Chapter Text
Deuce stared at the shimmering stars above him, idly thinking how they reminded him of the freckles dusted across Ace’s sunkissed skin.
Turning his head to the side, he took in the sight of Ace’s profile - his straight nose, smiling lips, and halflidded eyes. Despite priding himself on his ability to weave words together into a tapestry of poetry, Deuce often found himself tongue-tied at the mere sight of his captain. All it took was a smile or a wink or a gesture for Ace to steal the words from Deuce’s mind.
Deuce had never been in love before, but he imagined it must be something like his feelings for Ace.
Ace was far from perfect; Deuce had no illusions about that. Often, Deuce wanted to kiss his face or kick his ass in equal measure. Exasperated emotions always gave way to endearment when it came to his captain.
The two of them lazed on the roof of the cheap inn on some backwater island. Stolen liquor graced their lips every now and then, leaving their senses pleasantly dull. Alcohol lowered their guards, inviting introspection and impulsiveness.
Deuce blurted out, "Have you ever been in love before, Ace?"
Ace’s smile disappeared, replaced with a brief look of surprise before an unreadable expression took over.
"Can't say I have. I've never been tied down to someone, either.” Ace shrugged, then folded his hands behind his head. “Bein' in a relationship just ain't me."
"Why is that?"
Ace shrugged again. "I dunno."
"Do you abstain from a relationship out of concern for a potential partner?” Deuce wondered aloud. “After all, the life of a pirate isn't an easy one. A long-time love would be an obvious target to your enemies."
"Eh, maybe a little of that?" Ace guessed. "But honestly, I'd prefer to be with someone who can hold their own in a scuffle."
"We've met plenty of strong people like that so far.” Deuce rolled the neck of the liquor bottle between his fingers. Nervous energy thrummed in his veins as he anticipated Ace’s response. “None of them appealed to you?"
"Not for anything serious, no."
For reasons he couldn’t put a name to, Deuce wasn’t satisfied by that answer.
“So, you don’t…want to be serious with anyone?” Deuce asked, his voice getting quieter. “You’re not interested in falling in love?”
Ace swallowed hard, lowering his arms to cross them over his chest. He kept his eyes pinned on the stars, though Deuce could tell the twinkling lights no longer held Ace’s attention. Ace’s eyes were unfocused, his brow tense and his jaw muscles working.
A long moment passed and an apology formed on Deuce’s tongue.
He never got to say it.
"To be honest, I'm worried if I do fall for someone, it'll destroy me,” Ace admitted, almost too softly to be heard. “When I care about someone or something, it's with everything I've got. I love hard, Deu. And when it goes to shit, I fall apart hard, too."
Sympathy made Deuce’s heart ache. “Oh, Ace.”
“I’ve got too much ambition to risk heartbreak slowin’ me down,” Ace added, his tone as hard to gauge as his expression. “I’ve gotta aim straight for the top of the pirate world! I need to make a name for myself!” A grin broke through the storm clouds marring Ace’s features. “And I gotta be around to watch my little brother make it big! He’ll be setting out to sea in a couple of years, y’know?”
Deuce rolled his eyes. “I think every person you meet knows that, Ace. You’re always bringing him up, even when the conversation isn’t about him.”
Ace scoffed. “I’m supposed to brag about Luffy! Otherwise, I can’t say I’m a good brother!”
Deuce took a breath, bracing himself to circle back to the topic at hand. “As much as I enjoy listening to you proudly ramble about your brother, he’s not the one we were talking about.”
Ace’s grin immediately fell. He turned his head away, hiding his face from Deuce’s imploring gaze. Ace shifted against the rough texture of the roof, curling his folded arms tighter.
“Ace, please don’t shut me out.” Deuce moved to reach for him, but hesitation stilled his hand. “Perhaps, you need to hear the right words from someone who cares about you? Then, you might change your mind about love?”
Not waiting for an answer, Deuce set the bottle of alcohol aside and reached into the breast pocket of his coat. He slid out a small journal - the humble home of all his scribblings and compositions - and thumbed through its pages. His eyes skimmed through memorized passages before landing on the hastily-scrawled poetry he wrote by lamplight.
Deuce pulled his gaze from his journal to peer at the subject of his lovesick musings, even if his subject refused to look at him.
Deuce took a breath-
"I'm afraid I'll fuck it up if I get serious with someone,” Ace interrupted, oblivious to the confession waiting on Deuce’s tongue. “Good things never last for me. Somehow, I always manage to lose what I hold most dear. That's why I live life fast and recklessly; it's the only way to enjoy what I've got while I've got it."
“What if you met someone you wanted to be careful for?” Deuce asked, closing the book slightly. “Someone you didn't plan on losing eventually? Someone who would stick by your side so you’d never have to worry about you driving them away?"
"I've not met anyone yet that I was willing to put aside that worry for."
Something soured in Deuce’s chest, sinking to his gut and taking his heart with it. “Oh. I see.”
Silence passed over them, hanging heavy like a stubborn fog.
“I know it feels impossible to picture yourself in love right now,” Deuce started, not brave enough to steal a glance at Ace. “But the future isn’t set in stone. Miracles can happen-”
Like two starving men shipwrecked on an island being saved by a Devil Fruit and a newfound friendship.
“-and Fate can be defied. Living with no regrets means taking risks like listening to your heart over your head,” Deuce finished, his pulse pounding as he brushed his fingers over Ace’s upper arm. "If you and your love are meant to be, you'll always find your way back to one another, no matter how badly things go awry."
Ace finally looked at him again.
And a grin broke out on Ace’s lips as he remarked, "That is so damn corny."
Deuce snapped his journal shut and whacked Ace with it.
By the time Deuce returned to the house, the sun was dipping below the horizon.
He let himself in, shuffling past the threshold with his eyes on the floor. When he lifted his gaze, he immediately spied Marco in the parlor. He sat on the couch at the back of the room, feet propped on the coffee table. Next to his heels sat an empty bowl. In Marco’s hands was an open book, which he seemed to be only half-paying attention to.
“Oh, Marco,” Deuce greeted. “Good evening. Have you even moved since I left?”
“Not much, yoi,” Marco replied, closing the book and setting it on the end table beside the couch. After adjusting his glasses, his sharp gaze landed on Deuce. “By the way, Sanji made a hearty stew while you were out. He left you a bowl.”
“Oh.” Deuce closed the door behind him slowly, and his expression became unreadable. “That was…considerate of him.”
A resounding, stuttering snore erupted from the other room.
Deuce jumped a foot in the air, not unlike a startled animal. “What the hell was that?!”
“Ivankov, yoi,” Marco answered. “He’s sleeping in my room tonight. I’ll take the couch, yoi. Ivankov ate too much of Sanji's stew and went to bed early to sleep it off. Although, he claimed he just needed some 'beauty rest', yoi."
“Hm. He’ll get his ‘beauty rest’ while keeping all of us awake with his snoring.”
Marco snickered. “Don’t tell him he snores; I’ve made that mistake, yoi.”
“Wait. How did he even fit inside the house?” Deuce asked, pink cropping up on his cheeks at the memory of Ivankov trying to squeeze his lower half through the front door. “Earlier, he couldn’t even get past the door. He made quite a show of being unable to do it.”
“He injected himself with hormones to shrink his body.”
“...Devil Fruit powers?”
“Devil Fruit powers,” Marco confirmed, taking his feet off the table. “So, did a walk clear your head at all?”
“Not as much as I would have liked.” Deuce sighed and sulked over to the couch. He plopped down beside Marco, slouching and crossing his arms over his chest. “I tried to resist thinking about Ace and his...friend. Or his ‘boyfriend’, I should say. But the two of them plagued my mind the entire time.”
“At least you tried, yoi?” Marco patted him on the shoulder, then stood and stretched. “Count yourself lucky you got far enough away to avoid hearing them!”
