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Goosebumps prickle at the back of Ace’s neck and his back goes ramrod straight as a familiar sensation pokes at his mind. The feeling of being watched.
Ace halts in the middle of a sentence, completely forgetting what he’s been telling Thatch as they worked to peel the potatoes for dinner. His eyes dart around the mess hall, trying - and failing - to be discreet as he tries to find the reason why his brain is screaming at him that he's in danger. No one stands out to him at first, no one in the small scattering of people at the tables standing out as they drink something to warm themselves up after their long shifts of watch duty stationed around the ship. Ace has already been there a few months and his presence doesn’t warrant curious gazes any longer, so it doesn’t surprise him that none of them look at him past giving him a small nod of thanks as he hands them warm coffee or liquor.
“Ace?” Thatch asks, cutting himself off from explaining the roles of each division commander as he notices the almost rabbit-like way Ace’s eyes are flickering around the room. He watches the way the younger pirate keeps looking around, clearly lost in his own thoughts. “Are you paying attention? You need to know the role of each division on the ship if you want to know which one you want to join. I’m trying to explain what the 16th Division does, since I think you’d be a good-”
“Sh,” Ace hushes him sharply, keen eyes unwilling to miss any possible danger that could be posed at him. Nature and nurture both had made him paranoid, fast wits and well-honed instincts telling him that something is off and he can’t place what it is.
Thatch blinks at him in stunned surprise before his expression drops into a brotherly type of annoyance at Ace. “Excuse me?” he asks, though it’s more rhetorical than a real question, despite his confusion. “I’m trying to tell you about how the 16th Division would be a perfect place for you to-”
“Shut up,” Ace hisses, trying to find a guilty pair of eyes staring at him. “I’m busy.”
With a soft sigh, Thatch is about to say something - something to ease the newest Whitebeard Pirate’s nerves, because Thatch knows that Ace has been protecting his own hide since he was young and those aren’t instincts you forget overnight and Thatch wants Ace to know he’s safe - before the tea kettle makes a high-pitched cry. Thatch moves to take it off the heat, careful as he pours the heated water into a porcelain tea cup. Well, he figures as he puts the small cup on a saucer, setting a tea infuser full of loose tea leaves next to the cup of steaming water, might as well give Ace some time to move around while he’s clearly looking for something. “Ace, could you take this to Izo for me?” Under his breath, he adds, “And maybe ask Izo more about his division because he could be a good mentor for you while you’re at it.” He knows Ace won’t hear it, but Thatch can hope.
Ace shoots Thatch the glare of a child whose older siblings don’t believe that there’s a monster under the bed. “I don’t want to bring anyone-!”
Then Ace spots him;the 16th Division Commander. Apparently, Ace realizes as he sees who Marco is gesturing to, the 16th Division Commander’s name is Izo, and his darkly lined eyes are staring right at Ace. Well, at Ace and Thatch, but Ace feels like he, in particular, is in the crosshairs of the intense gaze. He chokes back a startled squeak. So that’s who had been staring at him.
The sharp eyes don’t move away from Ace and he swallows around the sudden dry scratch in his throat. Izo’s stare doesn’t waver, his brows drawn ever-so-slightly together, his painted lips just barely pursed together. Ace tries to back further into the kitchen, but the open space over the kitchen counter that allows the cooks to look into the mess hall leaves him no space to hide. In his attempt, however, he nearly bumps into Thatch, who skillfully keeps the scalding liquid from spilling.
“Thatch,” Ace whispers, frantic as he turns around to look at Thatch with wide eyes. “Thatch, he’s looking at us! Do you think he heard us?” Glancing over his shoulder, Ace sees that Izo’s expression hasn’t changed from the solemn look. Trying to hide himself, he looks back to Thatch. “He looks mad, do you think he’s mad?”
The sudden change in Ace’s attitude catches Thatch’s attention, and when he looks out into the room, only to find Izo looking at him with a very familiar expression. He looks somewhere between frustrated and focused, his regal features pinched just enough to make it seem like someone who doesn’t want to be talked to. It’s hard for Thatch not to laugh because he knows exactly why Izo has that expression, but he’s not about to tell Ace what it is. It’s one of the secrets that only Whitebeard Pirates know, and you have to learn it firsthand to truly believe it.
Still, he shakes his head with a smile to reassure Ace. “He’s not mad. But, like I asked, could you take him his tea? He’s probably still cold from watch duty, and he’s been waiting for a while.” Carefully passing the cup and saucer to Ace, he has to hold back another bursting bubble of laughter at the way Ace’s eyes move rapidly from him to the cup to Izo and back again before repeating the cycle. “Go on, he’s waiting.”
Sputtering, Ace allows Thatch to guide him towards the entryway from the kitchen to the mess hall. “Bu-But how do you know he’s not mad?” Ace asks, careful to be quiet as he speaks. Oh shit, he’dpractically been yelling about how he didn’t care about the 16th Division and its Commander, hadn’t he? Hadn’t he? Oh god, he doesn’t remember-
“I promise, he’s not,” Thatch replies with a fond roll of his eyes. “And trust me, I’d know if he was.”
