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"You're getting awfully enthusiastic about this," Izo pointed out, folding his arms and leaning against the doorway of Marco's — Marco's and Ace's, now — quarters on the Moby Dick. Division captains got their own cabins — tiny ones, for the most part, but better than the common quarters the lower-ranked of the crew shared. A bed and a little space to call your own, a door that closed and granted privacy. It was — maybe not heaven, exactly, but awfully nice all the same.
Each small cabin was a reflection of its occupant; Izo's was a tiny microcosm of Wano, furnished with as many small pieces as he could obtain from the goods occasionally smuggled out of the locked-down kingdom. Haruta's was filled with plants, carefully tended to. Atmos had his favored collection of varied swords from all over the world hung on his walls.
And Marco…
Marco was busy.
"Either help me or stop gawking," he shot back at the amused Izo. "These won't hang themselves."
These were a set of bounty posters — framed, carefully preserved, with a secure hanging system that would keep them in place no matter how rough the seas. Even a massive ship like the Moby Dick could be viciously tossed when the weather got bad enough, and in the New World, the weather absolutely could get exactly that bad. No matter. The faces that smiled out at the world — that smiled at Ace — would remain secure in their place.
One, a fresh and crisp poster, newly minted when it was framed. "Strawhat" Monkey D. Luffy - bounty, 30 million beri. Ace had been so proud when his little brother's seventeenth birthday came — had called for a celebration, and told everyone in earshot all about Luffy, his amazing brother who was now seventeen and taking off to sea. And now he had his very first bounty, proof that he was out there and stirring up trouble just as Ace had predicted.
The other one was a new gift, but a very old poster. Marco had moved heaven and earth to find it — yellowed, worn around the edges, a crease distorting the picture. But it was a rare poster, more than two decades old, and he'd given it to Ace a week ago, as a birthday gift.
"Queen of Hearts" Portgas D. Rouge - bounty, 225 million beri. Ace had wept when Marco had given it to him, and then crawled into his lap and stayed there for… well. A delightful length of time.
And now this. Marco had had the same quarters for decades — long enough to have gotten deeply settled, for his objects and sense of decor to seem all but set in stone. And yet, here he was, tossing up everything, tucking away things he'd had for decades and dragging Izo off to the nearest island's lively trade market for new furnishings.
A new bedspread — beautifully embroidered in blazing swirls of scarlet, gold, and cobalt. A little plant in a pot, a variety he'd been informed was common to the jungle islands of East Blue. A hand-drawn map — one of the first ones Ace had worked on when he joined the Second Division. It was a draft map, not the final copy, and the arguments scrawled in the margins were an endearing reminder of good times. There was a little incense burner sitting on the writing desk, letting up a thin curl of smoke in a scent Izo knew Ace liked.
Ace, Ace, Ace. Everywhere he looked, things that invoked Ace, things meant for Ace.
"Marco, are you going to ask Ace to move in with you?"
Marco's ears went scarlet, and he focused tightly on hanging Rouge's bounty poster. "... Maybe."
"Maybe nothing. You're already redecorating your entire quarters in the hope he'll move in with you." It was adorable, actually. Marco had been acting like a giddy kid around Ace for months; no one said it, but Izo and Thatch had laid bets about how the timeline of private events had lined up with the way Marco hovered over the fleet's fiery young heartthrob in public.
"I should show him I mean it, shouldn't I?" Marco still wasn't looking directly at Izo.
"..." Izo drew breath to say something, then paused, a realization striking him. "... Oh my god. This is a bird thing, isn't it? You're building a fancy nest to try and impress a mate. Aren't you?"
"Shut up!"
"I thought nesting was for pregnant omegas. Is there something you aren't telling us, Marco?"
"Izo, you are my brother and I love you dearly, but I will throw you overboard myself if you don't stop talking right this minute."
"That's not a no~" Izo laughed and skipped backward as Marco lunged at him with a snarl. "Really, I think it's cute. Are you going to ask him when he gets back from his little training jaunt with his division? I'd be happy to help you work up a- mmph!" Marco's broad hand slapped over Izo's delicately painted lips, silencing the teasing, and the two of them commenced a tussle in the halls of the division commanders' deck.
But when Ace returned to the Moby Dick with Second Division's new recruits, all of them shepherded through a navigation test, sunburnt and triumphant, Marco made a point of cornering Ace before he could head back to his own quarters for a well-earned rest. And Izo and Thatch watched as the incongruous pair slipped away toward the sleeping quarters.
"... Fifty beri Ace's quarters are cleaned out by tomorrow," Thatch commented idly.
"A hundred beri we don't see either of them til noon tomorrow," Izo countered. "Did you see the way Ace looked at him? There's no way Marco's not putting a matebite on him tonight."
Thatch groaned. "My quarters are right next to Marco's. Can I spend the night with you? They're gonna be loud, I just know it."
"I thought you'd never ask." Izo shot him a sly smirk. "You know you're always welcome."
"You're the best."