hey,” Dalton whispered, soothing, “talk to me, love. I don’t want you to feel pressured, so I need you to tell me if this is what you want.”

The fact that Dalton cared enough about him to ask, to double check that Chopper was okay with this, tugged at every string in Chopper’s body at the same time. His heart seemed to break and then mend back together again in almost the same instant, his body shivered with both nervousness and arousal, and it was suddenly hard to breathe. How could he resist? Dalton was everything he had ever wanted and he was there, right there for the taking.

Best of all, this was on Chopper’s terms. Dalton was slowing them down, holding them still until Chopper himself gave permission. In that moment, that meant more than anything and Chopper felt his eyes grow wet.

“I want you…” he breathed. “I want your hands on me.”

He felt the tremble against his back, heard the low groan from deep in Dalton’s throat, and then Dalton was pulling his hands from Chopper’s and sliding them both beneath his t-shirt. His touch was warm and solid, one hand tracing the lines of Chopper’s stomach and hips, while the other slid up to his chest. Chopper let out a small sound when Dalton’s fingers found a nipple and ran the rough pad of this thumb over sensitive, pink, flesh.

“Tell me more,” Chopper gasped and then grit his teeth. When he spoke again, it was through a clenched jaw. “Tell me what I do to you.”

Dalton hummed and kissed Chopper’s forehead. “I love the way your skin flushes when someone compliments you,” he paused and kissed Chopper’s temple. “It makes me want to know how far down that blush goes.”

Carefully, gently, with trembling fingers, Chopper took the hand at his hip and guided it slowly down to the waistline of his sweatpants. He tucked the tips of Dalton’s fingers just below the elastic, and then left him alone to decide how to proceed.

Dalton didn’t miss a beat and slid his hand lower, pushing underneath Chopper’s boxers, and wrapping his large, warm hand around Chopper’s aching arousal.

Chopper made another soft noise and Dalton continued, unprompted. “You forget yourself when you’re angry,” he stroked once, and accompanied it with a slow, sweet kiss against Chopper’s cheek. “I love that you completely lose yourself and say things without thinking.”

He started jerking Chopper off then with quick and precise movements. His hand was sure, his grip strong but still unbelievably gentle. Chopper keened and arched, his eyes rolled up into his head. Every part of his body was on fire.

Then Dalton’s lips touched his ear, and his deep, throaty voice whispered heavily, “Would you do that if I fucked you slow and hard? Would you completely lose yourself for me?”

Everything tightened at those words and Chopper felt himself falling over the edge. He started coming, taking himself by surprise. Pleasure released through him in a wave. His entire body tensed with the force of it, and a cry came up from somewhere deep in his throat and slipped past his lips before he could stop it. Dalton stroked him through it, holding him tightly as he arched and keened and panted and gripped at Dalton’s arms hard enough to leave small crescents from his fingernails.

Finally, he started to come down. “Oh… oh…” he gasped, panting heavily as his body relaxed limply against Dalton’s.

Dalton had released him and was holding his hips in a gentle but firm grip. He was kissing at Chopper’s neck and shoulder, soft, open-mouthed kisses that were more of a promise than anything else.

“I’m…” Chopper was still panting, finding it hard to form words. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t—”

“—Don’t be sorry,” Dalton murmured, “it’s very flattering. Remember I’ve never done this before.”

Chopper smiled and turned his head so Dalton could reach his mouth. They kissed slowly, just like they had before, but this time Chopper could taste the want, the almost desperation, on Dalton’s lips.

“You have the sexiest voice,” Chopper whispered, when they parted.

Dalton hummed and kissed him again. When Chopper shifted to get a hand up to Dalton’s cheek, he felt the press of Dalton’s erection against his lower back and he almost gasped. The length of him was incredible, the size, holy shit. Suddenly, Chopper needed that big dick in his mouth more than he needed air.

Pulling back, Chopper sat up and turned around, straddling Dalton’s hips. Before he could say anything, Chopper leaned in, and kissed the surprise off of the other man’s face. This kiss was not anything like the others they had shared, this one was raw and desperate, teeth on lips, and nails dragging over skin. When they finally pulled back, Dalton was holding Chopper’s hips so tightly it was definitely going to leave bruises, and Chopper was hovering over Dalton’s face, hands cupping the larger man’s jaw, and panting, licking into his mouth.

“I… have to warn you,” Chopper whispered, “I like it a little rough.”

Dalton didn’t bat an eye. “It’s okay, I do too.”

When Dalton tilted up to kiss him again, Chopper pulled back just far enough to be out of reach. Dalton looked at him questioningly, and Chopper slid his hands into that thick, dark hair.

“There’s something else you should know,” he said softly.

“What?” Dalton asked.

Chopper hesitated, knowing it wasn’t a bad thing, but it was still something that embarrassed him deep down.

He bit his lip. “I’m still technically a virgin.”

Dalton’s eyes widened. “What?”

Embarrassment flooding through him, and surprisingly shame as well, Chopper nodded and ducked his head. “I… I’ve never… I mean I’ve done everything but…” he stopped and cleared his throat. “Jesus Christ, I’m a doctor and I can’t say it.”

“It’s all right,” Dalton offered gently. “I’m assuming you’re trying to tell me you haven’t been penetrated.”

Chopper nodded. “Not by a real person.”

“So, just fingers then? A toy?” Dalton offered.

Chopper nodded again. “I don’t know if that’s bad or good or… whatever. I just wanted you to know so you didn’t think I knew what I was doing. We’re gonna have to… figure it out together.”

He felt Dalton’s hand on his face and he turned into the touch. When he closed his eyes he shivered as Dalton’s lips ghosted up his throat.

“You’re so perfect,” Dalton whispered. “You’re so fucking perfect I can’t believe you’re actually real.”

Chopper let out a breathy sob as relief slammed into him and he wrapped his arms around Dalton’s neck. He kissed whatever skin he could reach and just held on as Dalton turned and stood up off the couch, lifting Chopper with him as if he weighed nothing.

“Oh my god,” Chopper gasped, turned on by the show of strength. “Where are we going?”

Dalton smiled and nosed underneath Chopper’s chin. “Your bedroom.”

The nervousness returned in full, and Chopper looked down into Dalton’s eyes. “Oh… yeah?”

Dalton nodded. “If you’re still okay with that.”

Chopper didn’t have to think long about it. “Yes, I’m still okay with that.”

“Good,” Dalton adjusted his grip, getting two good handfuls of Chopper’s ass in his palms. Chopper yelped and then laughed, wrapping his legs tighter around Dalton’s waist as they headed for the stairs.

“I’ll be damned.”

Penguin slid off the stool and straightened his belt, not because his pants were particularly twisted, he just needed something to do with his hands to make sure he wasn’t completely off his face. His equilibrium seemed okay, his motor functions seemed adequate.

He started for the dance floor.

Those amber eyes looked up at him from underneath long lashes. Light brown hair curled softly around a pale face and tumbled over slender shoulders. The dress did nothing to hide any part of her, she was long and lean and angled nicely to catch the eye but curved where it mattered.

When he was a foot from her, he stopped and smiled softly.

“Hey,” he said.

Harley Monet smiled back and reached out a hand. “Hi detective.”

She may have been reaching out to shake his hand, but he wasn’t having any of that. He took it and pulled her close, putting that hand around the back of his neck. She came easily, smile widening, and followed him as he backed her up towards the middle of the floor.

“Just call me Penguin,” he smirked.

“Penguin?” she chuckled. “Please don’t tell me that’s a Batman reference ‘cause that would be fucking creepy.”

“No,” he laughed, “it’s just something my brothers have called me since I was a kid.”

She hummed and moved with him, her hips swaying against his like they were following something choreographed. Penguin had never been the best dancer, but he understood in this kind of setting, dancing was more like having sex, and having sex was something he was fairly good at.

She fit him nicely. She was tall for a woman, in those heels—fuck yes those heels—she was almost at eye level with him, and he was six one. He had never considered height when he was checking off things that he looked for in a woman, but he had to admit Monet’s brand of tall, and slender, and graceful, really got him going. Damn, she could easily be a model.

Penguin recognized he was being very superficial, but he was also kind of drunk. If he couldn’t get past how beautiful she was right now, well, he’d make up for it double when he was sober and think only about how smart and sassy she was.

“You know,” he said, coming close so he could speak into her ear, “I probably shouldn’t be talking to you. Open case and all that.”

She lifted her other hand and trailed her nails across the skin of his throat. They were painted black, and they were long. Penguin shivered at the touch.

“Not your case though anymore, is it?” She was breathing across his jaw, teasing him. “Or are you working narcotics all of a sudden?”

He chuckled again and pulled her more firmly against him. It made it almost impossible to dance, so she just put her arms around his neck and they swayed together to the steady thrum of the music. Penguin had meant to elicit an opportunity to trail his lips up the side of her neck, but when their eyes locked, the moment turned a little more serious than Penguin had first intended. She was looking at him like no one had looked at him in a long time. It was like she saw right through him, passed his posturing and his bullshit, his nerdy references and his pop-culture trivia mind, and saw what a loser he really was.

For an instant, her gaze turned sad. Penguin almost didn’t see it, but he was sure he saw it flash in her eyes.

Then it was gone.

“Can I ask you something?” he said suddenly.

“Sure,” she tossed her head to the side and her hair bounced over her shoulder, and damn, that was hot.

“I uh,” he cleared his throat, “did you tell me about Jones because you thought he might be a good lead on the Frankenstein case? Or did you know about the dealing and you were actually tipping me off?”

He felt the almost imperceptible tensing in her body, and she might have fumbled in her step, but it was such a minor thing, and he was so drunk, he could have imagined it.

“Damn,” her smile returned, “I guess once you’re a detective, you’re always a detective, huh?”

Penguin shrugged.

She sighed and removed her arms from around his neck. For a moment, Penguin panicked, thinking he had pissed her off and now she was leaving, but her hands just returned to his jaw and she brought her lips close to his.

“Are we really talking shop right now?”

Penguin suppressed a groan and slid his hands up her sides. “You got something else in mind?”

She nodded, brushing her lips across his. “Oh yes.”

Penguin didn’t have time to respond because she was already kissing him.

In the Pit, Zoro slammed the butt of his sword into his opponent’s stomach, and the man doubled over, coughing and retching.

“Damn,” Law said, “I knew this was going to be over fast, but that’s just ridiculous. Zoro didn’t even draw his sword.”

Kidd snickered into his glass as he took one last swallow, emptying it. “Sanji’s will be even shorter. Nami has four-k on his fight being over in under ten seconds. Some asshole didn’t believe her and doubled down. She’s going home with a lot of cash tonight.”

“She always does,” Law grinned.

“You here by yourself?” Kidd asked.

“No, came with my brother.” Law glanced up behind him, wondering where Penguin was, but then turned back to the scene below thinking he was either still hanging with Shachi, or had decided to watch the fight up close. “He’s fuckin’ around somewhere around here.”

“He’s a good guy,” Kidd said softly, “for a cop.”

Law chuckled and stood, gesturing to the bar. “You want somethin’ else?”

Shaking his head, Kidd set his glass on the table and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m assuming you’re here for a reason so if we’re gonna drink, we should do it upstairs.”

“Oh?” Law suppressed the shiver that ran through him. “That sounds dangerous.”

Kidd stood slowly and slipped his hands into his pockets. “Just stay on one side of the bar and I’ll stay on the other and we’ll be good.”

Law saluted Bepo as he followed Kidd out of the VIP booth. Bepo waved to him, a knowing and somewhat sad smile on his lips. Law tried not to think about that as he made his way down one flight of stairs and up another.

Kidd’s apartment was darker than usual and it took a moment for Law to understand why. When Kidd turned on the overhead lamps, Law could see the windows had double cell blackout shades, the automatic kind you could bring down with a remote.

“Wow, are those new?” he asked.

“Not really,” Kidd answered as he rummaged for glasses. “I got ‘em installed a few months ago I just don’t use ‘em very often.”

“I think they’re great. That fuckin’ elephant car wash sign pisses me off.”

Kidd smiled as he poured a few fingers of something for each of them. “They closed you know.”

“Really?” Law turned to him, “Well, okay now I feel bad.”

Scoffing, Kidd took a sip from his glass and sat, motioning to the bar stool across from him. Law hesitated for a moment, wondering if maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“You’re awfully accommodating,” he said warily.

Kidd shrugged, “I know why you’re here. Might as well get it over with.”

Surprised, Law came close and sat, taking the glass offered him between his fingers. “How do you know?”

“Your brother and his partner caught Hody Jones today. How the fuck would I not know about that?”

Law sighed, “Okay, that makes sense.” He took a drink and paused as the sweet burn traveled down his throat. Goddamn, Kidd had good whiskey.

“So, is it true?” Law asked.

“Which part?”

“Jones told Dalton that you stopped the drug trade going his way. Did you really stop it, or did you just find a better way to do it?”

Kidd didn’t answer, in fact, he looked away as if ashamed. He studied the contents of his glass and sucked on his teeth. He did it for so long, in fact, that Law started to think he was never going to answer.

“I’m not going to—”

“—Would you just shut up for a second?” Kidd snapped, but it was without bite and so Law closed his mouth. Kidd sighed and ran a hand over his eyes. He seemed sad all of a sudden.

“I wasn’t planning on ever actually having this conversation.”

Law tilted his head. “What, the conversation about how you’ve gone legit? Like you said you would?”

Kidd looked at him then, a mixture of anger and frustration shone in his eyes.

“Yes.”

Sighing again, Law leaned forward and rested his arms on the bar top. “Come on, man. I know the anonymous donations to the crime lab are from you. I have a feeling the grant given to the police academy was too. Why would you try and keep that shit a secret? Why wouldn’t you at least tell me about it?”

“You’re the one I was trying to keep it a secret from.”

Confused, Law rubbed at his forehead. “Okay, we’ll come back to that. What about the drugs?”

Kidd shook his head. “It’s not that big of a deal, I just handed the routes over to guys down south on the condition they don’t go up past Tacoma. And I told the Canada guys to fuck off and get their shit from Idaho or whatever. Keep it outta here.”

Law blinked in surprise. “So… you really did stop drug trade in the city?”

“No, there’s no way to actually do that. I just stopped the major trade. The stuff that comes from cartels and the big operations in Oregon and Cali, shit like that.”

There was a strange feeling growing in Law’s chest, a sort of lightness that made him feel like it was pushing something heavy off his shoulders from the inside.

“So you…” he found he couldn’t speak, his throat was too dry. Taking a small sip from his glass he leaned in closer and spoke softly. “You know, you could have gone legit, started doing things on the up and up and still have made lots of money without putting yourself in danger. Why did you do all this?”

Kidd huffed through his clenched teeth and sat back. He took his glass and downed what was left before he set it back down carefully and leaned forward on the bar top, mimicking Law’s posture.

Law tried not to think about how they were only inches apart now.

“To tell you the truth,” Kidd said slowly, his voice gravelly all of a sudden, “I don’t fucking know. Okay? I don’t know. I’m just trying to make the city a little safer and maybe… I don’t know, give back a little. Make amends for the fucked-up shit I’ve done.”

Heart pounding in his chest, Law tried to keep himself in check. He wasn’t about to ruin the first good conversation he’d had with Kidd in years by getting emotional.

“Fuck,” Kidd said softly and turned away. “See? This is why I didn’t want you to know. Now you’re lookin’ at me like that and I’m gonna start thinkin’ with my dick instead of my brain.”

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” Law breathed.

“Yes you fucking are.”

Law straightened and folded his arms over his chest. He tried to steel his face, but he didn’t even know what he was doing, or what he looked like in the first place, so he figured it was probably moot anyway. There were still so many things he wanted to know, so many questions still unanswered, but now there was something pressing at the back of his mind. There was another conversation he needed to have with Kidd, and now seemed the best chance he was ever going to get.

“Kidd,” he said softly, “I need to ask you something, and I really want an answer. I think I deserve it.”

Huffing out another heavy sigh, Kidd nodded and reached for the bottle he had pulled from the cupboard. He poured himself another couple of fingers, added some to Law’s glass, and then set it aside. “Ask away,” he murmured, and tossed the entire glass back.

Law watched him, watched his shoulders slump and his eyes close. The way his hands laced together and squeeze so tight his knuckles turned white. Law wanted to reach out and slide his hands over those clenched fists more than anything, but he reigned himself in again. He merely sat forward, rested his arms on the table, and spoke softly just inches from Kidd’s lips.

“Why won’t you be with me?”

Kidd shuddered, actually trembled, at Law’s words.

“I can’t,” he said.

“Can’t, or won’t?” Law asked. “I can understand if you don’t love me anymore, or you don’t want to be with me, I get that. That’s fine.” Pausing, he took a breath and let it out slowly. Control, keep it in check.

“But with what you’ve just told me? How you’re trying to make amends, how you’re trying to be legit? Be the good guy? How am I supposed to take that? How am I supposed to think that’s you doing anything other than making something up to me?”

Slowly, Kidd’s eyes opened and that piercing, amber gaze turned toward Law. It penetrated right through him, staring through flesh and bone and cutting deep down into Law’s heart. His soul.

Law moved still closer but made no move to touch Kidd anywhere.

“If just me looking at you like this does you in, then the problem can’t be that you don’t want me anymore.”

Kidd’s eyes still penetrated, still pierced deep enough to get a shiver going down Law’s spine. When he spoke he kept his gaze steady, locked with Law’s as if he was prisoner to it.

“I want you all the time.”

Law inhaled deeply to combat the way his heart slammed in his chest, but outwardly, he stayed as still as stone.

“Yeah?”

“I think about fucking you every day. Every. Fuckin’. Minute.”

“Then be with me, what’s the problem?” Law’s voice was a whisper now.

“I just can’t,” Kidd growled, “you don’t fuckin’ understand.”

“Help me understand.”

Kidd’s fist slammed down on the bar top, startling Law, but he didn’t shout or lunge or do anything that Law expected. Maybe Kidd was working as hard as he was at keeping his shit under control. There were a few long moments of silence where both men just sat, breathing, watching but not watching each other, before Kidd finally took a deep breath and spoke through clenched teeth.

“I don’t just think about fucking you, I think about messing you up, makin’ you bleed. I get just as turned on thinkin’ about you suckin’ my dick as I do thinkin’ about slappin’ your face or cuttin’ you.”

Law understood. He absolutely understood. Many long nights being alone and thinking about Kidd had involved fantasies where the two of them ended up broken a bruised, bloody. The more violent the fantasy, the harder Law came.

“That’s not…” he said softly. “That’s okay.”

“Jesus fucking…” Kidd made a sound that could have been a snarl, but Law thought it sounded more like a sob. “Can’t you see how fucked up that is?”

“Yeah, I little.”

“God damnit,” Kidd sat back and ran his hands down his face. “I can’t do that again. I can’t be with you and always be thinkin’ I’m gonna fuck it up and hurt you again. If I’m always reacting with violence and beatin’ the shit outta you, then what’s gonna stop me from snapping when I get really angry and fuckin’ killing you!?”

Something in what Kidd said caught Law’s attention and he closed his eyes, shook his head once as if to clear out all extra thought.

“What do you mean hurt me again?” he asked.

Kidd’s voice was thick when he answered. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talkin’ about.”

Law kept his eyes closed and gripped the edge of the bar top. He didn’t look at Kidd, all his focus was on Kidd’s words and his own thoughts trying to make sense of this new information. He was on the verge of understanding something profound, he knew that, and he didn’t want it to slip away. He was so close.

Control… Control…

“Kidd,” he said softly, “fucking talk to me. What are you talking about?”

He heard Kidd’s snarl, the way he pulled himself to his feet and started cussing. When Law opened his eyes, Kidd was up and facing away from him, holding onto the shelves behind the bar. He was shaking, reigning himself in as hard as Law had ever seen him do.

“You drive me fucking insane,” Kidd’s words left him in a rush, like he was out of breath and panting from exertion. “I wanna fucking tear you apart right now, you stupid, son of a bitch.”

Law left his seat and came around the bar. He couldn’t have stopped if he wanted to, his body was moving on its own. Kidd must have felt him coming because he pushed off the shelves as if they burned him and he started backing away, hands up in a defensive position.

“No. Stay the fuck back.”

“Kidd,” Law said gently, “calm down.”

“No! Get the fuck away from me!”

Law mirrored the way Kidd held his hands, placating, showing he meant no harm. “Kidd, listen to me. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for everything.”

Kidd shook his head again and his back hit the wall. His hands went to the cold concrete at his sides as if he could maybe find a way through and get away.

“You don’t got nothin’ to be sorry for. It’s not like you raped me.”

“Kidd…” Pain bloomed in Law’s heart and he couldn’t keep it out of his voice. Control… Keep it together. “Oh, Kidd, I’m so sorry.”

He reached out, but instead of sliding his hand over Kidd’s face, or behind his neck to bring him in for a kiss, Law reached out and wrapped his arms around Kidd’s waist. Before Kidd could stop him, and probably because the redhead was no doubt caught completely by surprise, Law came close, pressed his face into the curve of Kidd’s neck, and pulled their bodies flush against each other.

Law hugged Kidd, just hugged him. Probably for the first time in their lives.

Kidd’s breath caught loudly, and for a moment, Law was terrified he was going to be pushed away, but then a deep, heartbreaking sob shuddered through Kidd’s body and his arms came around Law’s shoulders. Suddenly, Law was being held in an embrace so tight, so desperate, he found it almost impossible to keep the rush of overwhelming emotions from causing him to break down and cry like a child.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Kidd. I’m so sorry.”

“I miss you,” Kidd said softly, “I miss you so much.”

Kidd went limp and fell back against the wall, bringing Law with him. They slid to the floor, Law’s knees hitting the polished wood on either side of Kidd’s hips. They stayed holding each other for a long time, Law clinging to Kidd and whispering soothing things into the redhead’s hair as Kidd’s hands bunched tightly in the back of Law’s shirt, shoulders shaking silently.

