Archive of Our Own

Law, are you listening?

Law tilts his head back, following the arching canopy of stars until his neck strains and the cold air sinks down the collar of his coat. His breath blooms from his lips in a white cloud before twisting and disappearing in the harsh nighttime wind.

Those stars right there; see how they form that arrow? That is the sail on, uh, Barash. It is the Longboat that the Sun rides to the Land of the Dead each night—Law? Oh, you fell asleep again.

He wonders for the hundredth time which constellation Cora-san had been talking about all those years ago. Had Law even bothered to look up back then? Or had he ignored the story as the ramblings of a blithering fool? Maybe he had been too sick by the time Cora-san tried telling him.

Or maybe he's only trying to remember an old fever-induced dream. Years of insomnia have melted dreams and memories together in a confusing sludge of caffeine-tasting colors for him. He’s doggedly chased a thousand threads of memory in a too-late attempt to catalog and preserve Cora-san and Lami and the blistering white sunrise paths he used to walk to school, only for them to unravel into abstract geometric dreams and nightmares.

Well, it might not be interesting to you, even when I remember the names. I thought it was Barash. But maybe it’s Barque? Well, it’s not like my… it’s not like she really knew the names, anyway.

The ship’s sonorous wake pours into his senses until there’s nothing left to feel except the furious rush of wind and ocean. He closes his eyes and lets himself unravel into the roar of the world.

“Oh, the stars are so pretty!”

“Where did you even come from?” Law snaps, heart in his throat and trying not to show it. How can someone so loud be so goddamned sneaky?

(And why the hell was his guard down in the first place? Kaido and the entirety of the New World's underground are after their heads, and he doesn't have his crew.)

Luffy grins at him from shoulder height and way too close. Law doesn’t flinch away, though, because he’s stubborn about giving Strawhat an inch in anything—physically or figuratively—because the little bastard will take a fucking island.

Blissfully ignorant of Law’s embittered thoughts, Luffy laughs up at him, his eyes squeezing closed in a way that is not remotely endearing.

“Was Torao looking at the stars?”

Law, are you listening?

He doesn’t answer, partly because his lonesome stargazing in the deepest hours of the night feels suddenly and intensely private, with Cora-san’s voice murmuring from the distorted fragments of his dreams and memories. And partly because Luffy rarely requires an answer or active engagement from him.

“They are really bright. Look! The ship-star!” Luffy’s hand nearly smacks him in the nose.

“Hit me in the face, and I’ll relieve your arm from the burden of your body.”

This warning is somewhat predictably met with Luffy’s owlishly vacant stare. He sighs.
“I’ll cut your arm off and throw it in the sea.”

Luffy dares to stick his tongue out at him, heedless of his impending doom. Law resists the urge to savagely pull on it. It won’t hurt Luffy, for one thing. He doesn’t know where it’s been, for another.

A thought occurs, and he can’t help but be curious. His eyes follow the line of Luffy’s arm to where he’s pointing to an exceptionally bright star on the horizon. “You mean the pole-star?”

Luffy tilts his head the way he does when he’s particularly pleased, though Law’s a little lost on what he’s so pleased about. “Yeah! It helps guide ships, so we called it the ship-star.”

“We? Do you mean the East Blue?”

“Yeah!” Luffy agrees, drawing his arm back and tugging at his hair distractedly when he realizes his hat's absence. He also forgot to put on a coat and his fucking shoes, only wearing shorts and Zoro’s unbuttoned white shirt. It annoys Law just looking at him. They’re nearing a winter island, and with the wind, it must be edging toward below-freezing on the deck.

“I think so. Nami called it that before we went over Reverse Mountain and started hearing 'pole-star' and other names.” He side-eyes Law with a mischievous curl to his mouth like he’s inviting him to play along with the joke buzzing behind his eyes.

“Zoro didn’t call it anything. Maybe he doesn’t know about it. That’s why he gets lost so much.”

A straw hat slams down on Luffy’s head, the brim covering his forehead and eyes. He squawks like he’s being murdered, hands slapping blindly at Zoro’s wrist.

“What were you saying just now?” Zoro hisses, somehow smirking with his teeth bared. The starlight casts ominous shadows across his visage as he leverages every bit of his towering menace on Luffy.

“Let go!” Luffy cries, turning around only to be held at arm’s length with Zoro’s hand on his forehead. His arms flail like a runaway windmill, swiping at Zoro but not reaching him.

He could easily stretch to attack, but he doesn’t. Instead, as Luffy always does, he changes the game's rules. He grips both hands around Zoro’s wrist and, in one quick movement, swings himself off the ground and wraps his ankles around Zoro’s shoulder. Zoro swears and stumbles as his body is jerked down, but Luffy holds on, blissfully unafraid of hitting his head on the deck.

He doesn’t have to be, even with his rubber powers. Zoro hauls him up and away from the impact before it’s an issue. It’s a thoughtless protective gesture, one of many Law has watched him enact around his crew these past weeks.

Of course, this is followed by a string of Zoro’s indignant swearing as he flaps his arm like he merely has a spider web stuck to him and not a wholeass person clinging to his arm like a deranged octopus.

Law takes a step back to lean against the taffrail just as Zoro grumbles in resignation. Crowing victoriously, Luffy executes an unnecessary show of acrobatics as he slithers from Zoro’s arm to his torso, up his back, and finishes with a flip off his shoulders. He spins away from Zoro’s lazily retaliatory kick to perch on the railing next to Law.

“What are you doing wanderin’ around?” Zoro asks.

“Was hungry. Did I wake Zoro?” Luffy asks in return, kicking his feet against the ornate spindles.

“No. Just looking for a drink.”

Luffy grins at him, and it’s anyone’s guess whether he believes his swordsman.

(Law doesn’t, not with how those two follow each other around like puppies.)

And then, apropos of nothing, Luffy hooks his knees tight under the railing and throws his body backward to hang upside down over the open ocean with a laughing ya-hoo! The wind is so strong that it nearly sends him flying off the damn ship. Law curls his hand for a Room, thinking about the worst place to teleport him to in vengeance for having to save him. But Luffy wraps his ankles twice around the spindles and lets his body wave in the wind like the world’s most disappointing pirate flag.

“Get down before you wreck your bandages,” Law snaps because he can’t abide people doing moronic things.

“What?” Luffy calls back gleefully, deafened by the wind and the wake and Zoro’s shirt blowing over his stupid face.

“Tch,” Law sighs, pinching at the headache forming between his eyes. “What is he even doing up?” Luffy wrecked his body by shoving an incredible amount of haki through it. Paired with his creative but self-destructive use of his Devil Fruit, he inflicted more damage on himself than Doflamingo did. Though the fucking holes in his body were nothing to ignore and would be prone to infection for a few more days, even with Luffy’s absurd vitality.

“You’re one to talk, Doctor Torao,” Zoro responds wryly. He taps Law’s right shoulder as if Law needed the reminder.

Why are the Strawhats always so touchy?

Law resists the urge to reach for the lump of bandages under his sleeve. It’s healed—mostly. The skin is still tender where it was sewn together and sealed by Princess Mansherry’s tears. The inside is sore, raw, and aching. Everything still feels…

Disconnected.

Healing from the outside-in is an experience he’s not sure he appreciates.

“I’m fine. He’s going to pass out and fall into the sea. Good luck with this circus ship’s medical supplies because I don’t take idiots as patients.”

Zoro laughs. It’s a quiet thing, all smirks and puffing breath yanked into the wind before it even has a chance to brush against Law. Nothing like the raucous joy that rivaled Franky and Usopp’s during the “fuck yeah, we survived!” party yesterday, the one that had his head thrown back as he laughed wildly into the sun.

A hand—heavy, calloused, and surprisingly gentle—briefly grips the back of Law’s neck. His shoulders go up in defense, heart pounding even as that one hot point of contact spreads down his spine and shoulders to pool over his hips and into his lower belly.