So nervous that he’s about to get a solid talking-to from the infamous sharpshooter, Ace doesn’t even process Thatch’s words as he begins to walk towards Izo. “O-Okay,” he squeaks before Thatch is back peeling potatoes and Ace is left to walk towards the far-away table under the gunman’s excruciatingly focused eyes.
The journey seems to take forever, Ace struggling to keep his hands steady and not spill the steaming water all over. Each step takes him closer to Izo, and he feels like he’s about to sink into the ground.
Suddenly, Ace is standing right infront of Izo, and he carefully sets the cup on the table as he tries not to wither under Izo’s sharp eyes. “H-Here, Thatch asked me to bring this to you,” Ace says, the words rushing out as he takes a step back from Izo, giving him space just in case he wants it.
Izo’s features relax as he nods, saying a smooth, “Thank you,” as he picks the tea infuser up and lets it sink into the water. Before Ace can rush back to the kitchen, Izo is looking up at him again, though there’s now comfortable ease on his features. “May I ask you something, Ace?” he asks as he stirs the infuser around in the glass.
Ace nods nervously as he shifts from foot to foot, fingers twitching nervously. “Yeah, what’s up?”
There’s a moment of pause as Izo looks to Thatch before moving back to Ace. “I know Thatch was talking about me,” he says slowly, quietly, like it’s a secret. “What was he talking about?”
Ace feels a cold spark of fear shoot down his spine. “H-How do you know that he was talking about you?” he asks, prepared to try and defend his blatant rejection to talk to Izo only a minute or so prior.”C-...” Ace swallows around his dry throat before asking, “Could you hear us?”
To Ace’s surprise, Izo’s lips pull into a wry smile. “Oh, I can’t hear from more than twenty feet away on a good day.” Lifting a hand to fondly pat the gun at his hip, Izo adds, “Using guns as often as I do, my hearing has taken a bit of a hit. However,” Izo’s cheeks take on the faintest of color even as his smile turns into a knowing but relaxed grin, “I can tell when Thatch is talking about me because it’s easy for me to read his lips when he says my name.”
Blinking, Ace’s curiosity has been piqued. “You can read lips?” he asks, impressed. “That’s really cool!”
Izo laughs, the sound like the rushing of water in a playful brook. “I’m not too good at it yet, but there’s certain words I see a lot that I’ve begun to recognize. And Thatch, I’ve come to realize, says my name a very good amount.”
Now that he thinks about it, Ace can recall hearing Thatch say Izo’s name more than anyone else’s. “Oh, yeah, you’re right.” There’s a second as Ace processes what that might mean before he bluntly asks, “So are you two-”
“That’s what I’m wondering,” Izo replies with a sigh and a shake of his head before Ace can even finish the question. “Everyone keeps telling me that he’s planning to make a move, and I’m not about to cut him off and make the first move if he already has a plan, but I’m getting impatient.” Pulling the tea infuser out of his cup, Izo sets it on the saucer. “I know he wants to give me some big, grand gesture, but I don’t need one. I’d be more than happy with just sharing a drink and some time.”
Ace nods understandingly before asking, “How long have you been waiting?”
“A couple months now, but it feels like longer,” Izo replies as his eyes meet Thatch’s. Upon realizing he’s been caught, Thatch looks away. Izo rolls his eyes.
“Jeez, you have the patience of a saint,” Ace whistles a low note as he nods. “I would’ve just gone ahead and asked him out myself at this point. If he’s taking so long, he’s overthinking it.”
Izo gives a firm nod in agreement before pausing. “You’re very right,” he says slowly. “Hell, I think you have the right idea that I’ve needed.”
Suddenly standing up, Izo yells a loud, “Hey, Thatch!”
The chef startles, eyes wide as he peaks out of the kitchen entryway to ask, “Izo? Is something wrong?” he asks, confused because he knows Izo’s favorite type of tea and he’s sure he gave him the right one. He dries his hands on a towel, finished peeling the vegetables for dinner, as he waits for Izo to elaborate.
“You, me, a bottle of whatever alcohol you want, my room, tonight,” Izo announces boldly, a smirk on his lips that could make a demon shudder. “We’re going to have a nice date, and then we’re going to talk about why the hell it’s taking you so long to ask me out!”
Thatch freezes, his entire face flushing a vibrant strawberry red as the towel drops from his hands. His mouth agape, he can’t find any words to say as the rest of Izo’s division bursts into cheers and laughter. “Wh… H-... Huh?” Thatch blurts, heart beating fast at the beautifully crooked smile Izo is directing at him.
“You heard me,” Izo replies, smiling at Ace, who holds a hand up for Izo to high five. Izo returns the gesture, prompting Ace to whoop and throw his hands in the air. “So, does that sound like a plan?”
Thatch finds a sheepish smile pulling at his lips, one that he can’t force down. “That sounds wonderful.”
“Perfect,” Izo grins before turning to Ace. “Have you ever thought about joining my division?”
Ace beams. “Depends, what’s you division do?”