Deuce cringed. “You heard their, uh-?”
“Yep,” Marco deadpanned, letting his arms fall to his sides. “Only here and there, thank God, yoi.”
“Does it bother you to know that your brother is uh, doing those sorts of things?” Deuce asked, looking at his lap and causing his bangs to fall into his eyes. With his face partially hidden from view, he muttered, “It certainly disturbs my heart to know Ace is-”
Marco cleared his throat. “You really don’t have to finish that sentence, yoi.”
“My apologies.”
“It’s fine, yoi,” Marco said, heading to the kitchen and gesturing for Deuce to follow. “To answer your question, yes and no. Ace is a grown man. He can do what he wants with whoever he wants.”
Deuce got to his feet and followed Marco. “Even if that person is some stranger?”
“Sanji is a stranger to us, not to Ace.”
“But you admit it bothers you?” Deuce prompted. “Even a little?”
“Well, of course,” Marco replied, pausing in the kitchen doorway. He leaned against it, crossing his arms. “No one wants to hear a family member doing that. But I’ve been able to block out most of it by catching up with Ivankov. And with these, of course.” He pulled out an ear plug from his shirt pocket. “Maybe you should invest in a pair, yoi?”
“Perhaps I should?” Deuce replied with a halfhearted chuckle. “So what now?”
“I was about to get dinner started,” Marco answered, glancing in the direction of Ace’s bedroom. “I don’t suppose you’d want to volunteer to go fetch the lovebirds when it’s finished, yoi?”
Deuce frowned, averting his gaze. “Not particularly.”
Marco shook his head, pushing off the door frame and heading into the kitchen. As he pulled out a pan from the cabinet, he mumbled, “You gotta be kidding me, yoi.”
Guilt weighed down Deuce’s shoulders and he cleared his throat. “On second thought, if it would help you out, I don’t think it would be an issue for me to fetch them?”
Marco the pan on the stove top with a thunk. “Thank you, Deuce. When dinner’s ready, you can go and fetch them. For now, care to lend me a hand, yoi?”
“I’d be glad to.” Deuce nodded, plastering on a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I apologize in advance if I burn everything, though. I’m no cook.”
“Then, I’ll take the lead.”
Deuce was indeed not a cook. He stumbled through the instructions Marco gave him (thankfully, Marco’s patience saved him from a reprimand). He burned his fingers on a hot pan (which Marco healed while grumbling about). He sampled a spoonful of the dish before it could cool and burned his tongue (which Marco refused to heal).
And finally, when Deuce was adding garnish to the finished product, he peppered on too much by accident.
Marco turned off the stove with a flick of his wrist. “Well, it’s as done as it’s going to get, yoi.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t any help,” Deuce mumbled, a pink flush peeking out from under his mask. “I warned you I wasn’t a cook.”
Some of the tension in Marco’s expression eased with a sigh. “It’s okay, Deu. You tried, and that’s all I can ask for, yoi.”
Deuce managed a weak smile. “I’d blame my incompetence on being bothered by Black Leg’s visit but that’s not entirely true. I was never inclined to learn the art of cooking. Perhaps, I should have?”
He resisted the urge to add, ‘Perhaps it would have won Ace’s heart for me?’
“We all have our strengths and weaknesses, Deuce,” Marco replied. “Now, comes the hardest part, yoi. Go pry those lovebirds off of each other long enough to get their asses to the kitchen.”
The frown on Deuce’s lips wasn’t far off from a pout.
Marco snorted and shook his head. “Wipe that look off your face and go, yoi.”
“As you wish.”
A heavy sigh fell from Deuce’s lips and he squared his shoulders. While Marco pulled out some plates, Deuce headed out of the kitchen. As he crossed to the other end of the house, the sounds of muffled giggling reached his ears.
“Ace-!” There was a laugh that Deuce didn’t recognize - it had to have been Sanji - and then Ace’s laughter followed. Instead of the brusque tone Sanji had used with Deuce, the blond sounded affectionate as he chided Ace. “Not so hard, Hotshot!”
Ace didn’t sound apologetic at all as he replied, “My bad, Blondie.”
Deuce paused at the closed door and whispered to himself, “They even have nicknames for each other?”
Settling his gaze on the floor, a wrinkle formed between Deuce’s brows. Jealousy twisted in his gut, making him feel sick to his stomach. The emotion had been present since Deuce first learned about Sanji’s importance to Ace. But it wasn’t until now - when Deuce heard sweet nothings that were never intended for his ears - that the roiling emotion nearly overwhelmed him.
“When I refused to tell him my name, Ace had given me one…” Deuce trailed off. “Perhaps, I read too much into it?”
Before his mind could supply an answer, Sanji spoke up again.
“What am I gonna do with you, you dork?” Sanji’s fond voice took on a slightly regretful tone. “I love you, Ace. I should’ve said it sooner.”
“You can say it all you want now,” Ace replied, his voice softening to a tenderness he had never directed at Deuce. “I love you, too, Sanji.”
Rejection tightened itself into a painful, heavy knot in Deuce’s chest. The urge to cry pricked at his eyes, an invisible hand strangling his throat. Every breath that filled his lungs stung like the jagged edges of broken glass.
Despite the pain and the wobbling of his lower lip, Deuce forced his breathing to steady, lest the inevitable warble in his voice give him away.
Clearing his throat, he rapped on the door with his knuckles. “Pardon my interruption, but dinner is ready!”
“I thought I smelled food cooking,” Sanji remarked. “It doesn’t smell like the stew I made earlier. Guess that pineapple head decided to whip up something of his own?”
“‘Dinner’?” Ace repeated. Deuce could hear his stomach growl through the door. There was a moment of hesitation before Ace called, “Uh, maybe later? I - I’m busy!”
Sanji laughed again. “Ace, don’t tell him that!”
“What should I tell him, Blondie?” Ace replied, lowering his voice to a level he mistakenly thought was inaudible. “That you and I are too busy f-?”
Deuce cleared his throat - loudly. “That’s more information than necessary! Just come out and get dinner before bed!”
Retreating to the kitchen, Deuce felt like a dog with its tail between its legs.
Upon crossing the kitchen threshold, Deuce announced, “I couldn’t do it! I apologize, Marco. But I went to fetch them and heard them saying such lovely, private things to each other and I - I lost my nerve!”
Marco sighed and put down the plate he was currently filling.
“That’s more than I needed to know,” Marco groaned, rubbing fingertips against his temple. “Finish loading up the plates while I drag Ace’s invalid ass out of bed.” Grumbling, Marco brushed past Deuce and headed for Ace’s bedroom. “I’m too old for this shit.”
Marco marched to the other end of the house and banged on the bedroom door. By the startled yelps he heard inside, he had a pretty good idea of what was going on in there. Apparently, those horny bastards couldn’t wait a single second after Deuce fled.
Not that he needed that mental image.
“Oi, don’t come in!” Ace called, and the hurried rustling of sheets only confirmed Marco’s suspicions. “Don’t open the door!”
“Wasn’t planning on it, yoi!” Marco replied, putting his hands on his hips. “Look, I know Black Leg is only here for one night and that you’re a grown ass man that do whatever he wants. But as your doctor, I’m ordering you to eat dinner, yoi!”
“I’ll eat later!” Ace answered. “I can eat after you and Deuce eat first!”
“I wasn’t aware that I gave you an option here!” Marco said, his patience worn thin by Deuce’s antics and trying to survive Sanji’s visit. Sighing, he tacked on, “Just - eat now, okay? Surely, you two can take a break from one another long enough to eat, yoi?”
Marco heard Sanji mutter something about eating to boost his healing process. And then, Sanji added a whisper about having energy for “later”, which Marco immediately pushed aside to forget. Damn his keen hearing.