But the touch is gone before reflexive derision can snap across his lips. Instead, Zoro places Luffy’s hat in Law’s hand.

“I’m tired. Hold this.” Never asking. The whole crew is fucking allergic to question marks. Especially the captain and his irritating first mate.

The straw is cold and delicate. He automatically traces the stitched scars in its crown, a muscle memory still etched in his hands from the last time he held this hat.

Zoro walks up to Luffy and puts his hands above Luffy’s knees.

“Zoro!” Luffy cheers giddily.

“Aye,” Zoro acknowledges. “Time for bed. You’re making the doctor worry.”

“I’m not worried.”

“C’mon, Torao! You should do this. It’s so fun.”

“Absolutely not.”

Zoro ignores them, leaning over to wrap his big hands around Luffy’s noodly torso. He hauls him up, ignoring it when Luffy’s body stretches like gum, arching pliantly and distortedly in his hold. Luffy sits up, and, in the moonlight, Law can see that his cheeks are rosy with the cold, the wind, and the rush of blood to his head. His eyes are wide, almost too wide, and glassy.

Law decides that one of the most disturbing things in the world is to see a man like Luffy unsettled and worried.

(It's got to be his separated crewmembers he's anxious about. Luffy doesn't have enough sense to be worried about an Emperor of the Sea gnashing at their heels.)

Luffy kicks his legs again, careless of knocking into Zoro’s shins.

“Torao was telling me that he already knew that the ship-star was called the pole-star. Isn’t that interesting? Hey, why do you think—”

Zoro steps forward and places his hands on either side of Luffy's face, and Luffy just stops.

Law has sailed with and fought beside Luffy for a couple of weeks now and knows that when Luffy is wired up, he’s a storm dressed in human skin. Ever-churning with laughs like thunder and smiles like lightning. There’s no stopping a force of nature.
So it’s utterly bewildering to witness all of that wild energy recede between Zoro's palms, leaving behind an ill-advisedly dressed man with dark shadows under his eyes.

Zoro doesn’t say anything, just keeps his hands framed on Luffy’s face, his thumbs pressed beneath round cheekbones and thick fingers cradling the base of his neck.
Luffy’s shoulders drop in complete relaxation as he blinks up at Zoro.

Has there been a fucking off button all this time? Law thinks. But not before wondering what it's like to hold that world-changing storm in his hands and if Luffy would ever let him try.

He squints and leans forward, incredulous. Is Luffy blushing?

“I’m tired,” Zoro says. “You’re coming with me so you don’t wake me up again.”

And then he hauls Luffy off the railing and under his arm like he’s carrying a roll of carpet, not his captain. Luffy chuckles, amused but compliant. He’s still drunk from Zoro's gentle touch, all heavy limbs and easy docility.

Zoro pauses by Law, but all he says is, “see you tomorrow,” before walking toward the deckhouse. Luffy snakes his head around Zoro’s arm and grins.

“Good night, Torao! Oi, Zoro. Not that way.”

Thoroughly distracted from the stars (and from memories melting into dreams), Law supposes his eyes are scratchy enough to bear closing them, even if he does not sleep again. He returns to his quarters—a closet, really, only big enough for a hammock. Bartolomeo and his crew gave over their nicest lodgings for the Strawhats. Law had been invited, even expected, to stay in the larger rooms with them but his insisting on being alone landed him sharing sleeping quarters with the ship’s linen supplies.

It’s cold, but he’s used to that. Besides, he has a whole closet of blankets, towels, and extra clothes at his disposal. He closes his eyes and struggles to recapture Cora-san's voice, trying to needle the rest of the constellation story from the knotted tangle of time and fading memory.

But all he can think about are Zoro's big, scarred hands on Luffy's star-kissed face and laughter like flags in the wind. He stares at the dark ceiling for the rest of the night, or maybe he dreams he's staring at the dark ceiling. He reimagines Doflamingo's fall from the sky, about how small and insignificant he looked against that endless expanse of blue. He thinks, or dreams, about suns sailing longboats to the Land of the Dead and about wounds knitting themselves back together from the outside in.

***

The next night is even colder. It drives him from his hammock because if he’s going to freeze his ass off, he might as well freeze out in the open air. He’s familiar with small quarters and confined spaces, but his lonely little closet doesn’t sound right. Every creak of wood is different from the tinny groan of metal he’s used to, and he keeps straining to listen for Penguin’s whistling or Bepo’s quiet steps.

(And when he dreams, if he’s even dreaming, he dreams of screaming but never making a sound.)

On the way to the stern, which had been blissfully free of Barto Club members the previous night, he hears Zoro and Luffy's voices rise from the side of the deckhouse.

“So he broke out of the prison in the sky?”

“Yeah! With a beam!”

“...I thought he had axes?”

“He borrowed a laser.”

Law pauses and tilts his head, amusement bubbling despite himself. Was Luffy trying to tell Zoro a story?

“That makes sense,” Zoro says, and Law huffs because it certainly does not. Why would a laser be in a prison where inmates could access it? “And then?”

“And then the axeman killed the bad guy!”

“How many axes did he have?”

“Two!”

A grunt.

“Five!” Luffy hurries to correct himself. “He had five axes.”

Another grunt, this time of interest. (Law’s exasperated to find that he can tell the difference.)

“How did he wield that many?”

“Uhm, well,” Luffy hedges. “Two in each hand and one in his mouth.”

“...Alright, yeah. Seems doable.”

Law rolls his eyes. He rounds the corner and leans into the shadows to observe them.

They’re illuminated by a lantern they brought with them. Luffy sits with his back against the wall while Zoro sprawls the width of the walkway with his boots stretched toward the guardrail and his head in Luffy's lap. One of Luffy’s hands plays idly with his earrings while the other gestures broadly toward the sky.

They’re both morons because it’s below freezing, and Luffy is still in shorts and an open red shirt. Zoro is better off with his pants, haramaki, and boots, but he’s only wearing a t-shirt.

“What about that one?” Zoro asks, pointing vaguely toward a line of stars to their right. “Is that part of the story?”

“That’s the bad guy’s hand that the axe guy cut off!”

“Just the hand?” Zoro asks with a tinge of disappointment.

“His entire arm! And the star right below it—that’s his head!”

Apparently, Luffy is trying to tell Zoro constellation stories and is clearly making them up as he goes along. Evidently, Zoro is not remotely interested in the quality of the story, just the level of gore and violence. Luffy seems happy to oblige.

“So, he’s dead, then?”

“Nah, he’s still alive.”

“He’s alive without a head?”

“Yeah, he can never eat again.” Luffy, even more absurdly, sounds genuinely upset at this. “He can never taste meat again, Zoro. I know he’s bad, but that’s really sad.”

Zoro snorts and reaches up to pat Luffy’s cheek. “There, there, Captain,” he consoles with not a little wryness to his voice. “It’s just a story.”

“That’s a really sad ending,” Luffy warbles. “I don’t like it.”

Law sighs, not believing he’s about to willingly join them. He hefts the blanket he carried from his closet and plops it around Luffy’s shoulders, who cheeses when he looks up, unsurprised to find Law standing over him.

“Torao! Did you hear about those stars over there? It’s about an axe guy and a mean giant porcupine guy.”

“I heard you,” he says. “Though I haven’t heard it told in that way before.”

“Oh! Sabo told us that one. Well. Sort of. His was kind of boring, so me and Ace made up that one. Sabo thought it was hilarious!”

Luffy’s eyes wander back to the stars. Law glances down at Zoro, who makes brief eye contact with him before intently studying the underside of Luffy’s jaw.

