Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

You could feel you were being watched.

Ace’s gaze was burning a hole through you from somewhere across the room but you saw no reason to lift your head just yet. Not when you were still busy flipping through the last few paragraphs of the chapter and already knew what he wanted. Mostly.

The Moby Dick creaked softly around you, wood groaning beneath the slow push of the sea while warm afternoon light spilled through the open windows. Somewhere out on deck, laughter echoed faintly before fading again beneath the steady sound of waves striking the hull.

You finished the chapter and flicked to the next page, pulling down a small bookmark before you finally glanced toward him.

Ace lay stretched across the bench with his head resting on folded arms, freckles warmed gold beneath the sunlight pouring across his skin. His eyes were only half-open beneath the brim of his hat.

“You’d make a truly dreadful spy,” you told him simply.

You could practically feel the weight of his attention leave your face only to drift lower when you finally looked at him.

Ace sighed and opened his eyes fully. “How could you tell?”

“You snore very loudly when you’re asleep.”

“Then why do you always read where I’m sleeping? Even when everybody else clears out?” He turned over to look at you, smile more playful than accusing. “It’s suspicious.”

“Is it really? Or did Marco tell you that it’s suspicious?”

“Marco says everything you do is suspicious.”

You rolled your eyes and put your book down in front of you. “I’m well aware. He’s told me that at least ten times since I arrived.”

There was a level of awkwardness that came with being trapped on a ship of this size when the second in command and chief medic didn’t like you much. Well, trapped wasn’t the right word. You could leave at any time but you didn’t turn down an important favour just because your presence ruffled some pretty feathers.

“Do you find me suspicious Ace?”

“Nah,” he said. “Kind of weird, sure, but I don’t think you’re up to anything.”

You laughed softly, finding no trace of malice in his easy smile. “Your captain trusts me. That’s enough, hm?”

“Kind of but that’s also the weird part. You’re like exactly the type Pops would want to swipe up but I haven’t even heard him ask you to stick around. And most of us really enjoy it when you visit.”

“Marco doesn’t.”

“What does he know?” Ace snorted softly. “He gets strange about you.”

You shook your head at the jovial response. “For your information, Whitebeard has asked me no fewer than four times. But all of those times came before even you joined. You forget I’ve been visiting longer than you’ve been aboard, kid?”

Ace huffed, narrowing his eyes at you. “I’m not a kid.”

“Sure.”

“Hey, look, I have a kid brother so I know what a kid is, alright?” he griped, sitting up properly and tugging his hat back onto his head.

Brilliant logic. You laughed under your breath and reopened your book. “You should go back to your nap. I enjoy that it keeps most of the crew away from me.”

He crossed his arms. “Maybe I would have if you didn’t call me a kid.”

“I’m sorry,” you said sweetly and he laughed, throwing his arms above his head in a stretch.

You took a second to glance over the top of your book and watch the ripple of his muscles against the warm sunlight. He caught your look and grinned, flexing his chest until you shook your head and went back to your book.

“You can keep looking,” he offered.

“As much as I’m sure you would like that, I’m reaching the climax,” you said. “Very important chapter.”

“Ha, sure.”

Ace did end up falling back asleep, sitting upright this time with his head tilted back and his hat dangling off. As loud as his snoring was, you couldn’t deny it did offer you some peace from the rest of the crew as they avoided whatever room he’d passed out in.

Which, on your latest arrival, had almost exclusively been whichever room you were in.

You’d originally thought Marco put him up to it but the more you considered him now, the more you saw something different lingering there.

Mainly because Izou, ever your favourite source of reasonable conversation on board, made mention of it later that night after Ace had to be dragged away from his seat next to you in the dinner hall.

“It’s like a schoolboy crush,” he said. “Even when you’re not visiting, he brings you up at least once a week.”

“How sweet.”

“I think he’s almost got it worse than Thatch.”

You snorted with laughter. “No, that’s not a schoolyard crush. That one’s because I have a pulse.”

Thatch was the one you’d been dancing around for as many years as you’d been visiting the Moby Dick. Everybody on board knew it. Your arrivals were a trigger for the chef to take on a personal mission to steal your heart with sweetened words and even better food.

But as tempted as you were – and you truly were tempted – you never indulged in anything more than flattery. You knew yourself better to try and force your heart to settle with him alone.

“If you’re sure,” Izou said.

He was far too observant for your own good and he smirked at you when you gave him a look. “Doubtful?”

“I know Thatch as well as I know you.”

“And what is it that you’ve seen?”

A strand of hair fell in his face and you had to fight the urge to brush it away. You knew how silken his hair was – having run a comb through it so many times when he asked for your assistance. Assistance you knew he didn’t truly need.

“You’ve been staying longer,” he noted casually.

“Am I unwelcome?”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

You could guess. The Moby Dick had long stopped feeling like the maze it once had on your first arrivals. You knew which parts of her creaked, which floorboards shuddered. Where Thatch kept foods you could snack on when nobody was looking and you recognised Whitebeard’s laughter from even the far reaches of the ship.

The crew recognised you too. Some far more comfortably than others.

“You’ve been looking tired though,” Izou said and his voice was quieter, conversation meant only for you despite the din in the hall.

You smiled. “I’m fine.”

He watched you carefully across the table, dark eyes steady beneath delicately brushed lashes. There was no accusation in his expression and yet somehow that made it so much worse when he checked in on you. Very little escaped him when he paid attention.

“You worry too much.”

“And you dismiss concern too easily.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then Izou sighed softly and stepped around the table, long sleeves brushing against the wood as he reached for you. His fingers smoothed lightly along the fabric near your shoulder before adjusting the collar properly into place.

His touch skimmed your skin for only a second, brief and familiar enough to make you still automatically beneath it.

“You should rest tonight,” he said.

You smiled up at him, lost in his beautiful features for a second before you responded. How enamoured you were with him. It was unfair how you looked to him regardless of your life’s problems.

Speaking of problems though, you heard your name and turned your head toward Marco with irritation already in place.

“Come,” he said. “Pops wants to see you.”

You sighed and rose, brushing your hand over Izou’s arm in gentle appreciation. “We can talk more about this later.”

“Of course.”

Marco could have let you make your way to Whitebeard by yourself but instead he followed several steps behind, steps striking steadily against the wooden floorboards while lanternlight shifted gold across the hall with the ship’s movement.

You deliberately slowed your pace just enough to irritate him, sure Whitebeard wouldn’t mind. He often laughed loudly at his son’s aversion to you.

Behind you, Marco said nothing for a long while.

“How much longer will you be on the ship?” Marco asked and you glanced to him.

“You talk to me now?”

“When it’s necessary.”

You made a point of shrugging. “I don’t know, birdy. As long as I need to be. I’ll ask him this evening, alright?”

Marco gave you a sharp look at the nickname but didn’t rise to it. “I asked Pops about it and he seems to think you’ll still be around for a while. I had thought you might have something else to do.”

“I don’t have much to do that’s better than annoying you.”

“You don’t annoy me.”

“Right.”

“I don’t trust you. That’s very different.”

There was no point in continuing this conversation, you’d already had it twice on this visit alone. You had never claimed to fully understand Marco’s distaste for you but it certainly began when you wouldn’t share your connection to his captain. Overprotective. And according to most of the crew, this behaviour was mostly reserved for you.

Which was a shame because in another life, you would gladly have tried to steal a few moments of his attention.

But one unreciprocated interest wouldn’t kill you. You had others that were far more doting.

Whitebeard confirmed, much to Marco’s annoyance, that he wanted you to remain on the ship for a few weeks longer. You hadn’t even hesitated before agreeing. You left him to debate it with his first mate while you returned to the galley, hoping to find something small to nibble and instead being presented with delicately crafted pastries.

The galley smelled faintly of sugar and warm pastry when you stepped inside. Lamps cast a soft amber glow across the counters while the last lingering heat from the ovens wrapped pleasantly around your skin.

“What are these?”

Thatch looked far too pleased with himself, sleeves rolled to his elbows and flour still dusted lightly across one forearm.

“Thought you might be leaving and I couldn’t bear you not having something to remember me by,” he said with a grin. “But if you’re going to be staying, I suppose then they’re for celebration.”

You smiled at him, not reaching for the food yet, far more interested in the rich brown eyes you were staring into.

“I don’t know why I bother moving around the rest of the ship when I can get good company and even better food here,” you said. “All my needs fulfilled in one place.”

“And with absolute pleasure.”

“If you keep spoiling me so much, I’m going to think you have a different motivation.”

He chuckled good-naturedly. “I suppose you’ve caught me though I admit, I thought I was being quite obvious this entire time.”

“You have been.”

“And yet somehow, you still haven’t married me.”

You rolled your eyes and reached for a pastry on the plate, picking up your favourite and delicately taking a bite. Thatch watched you with proud satisfaction as you hummed happily around it. Obviously, he knew it was good.

“You’re very confident for a man whose greatest competition is his own cooking,” you said.

“My cooking has already won,” he said with a lazy grin. “I’m just waiting for you to realise you need me there too.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll have to keep spoiling you until you surrender.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“For you? Never.”

Before you could decide how to respond to that, voices echoed briefly from somewhere down the hall. You tilted your head over his shoulder and Thatch sighed dramatically at the familiar sound of his division.

“There goes my peaceful evening.”

“You do have responsibilities.”

“Maybe but you always tempt me to become irresponsible on your behalf.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, lips brushing dangerously close to the corner of your mouth. “Don’t disappear before I get back.”

You watched him step out with an undeniable fondness and reached for the next pastry when the door swung open again and Marco spoke.

“I had a feeling I’d find you here.”

“Good to see you too.”

Marco ignored your sarcasm entirely. He folded his arms loosely across his chest as he fixed you with the same tired expression he always reserved specifically for you.