The understanding had finally hit him, something had clicked in Law’s head, and now everything was a little clearer. Kidd keeping his distance, refusing to have sex but still seeming like he wanted it. The fights, the tension, the lies, the separation… it all finally started to fall into place.

When Kidd’s body started to relax, Law pulled away gently, bringing his hands to a pale jaw and sliding his tattooed thumbs through the warm wetness of tears. Kidd didn’t look at him at first, but then his eyes lifted and he regarded Law through a haze of shame and resignation.

“Never seen you cry before,” Law said softly, “didn’t think you could.”

“Didn’t think I could either,” Kidd sniffed and closed his eyes as another wave hit him and a fresh trail of tears started to roll down both cheeks. Law stopped them with his fingers before they could get very far.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” he said weakly.

Law’s heart skipped. “Do what?”

Kidd tilted his head up so he could rest their foreheads together. “Be alone.”

Fire ignited in Law’s veins, spreading through him like a new life, like was reborn. How many times had he fantasized Kidd saying something like that to him? For how long had he wished and waited and hoped that something like this would happen?

Carefully, trying not to move too fast or seem too desperate or eager, Law slid his hands around to cup the back of Kidd’s neck, and he lifted his head to place a soft kiss into Kidd’s hairline.

“It’s late,” he murmured, “let’s go to bed.”

Kidd shook his head. “Don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Just to sleep.” Law pulled away and slowly climbed to his feet. Then he reached out a hand to help his friend up. “I promise, nothing else.”

Kidd seemed to mull it over in his mind for a few moments, but then he sighed and took Law’s hand.

They moved through the apartment, turning off the lamps, and when they entered the bedroom, Law shed his clothes and shoes without a second thought, then he pulled back the sheets and burrowed under the covers without ceremony and got comfortable. A few minutes later, when the mattress dipped beside him, he rolled to his side, offering his back to Kidd like an invitation.

That warm, solid body pressed up behind him, and a strong, familiar arm came around his waist. Breath puffed in his hair and Law noticed, gratefully, that Kidd had stopped trembling. The cheek that pressed into the back of his neck was dry.

He threaded his tattooed fingers through pale, calloused ones, and then settled.

For the first time in years, Law slept well that night.

So did Kidd.

TBC

Chapter Text

It was late, passed midnight. The only light was from the moon, tremendously bright but somehow still gentle as it crept in through the window and around the curtains.

Chopper was dizzy, his breath short. Hands clutching the sheets and back arching, he rode a rush of pleasure that seemed to sweep him up, make him gasp and shake. He hung suspended in a haze of arousal, a coiled pressure waiting to release and pull him apart. Nothing seemed real anymore, nothing was tangible. Every one of his senses was clouded, and every touch of doubt or disbelief that this was really happening was gone, evaporated into the air, settling on his skin and leaving a shine like sweat.

Naked, and splayed out on his bed, Chopper cried out once again into the grey stillness of the bedroom, into the faint glow from the moonlight. He arched, impossibly hard as another tremble of pleasure bloomed in his loins and crawled up his belly to his chest. He was going to come again.

Dalton was kneeling on the floor, his large hands holding Chopper’s thighs, not enough to hurt, but hard enough that Chopper couldn’t move. The immobility was a rush in itself, but what Dalton was doing with his mouth was far more intense. Dalton’s tongue was on him, inside of him. His lips were gentle, but their exploration was aggressive, demanding. He licked and sucked and bit at places Chopper had never let anyone touch before, and with every brush of those lips, every wet caress of that tongue, Chopper lost more and more of his sanity.

Quickly picking up on the fact that Chopper liked being manhandled, Dalton had taken control. He had stripped off Chopper’s clothes and pushed him back on the bed, then had removed his own, and knelt, spreading Chopper’s legs wide, lifting them to expose everything he wanted to taste. It had happened so fast, Chopper hadn’t had time to be scared, or nervous, or anything else besides amazed and overwhelmed.

Now, Dalton’s mouth left him, and Chopper could feel that large, unbelievably muscled body straighten. He felt himself lifted before he was laid against the pillows, then a shift as Dalton settled between his shaking legs. One hand came up to slide gently through his hair, and a pair of soft, warm lips pressed against his cheek.

“Tell me how you want it,” Dalton whispered.

Chopper let out a soft sob, his heart was pounding but it was also so full he could barely breathe.

“Just…” he panted, eyes lifting to meet impossible black ones, “get inside me. Fuck me slow and hard like you said.”

He expected Dalton to hesitate, to ask if he was sure, but he did not, and Chopper was grateful for it. Dalton slicked himself with no ceremony, and then took Chopper’s legs and folded them over his hips. Chopper looked down, watching the way those beautiful abs flexed as Dalton lined himself up. He had merely a moment to worry, for nervousness to tighten in his gut, but then Dalton was pressing in, and Chopper forgot how to think completely.

They came together in one, slow movement. Dalton was big, but Chopper was ready for him. They both cried out, taking a moment to revel in the shock of their hips meeting so easily. Dalton groaned into Chopper’s mouth as Chopper tried to catch his breath, so overwhelmed he couldn’t make another sound. They stared into each other’s eyes, neither one believing something could feel so good.

Then, with one slow grind, everything went from good, to exquisite.

Dalton made Chopper feel small beneath him, but the way his eyes watched Chopper’s face, and the way he seemed to come apart with every slow and powerful roll of his hips, made Chopper feel like a god.

The pleasure was different now, it was hotter, more intense and alive. It thrummed through Chopper’s body, singing across his skin and churning in his gut; pulsed in his loins. When Dalton changed his angle and pushed himself up on his hands, Chopper whined softly at the new sensation and ran his own down that incredible torso, scratching down scarred skin with his blunt nails.

“Oh yes,” he said breathlessly, “oh, oh my god, yes…”

Dalton told him he was beautiful, that he was perfect, he whispered softly against Chopper’s lips as he fucked him slowly, roughly, hitting every spot that Chopper knew he had, but had never been able to truly reach by himself. It went on for what could have been hours or minutes, Chopper had no way of knowing, he was gone, lost in Dalton’s eyes, his breath, his body.

When everything started to tighten, to grow impossibly hot and coil inside him like a spring, Chopper lifted his hands and wrapped them around Dalton’s shoulders. He gripped urgently, desperate to get them as close as possible.

“Are you losing it again?” Dalton asked sweetly, leaning down and kissing Chopper’s lips.

“Yes,” Chopper breathed, “yes.”

Dalton lowered himself to rest on his elbow, and then reached down with his other hand to take Chopper’s length. It was more than Chopper could handle, the shock and pleasure of it pushing him over the edge. Dalton had barely gotten off a single stroke and Chopper was coming. He arched, his eyes screwed shut, and he let the feeling wash over him, a wave after wave of pleasure so intense, so blindingly overwhelming. It hit him again and again, over and over.

“Oh my god,” he cried, “oh god, fuck, yes… yes…”

He shuddered and shook, dancing on the edge of consciousness for a few seconds before he came back, opened his eyes, and rode out the rest of it kissing Dalton’s lips. Dalton hummed into his mouth, still moving his hips slowly, still stroking Chopper gently until he was spent and starting to soften in his palm.

“Keep going,” Chopper whispered, out of breath.

Dalton startled, his rhythm faltering for a half of a moment.

“You sure?”

Chopper nodded, “Yes.”

Dalton nodded and pushed himself back up on his hands. He snapped his hips forward once, making Chopper cry out, but it was not in pain. The aftershocks of his orgasm made him shaky and sensitive but he could keep going. He reassured Dalton and to encourage the larger man along, he lifted his legs and wrapped them around Dalton’s thighs.

“Fuck me,” Chopper’s voice was steady, sure, even if it was soft. “Fuck me like you want to.”

Words could not describe the sight of Dalton above him. Chopper watched in awe as muscles flexed, as cords along that thick neck rippled, as dark eyes bore into his as that large, powerful body started to come undone. Beneath his skin, Dalton was an animal. He controlled it, but Chopper could see the beast that wanted out, that clawed at the edges of his restraint. The sight lit a fire, got Chopper going again. Half hard against Dalton’s flat stomach, Chopper lifted his head and sank his teeth into the tanned, leathery flesh of Dalton’s neck.

“I said fuck me,” Chopper growled.

Dalton groaned, and that restraint broke. He moved his hands to Chopper’s biceps, then he shifted, bringing his knees up underneath them and used the leverage to finally let go and lay into Chopper as hard as he could. His hips snapped forward again and again, the muscles in his arms bulged and strained as he pressed Chopper down into the mattress. His eyes burned hot, sweat glistened on his skin and shone bright in the moonlight.

Chopper had never seen anything so incredible in his life.

“You’re amazing,” he gasped, “oh, fuck me, yeah fuck me, come on.”

When Dalton came, he dropped his head into the curve of Chopper’s neck and groaned deep in his throat. Chopper thrilled at the sound, shivers cascading down his spine, and he trembled and shook as Dalton pulsed inside him, hips stuttering, hold tightening. When he finally stilled, Dalton released Chopper’s arms and he ran his touch over muscles that were sore and no doubt bruised. After another few minutes of catching his breath, he shifted and kissed up Chopper’s neck slowly.

“Oh my god…” Chopper whispered.

Dalton slipped out and moved to the side. He kissed Chopper’s temple and ran a hand through his sweaty hair.

“The sounds you make when you’re coming drive me wild.”

Chopper’s heart fluttered. “Speak for yourself.”

He felt fingers on his chin and then Dalton was turning his head. Chopper had a moment to see Dalton’s smile before they were kissing again, slow and languid, a sweet afterthought to everything else.

“Are you all right?” Dalton asked.

Chopper nodded. “Yes,” then he smiled, “I’m amazing, actually.”

And he was. He had never felt so relaxed, so sated, so… safe. If this was how it was going to be with Dalton every time, well… he could do this.

“Are you all right?” Chopper asked.

Dalton looked at him, studied him for so long, Chopper started to worry that maybe that had been the wrong thing to ask. But just as he was about to turn away and say “forget it” Dalton was sliding a hand over his hip and caressing the skin there with his thumb.

“It’s never felt like that before,” he said softly.

Chopper’s heart started to race suddenly, and his entire body started to tingle. “Yeah?”

Dalton nodded. “Yeah.”

Trembling a little, trying to swallow past a lump in his throat, Chopper lifted a hand and trailed his fingers gently down Dalton’s cheek.

“I don’t have anything to compare it to, but I’m sure if I did, I’d feel the same way.”

Dalton smiled at him, and then blinked slowly, tiredly.

“You’re perfect.”

Embarrassed, Chopper ducked his head, trying to hide his smile and his blush in the crook of Dalton’s throat.

“You’re… not so bad yourself,” he murmured.

Dalton huffed out a laugh and ran a hand over Chopper’s hair again. They stayed that way for a long time, until their breath slowed and their hearts stopped racing. Then they rose, wiped themselves clean, and pulled their clothes back on. When they came back together again, Dalton pulled Chopper close, tucking him into the line of his body. Chopper was happy to find that he fit perfectly, and he settled in.

In the early hours of the morning, before the sun rose, Chopper started dreaming.

“You ready to head out?” Sanji asked.

Zoro grunted in response.

Chuckling, Sanji squeezed the swordsman’s arms and tilted his head to lay a soft kiss on Zoro’s neck. Zoro turned his head and looked up at him.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“Almost three.”

They were in the VIP lounge, sprawled in one of the cushioned chairs. Zoro was laying back against Sanji’s chest with an empty bottle between his fingers. The after party had been a whirl of congratulations and drinks and people pounding them on the back and shoulders, but now the place had quieted down, and groups of people were just laughing and drinking around the bar, or were sitting together, talking quietly.

It was nice to be surrounded by friends and family. Luffy had wrapped his long arms around them both and hugged them until they couldn’t breathe, then Nami had sat with them for a while, dollar signs practically shining in her eyes. Sanji teased her about using him for money and then laughed when she grinned and didn’t deny it.

“Do we need to get an Uber?” Zoro said, his speech not in any way slurred, but that meant nothing.

“No,” Sanji ran a hand over his green hair, “I stopped drinking a while ago, I’m good to drive.”

Zoro nodded and slowly pulled himself to his feet. Following him, Sanji waved to a few people and started down the stairs.

“Do you need something to eat before we—” Sanji started, but a voice at the top of the stairs stopped him.

“—Hey, guys!”

Sanji turned. It was Shachi.

“Hey, man. What’s up?”

“You know where Penguin went?” Shachi asked.

Sanji shrugged. “Haven’t seen him in a while. Didn’t he leave with that chick?”

Shachi frowned, “What chick?”

“The hot one,” Zoro said. “The one with the green dress.”

Shachi rolled his eyes and leaned against the doorframe. “Oh, well I guess that explains things.”

Sanji grinned and waved to him. “We’ll see you next week.”

Shachi waved back and Sanji turned around to continue his descent. He guided Zoro through the harsh lighting of the club, now closed and looking sad and empty, and out through the door that led to the VIP parking. They had driven Sanji’s car, so he fished the keys out of his pocket and pressed the unlock button on the key fob. The lights on his Cadillac flickered, there was a quick beep, and Zoro moved to the passenger side door and half slid, half fell into the seat.

“I drank too much,” he said softly.

Sanji snickered and turned the key in the ignition. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

Zoro shook his head. “I mean I drank too much to be any use to you.”

Laughing now, Sanji pulled out of the garage and turned onto the street that would send them into north Seattle.

“Babe, you’re always of use to me.”

Zoro’s eyes were closed and his head was resting back against the seat. His mouth slid into a sleepy, playful smile at Sanji’s words. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They rode in comfortable silence for the next few minutes, but then Sanji took a breath and broke it carefully.

“Chopper’s doing good.”

Zoro’s brow furrowed but he didn’t open his eyes. “How do you know?”

“I talked to Penguin. Apparently, he’s helping them on the Frankenstein case, making connections and stuff.”

“He’s always been good at that.”

“Penguin says Dalton’s been helping him.”

That made Zoro crack an eye and turn to face his husband. “Yeah?”

Sanji nodded. “I don’t know what that means, but… it’s gotta be good right?”

Zoro turned away again and stared out the window. “I hope so…”

When he didn’t speak again, Sanji reached out and found his hand, rough and calloused as ever. Lacing their fingers together, Sanji brought it to his lips and kissed across the scarred knuckles.

“It’ll be all right, babe.”

Zoro nodded but said nothing.

“I love you,” Sanji whispered.

Zoro squeezed his hand. “I love you too.”

Across town, Dalton startled awake, frightened at the sounds that were coming from the person next to him in bed. He sat up and pulled the covers back.

“Chopper!” he put his hand on Chopper’s shoulder, trying to keep the smaller man from thrashing himself right off the bed.

“Chopper, it’s okay, Chopper! Chopper calm down!”

Chopper’s eyes opened mid scream and he sat up, shaking in terror, gasping for breath. He looked around, as if not sure where he was, then his gaze settled on Dalton’s face and he froze.

“D-Dalton?” he whispered, his voice slightly hoarse.

“It’s okay,” Dalton whispered gently, reaching out slowly, inviting Chopper to come closer.

Chopper’s face was flushed and as he looked at Dalton, so frightened and so lost, his eyes filled and tears rolled down his cheeks. Dalton’s breath caught but he had no time to recover because Chopper was throwing his arms around his neck and clutching at him tightly. His breathy sobs were muffled against his chest, but their quietness did not stop them from breaking Dalton’s heart.

“It’s okay,” he said again, pulling Chopper against him and settling the smaller man in his lap. “It’s okay, I’m here.” He rocked gently, as if he was cradling a baby, speaking as softly and as soothingly as he was able while Chopper sobbed against him.

“I’m sorry,” Chopper cried into his neck. “I’m sorry, we had… such a perfect night and now… of course I’m r-ruining it because that’s what I do.”

“No, don’t say that,” Dalton rubbed a hand over Chopper’s shaking back. “There’s nothing you could do to ruin last night. It’s okay.”

He held on to Chopper for a long time. Hours? Dalton wasn’t sure. The night had been so amazing, so beyond anything Dalton had ever expected, that he had gone to sleep in a kind of daze. Chopper’s voice, his body, everything about him drove Dalton crazy. He tasted sweet, his body was smooth and supple, and his voice was breathy and demanding when he lost control. He was everything Dalton hadn’t even known he wanted.

Now, as he held on to that shaking, sobbing body, Dalton realized he wanted everything. He wanted the good and the bad, the easy and the hard, for the rest of his life.

“Chopper,” he said softly when Chopper’s breathing had slowed and the sobs had turned to quiet whimpers. Chopper may have made some kind of noise in response against his neck, but Dalton wasn’t sure, so he tried again.

“Chopper look at me.”

Finally, Chopper pulled away slowly and turned red and swollen eyes up to meet Dalton’s. He looked so sad, so lost and alone it was painful just to meet that gaze at all.

“Are you all right?” Dalton asked. He cupped Chopper’s jaw and ran a thumb across flushed skin. “Is there something I can do?”

Chopper pulled a shaky, broken breath in, and lifted his hand to cover Dalton’s. He seemed to be searching for something, something in Dalton’s face, and he may have found it because he moved even closer and whispered softly as if someone might hear him.

“I almost killed someone.”

Dalton held his breath, and his heart slowed as adrenaline kicked in.

“What?”

“That’s what happened six months ago,” Chopper said, fresh tears making tracks down his cheeks, “I almost killed someone. I… I was dreaming about it… again.”

Dalton slid his hands to Chopper’s shoulders and rubbed soothing circles with his thumbs. “At the hospital? Some kind of mistake in surgery?” That would make sense. It would explain why Chopper had a problem going back to the emergency room, why he only worked with cadavers.

But Chopper was shaking his head. “No,” he said, “it… it happened in my apartment. I couldn’t… h-he was…” then he clammed up again and started to shake. His hands came up and he covered his eyes, whimpering softly between his palms.

Dalton pulled him close, not sure what to think. A thousand scenarios started flashing through his mind in rapid succession. He had seen a lot of terrible things in his life and when he closed his eyes, those experiences brought some of the worst together and created horrific scene after horrific scene behind his eyelids.

“It’s okay,” Dalton whispered, “you can tell me anything. I won’t freak out, I won’t judge you, and if you don’t want me to say anything, I won’t, but please talk to me or I’ll go crazy making things up in my head.”

Finally, after another infinite stretch of time, Chopper pulled away again and wiped at his cheeks. “I wanted to tell you. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, just… I didn’t want to do it like this.”

Nodding, Dalton took Chopper’s hands in his. “Sometimes things don’t work out the way we plan them. It’s okay. Just tell me, go as slow as you need to.”

Chopper nodded, but then another soft sob escaped his chest.

“I don’t know where to start.”

Dalton leaned in and kissed his lips, gentle, easy. When he pulled back Chopper looked a little calmer, a little clearer.

“Just start at the beginning.”

It had started like all of Chopper’s relationships: fast. It was a sweeping feeling, getting caught up in someone so quickly, unable to control how fast he fell or how much he admired someone in such a short period of time.

Krieg had blown in like a warm summer wind, a smile on his face and a gleam in his dark eyes. Not handsome in the traditional way, but strong, rough like Chopper liked. He had been an orderly at the hospital, and one day, he had stepped in between Chopper and a particularly violent patient. If he hadn’t, it was very likely Chopper would have ended up with a broken arm, or maybe something worse. That sort of thing was technically an orderly’s job, but Chopper had insisted on buying Krieg lunch for his help.

After that, things had been easy. They saw each other often, in the halls or in passing while Chopper did his rounds. Krieg always had a crooked smile just for Chopper, or some kind of dry quip that had the young doctor giggling uncontrollably.

One day, over breakfast in the cafeteria, Krieg had asked if Chopper wanted to come to his place for dinner. Chopper had been nervous, but had agreed, and that Saturday night, the two of them had eaten spaghetti and garlic bread at the coffee table in Krieg’s small apartment while they watched funny videos on Youtube. Their dates had consisted of mostly that, eating at either Krieg or Chopper’s apartment, then watching movies or YouTube videos, some kissing, and sometimes a little more.

Chopper knew he was going to have to give in some day and let Krieg have everything, but he still had Usopp in the back of his mind. And for some reason, he couldn’t shake the feeling that even though Krieg treated him well, he was sure Zoro wouldn’t like him. This was the reason Chopper had never introduced Krieg to any of his friends.

Weeks turned into months, and Chopper started noticing the changes in Krieg’s attitude, but he had ignored them. He didn’t want to be alone, and the awkwardness of having to see Krieg every day after breaking it off seemed more trouble than actually breaking it off.

Things started deteriorating quickly. It started with Krieg talking to him less and demanding more intimacy. Chopper no longer had much say in how often they sex, and after a while Chopper had to admit to himself, that it was almost all they were doing.

When it got violent, Chopper knew he had to do something. Krieg pressured him more and more every time they were together, but Chopper was not ready to give up that last part of himself. One night, Krieg slapped him. Head spinning and jaw aching, Chopper stared at the side of the couch, wondering how his life had come to this. Krieg cried and apologized and held him gently until Chopper relaxed enough to say yes to a hand job, but the next day, Chopper didn’t return any of Krieg’s calls, and ignored his texts.

For a few weeks, that was all it was, just a call here and there, an occasional text. Chopper started getting back into the rhythm of being alone, and felt his life returning to normal.

Then he started getting flowers. They never came to the office, or the hospital, only to his house. The flowers seemed a kind enough gesture, so Chopper let it happen and didn’t complain.

Then the letters had started coming. Not one every once in a while, but two sometimes three a week. Then every day. The first time Chopper received two letters in one day, he started to get frightened. He knew he should go to his friends, ask for help, but he was too ashamed. They would reprimand him for getting into this situation in the first place. How could he have been so stupid? How the hell had he let it go on this long?