Law may not know Luffy as well as his crew does, but he understands the other captain. It’s hard not to when he’s been doing nothing but trying to puzzle out his chosen ally’s personality and motivations and how to manipulate them into Law’s own goals for the past few weeks. In the skies over Dressrosa, a thousand broken plans later, Law thought he finally started to get a handle on the man. He gained even more insight in a cramped one-room cabin, feigning sleep while listening to the story of a long-lost brother.

He knows that Luffy does not talk about the past. He had not shared Sabo with his friends. And the way Zoro’s frozen in place, like sudden movement or sound might send his prey running too early, speaks volumes of how much Luffy has talked about Portgas since reuniting with his crew.

“It’s certainly more entertaining than the version I know,” Law says, surprised to find himself dispelling the silence. He sits down next to Luffy. “That one involved a selfish queen chaining her daughter to a rock for a sea monster to consume.”

“Oh,” Zoro hums, eyebrows rising like he’s been caught off guard by nostalgia. “That one sounds familiar.”

“Does Zoro know it, too?” Luffy asks.

Zoro hums. The sound is deep and lazy and, confusedly, resonates somewhere under Law’s ribs. He shifts, uncomfortable and not sure why. Luffy must interpret this as Law being cold because he immediately makes himself a nuisance trying to wrestle the blanket around them both.

Law slaps Luffy’s hand away in vain because he seems to grow seven more. One wraps around his waist—twice—and finally yanks him across the space between them until they’re shoulder to shoulder.

“Keep your grubby hands to yourself!” He doesn’t yell and certainly doesn’t squawk as he fights for his life against the blanket in his face and the arm still around his waist.

He shoots a pleading an angry look at Zoro, who seems entirely unbothered and like he’s actually starting to doze off. At least, he is until a particularly exuberant lunge from Luffy upends Zoro from his lap and sends him tumbling face-first into Law’s.

Law freezes, wide-eyed. Luffy collapses into a gale of giggles.

“Torao blushes!” He doesn’t sound mocking but fascinated. And then Luffy’s finger gently skims the shell of his ear. Gently! This man hauled Law around the entirety of Dressrosa like a goddamned sack of rice for hours. He sat on him and flung him around on the back of a bull, and now he dares to be soft.

Luffy retraces the curve of his ear with his fingertip, and Law feels an echo of it swirl deep inside him.

“Right here,” Luffy whispers with a smile and a pleased head tilt. Law wants to teleport the bastard overboard.

Worse, he wants to lean into the touch.

Zoro chooses that moment to reach up blindly and tug on Luffy’s lips until they’re extended an entire arm’s length away from his face. Luffy’s hand drops away from Law to flail around as he chants, “ow, ow, ow, Zoro, ow!”

“You’re such a handful,” Zoro reprimands, an ocean of fondness in his voice.

“Fo fowwie,” Luffy dutifully slurs.

Zoro lets go, and Luffy’s lips snap back to his face with such force it knocks him sideways. Which would serve him right, except his arm is still around Law’s waist. Luffy goes down, and Law sprawls in an ungainly heap on top of him. Zoro rolls from Law’s lap to the deck with a curse.

(He really said goodbye to all dignity when he allied with Luffy, didn't he?)

An embarrassing struggle later, they finally settle back to their original positions with ten more bruises between them. Luffy is against the wall with Zoro on his lap and Law bitterly manhandled into sharing the blanket. Their hips and shoulders touching, Law is surprised to find that Luffy is not the mini-fireplace he expected. He’s not icy cold to the touch, but he’s not a source of warmth, either. On the other hand, Zoro's shoulder is a hot brand where it rests against Law’s knee.

Law grunts when Luffy tries to burrow into his side.

“Wear more clothes, if you’re so cold,” he snaps.

“I don’t feel cold at first!” Luffy insists. Law supposes a rubber body might mute his nerve endings to certain stimuli. He probably doesn’t notice the cold until it hardens his skin and makes him feel like he might shatter.

“Be still,” Law huffs, throwing his arm around Luffy to make him do just that. Luffy laughs contentedly into the crook of his shoulder and chest, warm breath seeping through his shirt, and Law thinks, I’ve made a serious miscalculation. But Luffy is already drawing his knees up, curling further into him, and shoving his toes under Zoro's warm back.

Thoroughly dislodged, Zoro grunts and shifts so his head is in Law’s lap and Law did not sign up for this, this isn’t how alliances work, damn it.

He hates every point of contact with these two men. It is suddenly too warm, too heavy, too confining.

He aches for more.

“Tell me the star story,” Luffy demands.

“Which one?”

“Whichever one.”

Law, are you listening? Where was I—the Longboat, right? Are you awake? Well, I suppose it’s OK if you’re not. I doubt you want to hear this story, and it could get you in trouble if you knew it.

“I don’t know any star stories.”

“Don’t lie! You just said you knew one about a lady and a sea monster.”

I guess you’re in plenty of trouble without some old star story.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Law denies and hides his mouth in the collar of his coat at the way Luffy’s cheeks puff and pinken in annoyance.

“Oi,” Zoro interrupts. “You gonna tell it, or are you gonna sleep? Pick one.”

Does it even count as forbidden knowledge when I can’t remember over half of it? Probably. They’re bastards about that sort of thing.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Then Zoro should tell us a star story.”

Forbidden knowledge?

You really need to rest, kid—oh. Are you talking in your sleep again? I know it’s because you don’t feel good, but it’s kind of cute. I won’t say that when you’re awake, though. I like my head on my shoulders.

“Sure,” Zoro shrugs and settles heavier into Law’s lap as he lifts his hand to point vaguely at the sky. “See that over there? Those three stars?”

“Yeah! Oh! One’s kind of big, isn’t it?”

“That’s the moon, Strawhat-ya, and you know it.”

“Who’s telling the story? So, those three stars. They’re three fighters. They could destroy mountains. They’re pretty badass.”

“Ooh,” Luffy hums. “What are they doing? Are they fighting?”

“They’re sleeping.”

Anyway. That’s the Longboat that the Sun sails to the Land of the Dead. That’s why the Sun disappears each night, you know. It sails its boat to this desolate land. And see that, right there? That’s another boat—a ship, really.

“...What else?” Luffy asks, impatient.

“That’s it, that’s the story,” Zoro says with a yawn as his eye slips closed. “They’re sleeping. Not talking.”

Luffy blinks down at his swordsman before his eyebrows draw together in a pout. “That’s lame, Zoro!” One hand flies out of the blanket cocoon to pinch Zoro’s nose. He doesn’t react, except his mouth falls open to let out a loud snore.

“Lame,” Luffy grumbles again, letting go, though he idly plays with Zoro’s hair, his hand bumping against Law’s leg as he does.

(Every touch is too much and not enough.)

See how big it is? That’s the mast. That’s the keel. It’s a ship for giants. The Sun sails it every morning toward the sky, which is called the Land of Laughter.

“He does have a point.”

“You do kinda worry like Zoro, huh?”

“I do not,” Law grumbles, face screwing up at the thought.

“You’re not going to sleep, anyway.”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Well, then, give me a star story.”

I like that, don’t you? Calling the sky the Land of Laughter.

“I don’t have to give you anything.”

“Of course not,” Luffy laughs. “But give me one, anyway.”

So many bad things happen under the sky. Sometimes I think of it like a cage. But Land of Laughter... I like that, don’t you? Makes it sound like more than a sky.

“You won’t leave me alone until I do, will you?”

“If that’s what Torao wants.”

“That was not an invitation.”

It sounds like freedom.

“Fine, I’ll tell you about the sea dragon and the lady chained to the rock.”

“Will the sea dragon lose its head and not be able to eat forever and ever?” Luffy asks, worried.

“It will if you interrupt me.”

Like magic, Luffy clams up and rests his cheek against Law. He glances down to ensure compliance and gets swept up in the long curve of dark lashes that flutter as Luffy blinks sleepily at the dark horizon. He clears his throat and looks away.