“Do you encourage him on purpose?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

His gaze flicked to the pastries behind you before he glanced back at you, eyes narrowed. “I need you to stop distracting Ace.”

Ace? You frowned, confused now. “What are you talking about?”

He hadn’t entered the galley properly, as though doing so would trap him in a space far too small for both of you. Ironic considering the size of the place could fit the entire fourth division with ease. You didn’t beg for a response, just watched him. Him and his unfairly nice chest that became vastly more distracting whenever he irritated you.

“If you’re staying onboard longer, he can’t be this distracted. He’s missing things. Forgetting instructions. He follows you around constantly.”

You pressed your lips together. “Maybe he just enjoys the company.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“So, what? You think I’m going to corrupt him or something?”

“I think Ace gets attached too easily.”

“He’s a grown man.”

“He’s a twenty-year-old who throws himself at things without thinking about the consequences first. And you are not the one to teach him about them.”

You put down your dessert, getting offended now at his accusation. In everything you’d argued with Marco about int the past, this was something new entirely. He’d never become this annoyed at simple attention, not even when Thatch had first started.

What made Ace so special?

“Do you think I’m manipulative then Marco?”

“Aren’t you?”

Your jaw twitched. “You seem to be the only one who thinks so.”

For a second, silence settled heavily between you and then Marco pushed himself away from the doorframe. “I mean it,” he said as he turned away. “Leave Ace alone.”

The irritation that flared in your chest rose sharp and harshly. Your responses burned in your mouth but you didn’t bother to bark something after him. What a way to ruin your appetite…

You tucked the pastries away and left a note for Thatch thanking him before you retreated to your temporary quarters, slamming the door a little too hard behind you. Sometimes Marco really knew how to get under your skin. Manipulative, really.

You dropped into your hammock and reminded yourself that pushing him overboard would do you nothing. He could fly.

By the early morning hours, the ship had gone almost entirely quiet and your stomach was awake.

Only the distant groan of wood and the steady churn of ocean remained beyond the windows while moonlight spilled silver across the empty galley floor.

The pastries hadn’t been enough.

You stood at the counter finishing something small in the pan while warmth curled against your face from the stove. The sea beyond the windows looked endless in the darkness, black water reflecting faint streaks of moonlight whenever the ship shifted.

You could probably talk to somebody about what happened later but the irritation began to ebb away as you ate and pondered your thoughts.

Thatch may have had his whole division to clean the galley (and he’d assured you a hundred times it was fine to just leave everything out after your snacks) but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave any mess in his pride and joy. So, you cleaned everything far slower than you needed to until the creak of the door turned your head.

The bright orange hat stood out against the dark of the hall and ruined any attempts at stealth; destroyed further by the way he jumped when he saw you.

“Hello Ace.”

He looked confused to see you but far from unhappy, a pleased smile spreading over his face as he stepped in. “Hey! What are you doing up so late?”

“Cleaning up after a late-night snack.”

He glanced toward the pan you were cleaning and then looked around. “Thatch still up?”

You reached into your pocket and pulled out the key to the cupboard, twirling it around your fingers for him to see before you tucked it away again. “Nope.”

“Wow, you got unlimited access to the supplies? Huh. He must really like you.”

Was that a hint of jealousy? You raised your eyebrows at Ace who must have realised something crept into his voice because he hurried to hide the flush on his cheeks. You hadn’t thought he might get jealous of your relationship with Thatch but with Izou’s earlier warning in mind…

“I think he simply got tired of me waking him up whenever I got hungry,” you said, hoping the words soothed Ace’s heart somewhat.

He grinned at you in response, pulling his hat off and tossing it onto the counter. He snatched another cloth from beside you and stepped in to help you with the remaining two dishes you hadn’t managed to dry.

“I can handle this,” you teased.

“I know but company makes everything better.”

You smiled despite yourself, shaking your head slightly as you cleaned off the knife. It was one of your favourites in the kitchen with a smooth oak handle and a tiny engraving carved into the bottom. You had no idea where it came from but ever since you voiced your like of it, you’d noticed it stayed in its own separate spot in the kitchen, untouched unless you reached for it.

Ace sidled up next to you, his arm bumping against your own as he dried the plate and when your eyes flicked to him, he was already looking at you. You smiled and he immediately looked back at the dish in his hands.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“You’re looking at me weird.”

“You were looking at me first.”

“Yeah, well…You’re nice to look at.”

You laughed softly and turned back to the sink. The bubbles popped away as you let cool water run over them. Even if it wasn’t much, you found his help with your small domestic chore undeniably endearing.

“So how are you finding the new life as a commander?” you asked.

Ace shrugged. “It’s a lot,” he admitted. “Fun but like I think Marco is trying to kill me with paperwork. And also nobody’s listening to me properly in the division yet which is annoying.”

“They’re getting used to you,” you said. “But I’m sure you’ll whip them into line quickly.”

He dried his hands, holding the kitchen towel a little too stiffly as you reached past him to take the plate. “I feel like I’m screwing something up every five minutes.”

“You’re doing fine so far.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I have eyes, sweetheart. Whitebeard wouldn’t have trusted you with this if you couldn’t handle it.”

The moment the nickname left your mouth, you saw his cheeks flame red. You gave him a second to recover, pretending you hadn’t noticed as you tucked the utensils away where you’d found them.

“Thanks. I know I’m strong,” Ace continued, quieter now. “That’s not the problem. It’s just… Feels like everybody expects me to know what I’m doing all the time.”

The words softened your heart slightly. For the first time since meeting him, he sounded less like the invincible young commander everyone boasted about and more like a man trying very hard not to disappoint everyone around him.

You sighed and closed the cupboard.

Slowly, you walked back over to him. He turned to you, expression lighting up for a second before panic set in as you stepped into his space. You lightly caught his jaw and he froze beneath your touch, pupils flaring wide when you smiled at him.

“You don’t need to be perfect,” you said. “Okay? Stop putting too much pressure on yourself. Do you think any of these idiots know what they’re doing?”

He swallowed thickly. “Do you?”

His voice cracked around the words and your eyes fluttered to his lips for just a second. They were very kissable. If that was what he meant then, yes, you knew what you were doing to him. It was painfully obvious.

“Most of the time,” you said. “Sometimes I doubt myself.”

Ace coughed and you let go of his jaw, trailing your fingers gently over the line of his throat to feel the warmth of his body. This was dangerous. Very much so.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to take that step away.

“Is something wrong?” you asked softly. “Maybe this isn’t what you want?”

“I…”

No further words escaped him but you waited, hand resting just beside his collarbone as his brain raced to catch up. You tilted your head to the side, waiting for him to do something. He reached for you slightly before he dropped his hands back to his side as though nervous to touch.

You took his hands instead, guiding them slowly to your waist. Ace inhaled sharply the moment his palms settled against you.

“I’m going to kiss you,” you warned softly. “So if you want me to stop, I need you to tell me.”

Ace stared at you like he’d forgotten how breathing worked. The kitchen suddenly felt far too warm, your bodies close enough that every uneven breath brushed against your skin.

You leaned in, close enough to feel his breath stutter over your skin as you gave him one last chance to move away before you kissed him.

Ace’s hands tightened at your waist instantly, fingertips pressing into the fabric there like the moment your lips touched he forgot every thought except you.

Heat rushed visibly through him. For one startled second his body went completely tense beneath your hands before he kissed you back hard enough to steal the breath from your lungs.

A quiet sound escaped him against your mouth, rough and helpless.

You softened the kiss instinctively before he could overwhelm himself with it but Ace followed immediately, chasing the contact. You drew back just enough to breathe and Ace stared at you with wide eyes, flushed from throat to ears, like you’d lit something inside him. He leaned in immediately and you raised a hand to his chest, nudging him gently back.

“Oh,” he said weakly.

You laughed softly despite yourself. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Okay,” he managed. “Wasn’t ready for that at all.”

“No?” you teased.

“No.” His voice dropped quieter. “Not even a little. But I really liked it.”

Ace still hadn’t let go of your waist.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air felt strangely heavy, the kind that settled after a storm had broken open overhead. Ace kept looking at your mouth like he was trying very hard not to.

And you… you were beginning to think Marco might have had a point.

Chapter Text

On days when your body struggled to recover from a night with almost no sleep, you always found yourself drawn to the galley.

The heat from the ovens wrapped through the room in heavy waves, warming your skin long before you stepped fully inside. Somebody was always moving here. Boots against wood, knives against chopping boards, the low murmur of fourth division voices drifting beneath the steady groan of the ship itself. It never felt like a place where you had to think too carefully about where you stood or what you said.

You shuffled a little closer to the preparation tables with your legs crossed, reached out slowly and huffed when Thatch immediately slid his chopping board further out of your reach.

“You’re so mean to me,” you said.

He gave you a disbelieving look but fell for the comment regardless, holding out a slice of what he’d been chopping. “Mean to you?” he repeated. “Sugar, if I didn’t protect my ingredients, we would have nothing left for dinner.”

“I’m making sure nobody’s trying to poison you,” you said. “I promise.”

“Of course. That’s a genuine threat we face on this ship.”

“On every ship.”

Thatch laughed softly under his breath, shaking his head as he stepped close, reaching past you to take a pan from the cabinet behind you. His arm brushed against your shoulder, warmth lingering briefly through the thin fabric of your shirt while the scent of sugar and spice clung faintly to him. You allowed yourself one brief moment to appreciate the easy curve of his smile from this close.

Just for a second before he moved back to his kitchen with a smug smile. “You know. One day, I’ll find out how to convince you to join our crew.”

“When I’m in desperate need of stable employment?”