He had not been reading the letters, they had gone directly into the recycle. So, finally, one day, scared but also curious, Chopper took the letter from the mailbox and brought it into the house. He sat at his kitchen table and opened the envelope. He got through half of the first paragraph before he dropped the paper on the floor and started shaking.

You’re a fucking bitch, it had said in deep set, scratchy, handwriting. You’re a fucking tease. I’m going to push you into a closet during your shift and show you just what you threw away.”

But still he had said nothing, he was too afraid his friends would be angry with him. The situation was one he could have avoided if he just hadn’t been so stupid. He thought about calling the police, but what was he supposed to say? Krieg hadn’t done anything to him, and everything that had happened between them had been consensual.

The letters had continued, and Chopper had started to lock himself in his apartment and refuse to leave if it wasn’t for work. He stayed away from his friends for the most part and stopped returning calls unless it was an emergency.

His friends figured he was in a relationship again, and Chopper didn’t let them think any different.

Then everything had changed very quickly, just like always. Just like every relationship he’d ever had.

One afternoon, during a slow shift, Trafalgar Law had come waltzing in, asking for the chart from a young man that had come in to the ER two nights before. He had looked haggard, disheveled, but handsome and cocky as ever. Chopper couldn’t stop staring at him, and he didn’t understand why. The familiarity of his face, the feeling of warmth and security and… safety radiated around Law and made him seem to shine, to glow as if ethereal.

“Hey… Chopper?” Law had said softly, and Chopper had been so startled, he had almost started crying.

They had eaten together in the cafeteria, Law talking softly about this and that, updating Chopper on what was going on with the gang. He had not asked Chopper why he hadn’t shown up to any parties, or why he didn’t return anyone’s texts, or why he seemed to small and frightened and thin and exhausted, and Chopper was so grateful for that he had almost started crying again.

They had parted gently, Law saying Chopper could call if he needed anything. Both men knew Chopper probably wouldn’t, but that was a friend’s duty, to voice that they were there for you.

That night, as Chopper had been getting ready for bed, there was a pounding on the door. He had been tired, had not been thinking, and when he opened the door, Krieg was there, drunk, and furious. He pushed his way into the apartment and started shouting about the “tattooed asshole”, asking Chopper if he was his new boyfriend. Chopper had insisted he was just a friend, and then suggested that Krieg leave so he could sober up. They could talk later.

The first blow was to Chopper’s left temple. It stunned him, made the room swim and dance, black spots had formed at the corners of his vision. After that, two more blows had landed on his chest and stomach, and Chopper went to the floor. This part was hazy, Chopper could remember the pain of his bruised muscles, his one cracked rib, the way the bones in his wrists had ground together as Krieg gripped him tightly and bent his arm behind his back. He had felt a hand tugging, yanking at his sweatpants, exposing him to the cool air in his apartment, and then pain again as teeth bit into the flesh of his lower back so hard a trickle of blood ran down his hip.

“Fucking slut,” he had snarled into Chopper’s ear. “Worthless little bitch!”

Later, in the hours and days of replaying what had happened in his mind over and over, Chopper recalled reaching behind him and pushing his fingers into Krieg’s eye. There had been a scream of pain, and suddenly the pressure on Chopper’s hips was gone.

Chopper had scrambled away, pulled himself up from the floor, and run into the kitchen. He had pulled a knife from the block on the counter, and a pot from dinner the night before he had rinsed and left in the sink. Krieg had come for him, and Chopper had fought back. He had not meant to truly injure Krieg, merely make it so he could escape or call the police, but fighting for your life is more complicated than the movies make it look. It also happened so much faster than Chopper would have ever believed. One moment, Krieg had been advancing toward him, reaching for the knife, and the next, the pot was coming down on his head and there was a sickening crack.

There had been a lot of blood, and for all Chopper’s training, all of his hours in the emergency room, he couldn’t handle it. He fell back against the counter and slid to the ground, shaking. The only thought it his head was he was supposed to save lives, not take them. He was a healer, not someone who hurt people. How could he have done this? How could he have killed someone so easily? Like it was nothing?

It was a while before he had been able to move again, before he could get himself up off the floor and to the phone. He called the first person he could think of. Trafalgar Law.

When Law opened the door and came slowly into the room, Kidd was with him. Chopper was still sitting on the floor, curled against the wall, trembling. Carefully, Law had knelt in front of him and asked if he was all right, but Chopper had not been able to say anything.

It wasn’t until hours later that Chopper had been able to speak, and by that time Kidd and Law had taken Krieg’s body and cleaned up the mess. Later, Chopper remembered hearing the two of them arguing, but about what he had no idea. As the sun started to rise, Chopper had come back to himself, realizing that he was not in his apartment, but in Law’s, wrapped in a blanket and curled on Law’s couch. Kidd was with him, and for some reason, his presence was so comforting it was almost overwhelming.

Kidd had told him he was going to be okay, and that Krieg was never going to hurt him again. When Chopper asked if he was dead, Kidd said no.

Chopper had started to cry.

Dalton held Chopper gently. The room was quiet, save for the sounds of their breathing and the occasional shift of the sheets around them. The soft sobs had stopped, but Chopper’s body was still shaking against his, still trembling with the fear and anxiety that had been bottled up and hidden for months. Dalton ran a hand down a slender back and pressed another kiss into curly hair. His heart hurt, it ached for Chopper and for everything that had happened to him since that terrible night.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

He felt Chopper shake his head. “I should have known better,” his voice was muffled in Dalton’s shirt, “I should have paid attention to the signs. I was so stupid.”

"No, love, you're not stupid."

There were many things Dalton wanted to say, so many questions about what had happened afterward. How had Chopper explained his injuries? What had happened to Krieg? Who else knew besides Law and Kidd?

But he did not ask, because he knew Chopper might not even know the answers.

There was one thing, however, something very obvious that Dalton had discovered while listening to Chopper’s story. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t true, and it killed the detective to think that Chopper believed it absolutely.

Turning his lips to graze across Chopper’s ear, Dalton whispered as softly, as tenderly as he could.

“It’s not your fault.”

Chopper tensed, and then slowly relaxed. He took a breath and let it out slowly.

“I know.”

“Do you?” Dalton asked.

Chopper didn’t answer that time, he merely curled in, making himself even smaller against Dalton’s chest.

“Nothing that happened is on you, not even Krieg’s injuries. He attacked you and you were just defending yourself.”

Chopper nodded slowly against him. “I kn…know.” He was crying again, shoulders shaking in Dalton’s hold, but the detective pressed on, saying the things Chopper needed to hear.

“You were so strong, and so brave,” he said softly. “You fought against someone who had been abusing you for a long time. Do you understand how hard that is? How rare? You didn’t surrender, and you fought back, and you stopped him. You saved yourself, that’s incredible.”

Chopper shook his head. “It shouldn’t have ever come to that. I let him do whatever he wanted for so long and I knew what was happening. I should have stopped it—I could have—but I thought it would be easier to just deal with it, and then when it got out of control, I got so scared.”

Dalton tilted so he could kiss Chopper’s forehead. “Is that why you won’t talk to your friends?”

Chopper stiffened.

Understanding he was on precarious ground, Dalton continued even quieter, even more gently. “Are you worried your friends will be angry with you when they find out what happened?”

Still stiff, Chopper nodded slowly. “I can’t… I just can’t…” he took another shuttering breath. “They’ll never look at me the same. I’ll be this fucking broken thing they’ll always be trying to fix. Eventually their pity will turn to anger because who wants to deal with that shit? They’ll think how could he be so fucking stupid? One call to Luffy and everything would have been fine! All I had to do was text Zoro or Sanji or Ace and it would have stopped!”

“No, Chopper,” Dalton soothed, but Chopper shook his head violently.

“No. No! They’ll hate me for not coming to them because that’s what friends are supposed to do! You’re not supposed to hide until it’s too late and then disappear and never talk to them again because you’re too chicken-shit to tell them you’re sorry!”

“You have nothing to be sorry f—”

“Yes I do!” he wailed into Dalton’s chest. “It’s better this way! If I just go away I don’t have to see them and they don’t have to see me and no one will ever know how stupid I was and how it led to me almost killing someone!”

His voice had risen almost hysterically, and now he was sobbing again, great shuttering gasps of guilt and terrible, wet anguish slammed into Dalton’s chest. Dalton held on to Chopper through it all, waiting out the storm, knowing there were things he could say, many many things that Chopper needed to hear, that he would eventually have to hear, but anything he said now would mean nothing. So Dalton sat, wrapped his arms around that shaking body, and just held Chopper close.

The sun was not quite out yet when the cries finally stopped and Chopper’s body sagged. Dalton moved him gently, pulling them both back against the pillows, Chopper stretched out on top of his, his head resting on the bare planes of Dalton’s chest, directly over his heart. Outside was dark and gray, the air still and silent, but the promise of morning came with the voice of a bird. It sang sweetly outside the window, perched on a branch a few inches from the glass.

When Dalton glanced down, he saw that Chopper was watching the bird with a sad, quiet, wonder. His eyes were swollen and red, but they were dry. Taking a chance, Dalton lifted a hand from Chopper’s back and ran it over curly brown hair, trailed his fingers over a spattering of freckles that were almost completely hidden under that flush of red skin.

“Thank you…”

Chopper’s words made Dalton freeze, his fingers halfway round the curve at the back of the other man’s head. He said nothing, feeling that Chopper had more to say.

“I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re so kind, and you listen so well. You always know the right thing to say.” Chopper paused for a moment and then continued, his voice even quieter. “I know I’m really fucked up, and… you didn’t sign up for that, but…”

Dalton waited patiently, saying nothing. Barely breathing.

“Is it all right if I love you?” Chopper whispered.

Dalton’s breath hitched. “Yes,” he said, without thought, and without hesitation. His heart was soaring, bursting in his chest, his body light, as if he could float away if he let himself. He brought his arms up and around Chopper’s shoulders, squeezing the smaller man to him. "Yes, it's all right, I love you too. I love you so much. And I promise you'll be all right, I'll take care of you.” He was starting to ramble but he didn't think he couldn't stop himself. All he wanted was to let Chopper know his feelings were returned, that he was loved, cherished. "Everything will be okay, you don't have to do this on your own anymore. You have me, and I won't let anything happen to you, okay?"

He felt a shuttering sigh travel through Chopper’s entire body, and for the first time since they had awoken, Chopper finally touched him. Just his hand flat against Dalton’s chest, but it was something. It was contact, deliberate and intimate.

“Okay.”

They did not move, they stayed lying together, arms around each other and feet tangled under the sheets. They watched the sun as it rose from behind the trees, and in those early morning hours, they found not only sleep, but rest.

Across town, Law woke slowly, stretched out across silk sheets and buried under thick blankets. The pillows against his face were so thick he wanted nothing more than to just close his eyes and get lost in their softness.

Lifting his head, he looked to the other side of the bed and found it empty. At first, that caused a pang in his chest, familiar and sharp, but as he blinked the sleep from his eyes, he realized there was a note laying on the pillow next to his.

He sat up and reached for the paper.

I’m willing to try, but there are things we need to figure out first.

- K

Relief flooded through Law, slamming into his chest and rushing up behind his eyes, making him lightheaded. He set the note back down on the pillow and pulled himself out of bed. He straightened the sheets, smoothed the covers, and then got dressed. He used Kidd’s bathroom to relieve himself and wash his face, then he pulled on his shoes and slipped out, locking the door behind him.

There was no one downstairs yet, the club wasn’t open on Sundays and no one came in to clean or stock until well after three. Lucky, because Law wasn’t ready to explain to anyone what he was doing there, and he didn’t want to start any rumors on top of the unsubstantiated rumors that already existed.

The drive home was nice. He rolled the windows down and breathed in the salty sea air. It had been a long time since he had woken up early without a hangover or been in a rush to get to work, and it was nice to just relax and enjoy the things he had been taking for granted for so long.

He was so distracted, so lost in his own thoughts, that when he pulled into his driveway, he didn’t notice the black SUV parked on the street. When he opened the door, he started pulling off his jacket, but stopped in the middle of shrugging it from his shoulders. He stood frozen in the entryway, staring wide-eyed at Dalton, who was standing in his kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of Seattle Police PT pants and looking—shit you not—like a fucking Greek god.

Dalton raised a hand, unconcerned that his abs were a hazard to people’s health, and gave Law a lazy salute.

“Morning.”

Law dropped his keys on the floor. He hadn’t meant to, they just slipped out of his fingers.

“Uh…” he stammered, “good morning.”

“You want some coffee?” Dalton asked, still not in the least bit alarmed that his body might actually end up killing someone because they forgot how to breathe while looking at it.

Law’s mouth was dry. “N-no… thanks.” Why was his hair like that? And why didn’t he have a shirt on? And what was he doing here, with no shirt on?

The timer on the coffee maker dinged and it broke Law out of the trance he seemed to be stuck in.

“What are you doing here?” Law asked.

Dalton smiled and chuckled softly as he poured coffee into two mugs, suddenly having the gal to look embarrassed. “I think you can figure that out if you give it a minute.”

His pecks were doing some kind of hypnotic dance that made it hard for Law to concentrate, so he lifted a hand to block Dalton’s body out like he was the sun.

“Man, I can’t think about anything with your fucking Aquaman body all out in the open like that. What the hell? How can you even fit all that into a suit?”

Dalton chuckled again, “Are you sure you don’t want coffee?”

“I don’t know, I can’t even remember my own name right now!” Law exclaimed, grinning, and dropping his arm. He set his stuff down and picked his keys up off the floor before he moved into the kitchen.

“Seriously though, why are you here, I thought Chopper had a…”

He stopped.

It clicked.

Oh shit.

Law’s eyes went wide as the answer hit him. There was a split second where the two men stood staring at each other, Dalton smiling softly while Law waited for his brain to catch up with him.

“Oh shit!” Law yelped.

Dalton lifted one of the mugs in salute before heading towards the stairs. “Told you you’d figure it out if you gave it a minute.”

Law watched his back as he climbed the stairs and headed down the hall towards Chopper’s room.

Chopper’s room.

Then, Law’s grin returned, and he started laughing.

TBC

Chapter Text

Morning came and Chopper woke to the sound of Dalton slipping out of bed. Chopper listened as he moved around the room, finding his pants and slipping them on, then moving out and downstairs. Worried at first, Chopper though maybe Dalton was trying to leave quietly without waking him, but then he heard the coffee maker and smelled the aroma of the dark roast faintly from under the covers.

When he heard the front door unlock he buried himself further. Shit. He hadn’t told Law anything and now his best friend was going to get a shock and an eyeful of bed tossed Dalton first thing in the morning.

Lying there tense, he listened to the muffled voices coming from the kitchen and shrank into himself little by little as each second ticked by. He was so stupid, he should have said something, anything. But then he heard laughter, and Law’s voice laced with mirth, and that caused him to relax. At least they weren’t arguing or shouting at each other. Not that they would, that was ridiculous. The worst that was going to happen was Law would tease him, and Chopper could handle that. He pushed his face into the pillow and chuckled, imagining the ribbing Law was going to give him the second he had the chance.

When his door opened, he pulled his head up, peeking from under the covers. Dalton was there, holding two steaming mugs, and in the light from the morning sun, Chopper finally got to see his body in all it’s hard, tightly-packed glory. When Dalton moved to close the door with his elbow, the movement twisted his torso, causing muscles to flex and ripple. Good god, it was unreal how sexy the man was.

Bring on the teasing. All of it. It was so worth it.

He sat up and smiled, thinking he should feel embarrassed, ashamed, or at least something for the way he had acted the night before, but he found he only felt relief. It was as if he had uncovered an old wound that had been left to fester and had cleaned it out, cut away the infection.

As he took the mug offered him and scooted back so Dalton had room to sit, all Chopper could think about was how good he felt. He had unburdened himself, shared his grief with someone he knew wouldn’t judge him, or reprimand him. Not that any of his friends would do that, but there were some things that were so ingrained in his traumatized brain, that he couldn’t convince himself of anything different—even if he knew without a doubt that those things were not true.

Looking at Dalton over the rim of his mug, he took a sip and smiled softly. Dalton was watching him, his eyes soft and kind, and it sent a slow, gentle warmth through Chopper’s body. Being with Dalton the night before had opened parts of himself he had never believed he would be able to open again. He felt different, like a newer, fresher person, and he knew it was due mostly to Dalton’s tender treatment.

“Morning,” he said softly.

Dalton’s smile widened and he whispered back, “Morning.”

He was under no delusions that he was suddenly better, of course not, but talking to Dalton had been a huge first step. The wound was still there, it still hurt, but maybe now he could start stitching it. Finally let it heal.

“I don’t want to go into work today,” Chopper said, taking another sip from his mug.

“I don’t either,” Dalton nodded, “but we have the victim’s medical records to go through. We have to see what Penguin’s collected.”

Nodding, Chopper took another swallow and turned to set his mug on the night stand. “He went out with Law last night, you might want to check on him and see if he’s still alive.”

Dalton chuckled, “I’ll call him if I don’t see him at the precinct. Can I use your shower?”

“Of course,” Chopper smiled, “but not yet.”

At the questioning quirk of Dalton’s eyebrow, Chopper grinned and slipped out from under the covers. His naked skin bloomed into gooseflesh as he crawled to Dalton and put a leg over the larger man’s hips, but he ignored the feel of the cold in favor of sliding his hands over Dalton’s jaw and kissing his lips. Dalton groaned happily and leaned to the side to set his mug on the night stand next to Chopper’s, then he brought both hands to Chopper’s hips and pressed the pads of his thumbs into the curves where Chopper’s thighs met his groin.

“Are you in a rush?” Chopper asked. “Do you need to leave soon?”

Dalton smiled against his mouth. “No. I just need to be there sometime today.”

“Oh good.”

He wanted to explore with his hands and tongue, every part of Dalton’s body, every sharp curve and every perfect plane of muscle and skin he could touch, but he knew they couldn’t spend all day in bed, as much as that thought appealed to him. So, instead, Chopper kissed his lips, his cheeks, his jaw and throat, lingering longer than necessary, and sometimes flicking his tongue out to taste warm skin. Dalton held him close, hands running from his hips to his back, then around to his chest to brush the softest of touches over his nipples.

When his fingers found the waistline of Dalton’s pants, he tugged, and Dalton put his hands on the mattress, lifting his hips so Chopper could expose him. In the light of the early morning, Chopper could see everything, the magnificence of him. He was long and thick, uncircumcised, the skin just a few shades darker than the honey brown of his torso. Promising himself he would spend hours with that long cock in his mouth later, Chopper stroked Dalton slowly and voiced his plans against Dalton’s lips in a breathy whisper.

When he finally slide down onto that incredible length, Chopper moaned softly and watched Dalton’s eyes grow dark as he lost himself inside Chopper’s body. They moved slowly at first, getting used to Chopper setting the pace, but the tempo increased quickly, and soon Chopper was riding Dalton hard, keening softly as his hips came up and then back down, over and over, faster and faster. His nails tore at Dalton’s shoulders, and Dalton gripped Chopper’s hips so hard he cried out in pain.

“I’m sorry,” Dalton panted, loosening his grip.

“No,” Chopper shook his head and put a hand over one of Dalton’s, “keep doing it. Don’t stop. Ah, don’t stop.”

Dalton growled softly and gripped his hips tight, pulling him closer so Chopper’s cock was crushed between their bodies. The friction of their frantic movements was more than enough, and Chopper felt himself starting to unravel. Sweat beaded on his forehead and collected between his shoulder blades. His hair was heavy and hanging in his eyes as he hovered over Dalton’s mouth, gasping in pleasure and pain together.

“Fuck…” he whispered, “Oh, oh fuck… yes… yes!”

His hips slammed down another half-dozen times, and then everything tight in his body let go all at once. He started coming, spurting warm and sticky between their chests. He cried out softly, breathlessly as pleasure hit him over and over again, so hard he couldn’t move. His back arched and his arms went around Dalton’s neck. He felt Dalton reposition his grip on his hips and thrust up another handful of times, and then he was tensing, groaning into Chopper’s throat.

They came down and their movements slowed to nothing but an easy grind. Dalton mouthed lazily at Chopper’s skin, and Chopper let himself fall completely against Dalton’s weight. He sighed as Dalton’s hands slid from his hips, up to his chest, and then into his sweaty hair. Then he pushed Chopper’s limp body away so he could reach his lips, and they kissed slow and sated, tongues sliding against each other easily.

“I love you,” Dalton whispered.

Chopper’s heart gave a lurch, and he opened his eyes. Dalton’s pupils were still blown, his cheeks were still flushed, and his skin was glistening. He was a fucking sight to behold and for a moment, Chopper was overwhelmed with his feelings for this incredible man.

Finally, he opened his mouth and whispered back, shakily, “I love you too…”

He felt Dalton’s hand rubbing gentle circles on his back, and Chopper let himself relax into the attention.

“We have a lot of things to talk about,” Dalton said softly.

Chopper nodded. “I know. Your dick is amazing, but it’s not magic.”

Dalton laughed and hugged him closer. “I won’t push you, so we’ll take it slow.”

Nodding again, Chopper rested his forehead against Dalton’s.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Another slow kiss, and then Dalton nudged the underside of his chin.

“You want to take a shower together?”

Chopper smiled, delighted. He had never taken a shower with anyone before.

“Yes.”

They showered, dressed, and made their way downstairs. Luckily, Law was nowhere in sight, so Chopper was free to see Dalton off without interruption. He kissed Dalton once as he was walking out the door and promised to text him when he got to work. Dalton smiled at him, leaned in, kissed him one more time, and then turned and headed down the porch steps. Chopper smiled and waved to him as he drove away, and then closed the door.

When he turned around, he was startled to see Law sitting on the steps, his chin in his hands, grinning like a lunatic.

