Chapter Text
Baratie is packed on Valentine’s Day, of course.
The place is famous for the 'experiences' the customers are sold, and the staff seems just as capable of celebrating love as they do birthdays and even business dinners.
For the right price.
Albeit expensive, it’s always worth it.
Reservations must have flowed in all week, but it wasn’t all that difficult for the retired marine, as an habitual customer, to secure a spot for himself and his date, and a great one at that.
The large table is lined up against the wall in a somewhat secluded corner of the dining area, with a cut of the window which opens on the beautiful garden outside, which tonight is, oddly, filled with cats. It’s already done, shiny cutlery staring menacingly at him as he keeps his mouth occupied with the help of the bread basket.
He’s not sure what prompted him to ask the older woman out, capitalizing on a sudden joke, tonight of all nights, but the truth is no one likes loneliness when it’s a permanent fixture in their lives.
The more the house empties, the hollower his insides get. Hopefully, his late wife will forgive his weakness.
Over ten years after her death, Monkey D. Garp feels ready to enter the dating scene again, if only because he promised Sengoku he would try.
Peering at him from behind the edge of her glass of white wine, cheeks already violet from the earlier aperitif downtown, Kureha appears much more at ease than he feels.
She has been dropping Chopper at his house for their swimming sessions for months now, and over time they have grown comfortable around each other outside of the rigid parent-teacher dynamic. Even though asking her out sounded so brilliant in his head, he didn’t take into account the mandatory awkwardness people in their positions are bound to experience.
Their respective brats are the best of friends, after all.
He forgot how nice it feels to have by his side someone who understands the struggle of raising a recalcitrant teenager, although in his opinion she got a way fairer hand and Tony Tony Chopper is the most well-mannered kid he has ever met.
(Trust him, he raised four.)
“Do you eat here very often? You seem familiar with the owner”.
“Doesn’t everyone?”, he mumbles. “It’s one of the best known restaurants in town”.
“Well, I moved to Grand Line City over a year ago now, but I’ve never been here before”. Surprising him, she doesn’t look offended by the scathing remark, but giggles at it. “Seems like it’s a lot of first times with you for my family. Thank you again for taking Chopper under your wing, Garp. I don’t know what you’re doing with him, but I’ve never seen him as confident”.
“The little guy always had it in him”, Garp returns the smile, grateful for the easy conversation starter. “Sometimes you just have to get creative with how you bring out the best in your kid. Third time’s the charm? Try the fifth”.
“I’m sure by now you have realized I’m not the person who birthed him. Chopper’s my daughter’s only son…”
“Sons are of those who raise them, though. Aren’t they?”, he interrupts her. (And Dragon will always be his wife’s.) A flash of understanding curses through his brain, and his expression grows heavier as he adds, “I’m sorry for your loss, Kureha”.
“It was a long time ago”, she waves him off, “I wish I could say I didn’t do all that was in my power to help her, but I did. In the end, it was her life, her choice whom she spent it with. I told her a child wouldn’t fix her marriage, but she refused to listen to reason…”
“Was Chopper’s father that much of a mess?”
It doesn’t take a detective’s deductive skills to figure out where the story is headed. He reads similar ones in the newspaper every morning, about families torn apart by the newest evil of the century.
“Carlson’s family was… Troubled. He grew up a couple streets away from our home, and he and Freya went through all their schooling together. He had his fair pick of reasons he would start drinking”, the woman recalls, “I’ve always felt nothing but pity for him. Until his habit started ruining my daughter’s life, then my grandson’s. While I do believe people can change for the better, alcoholism isn’t something you solve only by flaunting empty promises around. I’m a fucking doctor, I would know…”
That being said, she eagerly gulps down the last of her wine.
Garp blinks at the irony of it all.
“And look at me now, taking advantage of every night I’m not on emergency call so that I can drink myself into a stupor and chase away the past”, she concludes, “I think it’s funny that I used to run the local A.A. project back in Drum”.
Her date wasn’t expecting their conversation tonight to take such serious turns, but he does empathize with her feelings of inadequacy; while their biographies don’t match, and he’s entirely responsible for Dragon’s lack of interest in mending their broken relationship, the former Vice Admiral relates immensely to the pain and resentment oozing from her voice. “I’d settle for peculiar”.
“Chopper was poorly tied to his safety seat at the moment of the accident. The makeup artist worked on her face for four hours before she started resembling herself again, but Freya agonized for almost an hour before help arrived. Carlson died on the hit, while Chopper… Chopper’s surgery had many complications. I know people say I’m overprotective, but he shouldn’t even be alive. He survived something most kids that age usually succumb to. I don’t know what I would do if I ever were to lose him”.
“You would go about your life the same way you always did, but there would be a lesser quality to it”, the man muses, drawing directly from his own experience. She seems to realize that, because she flashes him a questioning glance, at which point he adds, “I haven’t talked to my son in years”.
“How is it?” She inquires, her face lighting up a bit now that the attention is shifting to something that’s not the worst moment of her life. “Being the father of the most powerful man in the New World, I mean”.
“While we were never on the same side of the political spectrum, I’m very proud of the things he has accomplished. My navy buddies would disown me if they were here, but I approve this full-out peace project he’s got going on. No matter how irrelevant it makes us Marines”.
“Does he know?”
“I’m afraid we didn’t get the chance to have that conversation yet”, Garp demurs with a smirk.
While it makes him sad to think about Dragon, it has been the longest time since he has had someone willing to listen as he dumped his feelings on them. Sengoku got tired of it about a decade ago.