“When you figure out there are few things in life as addictive as excellent food,” he said. “And I suppose I could throw in very good hugs as a bonus.”

You laughed. “Hugs only? Here I thought the food was part of some elaborate seduction strategy.”

“Elaborate? Nah. I cook, you smile at me, I fall deeper in love. Pretty straightforward. I’ve been workin’ on it for years already.”

“Years?” you teased. “It’s a complicated strategy then.”

“Very slow progress,” he agreed with a dramatic sigh. “But it’s alright. I think I might get to you when I start proposing publicly.”

“Will you survive the rejection?”

“I’m very committed to the fantasy that this works out for me eventually.”

You couldn’t help but smile, shaking your head. “One day, I’m going to say yes and you’re going to not know what to do,” you warned him.

Before he could respond with whatever line you saw glinting in his eyes, the door swung open and the second division stepped in. They carried supply crates on their shoulders and Thatch squeezed your knee before he moved to direct them to the right store cupboards.

You immediately took the opportunity to reach over to the chopping board and swipe a few more snacks from it.

A loud, booming chuckle told you that you’d been spotted and you immediately looked to the source. Teach was impossible to ignore when he chose to make himself known.

“I had been feeling like we had a little less food lately,” he commented. “Looks like the kitchen has a mouse.”

You flashed him a pleased smile and held up a finger to your lips. “Maybe we can make a deal,” you whispered. “For your silence.”

He laughed again. “Ah, maybe. Maybe.”

Teach left his crate, one of the largest brought in, just outside the storeroom rather than carrying it the rest of the way himself before smacking his hands together. Dust flicked onto the ground but he didn’t follow the rest of his division out, stepping aside instead to let the other members past.

“Rumour had it you were disappearing yesterday,” he commented.

“Not quite yet. Much to the dismay of some,” you answered.

Teach was a strange man. You never knew quite what to make of him but he always had a broad smile stretched across his face and a jovial tone. He wasn’t particularly interesting to you and nor you to him but you’d spoken enough to know he was odd and somewhat lacking in any kind of motivation.

He shrugged. “Certainly not everyone. I think I can name a handful of others who ought to be happy to keep you.”

You looked to Thatch automatically and even busy with sorting, he looked over to you with such a genuine smile that your heart throbbed. “Absolutely,” he said. “Don’t let Marco give you too much trouble. He gets in his own head.”

You shook your head, keen to avoid the topic of Marco in case you allowed yourself to remember what had happened the night before. Unfortunately for your sanity, Teach nodded in agreement.

“He’s been on Ace’s back lately too,” he commented. “So, you’re not alone.”

“Ace?” Thatch asked.

“Yeah, near constant. Mainly ‘cause of the kid’s big crush on her.”

He nodded toward you and you died a little inside. Izou wasn’t the only one who had noticed? You tried to keep your face calm even as your heart lodged itself in your throat in a harsh reminder of the night before and the problems you were avoiding. You had no idea how to even start that conversation.

“Aw, he should lighten up,” Thatch said with a handwave. “It’s sweet. And he’s clearly got good taste.”

You laughed despite yourself, warm affection curling through your chest that at least Thatch wasn’t acting like this was the end of everything onboard.

“Don’t see what all the fuss is about myself,” Teach said with a loud laugh.

You weren’t sure if he was teasing or not but you chose to take it that way, shrugging. “I don’t either,” you admitted. “From what I’ve heard, she’s prone to stealing food.”

Teach chortled while Thatch rolled his eyes. But whatever momentary humour you took in it vanished the second the galley door swung open again.

Ace stepped inside with a supply crate balanced against one shoulder, sea air and sunlight following briefly in behind him before the door shut again. His eyes found yours immediately. The pleased expression appeared fast enough that you couldn’t ignore it anymore. No wonder everybody had seen it. He was the opposite of subtle.

“Ace,” Thatch greeted. “What’s this I’m hearing about you trying to steal my girl, hm?”

“Your girl?” you corrected.

“Ah, you’re right,” he said. “Future girl.”

Heat crawled up the back of your neck and you gave the chef a slightly panicked look that made him frown in response. It was hardly the first time he’d made that joke and yet…

Ace had frozen mid-step, clearly incredibly confused as he looked toward Thatch and Teach who were both laughing. Then, before common sense caught up, he responded, “Not if you’re already too late.”

The words seemed to freeze the entire room the second they left his mouth. Even the steady clatter of preparation behind you faltered for a beat. Your shoulders crept higher as everybody in the kitchen gave him a look, both divisions clearly interested at the very loud challenge.

Ace looked like a man realising he’d just walked into an execution. “I mean – ”

You were going to kill him.

“What was that?” Thatch asked, amusement already beginning to curl into his voice at the teasing material that had just been offered to him.

Ace’s face turned bright red beneath his freckles. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Hm…? What did you mean it like?”

He was melting slowly and you would have taken sympathy on him if not for how you were too busy fighting off your own fluster.

“I just meant it normally.”

“Normally?”

Teach threw his head back in boisterous laughter. “You’ve got some competition commander,” he said, clapping Thatch on the shoulder. “Think the kid plans on stealing her out from under you when you’re not looking. Though maybe that’s what makes it fun, eh?”

Ace looked at you, his expression almost desperate for guidance on how to solve this. But you had no idea how to fix this.

You met Teach’s gaze and he looked a little too inquisitive, watching you for a response. You settled for just giving him a mildly unimpressed expression before you turned to Thatch to tell him to lay off Ace.

The chef held up his hands before you even said anything but you could see a strange melancholy lingering in him. “It’s fine,” he said. “I’ve never been scared of a little friendly competition.”

“I’m not fond of it myself,” you commented playfully. “When you try to show off, you always give me the weirdest foods.”

“Hey,” he ribbed. “I do that regardless. You’re my taste tester.”

But Teach clearly wasn’t understanding the way you were trying to move this conversation because he snorted. “Very gracious,” he said. “Not sure Izou will share the same sentiment though.”

You could hear the divisions whispering and sharp looks didn’t do much to stop them.

“Izou?” Ace repeated as though he’d never even heard the name before. “What does he have to do with anything?”

And honestly, that sounded like a great idea.

You hopped off the table, squeezing your way past the fourth division as you hurried to the door. “That reminds me, I did promise to talk to him today. I’ll be back later.”

You didn’t hear Thatch’s usual complaint whenever you fled the galley but you brushed that off as how desperately you were trying to ignore Ace’s fallen expression as you hurried past.

The corridors of the Moby Dick were never fully quiet but you didn’t bump into anybody – hurrying through the halls with your pulse refusing to settle beneath your ribs. Humiliation lingered stubbornly beneath your skin.

Seas, Ace. Did he have to make that comment? Now the entire crew would be whispering.

You pressed the heels of your palms briefly against your eyes as you turned down the hall. Maybe you should change your plan to just telling Izou you were going to jump overboard.

It would be better for your sanity.

“What’s wrong with you?”

The question came from behind you, sharp enough to make you stop abruptly as though you’d been caught doing something wrong. Marco looked very unimpressed as he stepped out of his office that you’d just stormed past.

“Nothing. I’m walking. Don’t you have something important to do?”

His eyes narrowed at the harsh snap but he didn’t speak to it. “Weren’t you just in the galley? Somebody chase you out of there for being in the way?”

“You know, it’s honestly none of your business.”

Marco blinked and stayed silent for a second. He wasn’t used to the hostility brimming from you despite all your usual arguments, you’d never taken such a biting tone with him before. And you knew you ought to have just deflected it: complained that he was hovering like a damned mother hen again and ignored him.

But you were already on edge and now the words were out there.

Marco moved further down the hallway, approaching you. “Fine. Imagining I’m stupid and know nothing’s upsetting you, where were you this morning.”

You almost rolled your eyes at him. “Sleeping. Why do you care?”

“Because you weren’t there for breakfast or for your usual tea with Izou yoi.”

“Guess I didn’t get enough sleep. Or maybe I was actually just avoiding you so I didn’t get interrogated.”

His expression tightened at your comment. “That’s not what this is.”

“Right. You’re questioning my exact movement patterns which is totally normal.”

Confusion flickered briefly through him before his defences began to rise in response to your agitation. “Maybe I wouldn’t need to if you didn’t act guilty about everything.”

“Guilty? Is that why you’re out here? Because you think I’m sneaking around.”

“I thought you were upset, yoi. But then you started responding to me as though I caught you doing something wrong.”

You rolled your eyes. “What do you want me to say, hm? Congratulations, you’ve been right this whole time. I shoved a transponder snail down my top so that the marines could listen in to every conversation the crew has.”

 “That’s not what I’ve accused you of.”

“Yeah? Why not?”

“Because I think their ears would bleed from hearing constant bad lines from Thatch. Now what have you been doing that’s riled you like this?”

You crossed your arms. “Guess. I’d love to hear your theories again.”

Genuine regret crossed his face so quickly you almost missed it. Then he exhaled slowly and the tension somewhat left his shoulders. “I’m not trying to start a fight.”

It caught you for a second and you forced the annoyance from your tone.

If it wasn’t for the guilt already twisting in your chest, you may have felt bad for the argument that was clearly being listened in on by multiple crew members down the hall. But you really didn’t have time to spare more regret for your actions.

“Aren’t you always doing that?” you asked.

He didn’t respond for a second and when he did, it was with a slight edge. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

His jaw tensed and he shook his head. “Right.”

And just like that, the momentary softness vanished and old irritation arose anew. “Oh, don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That thing where you decide I’m lying before even bothering to find out what about.”

He shrugged. “You are lying.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you better than you think.”

You really didn’t have time to stand here reiterating the same point over and over again. You took a step away, throwing a hand up in the air. “Sure,” you said. “Because you spend so much time talking to me.”