“Oh my fucking god,” Chopper cried softly, “how long have you been sitting there?”

Law’s grin widened and he put his hands on his cheeks. “I only saw the wave goodbye, promise.” He stood then and moved into the kitchen. That was when Chopper noticed his steps were light, his body straighter, more confident.

“So,” Law said as he pulled a mug from the cupboard and placed it next to the coffee maker, “as your best friend, I need to get serious for a minute and ask you one, simple, yet very important question.”

Chopper took a breath and nodded, suddenly dreading where this conversation was probably going to go.

“Okay, ask way.”

Law took a moment to pour himself some coffee, take a sip, and then lean back against the counter and fix Chopper with one of his most intimidating, thousand-yard stares.

“Okay, he said softly, “I need to know… Is Dalton proportioned? Because if he is then,” he made a whistling sound, “that man has probably got a monster cock.”

Chopper slapped a hand against his forehead and groaned dramatically to stifle the laugh that bubbled up from his chest. “That’s your question!?”

“Yes! It’s important!”

“Oh my god,” Chopper made a show of rolling his eyes and started moving through the kitchen towards the stairs. “You’re terrible, I’m moving out.”

“Chopper, please,” Law said, his voice serious but his mouth was till quirked into a small grin, “it’s for science.”

Shaking his head as if he was actually exasperated, Chopper started up the stairs.

“Chopper, this is the most important discovery in the history of mankind. If you keep it to yourself the generations that come after you will suffer!”

“I don’t kiss and tell!” Chopper called over his shoulder as he reached the top of the stairs.

“Chopperrrrr!” Law whined after him. “At least tell me if the wait was worth it!”

“It was absolutely worth it!”

“Yes!” Law whooped from somewhere downstairs. “Hell yes!”

Chopper slipped into this room and closed the door. His face was hot, but he felt so good he might have been able to fly if he really wanted. He tried to keep his grin under control, but by the time he was ready for work and headed back down the stairs, his cheeks were starting to hurt.

He didn’t make it to work until much later.

After shouting to Law that he was taking the car, (the Malibu, not the Camaro, he wouldn’t drive that beast if someone paid him) Chopper found himself in the garage, staring at a set of tools hanging on the wrack that was mounted on the wall. Chopper had used those tools a few times, once to tighten pipes underneath the sink, and once to remove and replace a few rotted boards on the porch. Both times had impressed Law.

Now he stood, studying the tools with a powerful sense of nostalgia. They reminded him of college and living in that run-down apartment in downtown where something was always leaking or falling apart.

Swallowing thickly, Chopper pulled out his phone and opened his contacts. When he found the name he was looking for, he tapped it, and then typed out a simple message.

He opened the Malibu’s driver side door and tossed his satchel across the seat and to the passenger side. He felt his phone buzz but waited until he was sitting with the door closed before he looked at the screen.

Then, with trembling fingers, Chopper typed out another message and hit send.

When he was done, he set the phone on the dash and ran his sweating palms over his jeans. Knowing what the next text was going to say didn’t make him any less anxious, and he knew that one sit down with one of his oldest friends wasn’t going to solve everything, but it was a step. It was a huge step. It was terrifying and probably going to end in tears, but Chopper knew he needed to start somewhere.

When the phone buzzed again, Chopper took a breath, grabbed it from the dash, and read the text. A flood of emotion welled up inside of him as he tried to type a quick reply, but his relief was so overwhelming, he had to stop for a moment and breathe. He had already known the answer, but knowing it was coming and then actually seeing it where two very different things.

After typing out his message, Chopper set the phone back down, slid the key into the ignition, and then punched the automatic garage door button clipped to the vizor.

He took a deep breath, switched into drive, and headed out.

Chopper: Hey you home?

Usopp: Yes!

Chopper: Do you mind if I come over for a bit?

Usopp: YES!
Usopp: Wait I mean NO! I don’t mind!
Usopp: Yes come over!

Chopper: Ok I’ll see you in 15

Dalton reached the precinct at quarter past eight, later than he usually came in, but not by much. There were reports on his desk that needed signing, and his inbox was loaded. He took another thirty minutes to go through his mail, but he didn’t comprehend anything he was looking at. His attention was ten thousand miles away.

Every time he opened a new message, pale skin and freckles flashed through his mind and he felt himself falling into memories of last night, and this morning.

Chopper was perfect. He was smooth and supple and pliant. The way he went from biting commands to desperate, breathy whispers in mere seconds had stirred Dalton’s heart, not to mention his body. Everywhere he had touched, Chopper had responded. He had been so passionate and giving, so eager when spreading himself open and molding his body to Dalton’s it had made Dalton’s heart sing. They had fit, like two halves of a whole slotted together for the first time. Never before had Dalton lost himself so thoroughly in someone else like he had with Chopper.

Even now, Dalton could still taste Chopper on his lips; he could still feel the light lines of scratches across his shoulders and sides where Chopper and held him tight, clawed at him so recklessly.

And he loved him. God, Chopper loved him. What more could he ask for, really?

Taking a breath, Dalton pushed his chair back and stood, stretching. He wasn’t going to get anything done like this. Emails abandoned, he left the reports in favor of knocking on Smoker’s door and asking to speak to him. They drank strong, black coffee from Smoker’s personal pot and Dalton caught the Lieutenant up on where they were in the case. It would have been an easy thing for Smoker to just read the reports Dalton had sitting on his desk, but the two were old friends and both understood that Smoker preferred face time with his colleagues.

The meeting also gave Dalton an opportunity to report on how well Penguin was doing. The probationary period for detectives in training was usually several months, but Dalton was positive that it wouldn’t take nearly as long for Penguin to qualify. Smoker seemed pleased with the news, and not very surprised, which made Dalton swell with pride.

When they parted, Smoker shook his hand and thanked him again for everything he was doing.

“It’s not just me,” Dalton said. “I’ve got a good team.”

When ten o’clock rolled around and Penguin was still absent, Dalton pulled out his phone and texted his partner.

Dalton: Heard you had a late night
Dalton: How are you feeling?

He got no immediate reply but he didn’t expect it, they hadn’t discussed what time they were meeting up, and it wasn’t as if they worked normal hours. Dalton knew Penguin was good for the time, so if he came in later than usual, he would probably stay late. No skin off anyone’s nose.

His phone buzzed when he was about halfway across the parking lot.

Penguin: Oh my head X-)

Dalton chuckled and answered back.

Dalton: I figured. Sleep it off partner I’ll see you later
Dalton: I’m headed over to the morgue to check the search results
Dalton: I have a bottle of Aspirin with your name on it when you do come in

Penguin: Oh goody ;P

Smiling, Dalton wondered if the emoticons were a side effect of the hangover, or if this was Penguin’s usual texting pattern and he was only seeing it now because Penguin was too bleary to remember to be professional. Either scenario was a little humorous.

He slipped his phone into his pocket and climbed into the SUV without another thought about it.

Law: You left me alone this morning. Not very gentlemanly of you

Kidd: When the hell have I ever been gentlemanly?

Law: Okay you win this round
Law: I was thinking of coming back over tonight
Law: If that’s cool

Kidd: Do you ever work?

Law: I’m thinking about quitting

Kidd: Don’t you worked so fucking hard to get where you are

Law: I was thinking of starting my own practice. Do some pro bono work for
people that don’t have insurance and shit

Kidd: Yeah?

Law: Yeah. I would need to find a base of clients first though

Kidd: I might know some people
Kidd: Specifically a group of people that get hurt a lot
Kidd: Mostly by me

Law: Liar
Law: You wouldn’t raise a hand to anyone that works at your club
Law: You’re a big softie

Kidd: Have you met me?
Kidd: I slammed a guys head in a drawer this morning

Law: Holy shit did you really?

Kidd: No
Kidd: Seriously I didn’t
Kidd: You’re not like on your way over here are you?
Kidd: Omfg tell me you are not on your way over here

Law: No sorry
Law: I’ve been laughing for like ten minutes

Kidd: So you’d really start your own thing? Patch up the guys here?

Law: Yes

Kidd: Whats in it for you?

Law: You?

Kidd: That’s all you want?

Law: Yes

Kidd: We still have a lot of shit to sort out though. Don’t forget that

Law: I know
Law: But there’s no rule saying we can’t work it out together

Kidd: God thats so corny its almost gross
Kidd: You have that saved on your phone? Have you been waiting to
copy paste that shit into our chat?

Law: Wow how’d you know?
Law: So tonight?

Kidd: Sure

Law: Can I stay with you again?
Law: I promise I won’t do anything if you don’t want me to

Kidd: Maybe I want you to

Law: Oh thank god cause as of last night I am officially the only one I know
whos not getting laid

Kidd: I’m not getting laid

Law: You’re getting laid tonight apparently

Kidd: That doesn’t make any fucking sense

Law: When the hell have I ever made sense?

Kidd: Omg ok you win that one

Law: I’ll see you tonight

Kidd: Later

Law: <3

Kidd: Don’t do that its disgusting

Law: LOL

Making his way up the stone path, having to duck underneath low-hanging wisteria branches, their colors blue and vibrant in the late morning sun, Chopper approached the workshop door and took a deep breath.

The wood of the door, and the brass doorknob itself, were so familiar to Chopper it was like he was coming back home from a long journey. However, even with the familiarity, he still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was unwanted, that this place no longer welcomed him. That was silly, right? That was unreasonable? There was no way he was intruding on a friend he had turned his back on and had stopped all communication with besides a text here and there. Right?

He stood for several long seconds, and then those seconds turned into a minute. Then two.

Chopper couldn’t make himself reach for the doorknob. He was frozen in fear and shame and self-loathing. Why couldn’t he just move? It was just a door! Why couldn’t he do something as simple as open a fucking door!

A loud clattering startled Chopper out of his spiral. He stood there blinking, listening as heavy booted footsteps clomped across a cement floor.

Then the door swung open with such force, Chopper had to take a step back.

Usopp was there, disheveled, smeared with oil and something black, welding hat open and perched on the top of his head. His eyes were wide and his dark cheeks were flushed. There seemed to be a clashing of disbelief and total joy he could barely contain going on beneath his features. He was clearly out of breath but was holding it in to make himself seem more in control. This was a habit he had brought over from childhood.

Finally, after a long stretch of time where both just stood staring at each other, Usopp opened his mouth and smiled softly.

“Hey.”

Relief slammed into Chopper, releasing the tightness in his lungs and unclenching the knots in his stomach. He should have known. He should have come months ago. Why had he ever thought Usopp would turn him away?

“Hi…” Chopper said softly.

Usopp studied him for another moment, and then stepped back, motioning with his hand. “Come in.”

The workshop was exactly as Chopper remembered it, cluttered, but somehow organized in it’s chaos. All manner of tools hung on the walls sorted by use or importance, bits of engine and scrap metal lined the table along the far wall, stacks of bins along the next. There was a car in the center of the space, something classic, maybe from the fifties, it’s paint dull but at some point it had been a dark blue. The model was missing its seats and the windshield, and the hood was up to reveal the engine was missing as well, but when Chopper glanced at Usopp’s workbench, he found it disassembled into various parts.

“Wow,” he said softly, “what’s this one?”

“A fifty-six Chevrolet Bel Air Convertible,” Usopp said proudly. “It’s the car all the movie stars had back then.”

Chopper ran his eyes over the machine again, impressive even if it was in pieces. He had seen what Usopp could do with this kind of project many times. In about three weeks, this car would look good enough to be in the movies once again.

“Cool,” he breathed.

“Do you want something to drink?” Usopp asked.

“You have Dr. Pepper?”

Usopp gave him a look. “When do I not have Dr. Pepper?”

“Then yes please.”

Usopp fished two cans out of a fridge tucked into the back corner and handed one to Chopper. He opened his and took a quick sip before he returned to his workbench and motioned for Chopper to take the stool a few feet away.

“So what… brings you here today?”

Chopper pulled himself up on the stool and rested his feet on the bar between the legs. Rolling the cold can of Dr. Pepper between his palms he chewed on the inside of his lip and tried to figure out how to say what he wanted to say.

“I just haven’t seen you in a while. Wanted to know how you were doing.”

Usopp nodded, but kept his back to him as he picked up a wrench and started tightening something.

“It’s been… months.”

An ache started in Chopper’s chest at those words and he nodded again, even though he knew Usopp wouldn’t see it.

“I know… I’m sorry.”

His voice must have sounded weaker and more pathetic than he thought because Usopp turned and looked at him over his shoulder. His face was twisted into Usopp’s own brand of embarrassment.

“No—I mean, wow that sounded bad. I’m not mad. Nobody’s mad at you Chopper. Just worried.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Chopper said, purely on impulse.

“Oh, okay. I guess I’ll just go ahead and stop breathing then too.”

Despite the familiar shame that had begun to creep through him, Chopper laughed. Usopp had that effect on him, no matter what he was feeling, no matter how terrible, Usopp could turn it around and make him smile, laugh. Feel better. That was one of the reasons Chopper had been in love with him for so long.

“I am sorry though. I didn’t mean to disappear, or at least I didn’t mean to disappear for so long. It just kind of played out that way.”

Usopp nodded. “I knew something had happened to you, but I wanted to give you space. And then… there was just a lot of space. I didn’t know what to do about it.”

“There wasn’t anything you could have done.”

“Yeah, I get that. Was it… I mean, was it real bad?”

“Yes,” Chopper said softly.

Usopp’s eyes looked pained. “Were you hurt?”

“Not really.”

There was silence for a moment and Usopp set the wrench down and wiped at his hands with a rag. “Do you think you’ll ever be able to talk to me about it?”

“Yes,” Chopper said quickly. “Yes, absolutely. I want to, and that’s… I mean I really wanted to since the beginning but I just didn’t think I could until recently. And I know—I know—I should have just come to you right off the bat but I was so scared and I was worried that if I dragged you into it you’d get in trouble and I just couldn’t deal with that on top of everything else and you have Kaya and the baby to think about so I didn’t want to make my problems your problems because that’s not fair to you and… and…” Choking up, he couldn't form the rest of what he wanted to say, not that he really knew what that was. He just wanted to explain, he wanted Usopp to understand, but now he couldn't even voice what he was feeling. He let out a shaking breath and stared hard as the cement floor started to blur in front of him.

Then Usopp’s arms came around him, and Chopper found himself wrapped up in the comforting smells of motor oil and grease, the distinct tang of sweat, and that unmistakable texture of the rugged flex coveralls that Usopp always wore when he was working scratched against his cheek. He felt seventeen again, trying to learn how to change the oil in his car. Fifteen, camping and realizing the only stove they had brought was broken. Ten years old and taking apart the radio in his grandmother’s garage.

He set the Dr. Pepper on the workbench and wrapped his arms around Usopp’s torso, berating himself again for thinking he couldn’t come to Usopp. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for his oldest friend, and he knew that sentiment was reciprocated. They had been friends their entire lives and had already gone through so much together. Nothing, not even this, was going to tear them apart.

“Hey,” Usopp was murmuring into his hair, “I’m here. I got you.”

Chopper said nothing and just hugged him, felt the relief sweep through him, washing away the doubt and the fear and shame.

“I really am sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.”

Chopper pulled away and looked up, wiping at his eyes with the heels of his palms. “But I totally fucked off, like I didn’t trust you or something. I can’t expect to go do my own thing for months, ignore friendships I’ve had for years, and then one day just waltz right back and expect everyone to be cool with it and move on. That’s just taking advantage.”

Usopp studied him thoughtfully and crossed his arms over his chest.

“That’s not taking advantage of people, that’s just how friendships work.”

Chopper blinked up at him, stunned.

“I mean,” Usopp looked up at the ceiling for a moment, “okay, yeah it hurt that you just… left, but I’m not stupid. I knew something happened.” He tilted his head back down and fixed Chopper with a serious expression. “You wouldn’t give up if something happened to me, so what kind of friend would I be if I only stuck with you when stuff was easy?”

Chopper found himself unable to answer as his jaw clenched against another wave of emotion that welled up in his chest and behind his eyes.

“Luffy feels the same way,” Usopp continued, “so does Zoro. So does Kaya, Ace, Sanji… I mean, you’re seriously underestimating how hard it would be to get rid of us.”

Laughing again, Chopper palmed at his cheeks and shook his head. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right, I’m always right.”

Chopper rolled his eyes and smiled up at his friend. “How is Kaya?”

“Sick,” Usopp shook his head, “always sick, I feel so bad.”

“Yeah, there’s not much you can do, just make sure she drinks, we don’t want her to get dehydrated.”

“She’s inside watching some super treehouse making show. You could go in, say hi.”

Chopper nodded. “I’ll check on her before I leave.”

Turning back to his workbench Usopp retrieved the wrench. “Is it normal that she wants McDonalds all the time? I mean like, all the time? It’s basically the only thing she doesn’t puke back up.”

“If it’s the only thing she’s keeping down, give it to her whenever she wants it. Just go with the cravings.”

“Oh my god I’m so tired of chicken nuggets.”

They talked as Usopp worked, just like they always had. Usopp kept his back to him but turned and smiled at him frequently. He must have known that it was easier for Chopper to open himself up when he wasn’t being studied, and Usopp had a tendency to study intensely.

After rolling the thought around in his head for a minute or so, Chopper cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter.

“So… I’m seeing someone.”

Usopp whirled around his eyes comically wide. “What?”

Chopper cleared his throat again. “I’m seeing someone.”

Tossing the wrench aside, Usopp grabbed a second stool, pulled it close, and sat with a heavy thunk directly in front Chopper.

“What?”

Embarrassment fluttered in Chopper’s chest again, but this time it was sweet.

“Um, yeah. I’ve been seeing this guy for a little while and last night we… made it official?”

Usopp took a breath and then lifted his hands to Chopper’s cheeks. His face turned deadly serious as he spoke. “Chopper. Chopper. This is important. I need to know everything. Tell me every detail. Don’t leave anything out.” Then he pulled back and made a face. “Wait, wait, back up. Tell me everything but make it PG-thirteen because I have delicate sensibilities when it comes to my best friend’s more… sensitive bits.”

Chopper threw his head back and laughed. “Give me my drink that’s now probably warm.”

Usopp did him one better by tossing his can back into the fridge and bringing over a fresh one. Chopper thanked him and downed half the contents before he smiled and wiped the back of his hand across his lips.

“Okay, where do I start? Uh… you remember Dalton?”

Confusion colored Usopp’s face and he quirked an eyebrow. “California Dalton? Ace’s friend? The guy that basically saved our bacon before?”

“Yes,” Chopper grinned and nodded. When he said nothing more, Usopp’s wide eyes became even wider.

“Oh wait! What!?”

“Yes,” Chopper said again.

“Isn’t he like a war hero? A supercop? And isn’t he straight? What the hell Chopper explain this to me!”

Chopper laughed again, thrilled to be talking with his oldest friend, his greatest friend, about something as simple and wonderful as the man he loves, surrounded by happy memories and bits of their shared past. At that particular moment, if someone had asked, Chopper was sure he would have told them that this was one of the happiest moments of his life.

“He’s wonderful,” he said softly, “He’s kind and thoughtful and patient. I can’t even begin to tell you… okay wait, let me start over. So, a few weeks ago, you know the Frankenstein case? Well, this detective shows up at the morgue…”

Dalton reached the morgue at about ten thirty. Flashing his ID at the front desk, he started to move back through the double doors but a breathless voice called out from behind him, stopping him in his tracks.

“I’m here! I’m sorry!”

Turning, Dalton smiled as Chopper bustled through the main doors, carrying his satchel and what looked like a ceramic casserole dish in his arms.

“Oh, Dalton! You’re here!”

His eyes were bright and his smile was wide and so incredibly contagious, Dalton couldn’t help the replying grin that pulled at his mouth.

“Hey,” he said.

“I have um,” Chopper shuffled the things in his arms, “leftovers. Kaya can’t eat them and Usopp gave them to me because he knows I forget to eat so if you want some I can… share. What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m not looking at you like anything, am I?” Dalton chuckled.

Chopper looked away shyly and his hair fell into his eyes. “Yeah you are, it’s… embarrassing. Control your face.” His words did not detract from the fact that Chopper was also grinning like a lunatic.

He was so goddamn cute.

“Are we eating now?” Dalton asked.

“No, it’s too early for lunch. I’ll put this in the fridge and get coffee for us if you’ll go get the report from whoever Law got to do it last night.”

“Deal.”

They ended up back in Chopper’s office with a stack of medical records and two cups of coffee between them on the desk. Dalton took the report from the top of the stack and opened the file, scanning the preliminary info.

“Law give you a hard time this morning?” he asked.

Chopper shook his head. “Not really, not for him anyway. He’s gonna give you shit though so be ready for that.”

“I look forward to it,” Dalton chuckled again.

There was a buzz in Dalton’s pocket and he set the file down to pull out his phone. When he checked the ID on the message notification, his eyebrows shot up.

“It’s Penguin.”

“How’s he doing?” Chopper asked.

Dalton shrugged and opened the message window.

Penguin: What’s black and white and red all over?

Dalton frowned, confused. This was even more out of character then the emoticons earlier. His thumbs hovered over the keys, unsure of how to reply.

Chopper shifted across from him. “Everything okay?”

“Not sure,” Dalton said and typed, even as a cold weight started to settle in his gut.

Dalton: I don’t know

A few seconds went by and Dalton counted his heartbeats, tried to keep his breathing calm. There was no need to panic. Not yet. His gut had overreacted before.

A buzz.

Penguin: A penguin with his throat slit >X-D

The semi calm that Dalton had been cultivating completely vanished.

A photo popped up in the chat log. It was grainy, blurred at the edges, but it was clear enough to see what was going on. Dalton’s heart slowed to a near stop as he tapped on the photo, bringing it up to full screen.