“Alright, I’m comin’!” Ace called, the sheets rustling again as Marco assumed he was getting out of bed. “Keep your feathers on, Marco!”
Marco rolled his eyes and mumbled, “Thank God I didn’t have to drag him out by hand.”
At the sound of Sanji asking if Ace needed help, Marco remembered Ace’s crutches.
Marco raised his voice and said, “Yo, Sanji! Be sure to help Ace walk, yoi! He needs a shoulder to lean on if he’s too stubborn to break out the crutches. Or else, he’ll fall on his ass!”
“Got it!” was his answer.
With a headache building in his temples, Marco turned and crossed back to the kitchen. Deuce’s immaturity, Ace’s stubbornness, and Ivankov’s prying had all sapped his well of patience. Were it not for his Devil Fruit powers, Marco was certain his blood pressure would’ve been through the roof.
A few minutes later, Marco heard the creak of a door hinge but it wasn’t coming from the direction of Ace’s room.
Marco peered around the kitchen doorframe and watched as Ivankov emerged from his bedroom. Thanks to his Devil Fruit powers, Ivankov’s nearly fifteen foot frame had shrunk to around ten. That didn’t prevent his curly hair from grazing the top of the doorframe, though.
Sighing, Marco tore his gaze from his flamboyant guest. He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes and willing his powers to nip his growing headache in the bud. The dull pain in his temples eased, taking some of Marco’s tension with it.
Ivankov’s heels clacked on the wooden floors, announcing his arrival long before he passed the kitchen’s threshold. Once he had ducked inside, he waltzed into the center of the kitchen and struck a pose. The huge, gleaming smile on his lips was aimed directly at Marco and Deuce.
“Hello, boys!” Ivankov greeted. “I was woken from my beauty sleep by a most delicious smell! Would that be your doing, Marco-boy?”
“Yeah, it would, yoi,” Marco confirmed. “Though, I dunno if I’d call my cooking ‘delicious’. I’m no Thatch or Sanji, that’s for sure, yoi.”
“You do yourself a disservice, Marco-boy!” Ivankov insisted, whirling around into a different pose. “You are a man of many talents! How else would you have made it as Whitebeard’s second-in-command?”
Despite himself, a smile tugged at Marco’s lips. “Now, you’re just trying to flatter me, yoi.”
Ivankov fluttered his long lashes at him. “Is it working, Marco-boy?”
Marco snorted, his smile widening. “C’mon, let’s eat before dinner gets cold.”
Soon, Ivankov had his plate laden with food. He strutted over to the kitchen table by the window and sat on one of the chairs, completely dwarfing it. Extending a pinky, he ate with a spoon that was much too small for his hands.
Marco filled the chair beside Ivankov, holding his plate of food with one hand and using a spoon with the other. He ate while leaning back in his chair, craning his neck to look up at Ivankov as they made small talk. Behind him, Deuce stood at the stove with an empty plate at the ready.
While Deuce was filling his plate, two sets of footsteps came from the hall - one halting and one deliberately slow.
Sanji was the first to walk into the kitchen, angling back to wait for Ace.
Deuce swallowed at the sight of Sanji, his throat suddenly dry and his hunger dampening. Scurrying to the kitchen table, he was secretly glad Sanji’s attention was occupied. He took a seat across from Ivankov, pinning his eyes on his food and ignoring the urge to look at Ace and Sanji.
“Oh! Hello, Sanji-boy!” Ivankov exclaimed, his smile turning sly as his gaze slid over to Ace, who had just shuffled into the room. “And Ace-boy! My, my! You’re even more handsome in-person! No wonder Sanji-boy is head over heels for you!”
Sanji turned beet red and snapped, “Shut up, Shitkov! Or I’ll kick your ass all the way back to that hellscape island!”
Ivankov simply laughed before returning to his meal.
Sanji grumbled under his breath and crossed to the stove. He loaded up a plate for himself and for Ace. The latter attempted to grab his share but Sanji moved it out of reach.
“Ah-ah! I’ve got it,” Sanji said. “Let’s just take our seats.”
Ace glanced at the kitchen table and his eyes lingered on Deuce. The latter tentatively looked up from his food and locked eyes with Ace. Deuce broke the contact first - lowering his gaze to the floor - and Ace returned his gaze to Sanji.
“Uh, there ain’t any seats left,” Ace pointed out. “Maybe we should eat in my room?”
Sanji settled Marco with an expectant look. “Would that be alright? I’ll bring the dirty dishes back and wash ‘em myself.”
Marco shrugged. “Go ahead, yoi.”
Smiling, Sanji looked at Ace. “Well, lead the way, Hotshot!”
Ace scoffed and turned toward the door. “Okay, bossy!”
Sanji chuckled quietly as he followed Ace through the door, balancing a plate in each hand.
Before Sanji could leave the kitchen entirely, Deuce blurted, “Black Leg, wait!”
Sanji stumbled, surprise widening his eyes as he looked back over his shoulder. “Huh? You say something, shitty-mask?”
Deuce swallowed, his brow twitching at the nickname. Choosing to ignore it, he cleared his throat. Shifting in his seat, he dared a glance at Sanji, then looked down at his lap. “Well, I - that is-”
Sanji raised his brows, mouth flattening in a prompting expression. “Well? Spit it out; I don’t have all night.”
“I just wanted to say-” Deuce sighed, shoulders sagging and eyes falling to the floor. “Nevermind. Please, ignore my outburst.”
Sanji shrugged. “If you say so, shitty-mask. See ya.”
With that, Sanji left to follow Ace to his room.
Silence filled the air, made tense by the eyes of Ivankov and Marco pinning Deuce to his chair. Deuce wriggled in his seat, his pulse skipping faster and sweat slicking his palms. He dried his hands on his pants, clenching his jaw as he refused to meet their gazes.
“So-” Ivankov piped up, shattering the heavy silence. “-what was that about, Deuce-boy?”
“A momentary lapse in judgement,” Deuce replied. “Nothing more.”
“I dunno, yoi,” Marco said. “Sounded like you had something you wanted to say to the cook. Why did you hold back?”
“I…I don’t know,” Deuce admitted, curling his fingers into the fabric of his pants. “To be quite honest, I don’t know what I would’ve said. My mind is a blur of thoughts. Perhaps one of them was simply trying to escape?”
“Perhaps,” Ivankov agreed, leaning forward to rest his chin in his hands. “But which thought was it?”
“Like I said, I don’t know,” Deuce said, flexing his stiff fingers. Then he busied himself by shifting his food around his plate with his spoon. “I don’t think I could’ve articulated my emotions on the spot like that.”
“Then do you know what specifically made you want to speak up, yoi?” Marco asked. “Was it something Sanji did? Or Ace?”
“Nothing specific,” Deuce mumbled, taking a bite of dinner as an excuse to not speak. The food was indeed delicious, but for Deuce, it went down as hard and tasteless as a rock. “Ace is never happy these days, but with Black Leg he actually smiles again.”
“Sanji is obviously good for him, yoi,” Marco remarked. “It’s nice to see him smiling, even though he’ll probably go back to being despondent once Sanji leaves.”
Deuce nodded. “Black Leg is…not what I expected. Not even hearing Ace praise and ramble on about him prepared me for what he’s like in-person.”
Marco leaned forward, setting his plate on the table. “And what do you think Sanji is like, yoi?”
Deuce pushed his plate away, his hunger vanishing. “I don’t know him well enough to say for sure. But my initial impression of him was…much more negative.”
Ivankov hummed knowingly. “It’d be easier for you if Sanji-boy was the man you imagined him to be, wouldn’t it?”
Deuce’s throat tightened, his stomach swirling as he said, “All I saw - or perhaps, wanted to see - was Black Leg’s flaws. Or at least, the ones I had gleaned from Ace’s stories.”
“And now?” Ivankov prompted. “Are you still only seeing Sanji-boy’s flaws?”