He looked almost hurt at that. You wished you didn’t see that expression on him.

“I’m going to find Izou,” you said stiffly.

“Of course you are.”

Something ugly twisted beneath the words and just as he did so often, he took what good grace you had and destroyed it with one comment.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He turned away from you, heading back to his office. “Nothing. Go find Izou.”

The dismissal stung more than it should have. You hated how he could do that.

You turned sharply and continued the way you were going, practically sliding down the stairs towards the commanders’ quarters. The crew had the wherewithal to move out of your way as you went; the noise of their activity lost beyond the walls until only the groan of the sea remained. Warm light spilled faintly beneath the doorway before you even knocked.

“You’re early,” Izou called.

You stepped in and closed the door behind you; some awful knot tightening in your chest when you looked at him. He sat near the low table by the window, loose fabric pooled around him in soft folds while thread spilled across the wood beside his hands. The room smelled faintly of tea leaves and powder smoke, lanternlight catching warm gold against the dark lacquer of his pistols nearby.

He looked up at you, smile pleasant but prying. “Well,” he said. “I don’t know what happened with you but I imagine I should blame Marco.”

You sighed and stepped closer, dropping onto the bench beside him with significantly less grace than usual and pressed your palms into your eyes. “Not even,” you muttered. “But he doesn’t make things better.”

“I don’t think he knows how to,” Izou said as he set the fabric aside. “Not when it comes to you. Now what did you do that’s so bad?”

“You’re going to laugh at me.”

“Most likely.” His mouth curved faintly. “But you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want to tell me.”

You groaned softly because he was right. Because if you were going to talk to anybody about this and not have it made into a thing, Izou was perfect. You leaned back against the wall behind you and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“I kissed Ace.”

Izou stayed silent for a second before he chuckled softly, the sound almost breathless. You gave him a desperately pleading expression but he didn’t appear too horrified. So, it surely couldn’t be as bad as you feared. Right?

“That poor boy,” he said. “No wonder he’s been walking around this morning and staring at walls.”

You sighed heavily. “Have I broken him?”

“Very possibly. I would say almost certainly but there’s a chance he continues on in hopes he might get another one.”

You turned your head to the window, tapping offbeat against the windowsill. “It was stupid,” you admitted. “I… I don’t even know why but I thought, you know, maybe it would be – I don’t know. It didn’t make his interest any better.”

Izou scoffed. “You kissed a man and thought it would make him fall out of love with you? Come now. That’s foolish.”

“He’s not in love,” you complained because you didn’t have another defence. You leaned your head against the glass. “What do I do?”

“About Ace? It depends on what you want from him.”

You didn’t know. You looked toward Izou to make sure he wasn’t judging you but he instead looked a little out of it, carefully examining his sleeve for a missing thread that wasn’t there. He met your eyes and raised an eyebrow. For a while, you stared at each other in silence and then you pushed yourself away from the window.

“This was so stupid,” you said. “We were decent enough friends but then I went and complicated something that had no reason to be complicated.”

He hummed faintly. “Perhaps I may complicate things further for you?”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

He shifted himself on the bench, a hand coming up to catch your jaw and pull you in, your heart frozen solid in your chest. “By following your example.”

“Izou…”

“Mm?”

Words weren’t fully forming on your tongue.

His lips met yours softly at first, patient enough that for one second you worried he might still pull away. He didn’t.

One hand slipped around your waist, drawing you closer with quiet certainty while the other remained steady against your jaw.

The sudden intensity of it hit like stepping too close to open flame, sharp heat rushing through you so quickly your fingers caught instinctively against the front of his kimono. He kissed with precision, every movement deliberate, devastatingly controlled even as his grip on you tightened.

You made a quiet noise against his lips and felt the faintest hint of satisfaction in the way he exhaled.

When he finally pulled back, it was only far enough for you to feel his breath against your skin.

“There,” he said. “Now things are equally complicated for us.”

You stared at him. Izou looked entirely composed, save for the slight darkening of his eyes and the hand still resting warm against your waist.

“You…”

“Yes?”

“Why?”

“Mm. Curiosity among other things.” He brushed his thumb lightly against your side. “I’ve captured your attention for so many years, I imagine it would only be fair, no?”

You huffed out a breath, trying very hard to ignore the way your heartbeat had quickened. “You are not helping my situation.”

“No,” Izou agreed smoothly. “I imagine I am making it much worse.”

He sounded entirely too pleased with himself and, despite every warning bell ringing somewhere deep in your chest, you couldn’t quite find it in yourself to regret any part of it.

Interlude

Ace found Teach later that evening near the lower deck, reclining against a stack of crates with a bottle dangling loosely from one hand. The older man raised his eyes immediately when Ace approached and grinned broadly.

“Ah, commander. You’re looking miserable.”

Ace scowled, more on instinct than anything. “I’m not.”

“Suppose you’ve always looked like somebody shot your dog?” he said with a booming laugh before he took a slow, deep drink.

For a moment, Ace just leaned against the railing beside him, staring out across the black stretch of ocean beyond the ship. Moonlight broke silver across the water whenever the Moby Dick shifted with the tide while cold wind pushed restlessly through his hair. The wind cooled some of the lingering heat beneath his skin but not nearly enough.

Unfortunately.

Teach watched him quietly for several seconds before he chuckled under his breath. “So, you’re into her, hey? I can see it. She seems your type.”

Ace nearly choked, coughing loudly. “What?! I don’t – Stop it!”

Teach laughed loudly, the sound booming over the ship. He looked far too pleased with himself.

Ace folded his arms tighter across his chest and glared toward the sea harder. “Doesn’t really matter. I just wanted to ask you something?”

“Me?”

“What did you mean earlier? When you said Izou wouldn’t be happy?”

Teach’s gaze flickered then, something more interested arising behind the lazy cadence of his words. Ace immediately regretted asking.

Teach rolled the bottle between his palms slowly before shrugging one shoulder. “Ah, that. Didn’t mean anything special by it. Everybody knows about Izou and her.”

Ace frowned. “What about them?”

Teach blinked once. “You really don’t know?” He settled back comfortably against the crates. “I mean most people figured if she ever stuck around permanently, it would be for one of the two. Either Thatch or… well, Izou. To be honest, I don’t know many who think Thatch has a real chance.”

Ace hated the way he said it. Like it was an accepted fact. “That’s…” He frowned. “Why?”

Teach barked out a laugh. “Boy, have you ever actually watched the two of them together?”

Ace’s jaw tightened slightly. Not really. You always sat by Izou, always talked to him quietly in whispers interspersed with laughter. Now that he thought about it, maybe a little too much.

“She goes to him with everything,” Teach continued casually. “Always has.”

Something unpleasant twisted in Ace’s chest at the answer. Because that was true, wasn’t it? The second things got uncomfortable earlier, you’d gone straight to Izou.

Teach tilted his head slightly, watching the realization settle over Ace’s face.

“Most of the crew’s been convinced for years that they’ll make a move someday,” he added. “There’s probably still a betting pool somewhere.”

Ace stared at him. “You’re joking. They’re betting on it?”

“I swear it.” Teach looked entirely delighted now. “You should’ve seen the galley after you opened your mouth earlier. Think you scared a few people.”

Ace dropped his face briefly into one hand. He’d inserted himself into some years-long situation the entire crew apparently already knew about. Fantastic. But… you’d kissed him. You’d taken his wrists and brought him closer. You wouldn’t do that if you were already secretly dating one of the others.

After a moment he frowned again, glancing sideways toward Teach.

“Is that why Marco doesn’t like her?”

Teach paused then shrugged. “Nah, I got no clue what that’s about. Don’t think anybody does.”

That somehow did not make Ace feel better.

“But,” Teach added, grin widening, “With all that in mind, you got under everybody’s skin pretty fast. I figure you might even have a chance commander. Maybe I change my money from Izou to you.”

Ace groaned. “You were betting on Izou?”

“’Course. It made a whole lot of sense before you showed up.”

Chapter Text

You had wanted to kiss Izou for years. Considered it so many nights when you sat alongside him, watching the clouds roll past the star-filled sky.

But now that you’d actually done it, your stomach felt tight enough to make you nauseous.

Because it hadn’t just been him. If it had just been him, you would have been fine, but he knew you’d kissed Ace. He knew you watched after Thatch… knew that deep down part of you looked for Marco the second he entered a room. Izou was probably the only person on the ship who knew any of it.

It was all meant to stay in that strange, floating realm where none of you acknowledged it. It had for so long and now –

There were two sharp knocks on your door and you stopped. Hoping your pacing hadn’t been annoying anyone, you threw it open to find Izou waiting, his expression amused and his appearance perfect. The face of a man who knew exactly what he’d done.

“Morning,” he said. “You skipped breakfast yesterday too so I thought I’d come and find you before Marco suspects you’re strapping bombs to the rudder.”

You breathed out slowly, steadily. “You’re escorting me to breakfast?”

“You don’t have to read into it.”

“I… Izou, you kissed me,” you said, not bothering to lower your voice. “I’m going to be reading into everything now.”

“Probably,” he said. “But if you don’t hurry along, I’ll do it again and cause you another crisis.”

You sighed and stepped back into your room, throwing together the quickest look you were comfortable in before you joined him. He held out his arm and you slipped onto it on instinct alone. He often escorted you around the ship like this. It wouldn’t surprise anyone.

Yet you still held your breath as you stepped into the dining hall.

The room was loud in the familiar way mornings always were aboard the Moby Dick; chairs scraping wood, fourth division voices carrying over one another, the smell of tea and fried batter hanging warm in the air.

Nobody even gave you a second glance. Right. Everybody else was functioning normally.