“He was elected three times”, Kureha notes, “That would sum up to what, fifteen years?”
“Roughly, yes”.
It’s a bit more than that, but he’d rather not spend the whole night dwelling on this particular topic. Whilst the tale of estranging his child would surely make a lasting impression, he wants to make a good one. “Some mistakes are harder to correct than others. Wouldn’t you concur?”
“I would”.
All and all, Garp ends up having a great time with his date.
This woman is funny, blunt, sharp-witted, and she has seemingly figured out the key to enjoying life even when everything goes tits up.
He is so impressed.
Kureha is just a couple years older, but much more mature than he can ever hope to be.
Working hard at two jobs just so that she can provide Chopper with the future he deserves and more, not to mention put aside a discreet sum to finance her gambling passion, at sixty-five years of age she’s still able to find the positive even in the direst of circumstances, bringing the fun along no matter where she goes.
About twenty minutes after their order has been taken, in the midst of the quiet stretch of time when they wait for the food, it’s with a high-pitched, unladylike snort that she almost chokes on her second glass of wine (or is it the third?), gesturing for the entrance with her free hand.
“Ah, that’s one of mine”, she muses, “Such a sweet girl, that Nefertari princess. She’s very close with our boys”.
Glancing instinctively at the door and finding the blue-haired girl right in front of it, preoccupied with disposing of her jacket, he can’t help but smile at the candor with which her eyes keep darting behind her back, most likely searching for her date.
Garp wonders what kind of young gentleman would be as cheap as to not help her with her coat or let her come into the restaurant all by herself – that’s very poor manners.
A spontaneous curse flies from his lips when the door opens again and his eyes set on the newcomer: a tangled mop of ebony locks hanging on both sides of his forehead, much taller than her and with a smile so bright it sets his freckles on fire, his grandson looks sharper than the goofy-looking kid who moved out of the house just a couple months ago.
“And he would be one of mine”, he chuckles.
The privacy of their table allows them not only to keep their conversation private, but it makes it so Kureha can turn around in her seat and take a good look at the scene before joining him in his laughter. “Ah, yes. Ace, I believe? I’ve heard the stories…”
“I swear he spent more time in Sengoku’s office than he did in class”. Watching him pull the chair out for Vivi the same way he used to do it for his late wife, you wouldn’t guess. “He can be quite reckless, but he’s a good kid”.
“You don’t have to defend him with me. I don’t like Sakazuki, I’m glad someone dared trying to take that pompous asshole down a peg or two”, Kureha is eager to rectify, “I’ll never understand why people like him end up teaching”.
“Big fish in a small pond, I guess…”
Even though he always wished his eldest grandson wouldn’t antagonize the physics professor, there’s no denying that it was always a two-way street; if all three hate him, there must be some kind of reason for it.
From this moment forward, dinner goes swimmingly well. The company is great, even more so than the excellent food, whilst the unexpected show is quite entertaining.
While he actually makes it a point not to look in Ace’s direction too much or too often, he still keeps an eye on his boy through the night as he fumbles with the technicalities of courtship.
It’s quite sweet how hard he works to be a perfect date, how focused he seems on not being awkward himself that he hasn’t even noticed the enraptured way he is being stared at from the other end of the table. If memory serves him the princess was always a bit more reserved than the rest of Luffy’s friends, which he usually attributes to her stricter upbringing, but what can his grandson have possibly said to paint that shade of red on her cheeks?
“She’s a very talented student, although she loses a bit in that she gets flustered very easily under pressure,” Kureha pipes up.
Perhaps he hasn’t been as discreet as he thought he did, but she doesn’t seem to mind him snooping.
“I’m sorry, it’s just too funny”.
“I hardly believe this is the first Valentine’s Day such a fine young gentleman celebrates”, she retorts, albeit sharing the sentiment. “But it’s refreshing to see them as people and not just as the sum of their grades from time to time”.
“Is Luffy really that bad with biology, by the way?”
“I’d dare say hopeless”.
As Garp and Kureha are delivered their desserts, the other table is served first course.
Needless to say, his grandfather isn’t proud of the way Ace jumps on the food in his plate, feasting on it like a man who was just about to die from starvation.
His date hums in amusement.
“How charming”.
Garp decides it’s best to just focus on the slice of pie sitting in front of him, cutting it into larger bites than a normal person would be able to swallow as he’s overcome by the urge to eat it as fast as possible. Albeit better mannered, his grandsons inherit their good appetite from him.
“I’m glad we did this tonight, Garp. If your boy is half as pleasant to be around as you are, I’m sure his date with the princess will be a success”.
As he steps into Baratie and notices how insanely crowded it is tonight, Ace isn’t sure reserving a table here was the best idea, but he wanted their date tonight to be perfect, an occasion to spend some quality time together and hopefully get over some of the awkwardness they’re experiencing lately, and this is the best fancy restaurant he knows that’s not too experimental.
From the way Vivi smiles at him as she sits down, he knows he has done at least one thing right.
Minimal distance has been put between one table and the next for the larger part of the dining area, but other than that the place is arranged beautifully, simple and yet unforgettable in its understated charm.
“Did I tell you I like your dress?”
Pale pink, with long sleeves of a rib-knit material on the thicker side; it hugs her body as if it was sewn directly on it, complimenting nicely the light blue of her long hair.
It doesn’t seem something he would expect to find in her closet, but it makes her look sexier than winter clothing is supposed to allow.