“There was once a selfish queen and a sea monster the size of an island,” he begins, and once he starts, he can’t stop. He lets his tongue and lips form the story he learned ages ago in school. He can almost see his small classroom desk when he closes his eyes. He can almost smell the chalk and taste the ink. He’s been trying and failing to remember something besides fire and ash for so long, but the star stories pour out of him as easily as rain.

(He can’t remember his mother’s smile, though. Not for the life of him. Why this and not that?)

He gets lost in the memories. When he’s done with the sea monster, he moves on to the one about the giant. He doesn’t remember as much about the sirens, but he recounts it quietly to the tune of Zoro and Luffy's gentle snores. He remembers the whale constellation the best. He talks until his throat is sore and his mouth is dry. It hurts to remember, but it feels good. Like it’s no longer choking him.

I want that for you, Law. Freedom, I mean.

Do you want that for yourself?

**

There is a flurry of activity outside in the morning, but Law can’t be bothered. He didn’t sleep last night. He hasn’t slept most nights since separating from his crew. He should get up and get coffee. He should get up and change out of yesterday’s clothes. He should go and harangue Franky and Usopp and whoever Bartolomeo calls his navigator again to ensure they’re on the right track towards Zou—towards his crew. He wants to see them more than anything.

But he can’t seem to make himself get up.

It’s cold, too. The morning sun has done nothing to break last night's blustery chill, and it’s settled into his bones like frozen lead. His arm and other healing injuries spasm and ache, scraping unbearably against his consciousness.

He’s just coming to terms with the fact that he’s wallowing when the door to his quarters swings open violently.

His heart slams in his chest as the blue film of a Room envelopes the space faster than a blink of an eye. He’s on his feet just as quickly, Kikoku glimmering as he half-draws her out of her sheath.

But it’s just Zoro standing there with Luffy haphazardly thrown over his shoulder, blinking lazily back at Law.

“Oh,” Zoro says, reaching up and knocking on Law’s door with the back of his knuckles.

“It’s far too late for that!” Law snaps and considers cutting Zoro’s smirk off of his arrogant face.

“Ah, Torao,” Luffy says weakly. It’s then that Law notices that both are soaking wet. And bloody. “Found you!”

“I’ve been here all along.” Blue film pulses out of his palm again, this time with the intention to Scan. In his Room, Zoro’s and Luffy’s heartbeats drum into his awareness. Their pulses throb in his fingertips. He can smell the seawater rattling in Luffy’s lungs and taste the volume of blood loss seeping from wounds. He catalogs and prioritizes. Luffy is the biggest concern. The seawater has made his heart sluggish—a bird’s wing weighed down by tar. Thankfully, it has also slowed down the blood escaping from two of his re-opened puncture wounds. Zoro’s heart is a strong bass that resonates in Law’s teeth, fast from his ocean swim but slowing into its familiar rhythm with each moment that passes. His hands are a fucking mess, though.

“Torao, I came to tell you! There’s going to be a party!”

“It looks like you came to get patched up.”

Zoro’s face twists into an annoyed grimace. “Swung himself right off of the ship and into the sea.”

“I’d surmised,” Law says dryly.

“There was a huge sea king!” Luffy regales, wiggling pitifully in his enthusiasm. “My shirt got caught on one of its spines, I think. I don’t know, I was kind of drowning.”

“Nearly took you halfway back to Dressrosa before I caught up to you,” Zoro grumbles.

“I’m surprised you found your way back, then, Zoro-ya.”

“Oi,” Zoro snaps before blinking and looking around. “Anyway, I’ve been thinking, this place is kinda shitty. How did you end up here?”

“Wanted space,” Law sniffs. “Let’s get to the infirmary, where I’ll be disappointed again about this cursed ship’s hilariously inadequate provisions.”

“I don’t think you can call this space,” Zoro grumbles because he’s a dog with a goddamned bone sometimes. “You can barely even fit in here. Feels more like a cage.”

“I’m fine,” Law seethes, stepping forward to push them out of the doorway. “I wanted space from people.”

“Hmm,” Luffy muses, voice still wobbly from his long dip in the ocean. And possibly from blood loss.

Zoro jerks his head back over his shoulder, not breaking eye contact with Law. “He’s not buying it,” he says as if Law didn’t already know that.

“You don’t have to buy anything,” Law rolls his eyes. “Just stay out.” With a lift of his hand, his Room expands. Heartbeats, body heat, grumbling stomachs, ticklish murmuring, and quivering laughter of half of the ship’s occupants charge into his consciousness.

He transports the three of them to the infirmary with a twitch of his fingers.

“Woohoo!” Luffy drunkenly cheers. “Do it again!”

Zoro looks less pleased by the sudden shift. His shoulders are more rigid than just a second ago as he strides over to unceremoniously flip Luffy onto one of the two infirmary beds. Luffy lands with a whoompf and a snap of springs, his eyes wide and startled, dark hair splayed on the white pillow, mouth parted, and cheeks red.

Law swallows and looks away, but not before catching a sharp, knowing look from Zoro.

The swordsman attempts to walk away, but Law makes a disapproving sound that has him freezing into place.

“You, too, Zoro-ya. Sit.”

Zoro sits on the bed without complaint and, huh, isn’t that something?

He projects a small Room, sorting through the outline of objects in the various drawers and cabinets, wincing again at the two drawers filled with fucking gum. He finds what he wants and teleports them onto the work table he’d organized when they first came aboard.

“So cool,” Luffy sighs in delight. Law allows himself a self-satisfied smirk, busying himself with readying his supplies while Zoro manhandles Luffy to sit on the edge of the bed with him. Luffy slumps against him, lethargic from the seawater still sloshing in his lungs and stomach.

“Why are you the way you are?” Law asks, gesturing to Zoro and Luffy in their entirety. “You look pathetic.”

“Luffy fell in,” Zoro shrugs. Law thinks he may be the only person in the world who can convey both “Luffy fell in, he’s such a fucking idiot” and “Luffy fell in, what else was I supposed to do but follow?” in one line.

“I’m very sorry.” Luffy reaches up and pats Zoro on the chest.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Luffy wheezes a short laugh. “I like swimming with Zoro.”

“Shut up, you little shit.”

“How about you both shut up and let me work,” Law grouses. He rolls a chair in front of them. Zoro laughs, and the husky sound electrifies the skin down Law’s neck, leaving behind a hot flush in its wake.

“There’s a look, Dr. Heartstealer,” he says, teasing.

Law feels his face scrunch at the nickname. He looks down at himself, realizing he’s shirtless with his bandages on display. His jeans are unbuttoned from where he hadn’t wanted the metal digging into him while he slept. He’s barefoot, and his hair is probably wild and frizzy—he forgot his hat in his room.

“Foot tattoos,” Luffy marvels, eyes tracing the hearts on the top of his feet and the thick swirls that ripple up his ankles. “Foot tattoos are so cool.”

“Surprised you don’t have ‘death’ written on your toes,” Zoro says.

Quick as lightning, Law slaps an adhesive bandage over Zoro’s goddamned mouth. “Only people with sense can talk in this room. You are not on that list, let me assure you.”

Zoro just grins as he peels off the bandage. Law gets a little sidetracked counting the wrinkles at the corner of his eye.

Luffy stretches his bare toes to touch the top of Law’s feet, pouting when Law slides away from his reach.

“I think the fuck not,” Law says. “Where the hell are your shoes?”

“The ocean ate them,” Luffy sighs, morose.

“Are you serious?” Law asks. Those things survived Dressrosa.

“I want cool foot tattoos.”

“If you get stupid meat tattoos I will never stop making fun of you,” Zoro promises.

“Oh, that’s a good idea, too,” Luffy says, unperturbed. “But I was thinking about beetles! Hercules would be so cool—oh! Awesome, Torao! Let me hold it!”

Law looks up from where he’s holding Luffy’s lungs. They expand and release in a steady rhythm, even with the crackle of seawater inside.