It was a picture of a dark room with one harsh fluorescent light illuminating a table at its center. On the table, was Penguin, stripped to nothing but his jeans, and restrained with what looked like medical restraints. His head was up, and his eyes were open, looking at something across the room behind the camera man. He was alive, thank god, but there was blood on his forehead and running from his right nostril.

“Dalton?”

When Dalton looked up, Chopper was looking at him with rising surprise and concern. His eyes were wide and frightened.

“What’s happening?”

Dalton swallowed past a thick, burning lump in his throat.

“We have a problem.”

TBC

Chapter Text

The precinct was in chaos. A task force had been pulled together, handpicked by Smoker himself, and while those detectives and investigators gathered in the large conference room, officers rushed about answering phone calls and doing as much damage control as they could. Interns and office assistants did what they could, but because no one really knew anything, no one had any direction besides keep the station from falling apart.

Barely an hour had passed since Dalton had brought his phone with the picture of Penguin to Smoker. They had intended to keep it quiet, but an email had been sent to the station’s general mailbox only a few minutes after Dalton had received his text containing the same photo and that fire had been impossible to put out. Frankenstein had wanted this chaos and had ensured he would get it.

Now, Dalton stood in Smoker’s office, speaking as calmly as he could into his phone.

“We will do everything in our power to get him back, ma’am, I promise. Thank you, we’ll talk soon.”

Taking the phone from his ear, Dalton hit the “end call” button and slipped the device back into his pocket. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his pointer finger and thumb and sighed heavily. Penguin’s foster mother had remained calm and collected for the most part during their conversation, but he could hear her underlying terror in the way her words were tight and clipped.

“How is she?” Smoker asked. He was sitting at his desk, the office phone crushed between his ear and shoulder. He had been on and off with the mayor for the last fifteen or so minutes.

“Strong,” Dalton said softly, “she’ll be all right.”

Smoker grunted and turned back to his computer. “Good. I need you to speak to the task force before you head out to do whatever you have planned next. You said they may have something at the morgue?”

Dalton nodded, “It’s possible but nothing’s for certain. I have the feeling we’re sitting on something important. Otherwise, why would this guy snatch someone so high profile? Break his method? We must be close to a break and not even know it.”

“Okay, how much time do you think we have?”

“No idea. This isn’t anything like what I would expect from him. Penguin could be fine, just being held in a basement somewhere, or we could already be too late.”

Smoker let out a huff and turned back to the phone. “Yes, I’m still here.” He looked back up at Dalton and said under his breath, “Get going, I’ll hold things together here.”

Dalton turned and left the office as Smoker started growling into the phone at some unfortunate aid. A few pairs of eyes looked up at him as he emerged, but they all quickly turned away when they saw the determination set on his face.

The task force was gathered in the large conference room. When Dalton entered, all eyes were fixed on the board at the head of the room, and a single man speaking in a calm and clear voice. The man’s light brown hair was cut short in a military fade, and his eyes were clear and bright behind dark, round glasses.

“He’s keeping his victims in cold storage for a least a few days, most likely to make dismemberment easier. This pattern was broken with the eighth victim, Kady Johnson, but there’s still no clear reason why.”

An officer towards the front of the room raised her hand, and the blond man at the board pointed to her.

“Is there reasoning for why he takes the parts that he takes?” she asked. “Or is it random?”

“The medical examiner is still trying to determine that,” the blond man answered. “We’ll know when they know.”

At this, the blond man’s gaze moved to where Dalton was standing and his eyes widened. “Detective Dalton,” he said.

All eyes turned to him and Dalton wasted no time. He moved toward the front and met with the blond man, shaking his hand.

“I’m detective Koby, Smoker’s got me and my partner in charge here so you can get out on the streets.”

Dalton nodded, “Thank you. Are you just going over the basics?”

Koby nodded. “It’s all we really know. Can you tell us why you think he took Pen—I mean, Petruzziello?”

Smiling softly, sadly, Dalton said, “Just call him Penguin.”

Dalton took the room through what little they had gleaned over the last two weeks. The photos on the board were good reference, and the information Chopper had collected about the chemical compound sparked many questions. When Dalton figured he had shared everything he could, he shook Koby’s hand again.

“I have your number,” Koby said. “I’ll text you if I have anything.”

Dalton thanked him again and slipped out.

Smoker wasn’t in his office when Dalton returned to the main floor, so he moved to his own desk to get his coat. When he glanced over at Penguin’s desk, an overwhelming sadness and helplessness came over him and he had to stop and breathe for a moment. It wasn’t often Dalton was overcome by emotions, he was not in the habit of letting his personal feelings get in the way of his job, but this? His partner? It was almost too much.

Then he noticed Penguin’s notebook. It was sitting on a stack of files off to the side of the computer screen. It was standard issue, a simple black notebook with the SPD logo stamped on the front and containing perforated pages. Penguin carried it with him whenever they were on duty.

Taking the notebook, Dalton opened it and flipped through the pages. Penguin’s writing was messy and all over the place, but it was clear enough to follow and the notes were well thought out. The first quarter of the book was just notes on basic investigation, and as Dalton glanced through them, his heart tightened.

Keep the predispositions in check. It’s a thing that happened, not a thing you think happened. Follow the evidence and let it tell the story.

All entrances and exits. ALL of them. A dog door is an entrance if it’s more than 12 inches wide.

Call the victims by name.

It’s okay to say you don’t know.

The notes were not things that Dalton had directly told him, they were more observatory. Penguin had been studying him, following literally in his footsteps. A warm rush of pride swept Dalton up, but at the same time, his heart was breaking. Penguin’s potential was astounding, and if something had happened to him, it might be partially Dalton’s fault. Dalton couldn’t live with that, and so standing there in the middle of the precinct, with his partner’s handwritten words at his fingertips, Dalton strengthened his resolve. He would find Penguin. He would save him.

The notes toward the middle of the book were written in haste, probably done when they had been on the road, or during an interview. The information had been separated into lists—dates, locations and other assorted features. When Dalton came to the list of alibis, he stopped and read over the names. Almost all of them had been scratched out, save for three, and one of them, Moria, had been underlined several times with a note in red pen scribbled in the margin next to it.

This dude’s full of shit

Dalton glanced at the name again, remembering the interview, and remembering he had felt the same way. The guy had been lying through his teeth. The interesting part though, was Dalton wasn’t quite sure what he had been lying about.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. When he looked at the screen, the number was unlisted.

“Dalton,” he said.

“Dalton!” it was Shachi. His voice was muffled, wet, agonized. “I—I just heard. I didn’t know, I didn’t think to say anything I should have called you but she was turned away from me and—and—”

“Shachi,” Dalton said gently, “calm down. What are you trying to tell me?”

There was a broken sob and a wet sniff through the receiver and then Shachi started again, slower this time.

“Last night, Penguin was getting handsy with this chick, and I didn’t think anything of it cause Penguin’s like a lady’s man, you know? But then he disappeared! So like, that chick left with him and was the last person who saw him, or she’s been taken too, right?”

Something stirred in Dalton’s gut, something electric. “What did this girl look like?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t really see her face!”

“Can you think of anything I can use?”

“Uh,” Shachi sniffed again, “long brown hair, green dress, gold shoes. I don’t know, Sanji got a better look at her. She was tall—”

“Wait,” Dalton interrupted, that electric feeling started to sing through him, tingle in his fingertips, “Sanji saw her?”

“Yeah, Sanji got a good look, you should ask him.”

“Thank you Shachi. I’ll call you when I know something.”

He hung up and thumbed through his contacts, selecting “Sanji” and tapping the send button.

“Yeah, but zucchinis sometimes look like cucumbers.”

Sanji laughed again and slid an arm around his husband’s shoulders. “It doesn’t matter babe, I’ll use the cucumbers, it won’t kill us.”

Zoro grumbled under his breath, not really upset but playing it up for Sanji’s benefit. The swordsman knew that if he acted like he was frustrated at messing up the groceries, Sanji would play along and try to make him “feel better”.

“Let’s just make popcorn. I like popcorn.”

Sanji laughed again and squeezed him affectionately. “Later. I’m worn out from the sparring, I need protein.”

“Oh, you’re worn out?” Zoro grinned, turning his head to ghost a kiss on Sanji’s neck. “I didn’t think I went that hard on you. You need to lie down?” Another soft kiss. “I have some protein you can h—”

Sanji shut him up with a kiss on his lips. “You’re such an idiot,” he smiled when they parted. “Get me a can of broth from the pantry, would you?”

Zoro sighed dramatically and turned around. “Fine.” As he moved away, Sanji slapped him on his ass and he yelped, feigning injury. “You’re so rough with me.”

Chuckling, Sanji returned to the stove and the stir fry and wondered how he had ever gotten so lucky.

His phone rang from the living room and he called out to Zoro, “Babe, can you get that for me?”

He heard Zoro respond from the pantry and then his footfalls as he crossed into the living room. He answered with a quiet “Hello?” and then there was silence for a few moments.

When Zoro returned to the kitchen, his face was grave. “It’s Dalton,” he said.

Law was throwing things. Smoker’s things.

What surprised Dalton, however, was the patience with which Smoker dealt with it. The aging captain was sitting behind his desk, elbows resting on the wooden surface, and hands folded together over his mouth. He watched as Law seethed and tossed another book across the office with enough force to dent the wall on the other side.

Dalton had never seen Law so angry, not even when he had come to him after watching a mafia underboss murder two of his friends right in front of him. That time, Law had been helpless, unable to do anything, just like now. Once again, he was forced to wait, to stand on the sidelines as someone he knew and cared about was being hurt.

Despite his actions, when Law finally stilled and spoke, he sounded calm, collected even. He did not shout or curse or scream like one would think, instead, he merely straightened his shirt and then slid his hands into his pockets.

“You can’t do this,” he said.

“I can,” Smoker said, “and I am. This is the very definition of compromised. This is your brother, you can’t be a part of the—”

“—So I’m just supposed to sit around while he’s out there?” When Law turned, Dalton could finally see his eyes. They were tortured and dark and terrifying. “I’m just supposed to go home and do nothing and hope that you guys find him? How the fuck am I supposed to do that?”

Smoker had wanted to keep this new turn in the investigation secret for this very reason. Law had been a damn good officer, and he was an even better doctor, but both Dalton and Smoker knew that he was also volatile. Calm and cool one moment, but the next he could be taking your head off, literally. Unpredictable actions were good for undercover work, but not when it came to above the board investigations. Someone like Law, with his background, and his instability, and connections, could compromise a case in a matter of seconds.

That did not mean Dalton didn’t completely feel for him.

“Go home, Law. Calm down, get some perspective. You can’t be a part of this anymore.”

“I can’t even help Chopper with his part?” Law’s voice finally started to raise in volume, if only a little. “I can’t even go to the morgue and look through medical records?”

“No,” Smoker said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“God damnit,” Law ran a hand through his hair and did a small, pacing circle. “Fine. Fine, you son of a bitch, I’ll go.” He looked up then and fixed Dalton with a look that actually chilled the detective to his bones.

“You call me the instant you find something.”

Dalton nodded to him. “I will.”

Law turned then and he pulled the door open with enough force to get the blinds slapping loudly against the glass. He was about to slip out when Smoker’s voice stopped him.

“Traf!” he growled.

Law turned back, that look of pure rage and hatred still on his face.

Smoker did not seem phased by it.

“Go surround yourself with people that care about you. Friends, family. Get support from someone you know can help you through this… difficult time. You understand?”

That look of hatred slowly started to slide away as Law began to understand what Smoker was saying. His eyes widened slightly, and his mouth opened on a question, but then shut again.

“Yeah,” he said softly, his eyes glancing to Dalton, and then back to Smoker. “Maybe I’ll… take a few days. Clear my head.”

Smoker nodded once. “You do that, son. Come back when you feel like you’ve got it under control.”

Law looked at Smoker for a moment, his eyes betraying what he was feeling. A confusing mixture of grief and sadness, loss, but also a glimmer of intense gratitude. He straightened, nodded slowly, and then closed the door behind him.

Dalton turned to Smoker. “That a good idea?”

Smoker shrugged. “We only have so many resources. Kidd’s got more. We’re at the point where I just want to catch this guy.”

“If they find him, they’ll kill him.”

“Yeah probably,” Smoker leaned back in his chair, “but we’ll be here to pick up the pieces.”

Dalton sighed and nodded his head but he never got a chance to respond because the intercom beeped loudly from Smoker’s desk.

“Sir?” a young male voice said.

“What is it?”

“Dalton’s witness is here.”

Dalton headed for the door. “Sanji,” he said.

“Detective!” Smoker said behind him, and Dalton turned.

“Good luck.”

Dalton gave him a makeshift salute and exited the office.

Bypassing the elevators, Dalton flew down the stairs and moved toward reception. He could already see the bright yellow of Sanji’s hair, and, not surprisingly, the green of Zoro’s as well. There faces were stony, determined as they turned in his direction. They reminded Dalton of the hardened soldiers he had commanded back when he was overseas in Iraq and Afghanistan. Thinking of Penguin, Dalton envisioned a movie scenario where he deputized both Sanji and Zoro before the three of them road out to meet the bandit gang that had made camp in the distant hills.

He didn’t have the ability to deputize anyone, but Dalton had no misconceptions that what he was about to do was basically the same storyline. Penguin would be proud and pissed that he had missed it.

“You two,” Dalton said, voice low and commanding, “come with me.”

Just like he knew they would, Sanji and Zoro followed without question.

Law: He’s got Penguin

Kidd: I know

Law: How the fuck do you know I just found out

Kidd: Nami texted me a few minutes ago

Law: How the fuck does she know???

Kidd: Who cares what are we doing?

Law: I’m on my way to you now

Kidd: Ok
Kidd: Hey we’ll find him

Law: Your damn fucking right we’ll find him

The harsh light stung his eyes as he woke from another bout of drug induced sleep. His head was aching, something pounded at his skull directly behind his eyes, clouding his vision. His eyelids were heavy, like they were weighted down with globs of wet cement.

His mouth was fuzzy, and the inside of his cheek was burning. He tested it with the tip of his tongue and found impressions of his teeth. Sharp pain shot through his face when he pressed against them, and the taste of copper was strong again as blood flowed from the wound.

He turned his head, causing a bloom of pain at the back of his head. The ache that remained trickled down his neck to his shoulders, making him moan in discomfort.

“Fuck…” he said softly. His voice was hoarse.

The light above him made it hard to see the room where he was being held. He had tried the last time he had awoken but to no avail. Whoever had him didn’t let him be conscious for long, just enough to feel the pain in his head and in his mouth, to feel the binds that held his arms and legs.

He closed his eyes again and let himself relax. They must be monitoring him if they knew whenever he woke up. Maybe the trick was to make them think he was still out, or at least had passed out again from pain or dehydration or whatever. Damn, speaking of, how long had be been here? Hours? Days?

No, couldn’t be days yet, his mouth was sticky and foul but there was still saliva.

Shit, now he was thirsty. Stop thinking about it.

He controlled his breathing, tried to make it look like he was back asleep or unconscious. He listened, trying to hear sounds of construction, water, music, anything that would give away where he was. There was nothing. He breathed in deep, trying to determine if there were any smells he could identify. There was metal, and rust, but also a strong chemical smell, like in a hospital.

Well, of course there was a chemical smell, the guy killed you with chemicals and then cut you up like a fucking pig in a butcher shop.

Suddenly, he didn’t feel so calm. Suddenly, he was terrified. His heart started racing and his stomach rolled with nausea. His lungs tightened around a breath that he suddenly couldn’t take.

He didn’t want to die.

And he really didn’t want to die here in this crazy room with the harsh light and the smell of chemicals all around him.

Tears collected at the corners of his eyes and he felt a sob catching in his chest. Is this what the other victims felt like? Were they kept like this for a while? Alone and terrified until the killer came and injected them with their death? Did he talk to any of them? Did any of them know what was going to happen?

He hoped Dalton would use his body to crack the case. Hopefully his murder would be the one where this asshole fucked up. That would be great. Maybe Frankenstein leaves a fingerprint on his eyeball, like in Red Dragon, or maybe he could manage to bite the killer and swallow some of his DNA and Chopper would find it during the autopsy.

Thinking about Chopper made him think of Law, and that in turn made him think of Shachi.

What was Shachi thinking right now? Did he know? Would Dalton question him? Ask him about what he saw at the club?

What had Shachi seen at the club? He’d been so drunk he couldn’t remember what happened. Had he been dancing? Who was he dancing with?

A girl. A pretty girl.

Harley.

Harley Monet had been there. She had kissed him. They had left, heading to her car…

…then what?

The door opened and it startled him so thoroughly, he twitched on the table. So much for making them think he was asleep.

“So, how’s our little bird?” a raspy voice said. It was familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

“Headache,” he said, “got any Aspirin?”

The voice laughed, something high pitched and profoundly annoying. “Monet said you were charming. I see it now.”

Cold dread coiled in his gut. “Is she okay?”

That laugh again. “Okay? Of course she’s okay. She’s watching you on the monitor. She lets us know whenever you wake up.”

That cold dread suddenly turned to ice. Of course, Monet. She had been kissing him, sliding into his lap, running her hands over his chest and into his hair, and then she had whispered “I’m sorry,” so softly he almost hadn’t heard. Then there had been a needle, a prick in his neck, and then pain.

Monet had done this.

She’d played him.

Something about that upset him so deeply, he almost couldn’t breathe. How had this happened? How had he miscalculated so badly? Was it just because she was beautiful? No. No way, there had to be something else.

“Bull shit,” he growled, and his eyes opened. The light seared his vision but he managed to turn and see a figure standing a few feet away. Large, familiar, silhouetted. “I don’t believe you.”

That laugh was grating, clawing at all his nerve endings. He wanted to punch it in the face.

“Poor, poor little Penguin. Tricked by a pretty face and a pare of heels! So predictable.”

Angry, frustrated, and terrified, he closed his eyes and relaxed his body. As much as he wanted to believe Harley had nothing to do with this, he knew it was just his wishful thinking. Fine. That was fine. Didn’t matter if he was about to die anyway.

“Go fuck yourself,” he said.

That terrible laugh was the last thing he heard before he felt another pin prick, and then there was nothing but blackness.

Dalton pushed through the doors of the morgue with Zoro and Sanji close at his heels. The man at the desk said nothing as they passed, seeming to understand that they had no time to sign in or get passes. As the three of them made their way through the offices and desks, several pairs of eyes glanced up at them, but they quickly turned away. Dalton paid them no mind, they knew what was at stake, and would not care if he was cold or unfriendly at this particular junction.

Chopper was in his office, piles of papers and files stacked around him. Behind him, there were two boards, one cork, and one white. Both had photos and medical charts pinned or taped to them, and the whiteboard had bits of Chopper’s neat scrawl written in between reports in black pen.

When the three entered, Chopper looked up, and surprise and astonishment flashed across his face.

“Dalton?” he said. “Z-Zoro? Sanji?”

“Sanji’s the last one that saw Penguin,” Dalton explained. “He described the woman he was with and I’m pretty sure it’s Harley Monet.”

Chopper’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Yeah,” Dalton motioned with his hand. “You have a photo in the files?”

“Uh, yes,” Chopper shuffled papers and then pulled out a picture of the brunette. He came around from behind his desk and handed the photo to Sanji.

“Oh yeah,” Sanji nodded, “that’s definitely her.”

“Shit,” Dalton murmured.

“Who is she?” Zoro asked.

“The assistant to the guy who makes the murder weapon,” Dalton answered.

“Woa, what?” Sanji looked at the photo again, as if he had missed something in her face. “I thought you were thinking she’d been abducted too, but you think she’s in on it?”

Dalton nodded, “Can’t see how she’s not. I’m just angry because both Penguin and I didn’t like her boss for it at all, and I still don’t feel right in thinking he’s doing it.”

“I don’t…” Chopper said suddenly, but then trailed off when the others looked at him.

“Don’t what, Chopper?” Zoro asked, and Dalton noticed his voice was disarmingly gentle.

Chopper looked at his friends, and then at Dalton. “I’m pretty sure he’s not our guy.”

“Did you find something?” Dalton asked.

Turning back to the files and the two boards behind his desk, Chopper took a breath. “Well, I’ve been looking at the medical records, going through some of the connections that the lab techs put together for Penguin’s search, and I found a few disturbing coincidences.”

“Like what?” Sanji asked.

Chopper turned back and eyed both Zoro and Sanji before he turned to Dalton. “Not that I mind, in fact I’m glad you’re both here, but should we really be going over details in front of civilians?”

Dalton actually smiled. “Well, Smoker just basically instructed Law to go get help from Kidd, so I’m overlooking the fact that these two aren’t technically law enforcement.”

“We’re like…” Sanji searched for words, “consultants? I guess you could say?”

Zoro smirked, “Right. We’re experts in ass-kicking.”

The corner of Chopper’s mouth turned up and he shrugged. “Works for me. Okay, look at this.” He turned to the board and the photos of the eight victims. Beneath each photo was a short list of things in the black dry erase pen. “We thought the victims had nothing in common, but they actually do. Each one had a minor injury or at least a complaint corresponding to the part that was taken. For example, Donald Kim, the third victim, pulled a muscle in his right leg—the one that was taken—about a year before he was killed. He was seen for it, prescribed some pain killers and a few days rest. Ying Yue, the fourth victim, had her hands taken. She had gone to the doctor previously for arthritis pains in her knuckles. Jamal Nassar, fifth victim, had his feet taken. Like I told you before, he had been seen on several occasions for plantar fasciitis.” He turned back to the three men standing on the other side of his desk.

“It could all be coincidence, but it’s not likely. Not if it’s every victim and each injury or complaint happened within the last year and a half.”

“Jesus,” Dalton breathed. “Where were they seen?”

“It varies,” Chopper said. “They’re all patients at Harborview or Virginia Mason, but none of them have the same doctor.”

“Shit, what are we not seeing?” Dalton ran a hand over his face, frustration fraying his nerves. They didn’t have time to be floundering like this.