Instead of answering, Deuce furrowed his brow and worked his jaw from side-to-side. A dull growl came from his stomach and he placed a hand over it. His eyes drifted to the fridge where he knew a portion of leftover stew had been saved for him. Deuce had shown nothing but contempt for Sanji since the moment he appeared on their doorstep. And yet, Sanji hadn’t hesitated to set aside a meal for Deuce; one made by Sanji’s own hands, no less!
At last, Deuce admitted quietly, “I don’t understand why Black Leg would go through the trouble of setting aside a portion of food for me. We don’t exactly see eye-to-eye. I’ve made no secret of my distaste for him and his relationship with Ace.”
Marco shrugged. “According to Ace, Sanji is just like that.”
“He’s considerate even to those who he’s at odds with?” Deuce said. “That seems rather kind for a pirate.”
“Sanji-boy isn’t your average seafaring cook,” Ivankov said. “I haven’t known him for long, but even I can see that his conviction runs deep! He’s a true cook at heart; he hates to see anyone go hungry, no matter who you are. Straw Hat-boy said as much during the war!”
Deuce paused, rubbing his chin in thought. "He did, huh? Well, Ace always insisted that his little brother had an uncanny ability to see people for who they truly are. Then...Luffy, at least, can't be wrong about Black Leg."
"Exactly, darling!" Ivankov said. "When he sets his mind on something, Straw Hat-boy reminds me so much of his father. And Dragon is one of the most perceptive people I know! I believe Straw Hat-boy has the same ability to see through a person that Dragon does."
Deuce pinched the bridge of his nose. "So it would seem - logically - Black Leg is a better man than I've given him credit for?"
Marco nodded. "It would seem so, yoi. But we all know logic and emotion tend to work against each other."
"Very true, Marco-boy!" Ivankov said, leaning toward Deuce with a sympathetic smile on his lips. "I hope one day, you can see Sanji-boy for the good man he is."
Privately, Deuce wasn't sure how likely that was. The rawness of rejection was still too fresh. The queasy jealousy that weighed heavy in his gut was too hard to ignore. Imagining a time in the future where Deuce would be fully accepting of Sanji seemed too farfetched an idea to entertain without making his insides twist uncomfortably.
But he kept his opinion to himself.
“Speaking of Sanji,” Marco interrupted, catching Deuce’s attention. "You weren't very gracious to Sanji when he arrived, yoi."
Deuce avoided Marco's gaze. "Well, he wasn't exactly polite with me, either."
"He might've been nicer if you hadn't treated him like he'd wronged you." Marco crossed his arms. "You're a grown man, Deuce, yoi. You don't get to act like a child just because Ace doesn't return your feelings."
"I wasn't--but he-!" Deuce pressed his lips together in a thin frown. "I...I think you might have a point? Perhaps I was acting childish?"
"Now the question is: why can't you accept the guy that Ace chose?"
Deuce shrugged. "I don't know. I-I suppose it's because I've been around Ace longer? I thought we had a...deeper connection."
Marco sighed softly and put a hand on Deuce's shoulder. "Just because Ace isn't in love with you doesn't mean you two don't have a connection, yoi. You're a close, trusted friend of his. You were his first mate! You think he'd choose anyone for that position, yoi?"
Deuce swallowed around the lump that had formed in his throat. Looking at the floor, Deuce mumbled, “You’re right…”
“What was that, yoi?” Marco prompted. “You don’t sound too confident.”
“I know, I know!” Deuce groaned, hunching over and burying his face in his hands. “Ace chose me to be his first mate because he trusts me! I’m fortunate enough to have his friendship and yet, Black Leg has made me so uncertain of everything I thought I knew!”
“It isn’t just Sanji-boy that’s thrown you off, is it?” Ivankov guessed, placing his plate down. He leaned over, laying a gentle hand on Deuce’s shoulder. “The sting of being turned down has changed you, too, hasn’t it?” Confusion furrowed Deuce’s brow and Ivankov explained, “Marco-boy told me about Ace-boy rejecting your confession. Oh, you poor thing! Unrequited love is so bittersweet, don’t you think?”
Deuce jerked his head up and glared at Marco. “You gossiped about Ace rejecting me?”
Marco shrugged. “It wasn’t really gossip when I had to tell him in order to explain the situation, yoi. After all, you practically ran off not long after Ivankov and Sanji arrived.”
“Still,” Deuce muttered, his cheeks light pink under his mask. “I don’t appreciate my business being spread around like that.”
Marco sighed, taking his glasses off with one hand so he could rub his temple with the other. “Right. Sorry for not asking you before I told Ivankov, yoi. But if it makes you feel better, no one here is judging you.”
“That’s right, Deu-boy!” Ivankov added, patting his shoulder once before retracting his hand. “Love can be such a fickle mistress! Only a heartless monster would judge you for being unlucky!”
“I uh, thank you for your kind words,” Deuce forced out.
Despite Ivankov’s intentions, his words did little to soothe the sickly, jealous feeling that had clung to Deuce since he learned the depth of Ace and Sanji’s relationship.
Deuce ran a hand down his face and heaved a sigh. “When did everything become so complicated?”
Marco snorted. “As if life has ever been anything but that, yoi.”
A mirthless smile twisted on Deuce’s lips. “Indeed.”
“Don’t be so put out, darlings,” Ivankov added. “If life were easy, it wouldn’t be interesting, now would it, Deu-boy?”
Deuce fixed Ivankov with a deadpan expression. “‘Deu-boy’?”
Ivankov chuckled. “It’s cuter and faster to say than ‘Deuce-boy’!”
Marco cracked a smirk. “Never change, Ivankov.”
Ivankov winked. “I don’t plan on it, darling!”
Deuce tuned out the gossip that Ivankov launched into and stared at the table without seeing it.
The moon rose higher into the sky as the hours passed.
Once the dishes from dinner were done and put away, the three of them moved to the parlor. Marco and Ivankov filled the air with their chatter. Meanwhile, Deuce slouched in his seat, too absorbed in his thoughts to participate in conversation.
In the middle of a sentence, Marco yawned and glanced at the clock, confirming that it was time for bed.
“One last pain in the ass to deal with before this day is officially over, yoi,” Marco muttered, groaning as he got to his feet. He looked at Deuce and jerked his chin toward Ace’s room. “Time to change Ace’s bandages for the night. C’mon, let’s get it over with, yoi.”
Deuce stumbled out of his thoughts and back to reality. He took a deep breath, then nodded. He stood and stretched, his stiff muscles suddenly reminding him how little he had moved in the past few hours.
Meanwhile, Ivankov leaned back into the couch and crossed one leg over the other. “I think I’ll stay here, Marco-boy. No need to overwhelm poor Ace-boy with too many people at once!”
“Do as you like, yoi.” Marco turned, leading Deuce across the house to Ace’s room. The floorboards creaked as they neared. When he approached Ace’s door, Marco called, "Put some clothes on 'cause I'm comin' in!"
Marco eased the door open - just in case the couple behind it weren’t decent - then opened it the rest of the way. Thankfully, Sanji (while flushing pink) was standing by the bed and hurriedly buttoning his pants. And Ace was laying on his back, covers pulled up to his waist except for the side that Sanji had previously occupied.
Marco put a hand on his hip. "It's time for Ace's bandages to get changed. I don't care if I'm interrupting your private time, yoi. His healing comes first."
Marco immediately crossed to the bed, then paused when Sanji stepped forward.
"Wait, I-I want to help," Sanji blurted, his face turning a deeper shade of pink. “Uh, please?”
Marco cocked his head to the side. "Are you trained in the medical field, yoi?"
"Well, no-"
"Then sorry, but no."
"Look, I know you're the doctor, but I want to help take care of him while I'm here," Sanji said, gesturing to himself with a hand on his chest. "What could it hurt? Just - let me do this, please."