“No.”

“Please let me touch them. I gotta touch them, Torao. This is so cool—please, please, please!”

Law rolls his eyes and offers up the lungs, which Luffy immediately pokes. Hard. He falls into a coughing fit, arms reflexively flying to cradle the gaping hole in his chest.

The lungs seize in Law’s hands, and Luffy’s body seizes on the bed. Penguin and Shachi shout vitals as machines scream and whir. He reaches for Luffy’s heart for the third time during this operation and for the third time Law thinks, “not like this”. The man who punched a Celestial Dragon, who barreled into Marineford and changed the tide of war, can’t go out like this. Law won’t let him.

But Law is used to the past’s chokehold and this memory, at least, ends triumphantly. Luffy, for his part, is a little paler when he finally gets his breathing under control, his fingers hovering over the outer edges of his scar. Zoro’s bloody hand grips Luffy’s thigh hard enough to bruise anyone else, offering an anchor in whatever storm Luffy is remembering.

“That was not a good idea,” Luffy eventually admits. “I thought I was going to die.”

“Not while I’m here,” Law says.

Luffy peers up at him through his tear-ladened lashes. “Because you’re a doctor.”

“Because I’m a doctor,” Law agrees after a long contemplative moment. There are other reasons, but this one is as good a truth as any. He avoids Zoro’s gaze, but he feels his ears burn anyway. “And I’ve put too much time and investment in you. Even though you’re a dumbass. Hold your hands out.”

Luffy dutifully obeys, and Law spares a second to be annoyed that he doesn’t listen as well to him outside the infirmary. Out of an abundance of caution, he does a quick Room to sterilize Luffy’s hands before placing his lungs in them.

“There. Those are your lungs. Don’t poke them or drop them. Just hold still.”

He makes a show of removing the seawater. It’s a struggle to isolate it with his power, but it’s a small amount, and he’s quick about it. Luffy oohs and aahs. More importantly, his shoulders relax, and color returns to his cheeks throughout the operation.

The re-opened wound isn’t as bad as he thought. Luffy’s healing factor has already stopped the bleeding and mended the raw skin. He finds himself fascinated with Luffy’s body all over again and burns to know how it works. Is it Luffy’s rubber properties that lend to his remarkable vitality or his stubborn will? Law hopes it’s the former because the latter is hardly quantifiable, though he doesn’t mind a challenge.

(And Luffy challenges him in a hundred ways every day.)

Law declares Luffy done, and he and Zoro stand up like a shot, ready to escape the infirmary. Law clicks his tongue, and Shambles Zoro right back on the bed, sending him sprawling with a curse. Luffy cheers and merrily plops onto his back. Zoro’s arms and legs flail like a pinned bug as Luffy happily kicks his legs back and forth.

“Your hands, Zoro-ya,” Law says.

“Are fine,” Zoro grouses.

“That sea king had really tough skin. Sharp like a shark’s. Even sharper!” Luffy declares, pointing to the angry patches on his arms and legs, though they’re not nearly as bloody and raw as Zoro’s hands. “Sea kings are really cool,” Luffy continues. “I wish I wasn’t unconscious every time I met one.”

“Luffy,” Zoro groans. “Get off.”

“Zoro hates going to the doctor,” Luffy brazenly continues, not making the first effort to move. In fact, he lifts his legs and crosses them, elbow on his knee and face in his hand. “He doesn’t argue with Chopper because Chopper is cute, and Zoro is a big fat sucker.”

“I’m going to slice you up,” Zoro vows, eerily calm in a way that makes Law think he might actually mean it. “Your mouth is bigger than Usopp’s.”

“Well, yeah,” Luffy says. “Because I’m rubber.”

Zoro half-yells murder into the sheets. Law can’t help his vindictive smile. Luffy catches sight of it and tilts his head when he grins back.

“It is antiseptic, some antibiotic balm, and bandages,” Law says slowly and calmly because patients afraid of the doctor don’t need to be ridiculed.

“Fuck you. I don’t need that weak shit.”

“Shut up, you giant man-baby,” Law snaps because Zoro absolutely deserves to be ridiculed if he’s going to give lip.

Luffy bends and twists in that beautifully impossible way only he can do. He cups his hand against the back of Zoro’s neck and presses his lips against the hairline above his ear. Zoro tenses, a shiver visibly running through his body, and then melts into the bed.

Like before, Law can only watch, enraptured, as one of the strongest men he knows unravels under the gentlest of touches.

“It won’t take long, right?” Luffy asks, and where the hell did that tone even come from? It’s low, almost raspy. Since when was he capable of that? He’s got no right whipping that out like some sort of secret weapon, not when they’re both lying so close to Law he can feel the heat of their bodies through his jeans. Under Luffy’s hand, the back of Zoro’s neck starts to turn red.

Interesting.

“Then we can go back to getting ready for the party!”

“You can do that,” Zoro mutters. “I’m going to take a nap. You’re forgetting I did all of the work saving your ass.”

“We promised we’d help.”

“I did no such thing. You can get Torao to help.”

“Don’t volunteer other people to do your work,” Law gripes. “Sit up.”

Luffy scrambles off of Zoro, who sits up with ruffled hair, sheet lines pressed into his face, and a general air of grumpiness and doom. Luffy scoots closer to him, practically burrowing under his arm, watching how Law’s hands gently cradle Zoro’s wide and calloused ones. Blue film domes around them as Law sterilizes and scans for more severe damage. He dismisses the Room and applies the ointment that isn't his first, second, or third choice, but given Zoro’s rumored recovery rates and the lack of irritants or infection, it should still heal just the same.

Zoro doesn’t flinch or move throughout the process, watching with forced disinterest. Luffy, however, watches with unbound fascination. His face is so close to their hands that Law almost whacks him in the nose while he rolls the bandages over Zoro’s palm. Law, for some reason, lets him.

(It’s not some unfathomable reason. He likes the wide-eyed and awed attention from the man who carried all of Dressrosa—including Law—on his back. He knows Luffy has seen more about Law than Law could ever possibly be comfortable with. But this, right here. His power, his medical knowledge. This, he doesn’t mind showing off. And Luffy doesn’t seem to ever tire of it.)

Zoro’s hand is heavy in his. Broad and calloused with knicks and scars. He is not as heavily damaged as Luffy, who pits his bare fists against blades, bullets, and rocks. But Zoro’s big knuckles and thick calluses carry the burden of his training and dedication.

When he’s securing the last bandage, Luffy moves. He touches Law’s hands, tracing the D. E. A. T. H. tattooed on his fingers. He’s done, but Law starts to reprimand the interference of his work, anyway, when Luffy makes a contemplative noise in the back of his throat.

“I remember this,” Luffy murmurs. “Torao’s hands are so kind.”

Law drops his hands to his lap like he’s caught in the act of doing something he wasn’t supposed to do and is concealing his involvement.

(Doesn’t Luffy know by now that he carved the kindness out of himself long ago? That whatever Luffy might see isn’t Law, but the occasional reflection of his crew and his parents and Cora-san? Law is nothing but the white scorch marks left on him by others.)

They’re both staring at him. Luffy’s still smiling, all rumpled hair and softness. Zoro’s look is more pointed, the curious regard of a great beast behind that silver eye.

He wants to look away but doesn’t want to be the first to back down.

“You’re done,” he says, and his throat sounds just about as dry as it feels. “You can go and wreak havoc on someone else’s day.”

“But, Torao! We were coming to tell you that there’s a party tonight. It’s going to be so fun!”

“Is there even enough food and booze to have another one?” Law asks warily. “I just want some rest.”

“Parties are restful!” Luffy declares.

“I won’t dignify that with a response.”

“You just did, though,” Zoro observes. “Looks like you’re not as dignified as you think.”

“I much prefer you when you’re asleep and silent.”