The princess smiles, “Twice, I think”.
Last week was weird. The more she makes things deliberately physical and sells them as casual, the harder (by all means) it’s getting for him to rein back his horses before he does something he’ll most likely regret. She’s delicate, even naïve at times, sweet in her inexperience but surprisingly mature for her age, he wouldn’t want to throw away their connection because he can’t keep it in his pants.
Only it’s starting to look as if she wants to take it out herself, but this is Vivi, how dare he even imagines…
“Something’s bothering you?”
Ace snaps back to reality, feigning a smile back. He picks up the menu, reassuring her, “Not at all. Just wondering whether I should get the Valentine’s special or my favorites. The special would probably get here sooner and be less of an inconvenience for the chef, but I’ve been craving those Takoyaki for weeks…”
Vivi lets out an amused chuckle, “I think it’s a bit late to pretend your stomach can’t accommodate both, and with plenty of space left for dessert”.
“You’re brilliant”, he exclaims, eyes sparkling with excitement.
It’s not like he doesn’t usually go for seconds of whatever he ordered, anyway; as high as the quality of the food served might be, the Baratie fits perfectly within the standards of premium cuisine: their portions are abysmally tiny.
As if on cue, the waitress approaches them, asking whether they’re ready to place their order and prompting Ace to glance inquisitively at his date, “Do you need more time to decide?”
“I’ll just have the special”, she replies, smiling at the short-haired girl who’ll be tending to their table tonight. “And another bottle of water, please”.
“Make it two specials and a good old Hurricane rush”. Ace salivates at the thought of the many dishes that compose the routine, Takoyaki included. Some people think of it more like a challenge, but he has never struggled to finish the full course before. “Thank you very much”.
He doesn’t miss the odd flutter of Vivi’s lashes as she stares oddly at him, cheeks ablaze.
“What?”
“You’re so polite”, she muses, “It’s very cute”.
It’s his time to blush as her brown gaze takes a gracious dip downward following the compliment, struggling not to preen when his feathers are being so blatantly stroked.
He was always a people’s pleaser. Nothing feels better than having his merits acknowledged, although over time he had to learn to live for himself rather than for external validation.
“You’re cute”, he winks back, “I’m serious. This color looks great on you”.
And it does. He fell in love with the way she looks just as much as he adores her personality, it would be stupid (and facetious) to lie about it, but that admiration doesn’t steam as much from her pretty face as it does from the way it’s an open book into what’s inside her mind.
“Well, thank you, Ace”, the girl says, “Red is most definitely yours”.
He can’t not believe it when she looks at him like this, brown orbs fixed on him.
There’s that air of confusion in her expression that she gets when she’s flustered, or pulls away from a kiss – if he didn’t know better, he’d say her thoughts are far from innocent as she stares him down, more like the ones he makes in the privacy of his shower.
Ace prays his food will get to him soon.
He’s starting to see things…
That’s always a bad sign, right?
As predicted, the Valentine’s specials are quick to come out of the kitchen, and, as soon as the porcelain plate touches the table, he has his cutlery ready to dive into the dish.
He all but forgets how to breathe as the different flavors explode in his mouth and he moves the food around with the help of his tongue and teeth so that he can savor them all.
Vivi doesn’t comment on his poor mannerism, and takes the first bite herself. She, too, seems rather keen on the recipe, albeit more graceful in the way she expresses her enjoyment.
“Ah,” She exhales with gusto, “I forgot how good the food here is”.
“Aren’t you guys like, scrounging off poor Sanji pretty much every week?”
“A princess doesn’t scrounge”, his girlfriend sniffs, haughtily, “It’s always Zeff’s generous idea to offer us dinner. Since I’m usually with Nami if I’m out for dinner, we haven’t been coming here a lot lately. Or at all”.
“Oh, I see”.
Not that Ace is losing any sleep over the matter, but he has been informed about the sous-chef’s impeding marriage, and its circumstances, and it’s impossible for anyone with even a shred of empathy not to form their own opinion about it.
Of course, it sucks.
“I take it you’re still avoiding him like the plague?”
“No one’s avoiding him. Even though I’m still pissed we had to find out about it from a paper, what happened wasn’t his fault”, she clarifies, “We are just trying to split our attention evenly between the two parties involved, and I happen to think Nami needs mine more than Sanji”.
So, between the lines, yes. It would appear she’s still avoiding him.
From his perspective, they should prioritize their friendship over high-school romance.
It’s like watching Sabo and Betty’s breakup unfold a second time, yet again as a powerless spectator – it almost broke their crew then. It seems like the Straw-Hats are in for a wild ride.
“Just watch your backs”, he tries to warn her, “Other teams will jump at an opportunity to drive a wedge between you before the tournament”.
“You’re speaking as if the vultures didn’t start their hunt yet. Those people are trying to mess with us since the beginning of the year. If they didn’t succeed before, then hopefully we’ll get out of this thing the same way we entered it. Together”.
“Cheers to that”, Ace lets go of the proverbial bone, improvising a mock-toast with his water.
“Besides, it’s not our schoolmates we need to watch our backs from”, the princess adds before pinching another forkful of food. Her expression becomes suddenly disgusted, as if the grossest bug which ever existed on planet earth just landed on the tip of her nose, making it its new home. “The man who tried to kidnap me last year, C-Crocodile… He got into our school”.
“Eh?! When? How?”, he hyperventilates, “Who let him in? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine”, Vivi reassures him, “He didn’t show up in person, of course. Just had something delivered to my locker. And Robin’s”.