As Chopper sighed and sat in his chair, Zoro moved closer to the board and slipped his hands into his pockets.

“Plantar fasciitis…” the swordsman said softly. “That’s the thing at the bottom of your foot, right?”

Chopper nodded. “Yeah, swelling in the tissue that’s connected to the heel.”

Zoro grunted and turned back to the board. “Some of this stuff isn’t minor. You may think it is, Chopper, ‘cause you’re a doctor, but something like arthritis can fuck up someone’s life.”

“I’ve had plantar fasciitis,” Sanji added, “It’s killer.”

Chopper nodded. “I just meant life-threatening. I wasn’t saying—”

“—No, no, we’re not arguing with you, Chopper,” Zoro turned and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sound like that.”

“We’re just observing,” Sanji said quietly. “Sometimes doctors see so much terrible shit they forget that normal stuff that happens to normal people is sometimes terrifying for them.”

Chopper nodded, relaxing his posture. “Yeah, I guess if you haven’t experienced it before and don’t know what it is, you might…”

When Chopper didn’t continue, Dalton glanced at him. The young doctor’s eyes were widening, his breath had stopped. Realization came over his features and as Dalton watched, Chopper shot up and started shuffling through the files again.

“Chopper, what is it?” Dalton asked.

“Sometimes, even if it turns out to be something easily treatable and non-life-threatening, when you don’t know what’s wrong, or if something hurts real bad, you go to the emergency room.”

Zoro and Sanji stood straighter, suddenly intensely focused.

“Does that change something?” Dalton asked.

“Help me,” Chopper said, holding up a piece of paper from one of the victim files. “Look through the other victim files for this specific paper.”

They went to work, and sure enough, in less than a few minutes, they had corresponding reports for each of the victims. Chopper pasted each directly below each of the victim’s photos and took a step back.

“Shit…” he said softly. “Oh my god… no…”

“What?” Dalton asked. “What did you find?”

Chopper pointed to the first victim’s paper, and then the next, and then the next. “It's so simple I missed it. I didn't even think... Each victim, every single one of them, visited the emergency room at Harborview between December of 2016, and January of 2017.”

There was silence in the room for a moment. Then Sanji said softly, “That’s your emergency room, Chopper. You worked there during that time.”

Chopper nodded slowly.

Dalton came closer, moved around the desk and placed his hands on Chopper’s shoulders. He was shaking, his breath hitching like he was about to cry.

“Chopper,” he said gently, “what else?”

Chopper took a breath and his lips trembled. A trickle of tears ran down his cheeks and he slid a hand up into his hair.

“Look here,” Chopper pointed to a specific box on the first victim’s paper. Dalton moved in closer to take a look at where Chopper was pointing. It was another doctor’s signature, large scrawl, loopy.

“Hogback…” Dalton said softly, dread filling his gut like lead.

Chopper nodded, his voice anguished as he replied. “Every single one of the victims was his patient during their emergency room visit. Every single one was there during the time he was testing his drug.”

“Holy shit,” Zoro murmured behind them.

“That’s the fucking doctor you got fired, isn’t it?” Sanji asked.

“I didn’t get him fired,” Chopper sobbed, “I got him promoted.”

“No, no, Chopper,” Dalton turned Chopper around and held his shoulders. Dalton looked into his eyes and spoke as gently as he could. “You got him away from patients, away from potential victims and into management.”

“And now he’s killing people on the street!” Chopper cried. “He’s got Penguin and I could have done something! I could have stopped him if I had just paid attention!”

“Wait, wait,” Sanji said as he shuffled through papers, “didn’t you rule him out? I thought Law said something about alibis?”

“Someone’s full of shit,” Chopper growled wetly.

That sparked a memory in Dalton’s mind and he let go of Chopper to pull Penguin’s notebook from his jacket pocket. He turned to the page with the alibis Penguin had compiled and turned it around for Chopper to see.

“I think you’re right,” he said softly.

Chopper took the book and looked over the notes Penguin had made. He sniffed once and returned his gaze to Dalton’s.

“Oh my God,” his face grew hard and the tears abruptly stopped, “he was right under all our noses the whole time.”

Dalton nodded and took the book back. “Can you get me an address?”

Chopper nodded. “I’ll text it to you. Get out of here, head to the hospital first.”

“Okay,” Dalton lifted his hand to run a thumb across Chopper’s cheek. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Chopper whispered and tilted his head up to kiss Dalton on the lips. It was sweet and tender, and over way to fast.

As Dalton headed out of the office, Zoro and Sanji followed him, waving to Chopper and promising to return when things calmed down.

“So, um…” Sanji said as they made their way outside.

“Did you just…” Zoro added.

“Yes, I did,” Dalton said as he pulled out his keys. “You can kick my ass later.”

Sanji laughed at his side. “Why would we kick your ass? That was the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I might still kick your ass,” Zoro murmured, but when Dalton glanced over his shoulder, the swordsman was smiling.

When they reached Dalton’s SUV, he opened the driver’s side door and turned to them. “I can’t legally take you with me, but if you just happen to be there when it goes down, I mean… what a coincidence that would be, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Sanji nodded, “that would be weird, huh?”

Dalton pulled himself up into the seat. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later?”

“Yup,” Zoro said.

“Later,” Sanji said.

Dalton nodded to them and slid the key into the ignition.

Chopper: Its Hogback

Law: What the fuck

Chopper: Dalton is on his way to the hospital
Chopper: Don’t get in his way. We have to do this by the book
Chopper: I’m just telling you so you can go find Penguin

Law: Thank you

Law pushed the door open with enough force to send it crashing into the wall. All eyes turned to him as he entered the club and moved towards the bar. Kidd was waiting for him, combat boots laced, coat on. He was obviously packing.

“It’s fucking Hogback,” Law growled.

Bepo turned to Kidd, as did Shachi, Drake, and the others. Bartolomeo stood behind the bar, hands in his pockets, jacket on, looking like he was ready for a fight. Kidd finished whatever was in his glass and then set it back down on the bar top.

“We’re waiting on one more,” he said calmly.

They didn’t have to wait long. The front doors swung open only a few seconds later, and Luffy came waltzing in, straw hat on, a rare look of seriousness settled on his face.

“Okay,” Luffy said, folding his arms across his chest and looking around, “explain what’s happening in short sentences.”

TBC

Chapter Text

Dalton tapped the send button on his phone and then changed it to speaker so he could talk and drive at the same time. When Smoker picked up, he seemed out of breath.

“Dalton,” he growled, “got something?”

“It’s Doctor Hogback. It’s circumstantial, but Chopper’s found the connection. Give him a call and have him tell you the details.”

“Son of a bitch. Okay, I’ll get on it. You headed his way?”

Dalton made a right turn and slowed as he neared a stoplight. “Yeah, I’m about a minute from Harborview.”

“Do you need backup?”

“No, if he’s there it should go easy. Besides, I don’t want to alert him. Plenty of exits that I don’t know about. Also, give me a beat before you send anyone to his house.”

“Okay, I can give you an hour before they head out. Keep me posted and let me know if you need me to send over Koby and Helmeppo to the hospital. Hell, if you need the National Guard I’ll get ‘em for you.”

Dalton chuckled. “Thanks, Captain. I’ll call you.”

“Good luck, soldier.”

He parked in the employee lot and pulled himself out of the SUV. When his phone buzzed, he found it was a text from Chopper containing an address.

Chopper: I doubt he would keep Penguin there, but it’s worth a shot

Dalton agreed, and sent back another few texts.

Dalton: If you plan on sending this to Law, tell him he’ll only have about
a 45 minute head start
Dalton: I’ve already reported that Hogback is our guy but Smokers giving
us a short window

Chopper: Got it
Chopper: I love you. Please be careful

Dalton: I love you too. I will

He entered the hospital through the twenty-four-hour clinic entrance. Flashing his badge at the front desk got him a wave through without asking what his business was. He knew a lone police officer was going to attract little attention but the word would spread quickly. However, if he didn’t say where he was going, then he could get to the offices ahead of the gossip.

The elevator dinged softly when he reached the admin floor, and Dalton had his badge out as he neared the reception desk. The man behind the computer looked up and smiled, but the woman sitting in the other chair was bent over a logbook and paid no attention.

“I’m Detective Drum, Seattle PD. I was here a week ago and spoke to a Doctor Hogback, is he available? I have a few follow up questions.”

He had the woman’s attention now, hopefully they would let him through with just that information. There was a slim chance they would question him or make him fill out more paperwork, but Dalton was banking on the fact that because he had been in once already and administrative personnel didn’t say no to law enforcement often, they would forgo the extra paperwork. He could always bypass all this and tell them he was coming in for an arrest. There would be nothing they could do in that case, but that would cause a commotion, and he really didn’t need that. Let the commotion come afterward, when he walked Hogback out in handcuffs.

The woman eyed him again, but this time she was all business. “You in a hurry?”

Dalton nodded. “A little, it would be nice if I could just get in and get out.” Technically, he hadn’t lied yet.

The woman nodded and handed him a laminated pass. “Go ahead then, I’ll sign you in.”

Giving them both a grateful nod, Dalton took the pass and made his way over to the door that lead to the admin offices. He swiped the card over the keypad and the little light on top turned green. Dalton opened the door, nodded once more to the two behind the reception desk, and moved through the door.

Law looked over Kidd’s shoulder as he read the text from Chopper. At first, he was angry that Chopper hadn’t sent the information to him, but then he calmed himself and thought about how that had been a smart move on his friend’s part, since apparently the text also involved instructions.

“What’d he say?” Law asked.

Kidd took a breath and slipped the phone into the pocket of his jeans. “He gave us Hogback’s address, but warned us since Hogback’s the prime suspect, they’ll have cops swarming on his house. Once we get there we only got about twenty minutes to get in and get out.”

“What the fuck?” Bartolomeo growled. “That ain’t enough time to do shit.”

“It’ll be enough time if he’s there,” Kidd said. “We just gotta get him and then bounce.”

“What if he’s not there?” Shachi asked, his eyes were wide and slightly terrified.

Drake cocked an eyebrow. “We gonna toss his place?”

Kidd shook his head. “As much as I want to, we won’t have time to mess his place up. We go in careful and nab him if he’s there. If he’s not, do a quick search for anything that can tell us where Penguin is.”

“What would we be looking for exactly?” Bonnie asked.

At this, Bepo perked up. “It’d be a pretty specific search. Bank statements, phone records, that kind of thing.”

Bartolomeo snorted angrily. “How the fuck are we gonna break in, look for this dude, and then have time to look through fuckin’ bank records in under twenty minutes?”

“I got that part,” Law said quietly. “I’ll know what to look for.”

The others looked at him, immediately understanding and falling silent. They all knew Law’s background, and how he had gathered information on the mob and how he had taken it back to the police. He had done it for years and hadn’t been caught, so it was obvious he was the man for the job.

Kidd nodded to him and stood. “Get the cars. Time’s waistin’.”

They took three vehicles, all dark, nondescript, with fake license plates and tabs. Kidd might be out of the game, but he still had connections and he still knew how to get shit when he needed it.

Hogback’s property was in Renton, about a twenty minute drive south from Seattle if traffic permitted. Being a Sunday, there was no rush hour, and the roads going away from the city were usually fairly clear around this time.

Law sat in the passenger seat of Kidd’s Chrysler, watching the freeway signs fly by. The ride so far had been silent, tense. They were all scared and stressed, worried that this was all for nothing and they were already too late.

“Hey, boss?”

“Yeah,” Kidd and Law answered at the same time. When they looked at each other, they both smiled, and some of that terrible tension melted away.

“What is it, Bepo?” Law asked.

“I’m sure he’s still okay,” Bepo said softly.

“How do you figure?”

There was shuffling in the back seat as Bepo moved himself forward and leaned into the space between the driver and passenger seats.

“It’s a break in his pattern,” Bepo explained, “don’t breaks in patterns for these kinds of guys mean it’s emotional? He took Penguin just a few days after Penguin and Dalton came in to question him. And you know Penguin, man, even a dimwit can tell he’s fearless. He talked to Kidd like he was talkin’ to his grandma, probably said something this asshole didn’t like and now he’s getting him back.”

Kidd grunted and nodded in agreement. “They might have both pissed him off, Dalton and Penguin. They’re made of fuckin’ steel. Wouldn’t be surprised if Frankenstein took Penguin just to spite Dalton.”

The anger that had been simmering in Law’s gut since he left Smoker’s office started to boil again. He put a fist over his mouth and clenched his jaw against his knuckles.

“I wanna bring him in, but I want him to give us a reason to take him down. God, I want his fuckin’ head on a fucking stake.”

“We don’t have to do either,” Kidd said softly. “We can do what we did to the asshole that hurt Chopper.”

Thinking about Krieg and the way he had cried when they pulled the zip tie tight enough that his wrists had bled, Law felt a rush of adrenaline flow through him.

“As much as I love that idea, we gotta make sure the cops find him, one way or the other. We owe Dalton that much. I owe Dalton that much.”

Kidd lifted his hand from the steering wheel and slid his fingers gently across the back of Law’s hand. He squeezed once, lingered for a moment, and then let go.

“We’ll get him, and we’ll make sure the cops get credit.”

Law turned and looked at Kidd then, and even though their eyes did not meet, Law knew that his gratitude was received.

Ten minutes later, they were pulling up a long, gravel drive towards a stone wall and an iron gate. The brass plaque across the metal bars was gawdy and read “HOGBACK” in loopy, black lettering. Law pulled himself out of the car and shut the door. Bepo was at his side, and he saw Shachi heading his way from the first car.

“This place is fucking huge,” Bartolomeo said as he reached the gate. His hands came around two of the bars and he leaned against them. Luffy mirrored his posture and the two of them stood gazing up at the mansion atop the swell of a large hill.

“This is like a movie,” Luffy said, his voice awed and breathless.

“Penguin would appreciate that,” Sachi said, quietly.

Bonnie and Drake slammed the trunk of the first car closed and moved up to where the group had gathered. They both had coils of thick rope in their arms. “Come on,” Bonnie said, “let’s do this, we don’t have much time left.”

Without another word, the ropes were thrown over the gate and secured on one of the metal crossbars. It took maybe a minute and a half for the nine of them to climb over, and then they were headed up the gravel path towards the mansion.

“I’m guessing there’s gonna be an alarm,” Shachi said.

“Don’t worry about that,” Drake said, “just get in there and find him.”

“There’ll be people waitin’ for us,” Kidd added. “Take care of them and then get the hell back out. I don’t wanna have to search for any of you.”

“What exactly do you mean by ‘take care of them’, boss?” Bartolomeo asked, grinning.

“No casualties.”

“Damn,” Bartolomeo grumbled. “Okay, got it.”

They continued up the path without another word.

The lights were harsher than the last time he had opened his eyes, or maybe he was just going blind for real. The brightness ate away at his vision, sending shooting pains to the back of his skull. He squeezed his eyes shut again and took a few slow breaths, let himself come back into consciousness gradually.

There was still a strong chemical smell that tasted bad on his tongue and tickled the back of his throat. Bleach mostly, and a few other things he could separate out, but couldn’t identify. With his eyes closed he could smell the rust, stronger than it had been previously, and dirt. Mold.

He was thirsty now, his mouth was dry and his lips were chapped. He swallowed with some effort, wondering how long he had been out this time. Another couple of hours? Had he been here a day yet? There was no way to tell. If he didn’t get some water soon, he knew he was in trouble.

As he lay there, he thought about what the figure before had told him, how Monet had lured him into her car, had distracted him, and then knocked him out with whatever had been in the syringe she had injected into his neck. He still didn’t believe it was true, not even when he could remember parts of it actually happening. He had seen her do it, felt her hand in his hair as she slid the needle into his flesh, but he just didn’t want to accept it. Not when he didn’t know her side of it.

“Harley…” he said softly, voice dry and cracked. It hurt to speak, but he did it anyway.

“Harley… are you there?”

Nothing. Not a sound, not even something distant from another room. Was he alone?

No, the figure that had come to taunt him before had said she was watching on the monitors. Had she really been there? Was she still there?

“Harley…” he said again, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for whatever got you to this point. I hope to god you’re not locked up in some other room.” He swallowed again, his heart twisting painfully in his chest. “If you’re… like the guy said… if you’re watching, if you’re a part of this… it’s okay. I don’t blame you. I’ve got a pretty good eye for reading people and I just don’t see you doing this because you want to.”

He pulled on his restraints, trying to turn his arms over, lay his palms flat on the table. He was shaking a little and that fact shamed him. He was supposed to be brave. He was a cop, a fucking detective! He wasn’t supposed to cry and cower in some kind of stupid Hills Have Eyes basement lab. He needed to get his shit together and find a way out. And if he couldn’t find a way out, he needed to figure out how to get a message to Dalton. Not that he really knew anything. He couldn’t even tell where he was.

He tried to keep his breathing even, lower his heart rate. There was no point in panicking when he didn’t even know what exactly was going to happen to him. If he was just another victim, wouldn’t he have been killed already? So, what was he here for? Why was he being kept alive? Why would Frankenstein…

Oh, wait… was he bait?

Shit, that would make sense. He remembered a flash the first time he had woken up. That must have been a camera and they had sent the picture to Dalton.

On one hand, that was great. At least Dalton knew he was missing and not just fucking off somewhere. But on the other, oh Jesus, the whole precinct probably knew and had probably pulled together a task force to find him. How fucking embarrassing was that?

Okay. Okay, calm down. He wasn’t Princess Peach, he didn’t need rescuing. He was Nicolas Fucking Petruzziello and he wasn’t going out this way.

“Harley,” Penguin said softly, “come on. Get me out of here and I’ll help you. Whatever they’ve done, whatever they have on you, I swear to god I’ll fix it. Get me out of these and help me find my fucking shoes and I’ll get you out of here.”

He listened for a few long seconds. Nothing. He hadn’t expected any, so he tried again.

“Harley, I know you don’t want this. I saw something in your eyes when I was questioning you at the precinct. You’re strong, you have dreams, you have your whole life ahead of you. And I’m not saying… I’m not saying you should spend it with me, this isn’t some fucking… love confession or anything… but I feel like we had a connection and if you are here, and you are listening, I swear. I swear…” he trailed off again, took a slow breath, and opened his eyes. The light stung but he looked to the ceiling as if he was staring directly into her eyes.

“I swear I’ll help you.”

There were a few more seconds of silence, and then a door opened from somewhere across the room. He twisted to look for it, but he couldn’t see anything. He took a breath, a bit of hope started to tug at his heart.

“Goddamn,” a deep voice growled, “can you shut the fuck up?”

“Yeah, man, not cool,” another voice, just as deep, added. “I’m tryin’ to talk to the boss on the phone and all I can hear is your fucking whining.”

His heart sank and a knot formed in the center of his gut. They were coming for him, and he had lost his chance.

“Can we kill him now?” the first voice asked.

“I don’t think so,” the second one answered. “The boss wants him alive for a video demand or something.”

“Cool,” the first one murmured. “Can we at least mess with him a little?”

“Yeah, just as long as he can still talk when we’re done with him.”

“Oh, he’ll be able to talk. He’ll scream.”

Two large silhouettes appeared at his side, both so tall they had to be almost seven feet, and both were wearing round hats with flat brims. Penguin couldn’t see their faces.

“What do you think?” the first one asked, “Start with his feet?”

“Good idea.”

Pulling at his restraints, Penguin twisted from side to side. “No!” he shouted, “Don’t fucking touch me!”

The two strange silhouettes hovered over the table, chuckling softly. One picked up something from a nearby table, making a metal scraping sound. Penguin envisioned a surgical knife, or a pair of pliers, something that would hurt him but not too badly. Just enough to break him.

“I kill you sons of bitches,” Penguin snarled, “I’ll fucking kill you.”

They laughed. The second voice said, “Feisty one, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” the first replied, “he’s pretty cool.”

Penguin felt a hand on his ankle, and a cold, metallic pressure at the base of his pinky toe. Holy shit, they were going to cut his toes off! He thrashed and kicked, but another set of hands came down on his leg and he couldn’t move. His heart started hammering in his throat and his stomach rolled, he felt himself getting dizzy.

The door slammed open and another beam of light filled the room. It illuminated the two figures hunched over Penguin’s leg. He saw pale faces and two sets of dark, amber eyes. One of the men, the one holding the knife—fuck, he was right, it was a surgical knife—was wearing a mask.

When Penguin turned toward the door, he thought he must be cracking up, because he was sure he saw Harley Monet standing there, but in his terrified state he knew his eyes playing tricks on him. What he saw was indeed Harley Monet, but her slender body was bright, almost glowing. Her hair was a lovely sparkling gold, and just above both her shoulders reaching down to the floor, was a pair of wings. They were a lovely shade of green, soft but powerful, and as she moved into the room, they lifted and came around her like a cloak made of the finest silk.

Crap, I’m losing it.

“Harley!” he cried, his relief was obvious and so terribly pathetic as the words passed it lips.

She spared him a glance, but other than that she seemed to ignore him. She moved closer, and those beautiful wings disappeared when she stepped into the light from the glaring overhead fluorescents.

“What the hell are you doing?” she asked, her voice flat.

The two figures by his feet shrugged. The one with the mask said, “We were bored.”

“Yeah, it’s not cool,” the other one murmured.

“You’re supposed to be watching the road,” Monet said softly. Penguin couldn’t tell if she was angry, or just annoyed. “What the fuck are you going to tell the boss if someone happens to get in the building while you two are dicking around in here?”

The two figures looked at each other, and then back at Monet. “You really think someone’s gonna find us out here?”

Monet shrugged, obviously exasperated. “How the hell should I know. It doesn’t matter. You two get back to where you’re supposed to be because the boss will be here soon and if you’re not at your post, I’m going to get yelled at.”