“You sure about that?” Zoro asks, and it’s pretty hard to ignore the implication when his voice pitches low like that, and he smirks like his greatest challenge is sitting just before him.

He’s still reeling from it when Luffy leans over and braces his hands on Law’s thighs. The weight pins him down to the chair as Luffy grins up at him, heedless of the fingerprint bruises he’s etching into Law’s skin. Law swallows thickly, and for a terrifying second, all his brain can come up with is, holy shit, holy shit, what the fuck?

“Torao needs to be alone now. I get it,” Luffy declares in that infuriatingly blithe and all-knowing way he has.

“I don’t need anything from—”

“But you’ll come to the party, right?”

Law is not a sucker for cute things. So he doesn’t give in because Luffy’s big eyes suddenly seem two times bigger. He doesn’t give in because Luffy’s hands are hot and too much and not enough and perfect on his thighs. The twist in his belly doesn’t make his tongue stupid. Law does not make rash decisions like that.

“Well, it’s not like there’s much else to do on this ship.”

Luffy cheers and then he’s barreling out of the infirmary, a storm of laughter in his wake.

“Gonna go help them in the kitchen!”

(No, Law doesn’t make rash decisions. He’s methodical; he’s precise.

So he’s well aware of how long he’s been falling in love with Luffy.)

Zoro stands up with a sigh. He doesn’t say where he’s going, but his big jaw-cracking yawn tells Law what he intends to do. He brushes the back of his knuckles against Law’s bare shoulder as he walks by, quick and gone again. Law busies himself with re-rolling the clean, unused bandage.

“Not too bad,” Zoro says by way of thanks. “I like Chopper better.”

“Tch.” Law hurls the bandage roll at the back of Zoro’s head. It hits squarely, but Zoro’s head must be too fucking hard because he doesn’t even flinch as he walks out the door.

He quickly tidies up while internally grumbling about touchy Strawhats and externally bitching about shitty medical supplies. The Going—no, he cannot bring himself to think that ridiculous name—the ship’s infirmary is nothing more than a basic first aid kid and they’ll be shit out of luck if the Marines or Kaido’s crew were to attack before reaching Zou. He’s packing away the bandages and thinking about the little he’s learned from Dr. Tony’s medical journals and what he can put together with their resources to supplement his powers when he freezes mid-motion.

“Fucking hell,” he says with a sort of disgusted awe.

Had that rubber bastard and his directionless swordsman been seriously flirting with him?

“Hell no,” he mutters to himself. Is it possible to feel like he’s free-falling and flying at the same time? “Absolutely not.”

Oh, ho! Captain’s blushing!

Did Captain get his heart stolen?

“Shut up,” he whispers to the empty room. Shachi and Penguin’s teasing continue to rattle in his head, anyway.

He misses them. He wants to go home.

He wants…

He Shambles himself back to his small room, which, for the first time, feels too small. Curling up in his hammock with an extra blanket, he shuts his eyes and tries not to feel the lingering hand-shaped warmth on his thighs.

Turns out he sleeps fucking fantastic whenever he’s avoiding thinking about something.

**

Law, are you listening?

Music wakes him up.

His mouth is vile—dry and sticky at the same time. A headache snakes through his sinus cavities and pounds bruisingly behind his scratchy and sore eyes. It takes him too long to remember where he is, disoriented by the swinging hammock and the blankets that don’t feel or smell right. He’s vaguely nauseous. Daytime naps are the worst. He might actually prefer the coffee-tinted bouts of insomnia.

The music swells, and so does the raucous laughter accompanying it.

He sits up, keeping a cocoon of blankets around him as he stares blankly at the hastily-folded towels and linens of his self-imposed quarters. Shivering, he pulls the blankets closer until he disappears inside them, thinking about Luffy curled into him the night before with Zoro warm and lazy on his lap.

He wants…

He sighs, reluctantly drags his hand from his blanket armor, and curls his fingers for a Room. It’s his strongest one since the battle in Dressrosa, which is irritating as hell because it proves that sleep really does help with recuperation, even if it makes him feel like shit.

He pushes his Room out further and further. He tells himself he’s testing his limits, checking his progress. But the truth is that he stops expanding as soon as Luffy’s heartbeat trips into his awareness. It’s hummingbird light and quick at first, then builds into a crescendo of drums as Law focuses. The rush of blood in his veins tells Law that Luffy is running around and excited. The squeeze of his lungs means he’s laughing and laughing and laughing.

Nico Robin, Franky, and Usopp are nearby. The unique hollowness and fizz-pop of Franky’s body is especially close. Is he dancing with Luffy?

Zoro is close, too, though not nearly as active. Law can practically taste the slosh of booze that spills down his throat.

And something else, muted and sharp and cold, falls into his Room. It’s snowing.

He finds what he’s looking for and switches himself to the washroom, bypassing the party. Shivering in the agonizingly cold room and bitterly missing the hot showers on the Polar Tang and the Sunny, he does his best to quickly wash up.

Cleaned and dressed, he decides he’s still not ready to face the full brunt of the party. He bypasses them again for the kitchen, where he finds the kettle hot with the jar of instant coffee and a clean mug out and waiting for him. Courtesy of Robin, he figures, who is as quietly upset about the quality of the coffee on this ship as he is.

Sitting at the counter, he experiments with another Room while he drinks. He pushes and pushes until he encompasses the ship. He grins, deeply satisfied when the exercise doesn’t cause his head to swim and his skin to go clammy. He closes his eyes and lets the impressions and insights pour into him. Voices and heartbeats fill his senses, thunderous over the ocean of blood rushing through a labyrinth of veins. It takes time, but he gets a bead on everyone on the ship. He can even smell the wind and taste the snow. It’s falling even harder than before.

Franky’s switched partners to Usopp, while Robin’s slow and steady heartbeat seems closer to Luffy’s. Her lungs soar with quiet laughter. When Luffy drags Zoro in for a dance, Law smirks. He picks up the spoon he used to stir his coffee with one hand and makes a sharp motion with the fingers of his other.

A straw hat teeters and rustles in place of the spoon. He sips his coffee and spins the hat, waiting for the chaos. A minute later, Luffy bursts into the kitchen in a whirlwind of cold air and errant limbs.

“Dr. Hatstealer!” Luffy shouts, half in delight and half in horror at the unrepentant hat theft.

“Nose-ya definitely told you to say that.”

He was prepared for teasing and banter, to have Luffy’s attention on him and him only, if even for just a few seconds. He was somewhat unprepared for a hand to stretch out and grab the wrist holding the ratty old hat.

He was completely unprepared for Luffy’s body to retract towards his hand instead of the other way around, resulting in a lap full of a noodly rubber pirate riding an ecstatic sugar rush.

“Shit, no, what the—” Law swears, never having any time to think when he’s with Luffy. Grabby hands simultaneously go for the straw hat and Law’s coffee. Law evades, only for Luffy to steal Law’s hat and plop it on his head, the furry bill sitting low and crooked on his brows, his bangs pushed down over his eyes.

“I’ll steal yours, then. Because we’re allies.”

Law scoffs, twists a Room into place, and switches the hats.

“You still seem confused about what allies are supposed to do.”

“Really?” Luffy asks. This time he’s dressed for the weather in an ankle-length blue fur coat. Except the hem rucked halfway up his bare thighs when he crashed into Law’s lap, and now Law has a too-close look of muscle rippling under smooth, brown skin as Luffy squeezes his knees against Law’s hips to brace himself. Leaning back, he holds the crown of his hat against his head, so it doesn’t fall when he tips his chin to look at Law. His cheeks are flushed and smells of grease and sake and soap and snow. His weight, his smell, his everything surrounds Law—fills him with want until he thinks he might unravel and fly apart from the inside out.

“Because I think I’m winning at this.”

“There’s nothing to win.”