The follow-up question must be awfully obvious on his face, because she doesn’t even give him the time to voice it before adding, “It was just a flower. He wouldn’t be as stupid as to try something inside of New Marineford. He just wants us to know he’s here and, more importantly, he's watching us”.
In the blink of an eye, her boyfriend’s appetite almost disappears completely as his stomach twists uncomfortably; he doesn’t like where this is going.
It’s bad enough a renowned, rich sociopath has beef with two teenage girls, but that he now has seemingly access to the place they should be the most protected, well, isn’t that just terrifying?
“I hope I never meet that son of a bitch. Going to prison for murder sounds like a stupid way to spend my life”.
“It won’t get that far. My father has upgraded my security over the past couple of months, Crocodile would have to tear the hotel to pieces before he can get to me there. I know Robin will be extra careful going onward, too…”
Ace doesn’t think it’s a matter of carefulness. They just need to pray the Alabastan won’t get lucky one day and stumble upon them when they aren’t somewhere as safe as their houses or school, but out in the open and vulnerable to an attack.
“He may know where we study, but it wasn’t that hard to guess, was it?”
“No, I guess it wasn’t. It was either New Marineford or Seal Bay by the coast”, he muses, his smile freezing into a perplexed frown as he notices one small detail he doesn’t like. “Why wasn’t I told about this sooner?”
“I didn’t want to make you worry unnecessarily. Like I said, everything’s under control”, Vivi replies, her voice too small to belong to someone who believes in their words. “And I wanted to tell you in person, because I can’t be sure how much data he has collected about my life. If the risk is too much for you and you want to call it quits, I… I would understand that completely”.
Wait a second…
How did this spin around so quickly?
It is not himself he is concerned about.
What could the man possibly want from him, anyway? His ass kicked?
“What? NO”, he exclaims, dark eyes bulging out of their sockets. “I would never walk out on you for something that’s so out of your control. I like you too much to let you go. That creep can get fucked”.
All thoughts of Sir Crocodile seemingly evaporate from her brain, because her lips spread out in a sweet curve. Here shows that sultry look in her eyes again as she quietly appraises him, the one that makes him wonder, before she grins, “And I like you too much to let you go, too. If Crocodile really doesn’t concern you, there’s no way in hell I’m taking my hands off you”.
She seems aware that her closing line can be misinterpreted as more sexual than she intended it, because her cheeks are several degrees warmer than the rest of her face, but upon a closer look… Perhaps she did mean it that way and there has been no misinterpretation at all on his part. In any case, there’s only one way to tell.
“Shouldn’t you get your hands on me first before you can take them off?”
Normally this would be enough to make her relent, but Vivi eagerly accepts the challenge, lowering her voice to follow up with, “Are you suggesting I do that in the middle of the restaurant? Can’t it wait for dessert?”
Ace almost chokes on his own saliva, but luckily the waitress runs to his aid once more, serving the first of the six courses which combined are known as Hurricane rush.
“Can I get the lady something else, perhaps? The maître tells me your bill has been already paid by another customer”.
The news, paired with his knowledge about the delivery-job this morning, instantly sends him into alert.
“Another customer?”, he repeats, “What the fuck?”
“Aren’t you an ungrateful little brat?”
Strong jaw, deep voice, a crisp, polished pair of black leather oxfords that match his belt, his grandfather stands in the space behind him with the verve which distinguishes him.
He has put more care than usual in his outfit, even going as far as to trim the hair growing out of his nose, not to mention the bath he must have taken in his spicier cologne to stink so much of it, but what truly baffles Ace is the woman on his arm, whose face is vaguely familiar.
“K-Kureha-sama”, Vivi hesitates.
Wait…
What is he doing at Baratie tonight, and with Tony Tony Chopper’s mom of all people?
This is so embarrassing.
“How long have you been standing there?”
Translated, how much did he hear?
“Long enough to know we shouldn’t overstay our welcome,” Garp muses, “I don’t want to spend the rest of my night worrying about yours”.
And with the vague remark he’s gone, much to the waitress’ delight, who can now return to her work and hopefully make a decent tip out of tonight’s service.
Ace remains still as rock.
Oh. My. God.
“Grandpa’s on a date?!”
The following morning at school Eustass drags his feet on the ground, headed for the coffee dispenser on his floor – that which was born as a way to provoke Bonney has now turned into something he must do against his will. Needless to say, the teen is not happy about it.
He’s not sure what kind of game the junior who paid for a date with him in five minutes is playing, and, frankly, he doesn’t care. He just wants to be left out of it.
Whatever part of her brain deduced messing with Nami would bear no repercussions, he hopes it has healed properly by now.
The hallways are alive with chattering during the mid-morning break as wave upon wave of students dances through them; many let go of their chance at sunlight to place strategically around the vending machines where the only Datespresso is going to unfold, others don’t even bother hiding their stares as he strolls past them.
By the time Kid gets where he needs to be, the area is already crowded.
Conis shows up two minutes after the appointed time, fashionably late, the smile on her face so obviously not aimed at him even as she kisses him on the cheek in greeting, but meant for her public. “Good morning, Eustass”, she toots, “Had a nice Valentine’s Day?”
Fragments from the evening before flashing in his mind, his smirk is the epitome of self-satisfaction as he nods, “Just peachy”.
The two stand awkwardly in front of the coffee machine, blocking the flow of the line. Only another senior would antagonize him over something so trivial, but none has bothered checking on the follow up to the small buzz the initiative generated yesterday over lunch, so the younger students just roll their eyes and tap the floor nervously, too scared to utter a word.