The three of them stood over Penguin for a few seconds, unmoving, silent. Then the masked figure straightened and placed the knife back on the table. “You’re right,” he said softly, “that wouldn’t be cool. We’ll head back.”

The other figure straightened as well and gave Penguin a small salute. “See you in a bit.”

When the door closed behind them and he was alone with Monet, Penguin sat up as far as he could go, trying to get himself closer to Monet.

“Harley,” he whispered frantically, “Harley, come on. Help me out of here and we’ll work through whatever’s going on with you.”

Her eyes were dark and whatever flashed through them when she looked down at him made Penguin’s breath catch in his throat.

“Shut the fuck up,” she hissed. “I can’t listen to your pathetic moaning anymore.”

His throat tightened up as he watched her move to the table adjacent to his. She rummaged around and opened a plastic package, then picked up a small bottle. Fear and cold, hard dread replaced the hope that had temporarily blossomed in Penguin’s chest as he watched Monet fill the syringe and turn back toward him.

“Harley,” he tried again, this time his voice was weak, unsteady. “Harley, you don’t have to do this.”

She looked into his eyes as she came close. He could see anger, and fear, and many other things through that bright, amber gaze as she slid a hand up into his hair and tilted his head to the side. He didn’t resist, and maybe that’s what caused her to hesitate. Maybe the fact that he just let her do what she needed to do without any more questions or pleas.

Her hand settled on his shoulder, getting ready to plunge the needle into his neck.

“This isn’t you…” he said softly.

He felt the sting of the needle and waited for the darkness to swallow him up.

As he made his way through a foyer and down a familiar, narrow, hall, Dalton pulled out his badge and reached up a hand to thumb open the safety strap on his shoulder holster. It was a precaution, but a necessary one. In Dalton’s experience, you needed the gun less than you didn’t, but wearing it sometimes gave you an advantage. Just the sight of it in the holster would sometimes freeze a perp in their tracks. Dalton preferred those scenarios.

In this situation, he had no idea what to expect, but he wanted to be ready for anything.

Making his way down the corridor, he realized that it was very quiet. There were no sounds of typing on keyboards, no muffled voices of admins talking on their phones. He didn’t see a single secretary or intern in any direction. He stopped and carefully opened the door of the closest office. Empty.

Where the hell was everyone?

Continuing down the hall, a heavy sense of dread started to come over him. Dalton could feel it in his gut. It tugged at him, sharpening his senses, making him slow his movements and reach for the gun in his holster. He didn’t draw, the feeling wasn’t that strong yet, but he knew it was very likely to come to that.

Every office along the hall was empty. Where was everyone? It was like someone had pulled the fire alarm.

When he finally reached Hogback’s door, that feeling of dread had finally gotten strong enough that he pulled his gun and thumbed the safety. He held the piece in a steady, on-handed grip, and pushed the office door open with his other hand. Inside was dark, save for the light that still filtered in from the window through the blinds. The office was as he remembered it: cold, uninviting, fundamentally clinical. He took note of a scatter of papers on the floor by the desk, probably knocked over in someone’s haste to leave.

Disappointed and still on edge, Dalton straightened and started to turn around. He meant to head back down the hallway, when he saw a flash of blond in the reflection of the office window. He whirled around and had just enough time to block a vase that was coming down on him with enough force to shatter across his forearm. Bits of glass flew in all directions, and Dalton looked down into a pale face and a pair of dead, dark eyes. It was Hogback’s assistant. What was her name?

He was so stunned that when the woman turned and started to run away, Dalton just started after her for several long seconds. When his wits returned, he dashed after her.

Cindry. That was her name.

Neither one of them got very far. As Cindry flew down the hallway, a tall, solid, body came into view from around the corner. With one graceful shift in stance, the figure lifted an arm to connect with Cindry’s collar. Her legs flew out from under her and she fell back, yelping and then coughing as her back hit the carpet.

Dalton closed the distance and looked up into dark eyes. Zoro was regarding him with interest, one eyebrow cocked. He was dressed in a set of blue scrubs and had a medical ID hanging from a lanyard around his neck.

Zoro’s voice was soft when he said, “You were chasing her so…”

From behind Zoro came an aggravated growl and then Sanji appeared, dressed in a doctor’s white lab coat. He too had a medical ID around his neck.

“Holy shit, Zoro, what did you do?”

Zoro shrugged. “She ran into my arm. Not my fault she wasn’t watching where she was going.”

Dalton chuckled and glanced down at Cindry who was grunting softly and rubbing a hand over her chest, still trying to recover from being clotheslined. Bending down, Dalton rolled her over, clasped her hands behind her back, and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

“Hogback still here?”

“No,” she sounded unphased, like the fact that she was being handcuffed didn’t bother her at all. It was slightly unsettling, but Dalton remembered that was sort of a default when it came to this woman.

“Where are all the people that work on this floor?”

Cindry made a motion with her head. “That way. We tied them up in the large conference room.”

Sighing, Dalton lifted Cindry to her feet and started to lead her down the hall. Zoro and Sanji followed. “I need to ask this one some questions,” Dalton said. “If you could check on the hostages and maybe start untying them, that would be great. Just don’t let them leave.”

“No problem,” Sanji said. “You calling for real backup now?”

“I don’t have any other options.” As Dalton guided Cindry into a small office, he glanced at Zoro and Sanji and grinned. “By the way, where’d you get the disguises?”

Zoro snorted. “There’s a couple of doctors that are going to get a surprise when they come out of the showers.”

Suppressing another laugh, Dalton said, “I want to ask if you’ve ever done this before, but I’m actually worried what you might say.”

“Aw,” Sanji scoffed, “don’t sweat it. We’ve never snuck into a hospital pretending to be doctors before. Right?” He looked over at Zoro who grinned.

Zoro seemed to think for a moment. “Yeah, I think last time we did this we were pretending to be dead.”

It was chaos at the Hogback mansion. After breaking in, barely a minute had passed before Luffy was shouting something from the other side of the house. Law heard glass shattering, and several voices all started to scream at once.

“Mother fucking…” Kidd’s voice was low and menacing, but when Law glanced in his direction, he was smiling, baring his teeth.

“Well…” Law murmured, “did you really think we were going to get through this without destroying something? I mean, we brought Luffy with us.”

Kidd growled low but shrugged his shoulders and nodded.

Drake had disabled the alarm, and the group had moved into the house without a problem. While Luffy’s group threw caution to the wind and made a ruckus like their goal was to break everything in sight, Law and Kidd, along with Bonnie and Bepo, made their way up the stairs.

On the second floor, they found a library, a spa, a guest bedroom, and at the very end of the hall, a study. No goons, however, so Bonnie turned and rushed down the stairs to help the others. Law moved into the study and sat down in front of the computer and switched it on.

“This’ll take a minute.”

Kidd nodded to him and motioned to Bepo to watch the hallway, then he moved in front of the desk and leaned against it, arms crossed. This effectively placed him between Law and the door.

“You gonna be my shield while I do this?” Law couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice.

Kidd was silent for a moment, and then said softly over his shoulder, “Yeah.”

The amount of obvious sincerity in that one word was enough to humble Law completely. He lowered his gaze, unable to look Kidd in the eyes anymore. He felt heat creep up into his cheeks and he shook his head.

“Shut up. You’re disgusting.”

He heard Kidd’s low chuckle just before another crash from downstairs rocked the house.

“Look,” Dalton said, “we can do this the easy way and you can tell me what I want to know, or we can do it the hard way.”

Cindry was sitting in a chair, handcuffed, and staring blankly at something over Dalton’s left shoulder. Zoro and Sanji had untied the hostages and were still helping them settle down. Sanji was giving out water and Zoro was making sure there were no serious injuries.

“I’ve got officers coming to pick you up. They’re going to take you to the precinct and you’ll be in interrogation for hours, maybe even days.” Dalton rubbed a hand over his face and pulled his chair closer to her. “I just want something concrete. Where is he? Where was your boss headed when he left here?”

For the first time that Dalton could remember, Cindry’s eyes cleared, and she turned her gaze directly to Dalton.

“If I roll over on my boss, what can you give me?” she asked.

Dalton shrugged. “I can probably get you immunity.” That wasn’t a lie, not completely.

Cindry seemed to think about it all for only a few seconds before he sighed.

“All right. Doctor Hogback is Frankenstein. He’s got a bunch of people waiting at his mansion just in case someone decides to look for him there, but he’s probably at his lab.”

“Where’s the lab?”

“A warehouse in Kent. Unfortunately, I don’t know exactly where, but I do know the code to get in. Might make things easier for you and your guys.”

Dalton pulled out his phone. “What’s the code.”

She gave him the code and he stood, making his way out into the hall. Frantically flipping through his contacts, Dalton hoped that Law and his guys hadn’t killed anyone yet.

This whole thing was fucking insane.

The Luffy kid was a maniac and unfortunately Bartolomeo didn’t seem to give any fucks about how much shit they were going to be in later. Also, Shachi had a feeling that he might be hallucinating parts of what was happening because it just wasn’t physically possible. Luffy was what, five eight? A buck ten? There was no way he was throwing punches at dudes that were three times his size and sending them flying across the room. There was just no way.

Also, why was everyone so good at fighting? Was there a memo he had missed? Was he supposed to be taking kung fu classes on his days off? What the hell was going on?

Shachi was good in a pinch. He and Penguin had gotten into a scrape or two back home in Portland, and Shachi was proud to say that he had held his own. But that was just a few small street fights. This? This was like a Battle Royale. Any minute now Kitano Takeshi was going to come out from behind something and blow up all their collars.

Also, also? Shachi might have eaten one too many double cheese pizzas and missed going to the gym a few hundred times over the last few years. He was not in the correct shape for this, a little too “round” might be the word. He was made for hugs, not… choking people out or doing flying knee slams into big, beefy hired thugs—okay, full disclosure, that was cool. The thing Killer just did with the knees, wow.

A tall, lanky man in a dark suit and leather gloves appeared at Shachi’s right, swinging his fist. Shachi turned and ducked at the last second, and the man’s arm just grazed the top of his head, knocking his hat to the floor.

“Okay,” Shachi said, “that was rude.”

He grabbed a ceramic bowl from a display on the shelf and slammed it down on the thin man’s head. He crumpled to the floor, one small trail of blood ran from his forehead down over his nose.

“Sorry, not sorry,” Shachi said before he picked up his hat and moved into the living room.

Luffy was there, pounding his fists into a giant of a man. At first, it didn’t seem like Luffy had a chance, he was just too small, didn’t have the leverage. But then, the big guy doubled over, huffed out a single wheezing breath, and dropped to his knees.

Not even breathing that hard, Luffy checked his knuckles and wiped some of the blood he found there on his shirt. From where Shachi was standing, it didn’t look like the blood was his.

“Where’s Hogback?” Luffy said, his voice was calm, clear.

The giant groaned and wrapped his arms around his stomach but said nothing.

Luffy spit to the side, and that time, there was blood.

“I said, where’s Hogback?”

“Luffy!” Bartolomeo shouted from across the room. Shachi turned and found the man holding two of the thugs by their collars. They were out cold and limp in Bartolomeo’s hands.

“I didn’t get much out of ‘em before they passed the fuck out! How long we got before we have to get the hell outta here?”

Luffy shrugged his shoulders. “Five minutes?”

From around the corner Killer and Drake appeared dragging another few unconscious bodies. One was bloody but not enough for Shachi to start freaking out.

“Luffy!” Bonnie shouted from behind Drake. “I don’t think Hogback’s here!”

Knowing they needed to get out of here, and quick, Shachi turned and headed for the stairs. When he made it to the second floor, he found Bepo waiting for him.

“You okay, Shachi?” he asked.

Shachi nodded, “Just peachy. Where’s Law?”

Bepo motioned with his head, and as he did, Law and Kidd emerged from the room at the end of the hall.

“You got something?” Shachi asked.

Law nodded. “Hogback’s dumping money into an old warehouse in Kent. I think it was some kind of meat packing warehouse or something. It’ll take about fifteen, maybe twenty minutes to get there.”

As if that had been a cue of some kind, Law’s phone buzzed loudly in his pocket. Law pulled it out and his eyes widened when he saw the name on the screen.

“Dalton?” he said into the receiver. “Yeah, we’re here, but Hogback… Yeah… Oh shit, really? Yeah, we got an address. It’s about twenty minutes from here. We should be there around the same time.”

Shachi listened to the rest of the one-sided conversation until Law said, “thank you” and hung up.

“What’s happening?” Shachi asked.

“Dalton has a code to get into the place we’re headed.” Law turned to Kidd. “Have Killer and the others move the assholes downstairs somewhere else. If there’s no one here, there’s no witnesses. We can cover our tracks.”

For a moment, Kidd stood looking at Law, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “You takin’ over?” he finally asked.

Law froze, his eyes widening. He looked up at Kidd and straightened, his hands running over the front of his shirt, the way he always had when he had been younger and nervous.

“Oh… sorry, Kidd, I didn’t mean—”

“—It’s okay,” Kidd cut him off. “It’s always worked out better that way.”

Shachi watched his brother and marveled at the way his eyes darkened when he spoke to Kidd, how his voice changed. It was remarkable. Kidd was literally the most terrifying person Shachi had ever known, but Law seemed to almost… depend on him? Maybe that wasn’t quite right, if Penguin were here he could explain it better.

Speaking of Penguin.

Shachi took a step closer to his brother, his voice only slightly trembling because he was about to interrupt their moment and holy shit this was scary and probably going to get him punched in the face—

“We should head out.”

Law seemed to snap out of whatever kind of trance he was in and turned to him. “Sorry. Yeah, let’s get going. Go help Killer and the others. I’ll—”

“—Oh hell no,” Shachi put up his hands. “You think I’m gonna stay here and play mob thug? No way, I’m going with you.”

Bepo came close to stand by his side. “I am too,” he said simply, “and no offence, boss, but you can’t stop me.”

Law looked at the two of them, and then glanced at Kidd, who was still smiling. From the looks of it, whatever silent thing had passed between the two of them had put Kidd’s mood somewhere in the stratosphere, and that seemed to make Law feel better. When he turned back to Shachi, he nodded.

“Okay, let’s get going.”

Penguin lay tense and terrified, waiting for that darkness to take over. He waited for the blackness to swallow him and send him falling back into that nothingness from which he would probably never wake up from again.

But after a few long moments, seconds that seemed like hours, he realized that darkness was not coming. He could still feel the cold of the table against his back, the hard bite of the restraints tearing into his arms and legs.

He slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the harsh fluorescents that were still buzzing defiantly above his head. He turned his gaze to the pale skin of a wrist, a hand that was fisted in his hair. He could see the syringe protruding from his neck, and long, slender fingers curled around the stopper. Black fingernails shone like the polished surface of a car in the light.

With effort, Penguin made himself turn his head, crane his neck to see of he could piece together what was happening, and what he saw threatened to break his heart.

Monet was crying. Angry tears ran down her cheeks and her shoulders shook with silent sobs.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

Penguin wet his lips, or tried to, his mouth was very dry. “It’s okay… It’s okay, don’t cry.”

Another sob escaped her and she loosened her grip on his hair. “I don’t want this. I never wanted this. I had no fucking idea this was what he was doing. When I was sent here all I was supposed to do was watch the goddamn traffic that came down from Canada. I never wanted to get mixed up in all of this fucking serial killer bullshit!”

Filing the trafficking comment away for another time, Penguin lifted his head to bring his lips closer to her face. His breath may have trembled a bit but he looked at her dead on, eyes steady.

“Then get me out of these and we’ll get the hell outta here!”

She looked at him with mounting surprise and fear. “I can’t, he’ll kill me. He’ll tell…” she trailed off, shook her head. “I can’t.”

“You can!” Penguin growled. “You can do anything you fucking want! You wanna get out of this? Take these off of me! I’ll kill anyone that tries to hurt you!”

Her jaw was clenched tight but her tears had stopped. She was studying him with something like wonder, maybe a little curiosity. Slowly, she pulled the needle from his neck, and released his hair. She patted it down and trailed her fingers down his temple.

“I undo these restraints, you escape, and I’ll still go to jail for being a part of all this shit.”

Penguin shook his head. “As far as anyone knows, you got taken right along with me. That’s the only version of the story I’ll ever tell, and they’ll believe me.”

Straightening, Monet looked at the needle in her hand, and then back down at him. Seconds ticked by, and then she moved. She dropped the needle on the floor and started undoing the buckle on his right arm. When the arm was free, she left him to undo his left while she went to unbuckle the strap across his chest, and then his feet.

Penguin’s muscles protested as he sat up and threw his legs to the side. Pain shot up from the bottoms of his feet when he lowered himself to the floor, but Monet was already there, slipping his arm around her shoulders.

“Lean on me,” she said softly.

“Where are my clothes?” he asked.

“Next room.”

When Penguin was dressed, he turned and froze. Monet had his gun in her hands. She wasn’t pointing it at anything, but the sight of it in her grasp made his stomach drop for a moment. There was still a chance she was playing him.

But she had undone his restraints. If she was really trying to mess with him, why had she given him the upper hand by setting him free?

She could be giving him false hope only to shut him down yet again by holding him at gunpoint.

Fuck.

But then she handed him the gun and his breath returned to his lungs. He took it and watched her push a lock of hair behind her ear nervously.

“You’re really going to help me?” she asked softly.

Instead of answering her, he took her hand, pulled her close, and kissed her. It was sweet and maybe a little desperate, but holy shit it was great.

When he pulled away he was smiling. She scoffed and cocked an eyebrow at him.

“What?” she asked.

He leaned in again, excitement building in his chest.

“This is like a movie.”

She rolled her eyes and turned, pulling him out of the room.

They made their way down a dark corridor. The smell of rust and rot was heavy on Penguin’s tongue as he led Monet around a corner at her direction. He held the gun at the ready in a steady, two handed grip, making sure the way was clear before they moved on. Somewhere in the distance, or perhaps somewhere deeper in this building, Penguin could hear the whirring of a large machine. He couldn’t identify what it was, but it was loud, and electric.

He stopped when he heard voices and pressed Monet against the wall, a finger to his lips. They listened for a few moments and Monet whispered, “I think the boss might be back. Shit! I wasn’t expecting him for another hour or two.”

He still couldn’t believe that nerd Caesar was behind this. That asshole hadn’t seemed like he was capable of killing a spider. Blowing up a small country? Yes. Murdering people first hand? No.

Monet was looking at him. “We have to get out of here before they get to the control room. They’ll be able to see us on the monitors.”

Penguin nodded and pulled her down the hall.

Just before they turned the next corner, Penguin saw a shadow and skidded to a stop. He moved back and pressed Monet up against the wall again. The voices they heard coming toward them were familiar, deep.

“The Yeti brothers,” Monet said softly.

“Yeti?” Penguin asked.

Monet shrugged.

The voices were getting closer, and Penguin knew they needed to move before they were seen. He took Monet’s hand and pulled her back the way they had come. She followed easily, staying as close to him as she could. When they neared a familiar interchange, they heard another set of voices and slid to a halt.

“Boss isn’t gonna like it. He’s got specific plans for that one.”

“Hogback is a hooligan. A nobody. This obsession he has with cutting people up is going to get all of us killed.”

Penguin’s blood turned to ice and he turned to look at Monet.

“Hogback?” he whispered. “Caesar is working with Hogback!?”

Monet made a face. “No! He’s not working with Caesar! Caesar’s a moron, I told you that. Hogback’s working with—”

A loud clang sounded from somewhere ahead, startling them. They both crouched, and Penguin backed them up a few steps. They heard shouting, and suddenly there was a harsh beeping that grated against Penguin’s ear drums.

“Holy shit,” he said wincing.

“They’ve discovered we’re gone.”

Penguin looked at her and thought as quickly as he could. He got to one knee and motioned for her to come closer.

“I’ll throw you over my shoulder. Act like I knocked you out, just in case they catch us.”

“That’s stupid!” she cried. “How would you have gotten out of your restraints!?”

“Come one,” he motioned for her again, “just work with me.”

She rolled her eyes and came forward, draping herself over his shoulder. When Penguin stood, he was surprised, she seemed to weigh next to nothing. Of course, that could have just been his adrenaline.

He moved down the corridor, checking the corners as best he could, moving as quickly and as quietly as possible. When he saw the exit sign in the distance, he huffed out a surprised gasp and patted Monet’s thigh. Or, maybe the back of her knee? He wasn’t trying to cop a feel, swear.

The exit glowed brighter the closer they got to it. He could see the light from the outside through a crack under the door. Just another thirty feet and they would be free. They could run, get to a phone, hail down a car on the closest road.

A gunshot sounded from behind them and Penguin froze. Monet tensed but stayed limp across his shoulder.

“Where do you think you’re going?” a voice asked.

Penguin turned and saw a tall man at the end of the hall. He had long blond hair, a thick beard, and wore something like a turban on his head. The gun in his hand was pointed at the ceiling, but when Penguin turned around fully, the man lowered the weapon to point it directly at him.

“Boss is looking for you two,” the man said.

“Shit,” Money said softly, “Absalom.”

There weren’t a lot of options, but Penguin still tried to think of a way to get Monet to the door. If he could at least get her out, maybe she could go for help. All he really wanted now, besides stopping this fucking insanity, was to keep Money alive and safe.

“He’s not a great shot,” Monet said at his back, “if you zig-zag you could probably make it to the door.”

“No fucking way,” Penguin said under his breath. “I’m not risking him hitting you.”

“He’d never hit me. He wants to fuck me more than you do.”

Doubt it, Penguin thought, but he didn’t say it. “You really want me to try for the door?”

“Yes! Go!”

Penguin let out a breath and shook his head. “Shit.”

He lifted his hand and shot two rounds down the hall. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hit anything, it was too dark and he was still a little fuzzy from the drugs, he just wanted a distraction. Absalom dove out of the way and around the corner. Penguin took the chance and turned around, sprinting for the door. His feet pounded on the tiles, his lungs strained with the effort. They had only a few more feet, just a few more. They could make it.