“I do admit,” Izou said as you approached your regular bench. “I didn’t expect such timidness from you regarding this. Probably the boy’s influence, no?”

You gave him a look. You weren’t being timid.

Before you could answer though a familiar warmth reached around you, your plate appearing as though summoned. You leaned back into Thatch’s chest on instinct and he steadied your shoulder, his smile easy.

“You also heard about Ace then?” he asked.

Izou gave you a pointed look and you shrunk somewhat. “I’ve heard a great many things about Ace lately,” he said. “So, it well depends on what you mean.”

Thatch took a seat on your other side like he always did. Usually, his arm would have settled behind you by now, loose warmth against your shoulders while he stole bites from your plate. This time, he only reached for his coffee.

 He smelt faintly of cinnamon and you had to resist the urge to comment on it, silently wishing for any topic other than this one. You could see other crew members turning their heads subtly.

“I’m talking about his posturing yesterday,” Thatch said with a chuckle. “He’s getting really possessive of her.”

“You’ve hardly hidden your attachment.”

“Ah, maybe but I’m sure he’ll get over it.”

Izou took your hand before you could bury your face into it, playing with your fingers before interlacing his own with yours. “He hasn’t said a word to me,” he said, ignoring the panicked look you gave him. “But I don’t know if he’s noticed anything.”

“Can we… I’m really getting tired of talking about Ace now,” you said. “Seriously. Between the two of you and Marco, I’m becoming convinced you’re all interested in him.”

Perhaps you were becoming a bit too defensive. Probably, honestly, but Izou was holding your hand and Thatch was staring at that and you didn’t know if this was going to be a problem because you’d never been physical with Izou like this. And to make matters worse, you could practically hear the crackle of flames from behind you.

“What happened a few days ago?” Thatch said. “Seems like everything was fine until then.”

You were not about to announce it here where you could see Fossa pretending not to lean in and listen. “Apparently, I decided to stay on the ship for a few days and that made the world implode.”

“Bomb threats again,” Izou said with a sage nod. “Somebody should alert Marco.”

“Stop it.”

“Again?” Thatch asked with a small chuckle.

“There’s no ‘again’,” you muttered, pushing at his arm lightly. “I have never threatened to hurt a single person on this ship.”

He gave you a look. “Now, just yesterday you told me that you were wondering if you could push Marco in the ocean.”

“Anybody on the ship who doesn’t deserve it.”

Izou handed you his cup of tea and you took it without thinking, hiding your grumbles in the rim. “Come now,” he said. “There are plenty on the ship who deserve your threats far more than he does. I can give you examples if you’d like.”

“Izou,” Thatch reprimanded. “We’re family. Threats are unneeded.”

“Family has quarrels.” Izou returned smoothly. “We can hardly ask for peace all the time. If we did that, we may as well retire, no?”

Thatch was quiet for a second and you couldn’t help but feel that if you weren’t watching the doors like somebody might burst in at any second, you would be able to keep up with whatever not-so-private debate they were having.

“It’s still good to try,” Thatch conceded.

“I do try,” you answered, not fully paying attention. “But lately, I’ve caused chaos by breathing so it might be a latent curse.”

“You’re fine,” he reassured and lightly bumped you with his elbow and that… that was weird. Weird enough that you stopped looking for Marco to watch him stand from the bench despite his coffee being full. “Now, I’ve got to get started on cleaning my kitchen. Dropped a bag of flour last night and it’s a nightmare in there.”

And he just left.

No kiss pressed into your hair. No hand dragging briefly across your shoulder as he stood. Just the scrape of the bench against the floorboards before warmth disappeared from your side entirely.

You watched him move easily through the crowded hall toward the galley doors. Discomfort twisted low in your stomach. Everything that had happened recently had been strange but it hadn’t been wrong.

Thatch not flirting with you. That was wrong.

“Izou?”

“Mm, I know. I see it.”

“Did I say something?”

Izou sighed and released your hand. “Nothing. Go.”

“Are you sure I should?”

“You’re going to worry yourself sick after him anyway. My point has already been made.”

You paused for only a second to consider what thought he could have possibly made before you chose to ignore it. A problem for later. You stood quickly and followed Thatch’s path, well aware of the eyes that followed you.

The kitchen was fine. There was no massive mess and in fact, the fourth division called out cheerful greetings as you entered, clearly unaffected by whatever afflicted their commander.

The shouted greetings got Thatch to turn from his cleaning station and he smiled at you like he normally would.

But it was still wrong.

“Aw, were you missing me already?” he teased.

You looked around the kitchen and hummed, moving closer but not quite into his space. “You lied. There’s no flour explosion.”

“I do exaggerate sometimes, I admit.”

“Why? Are you avoiding me?”

It was meant to be a tease but the lingering hurt remained in your tone despite how desperately you wanted to be rid of it. You didn’t want to think of yourself as a forgotten pet standing in the middle of the kitchen but it was almost how you felt.

“Never,” he promised with complete sincerity. “But I thought you might want to have some more alone time with Izou. He’s been looking lonely, you know.”

No, he hadn’t. And Thatch never pushed you toward Izou, insisting that he could come and get you if that’s what he wanted. You stared at him, trying to figure out what problem you had caused… or if he even knew what was going on.

You leaned against the edge of the cleaning station. “I don’t like this whole cold Thatch,” you pointed out. “I like my Thatch.”

He froze for a second, a slight cough you hadn’t seen from him before. “Cold?” he repeated with a slight chuckle. “I spoil you far too much if you think this is cold.”

 “It’s still not right.”

As though he couldn’t help himself, Thatch sighed and reached out, hand lingering on your cheek for just a second as though imitating brushing hair from your face. The familiar movement soothed you just enough that you could pretend to not notice the hesitation before he moved away again.

“You’re too stressed,” he said. “It looks like you’re about to snap.”

And you wanted to tell him. You should tell Thatch because he’d never given you anything more than a good-natured tease in response to your mild infatuation with Izou.

But you couldn’t.

Instead, you stepped forward and threw your arms around him, squeezing him in the tightest hug you’d ever given him. Possibly the only proper hug you’d ever given him now that you thought about it but he didn’t hesitate to respond.

Warm arms wrapped around you immediately, tucking you into his broad chest as you buried your face in his coat.

“I can send somebody to get Izou,” he offered.

“No.”

You closed your eyes and sunk into him, content to feel the warmth radiating from him. Thatch rubbed slowly over your back.

“Sugar,” he said eventually. “What’s got you this worked up, hm? You were fine yesterday.”

“There’s too much going on now,” you muttered. “Ace is being weird. Izou is being weird. You’re being weird.”

He huffed. “Izou’s not being strange but why don’t you go talk to Ace? I’m sure you can smooth things over with him in an instant.”

“Maybe.”

Thatch’s hand moved slowly along your back once more before he eased away enough to look down at you. “Hi.”

“Hey,” you said back on instinct. “I’ve upset you and I want to know why.”

He chuckled softly. “You haven’t. Don’t start stressing about me now too.”

Thatch brushed his thumb once lightly beneath your eye before stepping back fully this time.

“Go on,” he said gently. “Before Ace walks his way into an early grave.”

“He’s fine,” you grumbled.

“He spent more time watching you than eating this morning. And you know I won’t pressure you about it but I don’t want him getting into things with Izou. He’s not gracious about those kinds of challenges.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t he?”

It was strange to leave the galley and feel relief but it seemed the entire of the ship was out to cause you as much distress as possible. Or perhaps that was you causing the problems. After all, you had been the one who started everything.

Not that you regretted either of them. Seas knew you had wanted to kiss Izou for years now and it was everything you wanted. And Ace’s excitement set your heart blazing.

But the guilt of it was a little too heavy to talk to him about it now.

You could find Ace easily but you didn’t bother him, telling yourself it was in respect of Marco’s request and not because you were running on little sleep and far more cowardice than was strictly nervous. With most of the commanders busy, you ended up relaxing with Namur instead, talking about a few glimmering fish species you’d seen swimming around the bow.

“If you’re still here next time we dock, I’ll take you to some of the reefs around whichever island we’re on,” he said. “I think you’ll like the views if you’re willing to put up with some unpleasantness.”

“As long as you don’t let me drown, I think we’ll be fine.”

On the ship, Whitebeard had requested you tell only one about your devil fruit to begin with, just in case you ever met a bad situation. Namur’s knowledge might quickly get you out of trouble if you needed.

It wasn’t a secret as much as nobody had asked and... to be honest, you knew it was something you should probably mention.

It just wasn’t high on your priorities yet.

“As long as it’s no trouble,” you said. “I would love to see the reefs. Just remember I might be a bit of dead weight in the water.”

“It’s not a problem,” he said. “At least I don’t have to drag you out of the ocean every other day because you forgot that you can’t swim.”

You laughed behind your hand. “I wonder who you’re referring to.”

Namur looked pointedly over your shoulder and you didn’t even need to look to recognise the leisurely steps approaching.

“What are you guys talking about?”

You turned to Ace, feeling the way your heart throbbed when he aimed a beaming grin at you. He really was far too handsome for his own good. You had a feeling he could get away with a lot of things with the right smile.

“Marine life,” you said. “And how often you fall off the ship.”

He flushed at that, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not that often. Only when I fall asleep on watch or something.”

Namur shook his head. “Yesterday, you were not asleep. You were trying to balance on the railings.”

“Well, Vista wanted me to train my balance so…”

“Speaking of,” Namur said, standing. “I do need to speak to Vista about an axe he was repairing for me. I need to catch him before he gets distracted.”

You nodded as he walked off, silently cursing that you had been dumped into the situation you were avoiding. But it would be alright. You could talk about nonsense fairly easily and you were sure Ace would oblige you.

“I heard about you and Izou.”

Or he would jump straight into it. You almost laughed.