“Shall we get that coffee?”
Making it a point to appear rude with every other gesture he performs, he believes it’s fair to pay for the beverage himself since she already bought fifteen minutes of his time at a higher price than he would sell them for.
“Thank you”, the blonde sniffs, “So…”
Kid’s brow lifts up in instinctive amusement.
If she thinks he’s going to break the ice for her, she’s got another thing coming.
“It was a proper fiasco, wasn’t it?”
That picks his attention. “Uh?”
“We were just trying to collect some money for prom”, she complains, keeping her tone low and her words away from prying ears.
“Didn’t you sell all the tickets?”
“Yeah, we did. But a lot of people asked us for a refund, seeing that there are no other dates happening”. Nose curled up in displeasure, Conis tilts her head to the side, “If someone told me beforehand how the project would be received, I wouldn’t have wasted so much time on it”.
He can respect that. Time is money and no one wants to throw away theirs – yet here he is on a date with someone he never spared a second glance, discussing shit he couldn’t care less about.
Do to others as you want others to do you, uh?
Maybe she’ll learn her lesson.
Over the next ten minutes, as the pair takes an unexciting walk through the school, it doesn’t seem likely: her resentment is palpable, but not as poignant as the venom in her voice when she speaks of his ex; her words are heavy, exaggerated, they paint a picture that doesn’t match reality as Nami is torn apart piece by piece, and described as vain, superficial, cruel, too skinny, a slut.
He was under the impression those two were the best of friends.
Maybe not.
The younger girl has crossed so many lines and boundaries, Eustass doesn’t even know where to begin to redraw them. While his relationship with Nami isn’t great, or he has one at all, since the two have gone back to ignoring each other after their trip to Ohara, it still infuriates him to be bombarded with lies.
Maybe people don’t like Conis as much because this is the person she is, prone to jealousy and malicious, whose light-blue eyes sparkle at the opportunity of bringing someone else down.
She reminds him of his father and, in a sense, of the worst part of himself.
The red-haired teen believes he has finally figured out her angle when she drags him to an empty hallway, the only sound belonging to some sort of alarm that’s beeping inside a locker.
“I’m glad at least someone was man enough to go through with this thing and save us face”, the girl purrs, wrapping her free hand around his arm. Her coffee is untouched. Batting her eyelashes too slowly for the motion to be natural, she tops it all off with, “And I’m glad that someone is you”.
God, this is too hilarious to be true.
He knows for a fact she’s not really interested in him, how often she used to trash-talk him all the time back when he and Nami were a thing, and his then girlfriend reported every word; in hindsight, perhaps he can’t blame someone who called themselves his ex’s friend if they thought badly of him, because he deserved it, but Eustass will never accept a lecture on morality by the likes of such a viper.
She just reeks of falsity.
“I wouldn’t congratulate myself just yet if I were you”, he warns her, “I’m here because I wanted to have a laugh at the expense of whomever ended up being as stupid as to think that they could waste my time, slandering a dear friend of mine no less, and not engage in my wrath”.
Well, Nami isn’t exactly a dear friend, but Conis doesn’t need to know that.
The orange-haired girl will always have a place in his heart, if only because losing her opened his eyes on the kind of man he was transforming into – he will never not look after her.
“You probably think you’re so cunning, don’t you? But let me stop you before you take too high of a leap, Ms. Icarus”. His red eyes are thin blades whose unblinking stare freezes the blonde in her track. From there it only takes a sharp roll of his shoulder to disentangle himself from the web of her hand. “Whatever beef you got with Nami, you’re destined to lose. Why don’t you waggle your tail behind her like you did for the past four years, hope for a smooth transition of power when she graduates and stop being so damn petulant? The whole school will turn on you at a flick of her wrist and, frankly, I can promise you right now that I will be more than happy to help”.
Now, Eustass has a brain and therefore he doubts most students will actually give a shit about the whole thing, but his interlocutor seems to reason in the terms of a teenage comedy, like the pink-covered girls in all those movies Nami forced him to watch years before, a stereotype on legs, and so he throws in her face the things he has which she so obviously craves.
Popularity.
“That’s not… I…” Conis cuts herself off, biting hard on her lower lip. Her panicked excuse goes as follows, “I just meant… Ugh–” Stomping her foot on the ground, angry and red-faced, she then takes a step forward, as if she’s about to strike him on the face. There’s no trace of her practiced bubbliness on her face as her steely gaze bores into his, “Let’s pretend this conversation never happened, shall we? This was a bad idea”.
Kid smirks.
“A proper fiasco”, he quotes.
Watching her turn abruptly on her heels, nose stuck in the air as she stalks away from him, he’s not sure this is the first time the younger student threatens to give him a headache, but she should be taken care of for a while at least.
If she’s half as smart as she acts out to be, she’ll sum the things they say about him to their last conversation and think about it twice before she tries to catch his attention again.
Earlier this morning, Vivi woke up someone new.
It has finally (finally) occurred to her that it’s herself the way she lives her life should please, and no one else; while the equation strikes her as obvious now, she can’t believe how long it took her to figure this out.
There’s a skip to her step as she goes through her usual routine, at home first and later at school, where she levitates through the hallways more so than walk on her way to class.
If starting the day with two hours of math already sounds bad, a pissed off Kuzan teaching it only goes to add salt to injury.