Marco stared at him with sharp, calculating eyes. He glanced at Ace, then back to Sanji. After a long few seconds, he released the breath he’d been holding in a tired sigh. "...Fine. But you gotta follow my instructions to the letter, got it, yoi?"
"I've been working in a kitchen since I was a brat. Treating burns is second nature to me," Sanji replied, then cleared his throat as Marco's expression hardened. "But yes, I'll follow your lead."
“Good.” Marco turned his attention to Ace. “Now, Ace-”
“Don’t I get a say in this?” Ace demanded, expression pinching. “I’m the damn patient, after all!”
A flicker of hurt flashed across Sanji’s face. “Do you…not want me to help you?”
Ace’s chest tightened and he winced. “Shit. That’s not what I meant, Blondie. I just-”
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Ace,” Deuce interjected, avoiding the eyes that all snapped to him. “You’re hurt and you need to be cared for. If Black Leg wants to help, then trust that he knows what he’s getting into.”
A perplexed expression overcame Sanji’s face and he stuck his hands in his pockets. “Thanks, shitty-mask. I guess?”
Deuce managed a nod, then busied himself by readying the medical supplies they would need for Ace’s back.
Grumbling, Ace kicked off the blanket. Ace grunted, jaw clenching and brow furrowing as he maneuvered himself onto his front. When he was facedown, he let out a relieved sigh and went limp.
"I wish ya didn't have to see me like this," Ace mumbled into his pillow. "All weak and helpless."
"If I gave a shit about that, I wouldn't be here," Sanji chided, rapping his knuckles on Ace’s head. "I thought I got that through your thick skull by now? You don't have to be strong all the time for me to care about you, dummy."
Ace opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, then sighed and shut it.
Deuce returned with the necessary supplies and Marco yanked on a pair of gloves. Using scissors, he snipped away the soiled bandages wrapped around Ace’s chest. Ace shifted as Marco pulled them out from under him. Ace hid his face in his pillow, the tips of his ears pink.
Sanji’s stomach clenched, twisting almost painfully at the wound marring Ace’s upper back.
The surface of Ace’s burn was blistered. The edges were a healthy, healing pink. But the innermost area of the wound was an angry red.
Marco tossed the bandages away, then saw how pale Sanji had gotten. “Still want to help, yoi?”
“Y-Yes,” Sanji replied, then cleared his throat. “Yes, I do. Tell me what needs to be done.”
Sanji followed Marco’s orders closely, brows furrowed in concentration. When Marco applied disinfectant to Ace’s back, Ace hissed into the pillow and Sanji winced. With careful fingers, Sanji rubbed a gel-like balm over the wound. Sanji’s hands trembled under Marco’s watchful gaze. Once clean bandages were wrapped around Ace’s chest, Sanji stepped back and let out the breath he’d been holding.
“Not bad,” Marco remarked. “In another life, you could’ve been a doctor’s assistant, yoi. Work on steadying those hands, though.”
Sanji frowned. “My hands are steady as a damn rock when I cook.”
“No offense meant, yoi.” Marco waved a placating hand. “You did well for your first time treating a wound like this. I’ll take the blame for whatever nerves you had; I can’t help but watch like a hawk when it comes to my patients, yoi.”
Sanji nodded, offering a halfhearted smile that fell as quickly as it came on.
The quiet clink of medical tools knocking together caught Sanji’s attention. He glanced over his shoulder to see Deuce silently putting their supplies away. To Sanji’s surprise, Deuce hadn’t interfered with their work at all.
Instead, Deuce had stood back and observed the process with an unreadable expression. He hadn’t uttered a word since his unexpected support earlier; he had made it easy for Sanji to forget he was even there.
Marco ruffled Ace’s hair and his voice pulled Sanji out of his reverie. “G’night, Ace. See you in the morning, yoi.”
“Night, Marco,” Ace replied, his words muffled by his pillow. With a grunt, Ace forced himself onto his back. “See ya in the mornin’.”
After Marco stepped out, Deuce approached Ace’s bedside. He reached out, then hesitated and returned his hand to his side. “Goodnight, Ace. Sweet dreams.”
“You, too.”
Deuce turned to leave, then caught Sanji’s gaze. Sanji stared back until Deuce sent him a nod; a brief but respectful dip of the chin. Sanji copied the gesture, a little relieved that Deuce’s agitation with him had simmered down.
With that, Deuce left them alone.
The door clicked shut behind him and through it, he heard Sanji’s footsteps cross to the bed. A slight creak of bed springs meant he had gotten back on the bed with Ace. Murmured voices filled the air but Deuce couldn’t discern what they were saying.
Not that he wanted to.
Deuce’s heart couldn’t bear hearing more of Ace’s honeyed words being directed to someone that wasn’t himself.
Deuce took a step toward his room, only to be interrupted by a pathetic growl from his stomach. It reminded him that he hadn’t finished his dinner earlier; the conversation about Sanji had soured Deuce’s appetite. But now, his hunger returned with a vengeance and guided him into the silent kitchen.
Ivankov was gone - settling down for the night in his borrowed room - so the kitchen sat dark and still. Only slivers of moonlight illuminated the area enough to see by. Deuce had no desire to turn on the lights.
He found himself in front of the open fridge door, eyes searching for a suitable late night meal.
His gaze found the leftover stew in a small container just big enough for one serving.
Deuce frowned and chewed on the inside of his cheek.
It was the container Sanji had taken the time to set aside for Deuce.
It was a promise of not letting Deuce go hungry despite their differences.
It was more than Sanji was obligated to do; Deuce had been asking for an empty belly by provoking a cook.
Yet, the container sat there, ready and waiting.
Swallowing, Deuce retrieved it from the fridge. As he readied to reheat the stew, the clink of a ceramic bowl and a clean pot echoed in the silence of the kitchen. Despite being cold, the stew’s savory scent wafted into the air the moment Deuce removed the container’s lid.
The stove clicked to life, the small flames dancing underneath the pot.
Deuce winced - his heart squeezing painfully - at the innocuous reminder of Ace.
A few minutes dragged by and Deuce decided the stew was warm enough to eat.
After transferring the stew to a bowl, Deuce shuffled to the round kitchen table and sat down. The rich, spiced scent of the stew filled his nose, making his stomach growl again. Light steam wafted from the bowl; even after it had been sitting in a fridge for hours, the stew still looked deliciously fresh. Deuce’s hand shook slightly as he dipped his spoon into the stew.
The first mouthful was heaven.
Deuce’s breath hitched, reminded of when Thatch would cook for the Whitebeards. He would laugh heartily at every compliment. Deuce was not a culinary aficionado, but in his mind, Thatch had been the best cook he’d ever met.
Until now.
The proof that Sanji was indeed the amazing cook that Ace had bragged about made Deuce’s chest tighten. Thatch had been an outstanding cook, but despite his skill, his meals were never quite as delicious once they were leftovers (which were a rare thing on an enormous crew). It almost hurt to be forced to admit that there was a better cook out there than Thatch.
Deuce swallowed hard, the stew dragging down his throat.
Blinking, he realized his eyes were wet.
Guilt weighed his shoulders down and made his empty stomach churn.
Sanji had been kind enough to cook a meal for everyone in the house - including Deuce, who had been nothing but cold and distant since the cook arrived on their doorstep.
The creeping realization that he had been wrong slithered around Deuce’s neck like a vine, squeezing until it became hard to breathe.
A large hand settled on his shoulder.
Deuce’s spoon clattered to the table. He slapped his hands over his mouth to trap a startled shout. Then, he jerked around to look up at the person that snuck up on him.
Marco looked down, a slightly amused smile on his lips. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare ya, yoi.”
Swallowing, Deuce slowly lowered his hands. “Oh, it’s you, Marco. Don’t worry about it. You’re rather light on your feet for such a tall man.”