“What about me and Izou?” you asked.

He hopped onto the railing beside you with the same reckless ease that always made your stomach tighten a little. Wind pushed through his hair while the ocean rolled endlessly beneath him, dark water catching streaks of sunlight every time the ship shifted.

“Teach told me there’s a betting ring going on. Apparently, everybody thinks you’re going to start dating Izou. Or Thatch but uh… less so, I think.”

Oh, was that back again?

You leaned forward onto your elbows and shook your head. “That ring’s been going on for ages. I think Jozu has so much invested, he can retire on the winnings.”

Ace laughed and a breeze almost stole his hat though he caught it with ease. “What if he loses?”

“I don’t think he’s planned that far ahead.”

Ace gave you a mischievous look. “Who’s he got money on?”

You were a little apprehensive of how well Ace seemed to be taking this. Given his reaction to Thatch the day before, you’d been concerned he might be a little more… well, you weren’t sure what exact emotion you’d expected but this wasn’t it.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “You’d have to ask him. I always thought the whole thing was a bit stupid. Used to have Marco on my case about it too.”

“Why would it be your fault?”

You shrugged. “Have you met Marco? He’d blame the weather on me if he could.”

“Ha, probably. I wonder if he’s got a bet on anything… Maybe I should ask.”

“Please don’t.”

Ace grinned as though your exasperated request had been his end goal anyway. “I think I’m going to start keeping a book or something about who’s betting on who. Want to see it when I’m done?”

You had to admit to some mild curiosity even if it was at your own expense. “Maybe. You’re not bothered by it?”

“Nah, why would I be? It doesn’t matter because they’re all probably going to lose.”

“Oh really? How are you so sure about that?”

“Because I’m not giving up.”

Ace leaned closer as he said it, grin softer now, something earnest sitting beneath all the teasing confidence. Close enough that if you turned your head even slightly, you thought he might kiss you again just because he wanted to.

You looked to him, humoured with the intensity he said to it. “Giving up on what?”

“You,” he said. “You’ve known Izou for longer but why does that matter? I like you and you kissed me so I’m not going to go away just because he’s been on the ship more?”

You laughed, mildly disbelieving at how forwardly he said it. Nobody ever acknowledged that you had two commanders vying for your attention – not openly at least – but Ace announced it without even a second of shame.

“You’re so sweet,” you teased. “That makes you quite dangerous for my heart, Fire Fist”

He grinned, confident and relaxed, stretching like a cat to the point where you thought he might tip back over the railing. “I was thinking about it,” he said. “I thought about leaving it alone but that lasted like… maybe an hour. Sorry though, about the thing yesterday with Thatch. I know he’s just sort of like that so I shouldn’t have been weird about it.”

Had that been what caused Thatch’s strange behaviour? You doubted it but you supposed anything was possible.

“It’s fine,” you reassured.

“I didn’t mess anything up with you guys, did I? You haven’t been there for most of the day and you normally never leave. I went looking for you earlier but… Thatch seemed off.”

“I know,” you said. “Thatch is off. I just don’t know why.”

“Did I get to him that bad? He seemed normal after I said it.”

“He was,” you agreed. “And he’s never been that upset about other people uh, saying things about me, I guess. Izou does it all the time. Hell, they were literally at it again this morning but then he just stopped.”

“It’s weird. Maybe he – ”

“I knew I would find you out here.”

You had no idea which of you Marco’s comment was aimed at but the shift in atmosphere was immediate regardless. Ace straightened slightly beside you while Marco approached across the deck. At least it was a change in topic. And you had to admit; you’d been missing out on hearing his complaints throughout the day.

“I’m considering jumping into the ocean,” you commented. “Why don’t you join me for a swim, birdy?”

He gave you a flat look. “Hilarious. If you want to get swallowed by a sea king, I’ll find an easier way for you to do it.”

But he looked far more relaxed than he had the day before, more annoyed than anything else which was exactly what you had hoped for. It meant things felt better. Or at least, as good as they could ever be when Marco was looking to be a headache for you.

He was a predictable headache. You appreciated it.

“Don’t suppose Whitebeard needs me?” you asked.

“No,” he said firmly. “Pops is doing much better today than he has in a while.”

“Good to hear.”

Marco’s glasses caught slightly in the light as he gave you a look. “Ace, did you finish all your reports today?”

“No.”

You made a hum, admitting to yourself that you might be poking at Marco slightly now. “Commander talk around me? That’s flattering. Wasn’t it last visit when you ordered the entire ship to stop discussing mission plans around me? Or was it the one before that?”

He always bit when you taunted him, turning his attention to you. “Reports are hardly of any importance. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Aw but I love flattery.”

He rolled his eyes. “Go bother the fourth division for a while. They seem willing to indulge you.”

You flinched a little at that. He’d made the comment a thousand times before, mainly focused on how much Thatch flirted with you, but it felt odd with everything going on. And he noticed because he noticed far too much, especially when you didn’t want him to.

“Or I’m sure Pops would entertain you. He does enjoy charity,” he continued.

You scoffed, more comfortable with that remark. “No need to be jealous. You can’t be the favourite child all the time.”

“Why can’t she hear about plans?” Ace asked, speaking before Marco could retort to the taunt and he sounded actually annoyed. “I mean, she’s been around here for a long time.”

Marco frowned, clearly as surprised about the sudden interjection as you were. He gave Ace a stern look. “That’s not a decision you get to make. Your position on this crew is important enough that you should understand prudence.”

“So can I talk about the second division then?”

“No. There’s a balance and part of that is not letting strangers understand the intricacies of how the ship works.”

Ace rolled his eyes and hopped off the railing. “You’re literally the only person who thinks she’s a stranger. Everybody else talks about her as though she’s trusted.”

Marco’s expression tightened. “Everybody else is not an automatic judgement.”

“Pops even likes her!”

“Can you two remember that ‘she’ is actually here?” you asked but neither of them seemed to actually hear you.

“I respect Pop’s opinions,” Marco said. “But you don’t have the background for anything here. You’ve seen a very small snippet of how this situation works.”

“I just don’t get it. Hell, people are betting on when she’ll join the crew and you’re the only person who seems to think that she’s secretly a spy. Why can’t you just tell me what the issue is?”

“Ace,” you warned and he quietened for a second, glancing at you. “Leave it.”

Marco sighed and you looked toward him, already ready to challenge him if he continued. But he met your gaze, glare sharp enough to burn through you. You didn’t flinch away, shoulders squared and waiting.

“Finish your reports before you start trying to lecture me about judgement,” Marco said, voice very cool.  

“That’s not a reason,” Ace muttered.

“No,” Marco agreed. “It’s not.”

He turned and walked away.

You sighed and shook your head. The tension on this ship was going to suffocate you at some point, you swore it. At this point, Whitebeard might kick you off the ship just for inciting this level of chaos.

“I still don’t get him,” Ace said.

“You are far from the only one.”

Interlude

Izou sat on a bench, one leg bent loosely as he cleaned one of his pistols beneath the lanternlight. The deck was quieter this far back on the ship; mostly just the creak of wood and the distant wash of the sea against the hull.

The pistol was clean. It had been for the past few hours. But he hadn’t put it down yet.

He looked up as Thatch approached, expression unchanged. “You look miserable.”

“Thanks,” Thatch said with a half-laugh. “I’ve been told I’m not too good at hiding things.”

That got a faint hum from Izou. He set the cloth down finally; the pistol still rested atop his lap. “I assume you’re here to congratulate me or something?”

“Something like that.”

Izou inclined his head while he waited. Then he shrugged. “She kissed Ace first.”

Thatch’s knee bumped hard into the railing. “What?”

“You didn’t know?”

“She kissed Ace?”

Izou nodded and Thatch straightened. “No wonder… but wait, no, hold on. The two of you this morning?”

“I kissed her afterwards. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Thatch repeated as though the word wasn’t shattering by itself. “Then does that mean, you know?”

“That I won?” Izou asked. “I wasn’t aware this was a game of cards.”

Thatch rubbed a hand down his face. “When you say it like that, it sounds stupid.”

“It is.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Izou’s mouth curved faintly, the edge of something sharper sitting beneath it. “It would probably be better for everybody if you hadn’t started avoiding her because of it.”

“I’m not avoiding her,” Thatch said with a frown.

“Really? Then why are you here instead of trying to get her to taste test some random concoction?”

He looked toward the sea, his jaw tightening slightly. “I knew something had happened,” he said. “She kissed you.”

“She did. And?” Izou sounded deeply unimpressed now, like Thatch was refusing to answer an obvious question correctly.

Thatch laughed quietly under his breath. “Come on, Izou. You know what this is.”

“No,” Izou said simply. “I don’t think I do.”

Thatch looked over at him properly, faintly annoyed now. His expression was unreadable, half-shadowed by the night but still poised.

“She chose you. We knew that was how it was going to go, didn’t we? Most of the crew has money on the two of you. Hell, that’s where I put my bet.” It sounded strangely embarrassing to admit it aloud. “And when it ended, you knew I’d make it easy on both of you.”

Something in Izou’s expression tightened at that.

“She’s not a prize I won from you.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

Thatch went quiet. If you chose Izou fully someday, Thatch could survive it. He loved Izou too. The shape of that future had never frightened him.

But Ace… that one was strange because he had simply reached.

No hesitation. No years spent carefully swallowing things down into something manageable. No standing off to the side and convincing himself that wanting was enough on its own.

He had just taken the chance.

And for the first time in years, Thatch found himself wondering what might have happened if he had done the same.

Izou watched him carefully for a long moment before sighing softly. “You’re an idiot.”

Thatch barked out a startled laugh. “That’s harsh.”