Luffy’s eyes go intense like they sometimes do, and something in Law quivers and rises in challenge to have all of that primal fervor directed solely at him. He leans forward, and Law bites down on a sharp inhale, hands flying to Luffy’s hips to—to hold him back or pull him closer, he doesn’t know.

But Luffy only reaches up and presses his hand against Law's neck. His palm is blazing hot, and his fingernails scratch along his hairline, sending a shockwave down Law’s spine. It’s the same motion that Luffy used to bring Zoro to heel earlier in the infirmary, and Law knows that and wants to bare his teeth or his blade or both at the thought and yet and yet—

“Isn’t there?” Luffy asks, and Law’s starting to think he’s talking about something other than winning at being allies.

The laughter and music outside swell like the tide and break the spell. Or maybe it just puts it on hold. Luffy looks up at the sound before seeming to remember that he wants to be up there with the party, too.

Law also has a real-time view of the gears turning in Luffy’s head as he remembers that he wanted to bully and harangue Law into joining.

“Wait—” Law tries, but it’s too late. One arm winds its way three times around his waist, and suddenly he’s being hauled out of the kitchen and into the freezing air, his second cup of coffee a distant dream. “Strawhat! Put me down!”

“Torao likes being carried!”

“I do not—not like this!”

“See? I knew you liked it.”

The cold bites into his cheeks and ears. Luffy pauses long enough to stretch his arm up and up toward the mast, fully intending to swing them over the deckhouse and to the main deck. Law futilely swears creative and bloody threats at him. All he can do, as always, is hold on to his hat and endure it.

They crash into the main deck. Well. Luffy crashes into the deck. Law Shambles himself to stand next to Zoro before impact. Luffy goes bouncing head over heels, bowling over party-goers in an avalanche of shrieks and swearing.

Leaning against a barricade of crates and barrels that had been drug out for makeshift seating but had mostly been abandoned for dancing, Law observes the party. The wind and waters are the calmest they’ve been in days, the ship sailing dreamily along its course. Hanging lanterns strung up strategically around the deck suffuses the scene in a dreamy golden glow. The music is almost overwhelmingly loud, pulsing in his temples and radiating out defiantly into the night. The snow has stopped falling, but it covers everything in perfect white except for the dark, slushy tracks gouged out by the dancers. Thick clouds hover on the horizon, but the stars shine and reflect crisply on the snow surrounding them.

Between Law and the gaggle of dancers and musicians is a tree. Or rather, it’s a handcrafted wooden tree that’s around half of his height. It twists in on itself, its branches curving and stretching like an old maple tree. Given the artistry and craftsmanship, Law assumes that Franky and Usopp were its creators.

It’s beautiful but strange to have in the middle of a rowdy pirate party. Stranger still is the dozens upon dozens of brightly colored paper hanging from its branches. They flutter in the breeze, twirling and bumping against each other in whispers drowned out by the party’s clamor.

“Aw, it’s stopped snowing,” Luffy pouts as he trips up to them with damp hair and rumpled clothes.

Zoro’s sitting against a barrel, his elbow bumping into Law’s leg as he drinks from his tankard. On the other side of the deck, Franky plays his guitar and sings exuberantly with the rest of the band. Robin sways gently on his right, legs curled under a blanket with a steaming mug in her hands. Usopp is past drunk and loudly regaling three Barto Club members with highly embellished stories. (At least, Law hopes they’re embellished. Even the Strawhats aren’t dumb enough to agree to a ridiculous Davy Back Fight not once but twice.

Right?)

“Oh!” Luffy says, nose in the air. “More food, I think!” He goes to shoot off but Law slings his arms over his shoulders and tiredly rests his chin on top of his head. “Hey!”

“You dragged me out here, so take responsibility.”

Luffy grumbles and huffs. “What else do we do? Just stand here? That doesn’t seem party-like.”

“What are you even celebrating?”

“We’re celebrating, uh, Enamorges?”

“...What,” Law deadpans.

“Maybe it’s Enamorados?”

“No, Luffy,” Zoro grunts. “It’s Enamorthes.”

“Zoro wasn’t even awake when Robin told us the story,” Luffy huffs imperiously, toeing at Zoro’s thigh. “It’s a star story from Dressrosa. I told Robin this morning about the girl on the rock and the sea monster because she likes those kinds of things. She said she’s heard it before, except the part about the robot.”

“That’s because there wasn’t a robot.”

“Well,” Luffy’s cheeks puff. “There should be.”

“It has to do with that star system to the South,” Zoro interrupts, pointing to the North. Luffy collapses into giggles, his back curving to fit up against Law’s chest and stomach.

“That’s the South, Zoro-ya,” Law grumbles, pointing in the correct direction.

“Robin said,” Luffy tries to say between wheezes. “Robin said it’s an end-of-the-year festival celebrating the two lovers in the star story. They start out separated but travel back to each other to reunite in Joyland at the end of each year.”

Law, are you listening?

I like the sound of Land of Laughter. Don’t you?

“What did you say?” Law tilts Luffy's head back at a disturbing angle until Luffy blinks at him upside down. “Joyland?”

Luffy hums, brows furrowing and cheeks going red as he tries to think. “Well, I think it’s called that! I remember because it sounded fun, right? Like an amusement park in the sky.” Luffy cuts his eyes to Zoro. “Think they have a ferris wheel?”

“Guess we’ll have to go there and find out,” Zoro replies with a shrug and an indulgent smirk.

“What else?” Law asks, flicking Luffy’s nose to demand his attention again.

“Well, food booths, obviously. And slides and roller coasters—”

“No, Strawhat-ya,” Law sighs and scowls at the fondness he hears in his own voice. “The story.”

“Oh, well, I don’t remember it all. But I think it’s those two stars,” he points to two bright pinpoints of light. Law knows them, though constellation stories in the North Blue never referred to them as lovers. But he’d never heard of the Land of Laughter or Joyland before Cora-san, either.

And the Land of Laughter and Joyland must be related. Cora-san’s ancestors came from Dressrosa, didn’t they? Could it have been a story that somehow survived their migration and supposed ascendance to godhood? If Law’s right, then Dressrosa also retained fragments of the story, maybe more. He wonders if Robin would share the information she managed to glean from the island, and what of its recorded history survived the battle and Doflamingo’s reign because Law suddenly wants to know everything. He wants to know Cora-san's past, and the forbidden constellation story about the Land of Laughter that Law was convinced was part-dream until this very moment.

Luffy suddenly shoves a bright piece of green and yellow paper in his face. Law jerks to avoid a cut across his nose.

“What’s this?”

“Robin says Dressrosa and its surrounding countries put up wishes and dreams this time of year because of the lovers. Like Robin said, they’re separated and are full of wishes to reunite, right? And the stars will be together again a few weeks from now. Their wishes to reunite will be granted.” He recites this slowly and carefully, like he’s trying to precisely remember Robin’s words. “So the people of Dressrosa put up their wishes near the end of the year, too. Usually in trees or in windows and other places. Because their wish will be granted in the new year, like the lovers.”

“Oh? Like a New Year’s resolution?” Law asks, eyeing the paper dreams dancing on the wish tree.

“We had those, too! Dressrosa just celebrates a little earlier than my island. I just thought that everyone’s a little tired and bored and worried about their friends, and parties are really good at helping with that! Here. Even Zoro did one, though he only said he dreamed of booze.”

Zoro tilts his head, earrings chiming, and there’s something in the rise and fall of his shoulder that makes Law believe that Zoro wished for something a little more than booze. What would a man like him wish for?

Luffy pokes the paper against Law’s cheek. Repeatedly.

“Alright, alright,” Law sighs as he lets go of Luffy to snatch the paper away. “I’ll think about it.”

“Torao should dance with me first,” Luffy says, already bobbing to the music without an anchor to weigh him down.

“I think you may be dreaming.”

Luffy laughs, breath dancing in the air like smoke.