Marco snorted. “I’m ‘tall’? I’m actually on the shorter side compared to all our Whitebeard brothers. Most of them wouldn’t even fit in this house, yoi.”
Deuce clicked his tongue and picked up his abandoned spoon. “You know what I meant.”
Marco made a noncommittal noise and plopped into the seat next to Deuce.
Neither spoke.
Deuce ate his food to avoid speaking, all while Marco’s expectant stare pinned him to his chair.
Eventually, Deuce’s stew had run out, and so had his ability to stall the inevitable.
Marco took the initiative and said, “Let’s talk, Deu.”
Deuce forced himself to nod. “Okay. What about?”
“You know what about, yoi.”
Deuce stared down at his empty bowl. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”
“Bullshit.” Marco shifted, leaning forward. He rested his elbows on his knees, hands folded together. “You know damn well what I mean, yoi.”
“I-” Deuce bit the inside of his cheek. The food in his stomach soured, threatening to come back up. His eyes began to sting; when he blinked, his vision blurred. “Black Leg, he-”
A lump formed in Deuce’s throat, blocking his words from escaping.
The moonlight filtering into the room disappeared behind a cloud, plunging the kitchen into semi-darkness.
“Black Leg makes Ace happy, and that’s all I should care about, right?” Deuce managed to say, scrubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “I can only hope that sentiment will ease my broken heart one day.”
Marco sighed and scooted his chair closer to Deuce. Slouching, he guided Deuce into a one-armed hug. Deuce stiffened, then leaned into the touch. Squeezing his upper arm, Marco said, “Give yourself time, Deuce. It has a way of mending the pain, yoi.”
Deuce nodded weakly, lower lip trembling. He raised a hand to wipe his eyes, but then the last threads of his composure snapped. A sob choked past his lips as he hunched over on himself. Abandoning any attempt to keep it together, Deuce buried his face in his hands.
"Oh, Deu," Marco said quietly, draping his other arm over Deuce's front. "That's it, let it out, yoi. It's okay to grieve."
"E-Even if it's something I'll never have?" Deuce forced out, wrenching his hands away from his face. "I thought Ace and I would-! But it's obvious to me now why he chose Black Leg! I’ve been nothing but hostile toward him since his arrival. And yet, he made sure I didn’t go hungry! I-" Deuce took a sharp, unsteady breath. “I’m practically a stranger to Black Leg. One that makes no secret of my dislike for him, at that. But he was still kind to me.”
Marco shrugged. “That’s just who he is, yoi.”
“Then I feel all the more foolish,” Deuce muttered. “I never stood a chance of being with Ace in the way I wanted. What right do I have to grieve?”
"Grieving what you'll never have is just as important as grieving anything else, yoi," Marco replied. "I'm grieving right now, too; mourning the loss of the future we all thought we'd have with Pops."
"I feel so…selfish," Deuce admitted. "Pops was my captain, too, but I wasn’t as close to him as you and Ace. Then, there’s the Whitebeards that gave their lives in the war. It was difficult when the Spades were assimilated into the Whitebeards but over time, it felt like we belonged. Losing a Whitebeard wounded me as deeply as losing a Spade.”
Deuce’s inhale was shaky. He opened his mouth but the words caught in his throat. He closed his mouth and licked his lips, eyes still pinned on the floor.
“And yet-” Deuce continued. “-you two are grieving this enormous loss while I'm here crying over unrequited love.” Deuce swallowed hard. “Is that…wrong of me?"
"You're being too hard on yourself, yoi."
Deuce opened his mouth but the words caught in his throat. A pained whine slipped past his lips and he slapped his hand over his mouth. Curling in on himself, Deuce squeezed his eyes shut as they stung with building tears.
Marco said nothing, only holding Deuce tighter against his side as the latter cried until his tears ran dry.
Once Deuce's sobs ebbed, Marco released Deuce from his embrace. He ruffled his hair, then urged, "Get some sleep, Deu. You need to keep up your strength, yoi."
Deuce swallowed hard and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Sniffling, he mumbled, “You’re right; I’m no use to anyone if I don’t take better care of myself.”
Marco patted him on the back, then stood and stretched. The joints in his back popped and he groaned. “God, I’m gettin’ old, yoi!”
A halfhearted smile curled on Deuce’s lips. “Between Ace and Pops, it’s a miracle your hair didn’t turn white years ago.”
Marco snorted. “They sure gave it their best efforts. Anyway, goodnight, yoi. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He turned to leave, but before he could step out the door, Deuce blurted, “Wait-!”
Marco angled his body toward Deuce. “Yeah?”
“Um, thank you, Marco.” Deuce cleared his throat, glancing at Marco before looking down at his feet. “For…well, everything. You didn’t have to check on me. And you certainly didn’t have to stay with me, but I appreciate it, all the same.”
Marco nodded with a soft smile. “Of course, Deu. It’s what family does, yoi.”
Outside, the clouds dissipated and the moonlight returned, bathing the kitchen in a soft glow.
“I do believe I’m ready for bed,” Deuce said, his smile feeling genuine for the first time in a long time. “Goodnight, Marco.”
“Goodnight, Deu.”
Without another word, Marco left.
Deuce placed his empty bowl in the kitchen sink, then retired to his room for the night.
Of the cabin’s inhabitants, now only two were stalling in going to bed.
In Ace’s room, he and Sanji were curled around each other, limbs tangled and mouths desperately meeting in hurried kisses.
Ace panted against Sanji’s lips, breaking away long enough to ask, “You really want to keep going?”
“This is my only night with you for two years,” Sanji replied, capturing Ace’s lips in a kiss that ended with his lower lip pinned between Sanji’s teeth. “I wanna keep going until I collapse!”
"Alright then, Blondie," Ace said, his hands already pulling Sanji’s pants downward. "How do you want me?"
Sanji paused, then glanced at the meager space between their bodies. His gaze lingered on Ace’s thighs and he perked up. Grinning, he asked, "How strong are your legs?"
A few seconds later, their positions had reversed; Sanji was sitting against the headboard while Ace straddled his lap. Ace hadn’t bothered to dress even after Marco’s intrusion to change his bandages. Sanji’s pants had landed on the floor, removing what little fabric separated them. When they settled against each other, the skin-on-skin contact was both comforting and electrifying.
Sanji ran his hands up and down Ace's sides appreciatively. "This position good for you?"
"Yes, absolutely!” Ace nodded, shifting his weight from one hip to the other. He placed his hands on Sanji’s shoulders, fingers pressing into his skin. “Been a while since I've ridden anyone; a long while. Forgive me if I'm rusty."
"I'll guide you, if you need it." Sanji leaned in and kissed Ace on the lips. "But I think you'll be fine, dear."
Sanji's hands inched forward, slowly cupping the meat of Ace's ass and kneading the muscle there. Despite the rest of his body being toned muscle, his glutes were covered in a layer of fat plush enough to give Sanji something to squeeze. Ace sighed as Sanji's fingers dug in, dragging and leaving red trails in his skin.
A stupid thought sprang to Sanji's mind and he was snickering before he could stop himself.
"What?" Ace asked. "What is it?"
"It's nothing, I just-" Sanji chuckled. "I just realized I forgot to look for freckles when I had you on your front earlier! I bet you have freckles on your ass, too!"
Ace huffed, his face flushing red. "S-Sanji!"
But soft laughter eased the indignation in Ace's expression, and then he was smiling again.
Sanji pulled his hands back, resting his palms on top of Ace's thighs. "Do you want me to get you ready? Stretch you open again so you can take me?"
Ace nodded and Sanji reached for the bottle of oil. After slicking his fingers, he laid it back on the nightstand. His middle finger slid between Ace's cheeks, lightly running over his entrance. Ace's breath hitched, anticipation making him chew on his lower lip. Sanji dipped the tip of his finger inside, pumping gingerly. Ace arched back, shoving more of Sanji's finger inside.
