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Thatch only managed about four steps out of his kitchen and into the mess hall before deciding he should have just eaten as he served up dinner with his sous chefs. It would have been less painful than having to watch this.
“Not again,” he whined, plonking his tray down on the table and slumping into a seat next to Marco, who rolled his eyes and studiously continued reading whatever report or budget or other boring paperwork he had decided to bring to dinner instead of having an enjoyable evening with his brothers.
“At least they’re at their own table this time,” Izou stated good-naturedly, using his folded up fan to press down on Haruta’s extended wrist. The brunet pouted, letting his spoonful of mashed potato clatter back onto his plate instead of continuing to aim at their youngest brothers.
“He probably wouldn’t even have noticed,” Haruta grumbled before relenting under Izou’s particularly potent withering glare, poking at his food only to duck his head and start eating properly when Thatch matched Izou’s expression near perfectly.
Kid had a point though. Between the outrageous orange hat and bright red beads, Ace’s freckled face was a pretty good target just a few tables down, and the way he was leaning his chin on his hand and gazing dopily at the man across from him, there was every chance he wouldn’t have noticed getting beaned with potato if Haruta aimed properly.
Deuce laughed, just loudly enough for them to hear among the loud chatter of hundreds of pirates eating and socializing, and Thatch watched him turn his head to maybe hide a bright smile. Ace's responding grin uncurled slowly, gradual like a sunrise, a stark reminder of how different their newest brother could be with the people he'd known and trusted for years rather than just the last few months.
"The pining's getting painful," Thatch decided, hearing Rakuyo and Fossa snorting a few seats down. How many commanders were invested in this ridiculousness? "Has anyone tried to lock them in a closet somewhere yet?"
"We just got past him burning holes in the walls," Fossa called over. "Don't give him an excuse to start again!"
"But then we wouldn't be subjected to this nonsense anymore!" Haruta hissed, and Thatch caught sight of Ace stifling a yawn in his hand, eyes closing with the action, and it was Deuce's turn to look rather adoring, the shiny doe eyes behind the mask going up a notch, the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks before darkening further when Ace's eyes opened again and met his gaze.
Ace smiled winningly, leaning forward across the table to say something to Deuce that was lost in the overall din of the mess hall. Deuce blinked, maybe looking puzzled for a moment, and then nodded, and Ace grinned, a little sharp, a little mischievous. Deuce considered him another second before smiling back again, a small, almost secret sort of smile that had Thatch raising an eyebrow, and then he slid his tray toward the edge of the table, gathered up his pen and journal to stash back in his coat pockets, and then rose from the table smoothly.
Ace followed a beat behind, significantly less graceful, stumbling as he stepped away from the table. Tripping over the untied shoelace of his right boot, actually, Thatch realized, and the eyebrow arched a little further. Izou suddenly had that special considering look on his face, but Thatch was distracted by Ace and Deuce pausing in the doorway to whisper to each other before continuing out, and the last grin Thatch caught sight of on Ace's profile before he was out of sight was positively wolfish.
"Huh," Haruta muttered, clearly having watched their departure as well. "Did they just get together?"
"They've been together," Marco finally deigned to speak up, sounding so unimpressed with them that Thatch pouted immediately and instinctively. Then the words finally registered.
"Heh??"
"Every time you idiots complain about the 'pining', they're playing footsie under the table," Marco said with an eye roll and a pointed stare. "Or worse."
Thatch’s horror was a deep, sharp, quiet sort of thing, despair rising quickly at the implication. Haruta’s horror was decidedly less quiet.
“Eww,” he said, face twisting. His fork remained hovering over his plate for a moment before he set it down, and Thatch just knew he was gonna have to force the brat to finish eating before he fled the mess hall. Izou had his fan opened and looked far too amused, which Thatch took to mean he’d known a little more than the rest of them at the start of this horrible meal, though clearly that was still less than Marco knew.
What on earth had the poor pigeon witnessed to know about this development before the rest of them had? Had he actually seen Ace’s foot going up Deuce’s pant leg or something?
Marco shifted his gaze to Thatch and glowered darkly, and Thatch blanched, fairly sure he was right.
Of course Pops would choose now to enter the mess hall, taking one look at the mingled expressions of horror and befuddlement and amusement, along with Marco’s severe disapproval, and decided to reach for the sake instead of asking any questions at all.