The man clearly isn’t too happy with Robin’s absence today, especially when it’s paired with Zoro’s; his eyes dart from one’s desk to the other for large part of his lecture, an evil frown glued to his face.
Even though they know what’s happening thanks to their phones, the Straw-Hats all feign ignorance when questioned about their missing pieces.
The third hour with Kizaru is slightly more bearable, if only because she likes his subject a lot more, but still slow and monotonous. Her mind feels restless this morning, unable to disconnect from memories of last night and plug into present reality.
Borsalino goes on and on and on about the life, death and miracles of the last Baltigo poet they have in the curriculum this year, and while she would normally write everything down with precision and care, making sure she marks the important parts and circles the basics, today she barely finds it in herself to note some random information, following the tick of the clock as if her life depends on it.
When the break finally arrives, however, and the crew moves quickly to the gardens, Vivi regrets wishing for the bell the moment her eyes fall on Nami and Kaya’s matching grins.
But of course they would expect some sort of update after the three hours phone-call they had yesterday as she got ready for her date. She’s the one who asked her friends for help with her little boyfriend situation…
Why isn’t Robin here?
She would keep these two under check.
“You look great today, princess”, Nami giggles. “What’s with the big smile?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
The blue-haired girl looks around in the hope of finding some support in the rest of the group, but Chopper is engrossed in his book, tuned to a world of his own, Usopp and Franky are focusing on their drone-camera-thingy, snapping pictures all around the gardens, Sanji is somewhere else, having been claimed by his intended, and Luffy has disappeared somewhere with Torao, most likely the tennis field.
The princess opts for feigning indifference. “I don’t know what you’re talking about”, she hums, “Anyway, thank you for the dress, Kaya. I’ll get it back to you as soon as it’s washed”.
“Don’t worry about it. You can keep it”.
“So,” Nami presses, “How was your night? Was it anything like you wanted it to be?”
There’s genuine concern swirling in her hazelnut eyes, a sentiment which Kaya seems to share, hands joined in prayer before her as she awaits her reply. Vivi wasn’t expecting her friends to be so worried about her, but she’s not the one who listened to over two hours of her panicking.
They deserve some truth.
“It was better than that”.
Twin gasps are followed by a hand patting her knee, as Kaya adds with a tone of conspiracy, lowering her voice dramatically, “Did you…” She hesitates, “Did you do it?”
“Did what? Spent a lovely evening in each other’s company?”, Vivi replies, “Yes, we did”.
She’d rather keep the details of last night in the place to which they belong, inside the safe space of her relationship; everything is so new to her, she needs time to adjust.
No, they haven’t gone all the way in.
It turns out Ace has some trauma he needs to heal from, but she feels closer to him than ever before – he is such a wonderful person, she can’t begin to understand some of the things she has heard about him over the years.
She’s so ashamed about how easily she used to give credit to the gossip rather than the person.
“I take it the dress worked?” Nami makes a final attempt, her eyes sparkly and attentive as she concentrates on the analysis of her micro-expressions.
It’s not like she expects an actual answer, she knows how jealous the princess can be of her privacy, sometimes to her detriment.
A spontaneous chuckle bubbles up in Vivi’s throat.
“Like magic”, is all that she’s comfortable admitting. “But seriously, girls, your support was a life-saver. I’m very lucky to have you”.
“We know”, Kaya laughs. From her strategic seat between the other two, she raises her arms and draws them around her friends’ shoulders, pulling them both in for a three-sided hug. “You’d be lost without us”.
The sudden moment of intimacy between the three catches Chopper’s attention, who looks in at the scene with a small smile playing on his lips; while he doesn’t know what the three are so excited about, other people’s joy always reflects positively on his empathetic soul.
“Get in here,” As the only person in the right position to notice him, it’s the orange-haired girl who invites him in the mix, momentarily startling the other two, “C’mon!”
“What was that about, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Dilated nostrils, a jagged breath, red locks flopping messily on top of his head, Eustass Kid is a funny sight to behold as he turns on the spot, startled by her voice.
Coming out of her hiding nook between twin rows of lockers, Bonney continues, “You terrified the poor girl”.
The teen doesn’t take long to recover from his surprise, his expression morphing into one of glee. “Good”, he exhales, “That was the point”.
“I take it your date didn’t go well?”
“I’m afraid it was never an option”, he confesses, smiling warily as she walks closer to him, “I just had a theory to test, and she confirmed it”.
“She’s very pretty”, Bonney argues.
That’s all that matters to guys like him, isn’t it?
Knowing the pattern he has followed over the years, with the honorable exception of Nami, he is not interested in finding a partner or strike up a lasting connection.
He doesn’t have love for anything but himself, does he?
“So what?”
By the look on his face, one of disappointment and defeat, she must have said the wrong thing.
To be fair, though, there are more instances in her memories supporting her assumption rather than suggesting there’s more depth to New Marineford’s heartthrob than it seems, some sort of redeemable quality in him.
“Isn’t that what you’ve been going for lately? Pretty, dumb, easy to manipulate…”
Maybe she shouldn’t poke him, and leave him alone, direct her attention elsewhere, but it’s what feels natural when it comes to him.
Like yesterday.
Maybe she shouldn’t torment someone she kissed and then pushed away less than twenty-four hours ago, swearing it was a mistake, and that she doesn’t like him one bit, she shouldn’t question him about matters which are technically none of her concern, yet her curiosity is stronger than her as every energy is spent on keeping the truth concealed, even from herself.