The door opened.

Penguin skidded to a halt, almost throwing Monet off his shoulder.

The light momentarily blinded him, and when his eyes started to adjust, to focus, his heart leapt up into his throat, choking him. He couldn’t breathe.

There were at least four people waiting for them outside, all large, all armed, and at the forefront, was Hogback himself. He stood in the doorway, grinning, his teeth flashing in the darkness of his silhouette. He had a large knife in his hand, something surgical, with a looped handle and serrated blade.

It was a fucking bone saw.

Penguin took a breath and lifted the gun, trained it on Hogback’s forehead.

“Ah ah ah,” Hogback said in that grating, high-pitched voice. How had he not recognized it before? “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Penguin had enough of his courage left to sneer. “Oh yeah? Why not?”

That terrible smile widened.

“Because, you might hit something you don’t want to.”

At this, Hogback reached out and pulled a small figure from the arms of someone standing behind him. Brown, curly hair was matted with blood, freckled skin was ashen, dark brown eyes looked out at Penguin with terror and anguish.

Penguin’s heart stopped.

“Ch… Chopper?”

“I’m sorry,” Chopper cried. His lips were trembling, his hands, bound in front of him were shaking. His fingernails were bloody.

Panicked, Penguin lowered the gun, thumbed the safety, and set the piece on the floor. He hated that he had to do it, but there was no other choice. When he stood, he felt movement behind him and Monet was pulled from his shoulder. He didn’t have time to turn before something hit the back of his head. Falling to the floor, pain exploded from inside his skull and stars danced across his vision.

Hogback laughed and came close, throwing Chopper to the floor beside him. Penguin tried to reach out and grab him, touch him, let him know he wasn’t alone, but he was too groggy, he couldn’t make his hands work.

“All right, kiddies,” Hogback’s terrible voice was playful, disgustingly jovial.

“Take them to the lab. I’m ready to work.”

Penguin slumped on the floor, his face turned towards Chopper. As his vision started to go, he looked up into Chopper’s face. His eyes were full of tears, but his lips moved slowly. Penguin struggled to understand, his own eyes rolling up into his head.

Just before he blacked out again, he realized what Chopper was trying to say.

It’s okay, they’re coming.

TBC

Chapter Text

Chopper: Are you ok? What’s happening?

Dalton: We caught Hogback’s assistant

Chopper: At the hospital?

Dalton: Yes. She was waiting for us

Chopper: Be gentle with her. I know she’s weird but she’s been through a lot

Dalton: I will
Dalton: Are you okay?

Chopper: Yes I talked to Smoker. I transferred all the data to his office and
gave him the details of our search

Dalton: Good
Dalton: Law?

Chopper: I sent Kidd the address
Chopper: I have no idea what your guys are going to find when they get there
Chopper: The house could be burned down
Chopper: A doorway to another dimension may have opened
Chopper: You never know with my friends

Dalton: I’d be fine with any of that if we can end this

Chopper: You’ll get him

Dalton: Stay safe. I’ll call you later

Dalton: I think Law found Hogback’s lab. We’re on our way there now
Dalton: Hey if I don’t hear from you before we get there I just wanted to
say I love you
Dalton: And don’t worry we’ll be ok

“Do you want me to drive?”

Dalton turned to Sanji, who was sitting in the passenger seat of the SUV, and shook his head. “No, sorry.” He set his phone on the dash and tried to focus on the road. “I just haven’t heard from Chopper in a while.”

“How long?” Sanji asked.

Dalton shrugged, “Since before I questioned the assistant. I’m sure he’s just talking to Smoker or something. The precinct’s probably in an uproar right now.”

A soft grunt sounded from the backseat and Dalton snuck a glance at the rearview mirror. Zoro was sitting with his eyes closed, arms folded, and a thick, nylon case was resting in his lap. Dalton had only one guess as to what was in the case and took a brief moment to wonder if Zoro took his swords with him everywhere, or if he had somehow known that he was going to need them today.

“He’s at the precinct?” Sanji asked.

“I’m assuming so. He said he handed the findings from our search over to Smoker. So, unless Smoker came and got them at the morgue…”

Sanji nodded and looked down at his phone. “Nami’s watching the club while Kidd and the others are gone. She said Luffy went with them so this could go… well, it could go a lot of ways.”

“You’ll get your guy,” Zoro said quietly, “but there’s gonna be a lot of paperwork.”

“Paperwork?” Dalton asked.

“Property damage,” Sanji and Zoro said at once.

“Oh, well,” Dalton sighed, “I can handle that.”

Law’s head ached, and the muscles in his back and neck were sore. There didn’t seem to be a comfortable position to sit in as he watched the road race by out the Chrysler’s window. Road signs came and went, too fast to read. They were cruising along at ten or fifteen over the speed limit, sailing towards an unsure confrontation, and Law’s nerves were so shot he was trembling. He wanted a cigarette.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Nick and the very real possibility that they were going to be too late. If they were, he was never going to forgive himself. Regardless, he was going to personally smash Hogback’s face in. The things that monster had done, the people he had hurt, and now? He was going after Law’s people? His fucking brother? No. Hell no. Law was going to slowly crush that asshole’s skull under his shoe. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he felt the bone give way, heard the sick pop of brains as they spilled out and—

“Traf?”

Blinking, Law turned to Kidd, who was sitting next to him in the back seat. “What?”

Kidd’s eyes were hard around the edges, but they were also studying him carefully, softly. It was reminiscent of when Kidd would find Law in his study in the morning after a sleepless night. He would come close, slowly measuring with that same cautious look.

“We’ll get him back,” Kidd said softly. “It’ll be okay.”

At first, Law couldn’t figure out why Kidd was acting the way he was, why his words were so gentle and comforting. Then Kidd’s eyes flashed to his lap and Law followed his gaze. There was blood. It was dripping from his clenched fist and down onto his jeans.

Letting out a breath Law relaxed his hand and found three crescent shapes stamped into his palm. He had been clenching so hard his fingernails had dug into his skin.

“Shit…” he whispered.

He made to wipe his hand on his jacket but Kidd was there, scooting closer to him on the seat, taking his wrist in a strong hand, and pulling a handkerchief from his back pocket. Dabbing at the bloody marks, Kidd’s face set in hard lines that made it impossible for Law to know what he was thinking.

Interestingly, this caused an unbelievable swell of nostalgia to rise up in Law and wash over him completely. He felt his chest getting tight, and the parts of him that had been so tense they had started to cramp began to loosen. The pain in his back eased, and he relaxed against the seat.

“This is my fault,” he said.

Kidd scoffed softly, “I’d love to hear how you came to that conclusion.”

“Nick didn’t want to go out and I made him,” Law’s voice was just this side of wavering, and he hated it. “He wanted to work, to do his search for medical records and I didn’t give a shit. I took him to the club and then just left him. If I hadn’t… If I’d just left him alone to do his thing he wouldn’t have been taken. Hell, he might have even figured this all out sooner and there’d be officers on the way to arresting this dickbag and no hostages at all but everything’s so fucking fucked up because—”

“—‘Cause you wanted to go out one night with your brother?” Kidd interrupted.

Law clamped his mouth shut over another stream of things he wanted to say, and stared hard down at his bloody hand, now wrapped in the handkerchief.

“We don’t know anything for sure,” Kidd whispered. “Penguin was a target and this was probably in the works for a long time. They could have snatched him at his apartment, on the way to the morgue, at the fuckin’ grocery store—we don’t know. This ain’t your fault any more than it’s mine.”

Law shook his head. “This is all just so fucked up. Everyone close to me gets hurt.”

“Hey,” Kidd took Law’s jaw in his hand and lifted his face until their eyes met. “What about me? I ain’t dead.”

“You’ve been hurt most of all!” Law growled. “Don’t sit there and tell me you wouldn’t be better off not knowing me because that’s such a crock of—”

“—Shut up,” Kidd’s voice was rough, dangerous in a way Law recognized. He shut his mouth again reluctantly and let a harsh, trembling breath out as Kidd’s hand moved from his chin to the back of his neck.

“You’re such a fuckin’ idiot sometimes,” Kidd said. “You think you being in my life has made it worse? What the fuck kind of universe are you livin’ in? You’ve always, always been the thing that keeps me from goin’ completely fucking crazy. You’ve stopped me from goin’ off the deep end more times than I can count. Kept me from goin’ so far I can’t ever be...” he stopped and took a breath. He seemed to be searching for words for a moment before he continued, and Law felt himself losing his breath. “I’m a fucking bad guy in this story I know that, but I’m workin’ on it, and I wouldn’t be where I am today without you. So, don’t fuckin’ talk about how you bein’ in my life made it worse cause that’s the real crock of shit.”

Law reached up and put his hands on Kidd’s chest, curled his fingers in the thick fur of Kidd’s jacket and took another slow, deep, breath. Kidd’s words had calmed him and focused his thoughts a bit.

“But Nick…”

“We’ll find Penguin,” Kidd said softly. “We’ll find him, and he’ll be okay.”

Law set his jaw and stared hard into Kidd’s eyes. “And if he isn’t?”

Kidd came close, his hand still at the back of Law’s neck. “Then we’ll lay out everyone Hogback’s working with, and I will personally put that fucker on a platter for you to do with as you please.”

It was not relief that lifted some of the weight from Law’s shoulders, but it was close to it. He leaned in and tucked his forehead into Kidd’s throat, just underneath his jaw. He breathed in deep, savoring the familiar smell and closed his eyes. Strong arms came around him and he relaxed into the embrace.

“We’ll find him,” Kidd said into his hair. “We’ll get him back.”

They road like that for a few minutes, just breathing each other in until Bepo spoke from the driver’s seat.

“Hey boss, we’re here.”

Chopper’s pulse thudded loudly in his ears. He could feel it in his throat and at the back of his mouth. Worried that it was threading much too fast, Chopper took a few seconds to glance at the clock above the shelf along the far wall. The time read quarter past six o’clock, which was wrong but it didn’t matter at the moment. He counted the palpitations he felt in his throat as the second hand ticked away.

Yeah, it was too fast, he needed to calm down, if not for his own sake, then for Penguin’s.

How had this happened? One minute he had been headed back to the morgue from the precinct, and the next, he was being grabbed and thrown into a large, black van like in some gangster movie. They had tied his hands behind his back, and thrown an old, musty bag over his head. That last part had been unnecessary, there wasn’t any way Chopper was going to see where they were going, the back of the van had been dark and closed off from the cab.

“Don’t struggle,” a calm, almost soothing voice had said close to his ear, “there’s no point.”

Chopper knew there was no point. This wasn’t his first rodeo.

Now, tied to a chair, in what seemed like an examination room cobbled together out of hospital castaways, Chopper took inventory: a cooler hooked up to the wall underneath a large, window looking into an observation area, a prep table with various tools laid out on top, a surgery light overlooking a morgue table set up in the center of the room complete with patient restraints. The table was where they had placed Penguin.

There was dried blood on the detective’s upper lip from a previous nosebleed, and the left side of his face was bruised along the lower curve of his eye socket. The most recent blow to the head had knocked him unconscious but only for about a minute. He had started struggling before they had even gotten him out of the hall. He had growled at his captors, snarled all kinds of things ferociously, as if he were not the captive but the captor.

“You got the right to remain silent, motherfucker,” he had spat as one very large man had strapped in his left arm. “Hey, come closer, pretty boy,” he hissed as he tried to kick the bearded one away, “I bet that hair of yours smells really nice. What do you use, Aveda? Dove?”

When he was completely restrained, he stopped struggling and lay still, glancing around the room, apparently taking an inventory as Chopper had just done.

“I’m so fucking thirsty,” Penguin said, “anyone got a Sprite? A Fanta maybe?”

“Can we shut him up?” the bearded man asked, his face was stony, but it did nothing to hide the annoyance in his voice.

The large man at the cooler shrugged. “Just don’t kill him yet.”

The bearded one moved and punched Penguin in the face, hard enough to knock the detective’s head to the side. Penguin made a noise like a cough and spat blood onto the table, his dark hair had fallen into his eyes clouding his expression. Chopper wanted to call out to him, worried the blow had been hard enough to daze him, but after only a few seconds, Penguin was turning his head and pulling himself into a half sit up.

“Hey where’s your girlfriend?” he asked the bearded one. “She almost gave me the slip. Hope I didn’t hurt her too b—”

The bearded one punched him again, and this time Penguin’s head stayed to the side.

“Shut the hell up,” the bearded man growled, “she’s doin’ just fine. She’s gonna love watching you get pulled apart.”

Chopper saw Penguin’s eyes close and his jaw clench tightly in, what, relief?

“Just do me a favor and stop your yappin’ until Hogback comes in, yeah?” the bearded one clapped the larger man on the shoulder and they both headed for the door. “You can make all the noise you want to then.”

When the door closed behind them, Chopper turned to Penguin. They were only a few feet from each other, but it wasn’t close enough to really assess the damage. Penguin’s eyes were still closed and his breathing was normal, but the blood had started to run from his nose again.

“Penguin?” Chopper said, “Penguin, look at me.”

Slowly, Penguin’s eyes opened and he looked in Chopper’s direction. When their gazes met Chopper felt a painful blow to his heart. Penguin’s eyes were filled with tears, a tiny trickle of them had escaped and was now trailing down from the corner of his eye, to his temple, and then disappearing into his hairline.

“Sorry, Chopper,” he said softly. He licked his lips slowly and grunted in pain. “I don’t know if I can keep it together much longer.”

“Stop thinking about that,” Chopper said, his doctor’s voice steady. “Look at me and recite the alphabet backwards.”

Penguin made a face. “What? I don’t think I could do that even if I hadn’t been clocked in the head nine-hundred times in the last twenty-four hours.”

Chopper rolled his eyes and tried again. “Okay, name all four Ninja Turtles.”

“Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael, and Michelangelo.”

“Name five Scorsese films.”

“Casino, Gangs of New York, Taxi Driver, Goodfellas, and Wolf of Wallstreet.”

“Okay, I don’t think you have a concussion.”

Penguin made another face, but this time it was more playful than the last. “Man, I could have told you that.”

“How the hell would you know if you have a concussion or not?” Chopper asked.

“I’m not sleepy,” Penguin answered. “The last thing I wanna do right now is sleep.”

Chopper made one of the noises he was sure he always made when he was talking to Luffy and shook his head. “That’s not… you know what? Never mind. We have to think of a way out of here.”

At that moment, the dim lights in the observation room flickered and then turned on. Chopper straightened and lifted his head, watching as two tall men in strange hats entered the tiny room. Their faces were mostly shadowed, but Chopper could see their dead, hollow eyes staring out at him through the window.

Then a tall woman entered the room behind them. She was stunningly beautiful, with light brown hair and bright amber eyes. Chopper held his breath for a moment and then leaned back down to whisper softly to Penguin.

“Monet is here.”

Penguin’s body stiffened and his eyes cleared, turned sharp. His face was turned away from the window, and Chopper was sure even if he twisted as far as he could go, he wouldn’t be able to see their observers if he tried.

“Is she okay?” he whispered back, almost too quiet for Chopper to hear.

Chopper nodded and looked back up. Monet was watching him with an unreadable expression, but her eyes were focused intensely on Chopper’s face. “She’s in the observation room with two guys wearing stupid hats. One’s got a gas mask on.”

“Yeti brothers.”

“What?”

“Never mind,” Penguin shook his head. “Chopper, come here.”

Chopper leaned in as close as he could and Penguin looked at him with an expression that was sad, but also determined. He had seen that look before, on Law. It was the look Law always wore when he knew he was out of options.

Penguin’s voice was barely a breath, so quiet that Chopper had to strain to hear it. “Whatever happens to me, you have to make sure Harley gets out of this. When the others get here, whatever shit’s going down, just get to her and get her out.”

Chopper frowned. “Don’t talk like you’re—”

“—You fucking promise me, Chopper.”

The door opened, and before Chopper looked up to see what they were in for next, he leaned in again and whispered.

“I promise.”

When he did finally look up, Hogback was there in the doorway, grinning his terrible, sharp-toothed grin.

“Hey, Smoker!”

Smoker sighed into the phone and ran a hand through his hair. “What’s up Luffy? I’m a little busy.”

“Oh, I know, sorry. I was just wondering if you wanted a message from Dalton.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Smoker counted to five and then said, “Sure, what is it?”

There was rustling on the other end of the phone, and Smoker did his best to keep himself calm. Over the years he had learned that things involving the Portgas brothers usually played out in his favor, he just had to be patient.

“Hi, I’m back, sorry, this Oz guy’s a little too big for Killer’s trunk.”

Smoker pointedly ignored that. He just let it slide. If Dalton had a message for him, he was going to get it, god damnit.

“Okay, where was I? Oh yeah! Dalton’s message. Uh, you need to get to the abandoned meat-packing warehouse in um… Kent? I think it’s Kent. Killer has the address, can he text it to you?”

“Yes he can send it,” Smoker’s dismay was mounting. If Dalton left this info with Luffy, that meant he was probably trying to give Law and the others a window. “What’s at this warehouse?”

“Um, Penguin? I think?”

Smoker nodded even though he knew the kid couldn’t see it. “Thanks Luffy, we’ll head there as soon as we get the address.”

“Cool! See ya’ later, old man!

Smoker hung up and turned his face up to the sky. There had been nothing left at Hogback’s residence but a lot of broken furniture and a few drops of blood on the floor. Would there be anything left for them at all at this warehouse?

Smoker sure hoped so.

Penguin’s throat was raw and there was a ringing in his ears. He had heard the door open but he held Chopper’s gaze, desperate to hear the words from Chopper’s lips.

“I promise.”

Penguin let out a breath and finally relaxed back onto the table. He was once again under the fluorescent light, so all he could see when the door opened was a round silhouette.

The laugh that accompanied it though was unmistakable.

“Hello friends,” Hogback sneered, “welcome to my operating room.”

Anger boiled in Penguin’s gut and he twisted toward Hogback’s frame. “We aren’t your friends.

“Our colleagues already know it’s you, Hogback,” Chopper said, and Penguin was impressed at the calm, controlled anger in Chopper’s voice. “It’s over.”

Hogback laughed again and he stepped into the room, into the light where Penguin could see him. His eyes were wild, and his teeth were long and sharp in the wide arc of his smile. It was like a nightmare and Penguin could feel his strength, as well as his courage, start to melt away.

“I’m so glad you could join us today, Chopper. I’ve wanted to show you my research for so long. I mean, it’s partially because of you that I’ve been able to do this work in the first place.”

Penguin felt a twist in his guts and he turned back to look at his friend. Chopper was sitting in the chair, arms still strapped to the armrests, but his face was calm, placid even, like whatever Hogback had to say didn’t matter.

Hogback was not deterred however, and he made his way across the room to stand beside Penguin. He ran his hands over the various instruments on the table and plucked something sharp and curved from the lineup. Penguin shuddered at the way the thing’s metal shone in the light from the fluorescent.

“After you tattled to the board about my little science experiments,” Hogback said thoughtfully, “my research was taken away, yes, but I was put in a much better position to gather what I needed. Being a doctor and being in the emergency room every day was infringing on my… hobbies.”

Penguin jerked at his restraints so he wouldn’t start crying.

“You’re sick,” he spat, “you’re fucking insane.”

Hogback’s terrible smile flashed at him and he leaned in close, his chuckle wafting across Penguin’s face in a puff of foul-smelling breath.

“I wouldn’t expect someone like you to understand what I’m doing here. That’s why I’m using you for my demonstration.” He straightened and sneered down at him.

Shuddering, Penguin pulled at his restraints again. “What demonstration? Who the fuck are you demonstrating for?”

“Why, Chopper, of course!” Hogback exclaimed. “He’s the only one I know of who will understand my vision! Once I explain to him what I’m doing, he will no doubt join me in my endeavor!”

Chopper snorted at Penguin’s side and he turned to look at his friend. Chopper’s eyes were bright, almost like they were filled with unshed tears, but the closer Penguin looked, he realized Chopper was just holding back an incredible amount of rage and it was causing his eyes to be the clearest Penguin had ever seen.

“I’ll never join you in anything,” Chopper said. “Not ever.”

Hogback laughed again, and this time he threw his head back, cackling at the ceiling. The sound grated at Penguin’s ears, trailed down his back and touched every nerve ending in his body. He wanted to crawl out of his skin, thrash his way out his bonds and throw himself off the table. Run headfirst into that round body and knock the air right out of Hogback’s lungs.

But he couldn’t move. He was helpless.

He relaxed one last time and lay back on the table. He closed his eyes and tried to picture Monet’s face in his mind. Her beautiful eyes, her sassy smile, the way her head cocked to the side when she was thinking about something interesting.

“So,” Hogback said, his voice jovial again, “are we ready?”

Penguin heard Chopper whisper once, “Please don’t do this, Hogback” before Penguin felt something cold at his shoulder.

As an afterthought, Penguin asked. “What are you taking?”

He felt Hogback lean down and that foul breath was back on his face.

“What was that?”

“What are you taking?” Penguin asked. “You take something from one victim and give it to the next.”

“Oh!” Hogback exclaimed. “Yes, I do that, but that’s just a little game I play with myself. Get back at all those people that came into the hospital for things that wasted my time. Back aches, muscle cramps, foot problems. I’m much to good of a surgeon to be bothered with those.”

Penguin couldn’t open his eyes, he was too scared, but he managed a quiet whisper. “You chose those people… took their body parts… because they wasted your time?”

“Well, yes,” Hogback said. “I would have killed them anyway for my research, but taking the parts of them that were causing them those minor problems was very entertaining for me.”

Penguin felt that cold press on his shoulder again and he froze, tensing, up. A small whimper escaped past his lips.

“So, you’re not taking something from Penguin? No trophy?”