“It’s true.” Izou picked up the pistol again, checking the chamber with practiced ease. “I never asked you to disappear.”

“It’s out of respect.”

“Sure. Not just because you’re a coward.”

Thatch shook his head with another laugh but it faded quickly. “You really don’t mind?”

“If she decides she wants only me someday, I trust you to survive it.” His gaze sharpened slightly. “But I do not need you punishing both of yourselves in preparation for a future that has not even happened.” Then, after a moment, Izou added smoothly, “Besides, if she kissed Ace first, I hardly think any of us should start acting possessive yet.”

“You are never letting that go, are you?”

“Absolutely not. She will never live it down.”

Chapter Text

“Have you always looked this troubled with life or is that new?”

You gave Whitebeard a look that had him laughing loudly, proud of his taunt. Your hand still hovered at the door. “It’s new,” you said dryly. “Your children are troublesome.”

He chuckled and took a deep drink from his mug. “That they are but you mustn’t let them get under your skin so much. You give Marco a hard enough time in return.”

“And I’ll keep doing it,” you said with sincerity. “But it’s not him alone this time.”

Whitebeard’s smile didn’t shrink though there was a glint in his gaze that told you he knew far more than you had assumed. “At least he is easy enough to solve if you would want to. Simply speak to him about the reason you’re here.”

“There’s no point,” you said as you gestured to the door. “I could tell him I’m a literal angel descending from the heavens and he’d think it’s code for my plan to run you through in the middle of the night.”

“Ace already tried that method. You can see it didn’t work too well for him.”

You chuckled softly to yourself, still resenting that you had never quite had the opportunity to witness Ace’s attempts. “I don’t believe I would see any different results,” you admitted.

“Likely not,” Whitebeard conceded. “Though I do have a favour to ask. Whatever part of this trouble Thatch is involved in, I need you to fix it. I don’t know what you broke but I can taste the effect it has on dinner.”

You sighed. “I don’t know what I did either but he isn’t keen on telling me.”

“Then figure it out and soon.”

“That sounds almost like a threat,” you said with a half-laugh.

Whitebeard waved a giant hand, smile still in place but his gaze sharp as ever. “Rest assured, it is one. I know you’re responsible for this.”

You were but that didn’t mean you were going to ask the ship’s collective father for assistance in solving it. “I’ll try,” you said with a small laugh. “But I’ve been avoiding the kitchens, you see. I’m trying to not eat my weight in sweets before I leave.”

“Ah then that’s why he’s sulking. Well, at least it’s an easy fix.”

You wished it was. Still, you inclined your head and promised to try your hardest one more time before you left the room, silently praying that the solution would divine itself onto you.

Instead, you got a very moody Marco.

“You definitely wouldn’t be able to actually injure him,” Marco said immediately, having long since dropped the pretence that he didn’t listen in on your conversations. “If Ace couldn’t lay a scratch on him, your own odds are slim.”

“My arms are a little thin for it, aren’t they?” you said. “Maybe I should try poison. I have some connections in the kitchen.”

You shouldn’t be sarcastic with those kinds of things but not even a minute into talking to Marco and you were getting annoyed. You had to antagonise him a little. So far, he was the only person on this ship behaving like normal and you’d like to keep it that way.

It seemed he disagreed though because instead of a retort, his gaze caught on something on your arm. “You walk into something, yoi?”

The verbal tic caught you off-guard enough that you didn’t respond immediately. He’d used that maybe twice before when speaking to you; a clear indication that he overthought just about every interaction he shared with you.

Even in your most heated debates, he rarely slipped into it and it stunned you enough that you just looked toward a small scratch on your upper arm.

“I walked into a crate earlier,” you said slowly. “I didn’t see Haruta carrying it.”

It had bled slightly, the thinnest line of blood running toward your elbow, but it was hardly something to catch the eye.

Marco shook his head. “You can’t look where you’re going?”

Okay, that was better. Less strange of a comment from him. “It’s a scratch.”

“Have you even considered how much time and energy you’d waste if it got infected? We don’t have infinite supplies for clumsiness.”

“Oh my word,” you huffed. “Don’t worry, doc, I don’t plan to waste your resources or die on your ship. Trust me, I’d much rather find somewhere peaceful to croak.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line and then, unexpectedly, reached for you.

You stiffened as blue flame curled over your skin. The heat wasn't hot enough to burn, only warm, sinking into your arm like sunlight through fabric. The scratch disappeared beneath it, the thin line of red fading until there was nothing left at all. Your heart lodged itself somewhere in your throat.

His hand lowered. You stared at him and he stared back, both of you clearly unsure what the appropriate response to that was.

You saved him and yourself from the awkwardness by coughing. “That was an overreaction. It’s not contagious.”

“If it was, I’d imagine Izou might be walking into everything.”

“What does Izou have to do with anything?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, firmly locking them as though he might reach for you again if he stopped paying attention. “He’s been permanently attached to you since yesterday. It’s hardly any kind of secret and I imagine it’s the cause of Ace’s attitude of late.”

“Attitude?” you repeated. “Asking perfectly reasonable questions that you don’t like isn’t having an attitude.”

Marco scoffed. “Are you two behaving as guard dogs for one another now?”

“No. I’m just being a good friend,” you said though the word sounded strange in your head, all things considered. “And not letting you jab at him just because you have a problem with me.”

“Friends? I don’t know how many friends follow each other around and neglect their duties.”

“Actually – ”

“Your co-dependency with Izou does not count either.”

You blinked. Ouch. You couldn’t help but feel that Marco’s comments surrounding Izou in particular had been getting sharper over the past few days. Things that were becoming harder to brush off with a casual shrug and his usual excuse.

His usual paranoia about your intentions had almost faded in exchange for the passive aggressive remarks towards the other commanders.

Maybe he was actually acting strange too. You didn’t like acknowledging that.

“I wasn’t even going to bring up Izou,” you said bluntly. “Though I can see you struggle to understand the concept of enjoying somebody’s company.”

“Hardly. I just don’t pretend that’s all it is.”

“Oh, really? And what is it then?”

He hesitated for a second, as though saying the words would somehow be far worse than just implying it. But honestly, if he was going to accuse you of these things, he should at least say it to your face.

“The entire crew knows what’s happening there,” he said, still not giving you what you wanted. “It’s getting ridiculous to pretend otherwise.”

“The entire crew? I wasn’t aware we were a circus display.”

“If you knew what subtlety was, maybe you could have avoided it.”

You stepped around him, moving toward the door, not quite getting into his space but still hovering. Your voice was lower as you responded, quieter. “Right, you’re one to talk about subtlety. I never notice when you’re brooding and glaring from the corner of the room.”

“That’s because you’re the trigger for it. I’m perfectly fine when you’re not around.”

“Guess I must be pretty bad for your stress levels then.”

“You’re bad for plenty of things on this ship.”

That comment felt less pointed than the other ones though objectively, it should have hurt more. It just didn’t have the same bite to it as the rest had and you breathed out, feeling that this argument was probably going to wind down into something more normal. Something beyond random healing.

You still couldn’t quite get that out of your head.

“Too bad you’re not the captain,” you said. “So, you can’t get rid of me.”

“Oi! Raise the volume back up!” Whitebeard’s voice boomed from his room. “You kids don’t have any idea how hard it is to listen in when you’re whispering!”

You paused, almost laughing at the realisation that he had been listening in. At least you never had to prove that you weren’t imagining Marco’s constant hostility.

“Pops is right,” Marco said after a second where you almost thought you saw him smile. Almost. “You need to talk to Thatch. I’ve already tried but he won’t say anything to me.”

“He won’t speak to me either,” you admitted. “I’ll ask…”

“Izou?” Marco filled in when you trailed off. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

You wondered if strangling him was even possible.

Instead, you pointedly left and didn’t go speak to Izou because he was probably busy and definitely not because you had a feeling Marco was watching you and you refused to prove him right. That would be ridiculous.

You found the second division busy toward the back of the deck and they didn’t seem to mind too much if you distracted their commander a little.

Some even seemed grateful that he had somebody new to look at his skiff even though you had no idea what the little boat-thing was until he started explaining it, pointing to the different parts as he went about repairing it.

“How did it get so broken?” you asked.

Ace gestured behind him, his tongue a little out of his mouth as he concentrated. “I crashed into the side of the ship.”

“What?”

“I want to make it so that when it goes under the water, it pops up again after a distance,” he explained. “So imagine I’m coming up to a ship, right. If I jump up, I want it to go under and then come back up again so I can land on it.”

“What if you miss and fall in the water?”

He grinned and shrugged. “Guess I just have to make sure I don’t miss. When it’s done, do you want to give it a try?”

“Not even in the slightest,” you said. “That doesn’t look like it could hold two.”

“It probably could.”

You laughed and shifted onto your back across the sun-warmed deck. The wood pressed pleasantly against your shoulders, carrying the lingering heat of the afternoon. Somewhere above, sails snapped softly in the breeze while voices drifted across the ship in scattered bursts of laughter and conversation. The second division moved around you without much concern, stepping over ropes and crates as though you had always belonged there.

“I thought you said you wanted to help,” Ace teased with a broad grin. “But now you’re just lying there.”

“I’m supervising. If you fall in the water, I’ll call for Namur.”

“You’re sunbathing.”

He laughed and basically threw himself down next to you, arms propped behind his head. You turned to look at him slightly and counted the freckles on his cheeks, stark against his sun-warmed skin. He had to know how he looked. Especially given his hatred for shirts.

Beneath you, the Moby Dick creaked softly and for a while, neither of you spoke, just lay there. You almost thought he’d fallen asleep until he suddenly propped himself up.

“Can I kiss you again?”