“That is a good dream. Should I write it down, too?” He produces another piece of paper, this one pink and yellow, from one of his pockets.

His ridiculous heart actually skips at that. Incredulous, Law shoots an accusing glare at Zoro, who startles and then scowls back. “What’s that look for? Why are you suddenly mad at me?”

Law makes an abortive movement that encompasses all of Luffy.

Zoro’s expression eventually clears and he shrugs. “Oh. He just says stuff like that. He only realizes the effect it’ll have on people about half of the time.”

Luffy’s brows crease into a pout. It’s a cute pout, and Law’s irrationally mad about that, too. “What are you talking about?”

“Less,” Zoro amends. “Less than half.”

Luffy puffs up into full indignant duckling mode, hands propping on his hips and jaw jutting forward. Zoro’s face goes all soft. The lines between his brows melt and smooth, and the downturn of his mouth lifts into a soppy smile.

Oh no. Is Law making a stupid face, too? He better not be.

“Torao thinks you’ve got game, Captain,” Zoro explains, laughing in that rich and syrupy way of his that makes Law want to lick his lips to chase the phantom-sweet taste.

“Oh! What game are we playing?”

“Dancing,” Zoro says simply. He stands up, a rush of body heat and scents brushing by Law. He plucks the wish paper out of Luffy’s hand and places it in Law’s. Then he grasps Luffy by the elbow, tugging him toward the music. “You wanted to dance, right?”

Luffy practically vibrates out of his skin. “Yes!” He cheers with a fist pump. “Be back later, Torao! You should hang your dreams so you can dance with us!”

“Still not dancing,” Law mutters, but Luffy is already off, Zoro easily keeping stride as they plunge into the sea of dancers.

“A dream,” he says, rubbing his fingertips over the paper.

“Law is free!”

His throat tightens. He sits in Zoro’s vacated spot, leaning his head back against the barrel and squeezing his eyes shut. How did two little pieces of paper manage to break through the numbness of the past several days?

Dreaming and wishing. Did he know how to do those things? Did he know what he even wanted? Up until now, there’s only been plans and strategies. There’s only been the mission. Cora-san’s mission: take down Doflamingo. Law had put his life, will, and ambition on the line for it.

(That’s a lie. He hadn’t risked Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin. He hadn’t gambled with his crew. Because maybe he doesn’t know what it’s like to have a dream of his own, but he remembers what home feels like. And he couldn’t lose his home again.)

And now, in a twist of fate Law never saw coming, he’s alive, and Cora-san’s dream is achieved.

“Just let him go! Law is free!”

Isn’t it?

His eyes burn. He pinches at the forming headache and wonders what is left of him to return home with. What is left of him to write on a stupid piece of cheerful paper?

“You can live free… I’m sure that’s what he would tell you.”

His dry, cold fingers rasp over the papers. He stares at them until the colors bleed together. He stares until broad hands cup either side of his face.

Law felt him coming, saw him coming, so he doesn’t startle. He hadn't felt how cold he was until Zoro's hands pressed against his cheeks. The contact is solid and firm and so infuriatingly gentle that something in Law’s chest splinters apart. He doesn’t remember ever being touched this way before.

“You’re handling me, and I hate that,” Law croaks out. “You can’t do that to me like you do to Luffy.”

“Mm,” Zoro hums in acknowledgment, but the thumb that sears across Law’s cheekbone is not so acquiescing. “Can’t I?”

Law reaches up to smack the hand away, but he ends up loosely covering Zoro’s wrist with his long fingers. He marvels at the pulse he feels below his skin. He doesn’t even have to create a Room to count Zoro’s heartbeat. Zoro’s other hand drops, his finger tracing where Law is holding on to the brightly colored paper.

“It’s good to have dreams,” Zoro finally says, his silver eye searching Law’s face. “And old dreams can change into something new. Something even harder but more rewarding.”

“It’s just a bit of paper,” Law whispers.

“Ordinary things sometimes hold the most potential.” Zoro doesn’t even have to glance toward Luffy for Law to know he’s thinking about Luffy’s straw hat and a million other seemingly ordinary things that mean too much to him.

(Cheery yellow paint against a winter-gray sea rises in Law's mind. The glint of a newly acquired coin in the lamplight, the smell of the coffee Shachi brings him in the mornings, the clang and clunk constantly rattling in the background, along with swearing and banter and laughter. Ordinary things stitched together to make home.)

Zoro gently takes the paper from Law’s hand and tucks them into Law’s pocket. “Dreams can wait. You have the freedom to dream whenever you want.”

He steps back just as Luffy appears out of nowhere, plopping onto a crate next to Law’s barrel. “I miss everyone, but this is a good party,” he declares. “I wished it was still snowing, though. It was really pretty with all of the lights and paper.”

“You complained that you couldn’t see the stars when it was snowing,” Zoro huffs.

“I just think we should have both,” Luffy shrugs.

“I think that one might be impossible, even for the New World.”

Law would like to say that he did it because he heard Zoro’s declaration as a challenge. Or that he was testing his powers again. If pressed, he would maybe say that allowing one indulgence to the man who tore down the cage of strings around Law was no real inconvenience and that people should not look into it any further.

But the truth is, he doesn’t know why he does it.

(But that’s alright, isn’t it? Freedom doesn’t mean just the freedom to dream big. It means the freedom to live. To do small things just because he wants to.

To maybe indulge someone’s whims just to see them smile.)

“Don’t attach a reason to the love you’ve received.”

Maybe he doesn’t have to have a reason to give it, either.

It doesn’t matter. He has potential whispering in his pocket, homesickness in his heart, and the world at his fingertips.

“Room.”

Blue expands over the ship, so tall that the film melts into the night sky and becomes indiscernible. He lifts his fingers, and all of the snow on the ship—piled two hands high in some areas—rises into the air. He spreads his hands, and the snow separates into snowflakes instead of heaping clumps. Then he swirls his forefinger.

And the snow whirls around his Room like a snow globe.

Luffy gasps in awe, eyes wide and wholly enchanted as his hand drops down to grasp Law’s free one. His hands are cold to the touch from where he flaps them like a flightless bird all of the time. Tilting his head back, his hat slips off his head to rest between his shoulders.

“It’s like the stars are turning into snow.”

Law follows his gaze. The stars are so bright, and the snow in his dome is so white that it does look like the stars are falling like gentle snowflakes.

The brightly colored paper wishes on the dreaming tree flutter. On the deck, people stop merrymaking with each other to spin in place, coats and scarves billowing as they dance with the stars and snow. Luffy grabs Zoro and then Law, pulling them along in his orbit as he laughs at the sky.

Later, Law only makes a cursory protest when Luffy tugs him along to his and Zoro’s quarters. Though it’s among the nicest on the ship, the room is still cramped with the three of them crammed into the space. It still feels warmer and less confining than the linen closet he had insisted on. Zoro has to trip Luffy before the rubber bastard can dive into bed with his snow-dampened clothes. Law has to trip Zoro before the lunkhead can climb into bed with his fucking boots on.

Too many jabs from elbows and knees later, they settle with Law sitting at the head of the bed, his back pressed into the corner of the room. He’s got a book resting on his right knee, and the light is too weak to read by, but he’s too warm and comfortable to move. He idly flips one of the colorful papers between his fingers as he reads, the other tucked in among the book’s pages.

Zoro and Luffy are squeezed onto the bed as well. Zoro’s snoring quietly. No blanket is needed for either Law or Luffy because his body radiates heat like a furnace. Luffy is between him and the wall, curled tightly around Zoro’s back and shoulders like a jetpack. His head is on Law’s thigh, and he’s too damn soft to push him off.

He hesitates briefly before brushing some of Luffy’s hair out of his eyes. He leans his head against the wall, keeping a finger nestled in the pages of his book. He’ll keep reading in just a moment.

For now, he closes his eyes and lets himself unravel in the gentle quiet of the world.

end.