For some strange reason, she does like-like him; yet the thought of a relationship with him never crossed her mind. She knows they’re incompatible in personality as they perhaps wouldn’t be physically, that their values sit too far apart on the spectrum of morality not to clash.
She wouldn’t be able to forgive herself if she fell for someone she can’t respect.
“I’m not interested in her”, Kid mutters, placing great emphasis on his eye-roll.
For someone who doesn’t get easily offended, if only because he doesn’t give a shit about opinions which are not his own, she finds that he often looks hurt by what comes out of her mouth lately. “Conis just wanted to use me to carry out her vendetta against Nami, anyway”.
As it happens whenever he mentions his ex, her blood freezes.
Even though she hates it, she can’t stop the comparisons from popping into her mind.
Maybe her deliberate omission of truth has nothing to do with respect.
More like she doesn’t want to fall for someone whom, she believes, already loves someone else.
Bonney heaves a deep breath, chasing the bothersome thought away. She can do just friends.
“But I thought Nami was her queen bee or some shit?”
“How is he?” Zoro stands on her threshold, hands stuck in the front pockets of his sweatpants.
His face is shiny with sweat, leftovers of running straight here right after his training session at the dojo, and he tries his best not to seem too invested as he steps into her apartment and immediately sets out looking for the cat, failing miserably.
Her living room is a bit of a mess, with the dishes from her dinner still camping on the coffee table, next to her computer, and notebooks sprawled all over the sofa.
On the back of a red, dark cover, the kitten is curled up on itself, napping peacefully. A brand new collar hangs around its neck, the bell tilting slightly with every new breath and purr it takes.
If it senses the boy’s presence, it doesn’t find it threatening, because it’s only when a cautious finger scratches its belly that it wakes up, meowling irritably.
It stretches its back and all four paws, nails digging into the leather, but the scene is so adorable, Robin doesn’t even notice the unfair treatment her book is receiving.
“Perfectly healthy. According to the vet, he just had a bad encounter with another cat,” She supplies, “We already made plans to chip him and get his vaccines started next month”.
“Great”. Eyes set on his new furry friend, he moves the rubbing motion far up and to the kitten’s neck, where cold metal meets his digits. “I guess it’s nice to meet you, Blade”.
She picked the name in less than five seconds, urged by the veterinarian as she opened a file for the cat – even though it’s not the most inspired one ever, it reminds her of the person who rescued it from a lifetime of hardship, and she rather enjoys it.
It's with great relief that she ascertains he doesn’t hate it as he tries it a couple times on his tongue, but she still feels the urge to sidetrack the conversation.
“Had a nice time at the dojo?”
Robin wouldn’t want him to know how much of a sap he turns her into.
“Nice isn’t exactly the way I’d put it, but yeah”, he replies, still focused on petting the cat. “I tried not to overdo it, though. It would be stupid to pull on a muscle two days before a competition”.
“Still sure you don’t want the others to come?”
Robin knows he has already moved past his comfort zone by inviting her, but she can’t see how he would not benefit from the love and support of the people who are the closest to him.
She feels she’s stepping all over them by watching him fight before they do. The other Straw-Hats have known him years before she even entered their radar.
“Uh-uh”. Blade now sprawled on his lap, where it gets a thorough scratch behind the ears, Zoro sits on the sofa. Purple eye-bags aside, the only explicit clue on his state of mind, fatigue, he looks his usual self. “I can handle pressure, but I like to keep things as stress-free as possible before a match”.
“And you’re absolutely sure you want me to come instead?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” He retorts, “You’re my girlfriend”.
He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and perhaps to him it is, but she still doesn’t understand – can someone he has met just a couple of months ago be prioritized over his oldest companions? Is that fair?
“I guess it’s the first girlfriend thing of the kind that I happen to do”, Robin admits.
Everything about this relationship is different from what she has experienced before, better in a sense; while she loves the leap her heart makes when he enters a room, it’s still overwhelming at times to find herself so dependent on someone’s affection to be happy.
“I promise you won’t have to do much. Just being there and possibly my lucky charm”. Patting the seat next to him with his free hand, he beckons her forward. “Regardless of the results, I’d love for you to be the first thing I see when it’s done”.
He backs up his words by capturing her lips in a sudden kiss, slowly brushing the tip of his nose against hers, and what can she possibly do if not losing herself in it?
Why does he have to be so damn pretty?
“I wouldn’t miss it for anything”.
Blade retires to a farther corner of the sofa when the kiss grows in intensity, not interested in the motions the two humans are going through.
It just wishes they’d let him sleep.
His mouth is the fountain that quenches her thirst, his hands songs from older centuries, they match the color of her dreams – it goes beyond self-preservation, but she doesn’t care; when his arms are wrapped around her, nothing else matters. Nothing bad can or will happen.
Cloud-like, Zoro’s lips are soft, warm and gullible against her tongue, sweet when she wipes it over them to soothe the offense of a previous bite.
Could she love him any more, she wonders? Is there some sort of ceiling, a limit she’ll inevitably crash against?
She goes to sit on his lap, with his legs between hers, finding no resistance if not in how he seems unwilling to let her write the entire play by herself.
His fingers move to undo the buttons on her shirt, unveiling the flush of her cleavage; as a wetter kiss plays at the edge of her bra, the sigh she lets out next holds the same meaning across all languages (and species), so the pet respectfully jumps out of the sofa to take an explorative stroll around the house.
Holding to a handful of her chest, his mouth is still pressed to her collarbone when he looks up at her, smirking, “I think we traumatized it”.