You laughed, surprised by the suddenness and immediately catching the nerves he was trying very badly to hide beneath casual confidence. It was strangely endearing to hear the uncertainty from someone so fearless in every other aspect of his life.

“Maybe,” you said.

He groaned dramatically. “Aw, that’s not an answer.”

“It’s a maybe,” you said. “As in, I’m thinking about it.”

“What can I do to change it to a yes?”

“Hm…” You tapped a finger against your lip, aware of his gaze lingering on your mouth. “I’ll think about it.”

“You’re evil.”

“I know.”

Your stomach grumbled before you could continue teasing and Ace immediately perked up as though sensing an opportunity. “You’re hungry?”

“I did skip lunch,” you admitted.

“Okay, then I’ll go grab something to eat for you. What do you want?”

It was the perfect opportunity to keep avoiding Thatch and for a second, you genuinely considered asking him. You hadn’t told Whitebeard how fast you’d get the problem solved for him…

But then again, you shouldn’t be avoiding him. It wasn’t really fair.

“It’s alright,” you said. “I wouldn’t want to send you back to the scene of the crime.”

“Oh, it’s fine. I’m sure everybody’s forgotten by now.”

You stood and shook your head. “They definitely haven’t.”

“I’ve got supporters now!” he called after you. “At least three votes for me!”

“Seas, Ace,” you said with a laugh.

You forced yourself to walk fast so your nerves couldn’t catch you before you got to the galley. It was warm in there, welcoming and always smelling faintly like a bakery. Thatch looked up the second you entered, not even a second passing before he smiled at you as though nothing had been wrong at all.

“Well,” he said, glancing briefly toward the clock on the wall. “Look who finally remembered where the kitchen is.”

You smiled despite yourself, stepping through the doorway toward him. “It’s been a busy day.”

“So I’ve heard. You’ve been starting fights with our doctor again and flirting with Ace. Sounds very important.”

“Fighting with Marco is the most important part of my day. It’s like the first cup of coffee in the morning.”

Thatch laughed good-naturedly. It wasn’t the busiest time for the kitchen though a few members of the fourth division moved around the kitchen. They greeted you when they saw you looking, your attention drawn by the smell of garlic and butter.

You stepped closer to Thatch, not fully into his space but enough that you were out of the middle of their path.

“Hungry?”

There was nothing you could steal from him unfortunately. The fish he was filleting was still very much raw. “A little,” you admitted. “I was going to scavenge.”

You always enjoyed watching him work like this with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his forearms flexing. It was a little indulgence you always allowed yourself. And if he’d ever noticed, he never mentioned it.

“You alright there?” he asked suddenly.

You looked up and blinked. “Hm?”

“You’ve been staring at my hands for a concerning amount of time. I’d prefer you not to eat raw fish.”

You huffed and looked away while your cheeks warmed, focusing on his face instead. “I was remembering that your captain talked my ear off today about dinner.”

“Really? Pops looking forward to it?”

You considered telling the truth but Thatch was in a good mood and you weren’t about to ruin that. “He always does.”

Thatch smiled proudly and put his knife down. He moved the fish carcass aside, washed his hands, and gestured for you to follow him. “Come on. If you’re looking for something to eat, I have an idea.”

You followed without question, moving deeper into the galley toward the large row of ovens.

The cooling counters were mostly empty aside from a single tray filled with unidentifiable golden balls. He picked one up and held it up to you, moving it away when you reached for it with your hand.

“Careful,” he said. “It could be hot and I don’t want you to burn your fingers.”

But he held it to your mouth as though willing you to take a bite.

“It won’t burn my lips though?”

“Nope. It’s magic.”

He placed it against your tongue and for a brief second his fingers brushed the corner of your mouth. The contact was light enough to pretend it hadn't happened at all, but your pulse reacted immediately, stumbling somewhere beneath your ribs. By the time you swallowed, you could hardly remember what the food tasted like.

“Well?” he asked.

You were suddenly very aware that you were in his space. “That depends. Are you trying to feed me or seduce me?”

“Bit of both.”

Somewhere behind you, somebody in the division wolf-whistled before another voice informed them to shut up. That made you laugh despite the way your pulse had begun to flutter unevenly beneath your skin.

“It’s very good,” you admitted.

Thatch smiled. “Good. You know, I heard something very interesting last night.”

“Oh no…”

He shifted the tray further away so he could lean against the counter. “Apparently, you’ve been giving out kisses.”

You closed your eyes briefly. “Izou…”

“Now to be fair, he didn’t volunteer the information.” The corners of Thatch’s mouth twitched up. “I did go asking for details after what happened yesterday.”

“You two gossip worse than old ladies on the dock.”

He chuckled. “I care deeply about the morale of the crew and to be honest, I wanted to see if congratulations were in order. Imagine how surprised I was when Izou told me that Ace was involved in all of this.”

“I know. I know.”

You had no idea what you could even say. You’d been considering doing it again only a few moments ago, after all.

But Thatch didn’t seem at all bothered by Ace’s involvement because he continued, nearly stopping your heart when he said, “I suppose I’m just wondering if there’s any chance of something like that happening between us too.”

You froze, momentarily shocked at the blunt acknowledgement… at the question you’d never allowed yourself to wonder.

“Of course.” It wasn’t a question you had to even think about. You both knew the answer. “It’s just… I don’t have a schedule or anything. Izou kissed me without warning really and Ace just kind of happened.”

“How does one just happen into a kiss?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, that doesn’t help me very much,” Thatch chuckled. “I’m trying to figure out how to get the opportunity here.”

Your eyes flicked to his lips instinctively. “You don’t need to do anything,” you said. “You just never asked.”

He stared at you for half a second before he shook his head. “Sugar, I wasn’t about to just demand you kiss me. Didn't seem right asking when I wasn't sure where your head was at.”

“Well, I want you to ask.”

You saw the surprise settle in in real time. Watched the brief widening of his eyes and the crack in his composure and for once, he didn’t look like he’d been ready for that answer. You almost would have thought he went over this conversation in his head.

But he didn’t prepare for that.

“You do?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He breathed out slowly, looking away for just a second before his smile returned and he stepped closer. “Alright. Can I kiss you?”

“You’ve always been able to.”

That was all the permission he needed before he leaned in. Thatch kissed you gently at first, one hand settling against your waist while the other tilted your chin upward. His touch was careful in a way that made your chest ache. As though he was still giving you room to change your mind even after everything you'd just said.

You felt his smile before you properly registered it, warm against your lips and entirely impossible to resist.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, moving away to give him a look. “You’re smiling too much.”

“Can you blame me?”

“Not really.”

Then he kissed you properly. The hand around your waist slid slowly around you, drawing you close with natural ease. Familiar laughter lingered faintly against his mouth even as the kiss deepened. You barely noticed yourself moving forward until there was no space between your bodies anymore, your fingers curling instinctively into the front of his coat.

By the time you broke away, your breathing was uneven and Thatch looked ridiculously pleased with himself.

“This is going to be a problem,” he said. “I’m going to get addicted to you.”

And then, because apparently he had no intention of behaving anymore, he kissed you again. You made a soft, offended noise against his mouth that lost all meaning the moment your arms slid around his neck willingly.

Warm hands settled against your waist before he turned and lifted you easily onto the edge of the counter behind you.

“Thought I wasn’t allowed to sit on counters that weren’t my spot.”

“There are exceptions.”

He rejoined your lips before you could point out any other flaws in his logic.

The galley had started filling slowly around you as more fourth division members filtered in to begin dinner preparations and you only bothered taking note after the fourth cough of surprise and the second dropped pot.

“Get back to work,” Thatch called without even looking away from you.

The entire ship would know about this within the hour but you really couldn’t find it in your heart to care too much.

You dropped your forehead to his shoulder, focusing on your breathing while you heard the scurrying of his division getting back to work. “I was told I needed to make sure tonight’s meal was good,” you said. “So I shouldn’t distract the head chef this much.”

“They’ll be fine. They know what they’re doing.”

Warmth still curled lazily through you from his attentions but it seemed you had made your point because he stepped away with a sigh.

“I’d love to keep you with me for the whole night doll but I did just remember I promised Izou I would send you his way if I saw you.”

“You just remembered?” you asked teasingly.

“I was very distracted.”

You very much didn’t want to leave but you knew you should all the same. Thatch helped you down from the counter, pressed one kiss to your head and immediately switched into his commander voice to organise dinner. It seemed that his division hadn’t really managed to keep their focus with everything happening.

You laughed and waved as you slipped from the galley, still mildly floating as you made your way through the ship, pointedly avoiding Marco when you spotted him.

Izou was never a hard man to find. Especially not to you.

The sixteenth division had dispersed from their duties for the day and you found him, in almost a crude imitation of the first day, sitting in his quarters, a book in his hand and an ochoko beside him.

You walked in without knocking, closed the door behind you and leaned your back against it, unable to stop from smiling at him.

He looked you over and shook his head. “You’re lucky my possessiveness is very tempered right now otherwise I’m not certain I’d welcome you into my room anymore.”

“You knew Thatch was going to do that.”

“Of course. He asked me at least three times today if I was sure it was a good idea.” He tapped the seat next to him and reached for another ochoko. “Come. You’re clearly feeling quite proud of yourself.”

“Proud?” you said, dropping into the seat. “I don’t know about that. This is all getting very entangled.”

“And yet.”

“And yet,” you repeated, taking the ochoko from him with a grateful nod. “It feels a little wrong to come to you with this when you’re also part of it.”

Izou smiled. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I see this as a rather important consideration about it all. After all, you certainly aren’t turning to anybody else when you need to talk, are you?”

“No,” you said, humoured.

“Then that says a great deal. Have your drink and then we can discuss how Marco plans to flay you tomorrow when he hears the news.”

Seas… you hadn’t even thought about that part.