Sanji smirked. "Impatient?"
"Like you don't already know the answer to that."
Within minutes, Sanji had worked Ace up to two fingers - his middle and ring fingers - and was steadily pistoning them in and out of Ace's entrance.
By now, Ace was halfway hard. Grinding down on Sanji's lap, Ace rubbed his cock against Sanji's lower abdomen, spreading pre-cum over the thatch of blond hair below his navel. Sanji's own cock was filling out, the length of it teasingly grazing Ace's balls with every rut of Ace's hips.
"S-Sanji!" Ace panted, grabbing the wrist of Sanji's free hand. He guided Sanji's hand to his groin, folding Sanji's fingers over his half-hard cock. "Help me out here, baby-!"
"Then help me out, too." Sanji pulled his hand from Ace's grip and brought his palm to Ace's mouth. "Be a dear?"
Without hesitating, Ace pressed his tongue flat against Sanji's palm and licked a long, slow stripe over it. Wrapping his lips around Sanji's fingers, Ace sucked each one and moaned in the back of his throat. When Ace finished wetting Sanji's thumb, he broke away and a string of saliva connected his lips to Sanji's thumb.
"Well done, love," Sanji replied, lowering his hand to Ace's groin. "You're doing so well for me."
Sanji took Ace's cock in hand and began to stroke. The glide of his fingers and palm made Ace whine. Ace wriggled in his hold, trying to find a rhythm with his hips that would allow him to sink back on Sanji's fingers before smoothly sliding into his fist. When he found it, he tilted his head back and closed his eyes, jaw going slack.
"Gonna cum like this?" Sanji asked, his voice lowering to a husky whisper. "You haven't even taken my cock yet."
"I want it-!" Ace whimpered, clutching at Sanji's shoulders. "I want to ride you so badly, Blondie!"
“Lose it for me first, Hotshot,” Sanji murmured, his gaze halflidded and hungry. “Can you do that for me, dear?”
Ace nodded fervently, stammering, “Y-Yes! Yes, yes!”
His jaw dropped in a gasp, then Ace cried out. His cock twitched, the head flushing a deeper shade of red. White cum stained Sanji’s hand, some of it landing on his abdomen. Ace whined in the back of his throat as the pace of his hips slowed, rocking through the aftershocks that made his whole body twitch.
When Ace finally sat back, Sanji pulled his fingers free. Ace made a needy sound and reached for his boyfriend’s cock. But before he could wrap his fingers around it, Sanji was closing his hand over Ace’s wrist.
“Let me take care of it, love,” Sanji said. “Just lift your hips for me. Can you do that?”
Ace obliged, wincing as he rose up on his knees. Sanji readjusted and then took himself in hand. One hand positioned the head of his cock at Ace’s entrance while the other gripped Ace’s hip.
“Ready?”
“Yeah.” Ace went slow at first; his eyes closed in bliss at the sensation of being filled. Bottoming out, he sighed and leaned back. “God, that’s good…”
After a few seconds to adjust, Ace began to rock his hips, slowly fucking himself on Sanji’s cock. Pleasure licked up Sanji’s spine as the tight heat enveloping his cock reduced any coherent thoughts to kindling. As Ace continued to ride him, his pace grew more confident and Sanji found himself gripping his boyfriend’s hips more firmly just to stay grounded.
Panting softly, Sanji sat up and kissed along Ace’s jaw. “That’s it, Hotshot. You’re doing well so far.”
Kissing Ace’s neck, Sanji tasted the salt on his tongue. The racing of his pulse and every needy sound that fell from Ace’s lips drowned out the rest of the world. The heady scent of sex and sweat was cloying in his nose. Every point of contact where Sanji’s skin met Ace’s burned with an addictive pleasure-pain. His nerves were alight, searing and sensitive to every stimulus.
“Ah, Hotshot! That’s it!” Sanji encouraged, starting to buck his hips in time with Ace’s. “You’ve got it!”
“S-Sanji!” Ace moaned, reaching behind Sanji to clamp his hands on the top of the headboard. Using his newfound leverage, he ground his hips down with more force. “Oh, God, I can’t-!”
Sanji grunted against grit teeth and dug his nails into Ace’s skin. “Shit! You’re doing so well, my love!”
“Don’t be so sweet or I’ll lose it too soon!” Ace chided, chuckling in-between pants for air. “All those pretty things you say work too well! It just ain’t fair!”
Instinct made Sanji’s hips buck up on their own. Soon, he found a rhythm that moved in tandem with Ace. The familiar pressure and heat in Sanji’s gut was steadily consuming him. Adrenaline and arousal wore away at Sanji’s composure; the gentleness he wanted to treat Ace with was slipping away.
“Ace!” Sanji panted, clawing at Ace’s hipbones. “G-Gonna cum too soon!”
“Go on, Blondie!” Ace encouraged, his grin lopsided and pleasure-drunk. “I love seeing you get off! It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen!”
Sanji’s breath hitched as Ace’s words stoked the heat inside him; his cock twitched as his climax drew dangerously closer. He jerked his hips up, the hard muscles of his thighs colliding with Ace’s ass with an audible slap. The impact made Ace let out a surprised gasp, followed by a moan.
“Yes, that’s it! Harder, baby!” Ace exclaimed. “Bruise me! I want to feel it in the morning!”
“You want it harder?” Sanji asked, throwing any remaining gentleness aside. Gripping the roots of Ace’s hair, he yanked with enough force to break a few strands. Ace inhaled sharply, then grit his teeth against a whine. “You like that, Hotshot?”
“Yes!”
Ace inhaled sharply, then his entire body tensed. Ace groaned through gritted teeth as he came. His cock pulsed against Sanji’s abdomen, the pre-cum leaking from the tip turning into thick, white cum that landed on Sanji’s stomach. Ace’s grip on the headboard tightened until Sanji heard the wood creak under the strain.
And then, it was over; Ace sagged as the tension in his body disappeared in a satisfied sigh.
Sanji - still on the precipice of climaxing - continued to rut up into his boyfriend.
“A-Ace?” Sanji whimpered. “C-Can I-?”
Ace nodded, panting for air and rasping, “Take what you need, baby.”
That was all Sanji needed to hear. With care, he guided Ace onto his back. Then - redoubling his efforts - he grabbed Ace’s legs and hooked his knees over his shoulders. Leaning over, Sanji folded Ace in half until Ace’s knees touched his chest.
Ace gasped softly at the stretch. “Yes, just like that! You’re almost there, baby!”
On impulse, Sanji darted forward and closed what little space remained between them. He captured Ace’s lips with his own, kissing him deeply and feverishly. Ace returned the kiss in kind and weaved his fingers through Sanji’s hair.
That intimate gesture was enough to send Sanji over the edge; his hips stuttered as he broke the kiss to moan Ace’s name. He spilled into his boyfriend and Ace shuddered at the wet warmth leaking down his ass. Sanji released Ace’s legs to collapse on top of Ace. He cringed at the sweaty, sticky sensation of skin-on-skin but he was too spent to move.
Once their breaths returned to normal and the temperature between their bodies cooled, Sanji lifted his head.
“You rode me so well, dear.” Grinning, Sanji teased, “You aren’t as rusty as you thought, huh?”
Ace glanced away, pink lingering on his cheeks. “Oh, shut it.”
“I’m gonna pull out now, okay?” Sanji warned, gently. “Take a deep breath for me.”
Ace breathed in, but he still winced as Sanji slipped his softening cock out. Then the fingers carding through his sweaty hair melted away any lingering discomfort. Out of the corner of his eye, Ace saw Sanji twist toward the nightstand. When he righted himself, he had a full glass of water in his hand.
Ace shuffled onto his elbows. "Is that for me?"
"Mhm."