Robin thinks of her present view as a treat.
From the way the lights hit the highest points of his face, to the way he holds her like he’s drowning and she’s a life-jacket, passing for the tempting, delicious plumpness of his freshly kissed lips, she could look at him for hours, write poem after poem detailing the thousand things and more she adores about it, if only she wasn’t feeling so damn… Impatient.
Grabbing the sides of his face, she feels no shame over pushing it where she wants it, in between her still clothed breasts. If he could feel the quiet tingle on her nipple as his hand brushes across it over the thin fabric, then maybe he wouldn’t torture her so much and…
Ah, much better already.
The clip on her back gets unhooked reasonably fast, and her bra and (now irreparably wrinkled) shirt are peeled off her body a moment later.
His oversized black hoodie meets the same fate, along with the t-shirt he was wearing underneath it, and then his tongue lights her skin on fire again, visiting all of her favorite places. Knees digging into his sides, she’s not sure what’s up with her boobs today, or why they’re acting up so much, but she soon finds out that it’s all of her who’s over-participative as his hands eventually slip under her skirt, fingers slowly running up her thighs, short snails grazing their smooth skin ever-so-lightly, until they settle on her backside.
Is it her or, despite February, the living room is a bit too hot?
The swordsman gives her ass a squeeze on the gentler side, face still buried in her chest, to which she replies with a push backwards, gluing it to his hand. Her legs slide further apart, just enough to align their hips so that she can rock hers.
Let’s see how he handles this kind of pressure…
“Do you have somewhere to be?”
“No. I just want you…”
“Where did that stupid brat go?”
Pans clattering and cooks sweating behind the fires, waiters running in and out of the kitchen, any open day is a busy day over at Baratie.
Above all noises towers the creak of the head-chef’s soles on the floor as with heavy steps he searches the entire room, barking orders and critiques in equal measure; this chicken is almost burnt – sometimes it’s like Carne doesn’t have eyes, he swears –, that beef hasn’t been cooked enough, and don’t let him get started (again) on the cranberry cake, because there’s no way in hell someone is getting that thing out in the dining room and slapping his name on it.
Nervous fingers wrapped around the butt of a half-smoked cigarette, Sanji knows his mentor is coming before he even opens the door, alerted by the heap of curses the man is muttering under his breath.
“There you are! Your cats shitted all over the steps!” He accuses, “Again!”
Pristine white apron tied around his waist, Zeff stands on the threshold, hands on his hips. His stare is menacing as it appraises the sous-chef, mustache practically vibrating with anger.
“You’re lucky it wasn’t a customer who stuck their foot in it, but Patty”.
“My cats?”, the teen muses, feigning ignorance. It’s particularly hard considering his rocky relationship with the older apprentice. “I don’t have any cats. Me and my roommates always wanted a dog, but the lease contract won’t let us keep a pet”.
“Neither does my restaurant”, the man retorts, seeing through his bullshit. “I know you’re the one feeding them, Sanji”.
Denying it any longer isn’t going to help him, not when a brand new camera was set up in the gardens and he knew it would be only a matter of time because he was caught on tape.
What was he supposed to do, though?
Let them starve while they have more food than they actually sell and heaps of it are thrown away at the end of every day because they serve only the best, freshest ingredients?
Sometimes he even takes some of it home, cooks excellent meals for the whole apartment, gives some love to those cuts which perhaps aren’t the prettiest, but can still be turned into the most delicious.
“They need to eat as much as any other living thing, and we’ve got so much stuff we don’t use…”, Sanji excuses himself, “Besides, we won’t have a rat problem ever again”.
“Watch your mouth, kiddo”, the head-chef snorts, “My kitchen doesn’t have rat problems”.
“Touché”, his pupil concedes, “But the customers love them, and they’re not allowed anywhere inside. Eventually they’ll get tired of this patch of grass and move to the next”.
“Yeah, I can see you’ve never had one”, the other laughs, “A cat won’t leave if you keep fattening it up. It will nap”.
As if on cue, a white and black one with a missing eye jumps down the half-wall and goes to rub its head on Sanji’s calves.
Zeff sighs, “Alright, I’ll admit our customers do like them. But, from this moment onward, they’re your exclusive responsibility. Meaning that you don’t get to just play with the cats and cook for them, but you also take care of whatever mess they make, littering included”.
It sounds like a fair compromise.
Nothing he wasn’t already doing, anyway.
No one ever really goes into those gardens but the guy who looks after the plants, so it shouldn’t be too hard to keep the space clean and tidy enough for the gardener to do his job.
As long as the table with a view doesn’t showcase poop under the freesias, everything should be just fine.
“I’m on it”, he murmurs, preparing himself mentally to clean the cursed step. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about this, but you didn’t see how skinny those cats were before they started coming here”.
Sanji makes to go back inside after killing his cigarette on the ash-tray, his steps slow and a heavy set on his shoulders, as if carrying an invisible boulder; a large hand locks around his forearm, stopping him in his tracks.
“Wait…” The head-chef commands, “Is everything okay? Aren’t you working a little too much for a school week?”
It’s not that he blames him for noticing, more like he wishes no one called him out on it.
Working more hours means less time he is expected to dedicate to Pudding, but never to his friends – not that their company feels as good as it used to lately, anyway, as his breakup with Nami has practically split the group in two – and a bigger amount of money deposited on his emergency fund at the end of each month.
If everything goes to shit eventually, he’d like to at least have the option to run. "It’s as good as it can be”.