Sanji offered the glass, bringing the lip to Ace's mouth. He tipped it and Ace gulped down half the glass. Then he nudged the glass toward Sanji.
"Your turn, Blondie."
Sanji obeyed, maintaining eye contact while taking a long sip. A shiver went down Ace's spine at the eye contact. There was something strangely intimate at Sanji drinking from the same glass as him, pressing his lips to the same spot Ace's mouth was a second ago.
If Sanji noticed Ace’s reaction, he made no indication.
Instead, Sanji placed the quarter-full glass back on the nightstand.
Then he returned his fingers to Ace’s hair, combing his blunt nails over Ace’s scalp. Concern marred his soft expression, making his brow furrow and his lips turn down. Quietly, Sanji asked, “I didn’t hurt you, did I? I’m not used to being rough with you. I know you said you like it that way, but still…”
“I’m fine, darlin’, I promise,” Ace insisted. “I love it when you take charge and get mean with me. But I get it; it’s not in your nature to be like that with someone you care about.”
Sanji blushed. “Am I that transparent?”
“Well, after all we’ve been through, I’d like to think I know you a little,” Ace joked. He stole a quick kiss and rubbed a hand up-and-down Sanji’s side soothingly. “It’s okay, Blondie. I like every side of you.” He snickered. “But especially when you’re feelin’ feisty. You’re so damn cute like that!”
Sanji’s blush deepened and he scoffed. “God, you’re so annoying sometimes.”
“You don’t seem to mind.”
“Shut up,” Sanji muttered with no real bite to his words. “Well, while we’re being so honest with each other-” Sanji lowered his voice, like the words on his tongue were a secret. “-I…kind of liked getting rough with you.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, it was kinda…fun. If that makes sense?” Sanji shook his head. “I’m still not used to taking the lead like that. I guess it’s just the novelty of it that makes it fun?”
“Or maybe you like being able to take what you want for once?” Ace suggested, shrugging. “As much as I love it when you’re sweet on me, I don’t want you to feel like you have to be. You don’t have to give and give and give, y’know?”
“I-”
A sudden lump in Sanji’s throat made it hard to breathe. He swallowed around it and glanced down at Ace’s chin to avoid his eyes. The euphoria he felt moments ago soured. An unease settled in his stomach, sinking like a rock.
Who am I if I don’t give?
“Sanji? Ya got quiet on me. Did I say something wrong?”
“Ace, when you say I don’t have to give all the time…you’re not just talking about during sex, are you?”
“Well, no, to be honest.” Ace scratched his cheek. “I mean, obviously, you don’t have to be the one giving every time we fool around. But when it comes to us, I don’t expect you to give all the time, either. I want it to be a two-way street, y’know?” He cupped Sanji’s cheek. “I’d like a chance to spoil you in return!”
Sanji chuckled under his breath and leaned into Ace’s hand.
“You need to learn to be a little selfish, sweetheart,” Ace said, sympathy softening his features. “Nothing bad is gonna happen just because you choose yourself for once.”
Sanji’s mouth went dry and his tongue felt heavy with unspoken words.
I’ve never been allowed to be selfish. Every time I have, something bad happens. Would Ace be unhappy if I listened to him and did something selfish? Would he regret encouraging me?
“Trust me,” Ace added. “It’s the only way to live without regrets.”
There’s that damn line again. To live without regrets, huh? Ace makes me want to but if I lost him just by being me - all of me - I’d never forgive myself.
“Ace, let’s…let’s go to sleep, okay?”
“But Sanji-”
Sanji shook his head. “Tonight isn’t about me only; it’s about us. I don’t want to talk about my issues. Not right now.”
Ace’s expression was unreadable, but he relented.
“Alright, baby.” Ace ran his fingers through Sanji’s hair before cupping his cheek. The pad of his thumb rubbed Sanji’s cheekbone in a gentle motion. “Just…think about what I said, okay? You’re allowed to take what you want, no matter what it is.”
Sanji’s eyes closed but his brow remained furrowed. “Sometimes, I don’t even know what I want. Before I met you, I thought I had myself figured out. But then, you upended everything.”
“Do you regret it?”
Sanji snapped open his eyes. “Not for a moment.”
Ace rested his forehead against Sanji’s. “Good, ‘cause I don’t regret meeting you, either. You changed my life, too, Blondie. I never considered falling for someone before you came along.”
Sanji blinked, pulling back slightly. “You…didn’t?”
“Nope. I thought it was safer that way; safer for any potential partner and…safer for my own heart.”
Sanji’s eyes stung as his heart clenched. “Oh, Ace. You were afraid of getting your heart broken?”
“Yeah, I was.” Ace’s gaze fell from Sanji’s eyes. “Not everyone can look past my demon blood like you can. What if I fell for someone and they were disgusted by my heritage? I couldn’t bear to even risk it.”
“Well, you’ll never have to worry about that now,” Sanji replied, taking his boyfriend’s face firmly into his hands. “I will never leave you, Ace. I swear it.”
A smile returned to Ace’s lips, soft and sentimental. “I feel the same about you, Blondie; you’re stuck with me.”
“As if I’d ever want you to go,” Sanji replied quietly, grinning before closing the scant distance between their faces. Ace tried to prolong the kiss by darting back in when Sanji started to pull back. “Easy, Hotshot. I really do think it’s time we go to sleep.”
“But I’m not tired-” Ace protested, interrupted by a yawn. “...Ignore that.”
Sanji snorted. “C’mon, dear. Don’t make me knock you out.”
Ace raised an eyebrow. “Well, if you’re offering, I wouldn’t mind if you squeezed those thighs around my head until I passed out-”
Sanji grabbed a pillow and slapped him in the face with it. Heat spread across his cheeks and down his neck. “Portgas D. Ace, you horny bastard!”
Ace’s response was muffled by the pillow. “Pot callin’ the kettle black, honey.”
“Shut up!”
“Shut me up!”
Sanji yanked the pillow aside and threw it to the floor. He grabbed Ace by the neck with both hands and crushed their lips together. Ace immediately returned the enthusiasm, curling his limbs around Sanji as the kiss deepened.
When Ace’s hands ventured down to Sanji’s backside, however, Sanji forced himself to break the kiss.
“Uh-uh, don’t even try it,” Sanji warned breathlessly. “I’m a hypocrite for stopping you when I’m just as bad, I know. But I mean it when I say we should go to sleep now. It’s late and you need to rest.”
Ace’s grin was cheeky. “Thought you wanted to keep going until you ‘collapsed’?”
Sanji’s ear turned pink to match the rest of his flush. Clearing his throat, he said, “I did say that, yes. But even if I can keep going, it really isn’t smart to not let you rest. Marco will kick my ass if I keep you up all night.”
“Eh, let him get pissy about it,” Ace replied, shrugging. “This is our only night together for two years, remember?”
Sanji frowned, looking away. “As if I could forget.”
Ace reached up and tucked his fingers under Sanji’s chin. Guiding Sanji’s attention back to him, he said, “Alright, Blondie. You want me to rest? Then I’ll rest.”
“Thank you, Hotshot.”
Ace wiggled his eyebrows and suggested, “Maybe in the morning, if you’re feelin’ frisky, we can pick up where we left off?”
Sanji snorted into his hand and untangled himself from Ace’s grip. “Goodnight, Ace!”
“Goodnight, Sanji.”
Sanji put his back to the door while Ace shifted down until he could tuck his head under Sanji’s chin. Sanji wrapped his arms and legs around Ace, who almost instantly fell asleep. As Ace slumbered peacefully, Sanji realized he had positioned himself between Ace and the door, as if his body was a shield.
Anything that came through that door would have to go through Sanji first.
The decision had been entirely unconscious, and the realization of it made Sanji’s heart squeeze.
Before he, too, fell asleep, Sanji held Ace just a bit tighter.