Archive of Our Own ^beta

There’s sweat in Ace’s eyes and his throat burns. He can still hear the commotion and shouting that has been following them since they darted out from the roadside inn at the outskirts of the village. His vision blurs and he can barely make out anything other than the vast mass of greenery ahead of him. The edge of the forest is just a stretch ahead and they can’t allow themselves to be caught after getting that far.

Soon the uneven, gravel road disappears from under his feet, and a burst of exhilaration surges through him as he finds purchase on the familiar, soft soil that covers the forest floor. Leaves smack at his face and his clothing briefly gets caught by a particularly stubborn branch, but the further he pushes into the thick overgrowth, the more the outside noise begins to quiet down, muffled by the layers of vegetation that envelop him.

The forest is dense, with only a few, dim rays of afternoon sunlight filtering in through the thick canopy of treetops, but even despite the lack of light, he knows it like the back of his hand.

The moment he’s sure he can no longer hear the voices, Ace slows down to a jog. Only then does he steal a quick glance over his shoulder – more of an instinct than actual need, because he knows by now that Sabo has never had any trouble keeping up with him.

And just like always, Sabo’s following right behind him: face red and curly hair swept back, saturated with sweat enough to make it lay flat against his skull. His bright, blue eyes meet Ace’s, and his face promptly stretches in a toothy grin, entirely unphased by how winded they are.

There’s a small, narrow ravine ahead of them, and they waste no time sliding down the leaf-covered, slippery side of it. The bottom of it is lined with large, mossy rocks, and they finally come to a halt beside them: both panting like hounds, tongues rolling out and chests heaving as they greedily take lungful after lungful of cool air, trying to catch their breath enough to be able to speak again.

Ace pulls up the hem of his tanktop – presses it unceremoniously against his face to soak up the sweat, then brushes his fingers through his hair to push it away from his face. He’s just as drenched as Sabo, so when he slicks the strands back, they thankfully stay in place there. He reaches back, pats the back pockets of his shorts – the couple of wallets he’s managed to swipe from the bunch of drunkards lounging about near the inn were still there, weighing him down pleasantly.

“Hope you didn’t drop your haul, because I’m not gonna share mine,” he announces, smirking at the blond beside him.

Sabo wordlessly peels away the lapel of his coat, allowing Ace a peek at the inside pockets that are just as stuffed with treasure as the pockets of Ace’s shorts. He’s still grinning, wide enough to show his chipped left canine, but there’s a strange tightness around his eyes that becomes more and more apparent to Ace with every beat of his gradually slowing heart.

It wasn’t a particularly difficult steal – drunk men were usually pretty easy to rob in their mindless, inebriated state. The only difficulty came after one of them sobered up a little, jostled by Sabo’s methodical groping as the boy searched for any valuables the men might’ve been carrying. He was probably misguided by Sabo’s blond curls and his rather delicate posture, and decided to whistle and call him something that very closely resembled a pretty princess. Sabo, of course, like any other pretty princess would do, promptly kicked the man right between the legs in retaliation, which in turn made the drunkard spew out a loud string of curses and bring way more attention upon them than they had initially anticipated.

They had the advantage of being much smaller and more agile than a mob of loose-limbed, blurry-eyed drunk men, and perhaps it would’ve been safer and less energy-consuming to just drop whatever they had stolen and run… But then again, a few bruises here and there were nothing compared to the promise of beri-filled wallets, gold rings and even a pair of mechanical pocket watches. Ace almost got caught by the collar of his shirt and he had to bite into a few limbs to wriggle away, but Sabo’s aptly-timed punch aimed square into the mouth of one of his attempted captors bought them enough time to stuff whatever they managed to grab into their pockets and bolt.

So, yeah, while the steal itself wasn’t particularly eventful for their standards, the escape that happened afterwards was still pretty taxing, especially considering the added weight they had to carry with them.

Ace leans forward, rests his hands on his knees, tries to take a few more deeper breaths to ease the ache in his side that has wedged itself between his lower ribs just as they passed the edge of the forest earlier.

There’s still a small smile on Sabo’s lips, but it doesn’t really reach his eyes anymore. The more Ace looks at him though, the more he does seem kinda… out of sorts, but whatever the reason might be, Ace might just have an idea on how to distract him.

“You punch well,” he tells Sabo, still a little breathless, then waits patiently for the other boy’s eyes to light up in acknowledgement of the praise.

A shit-eating grin stretches his lips. “Despite being such a pretty princess, that is.”

Sabo’s face somehow turns even more red and he throws himself at Ace, one fist flying to grasp the front of his sweat-drenched tanktop, the other already winding back to let the freckled boy experience his punching skills first-hand. Ace doesn’t even try to stop him, he’s well accustomed to their banter and the roughhousing that follows afterwards; he knows well Sabo would never truly hurt him on purpose.

Except instead of hitting him, Sabo suddenly hisses and drops him, which makes Ace stumble backwards a few steps. The leaves under his feet are slippery and he quickly loses his balance, falling back onto the soft, forest ground with an undignified, surprised yelp.

“You should be thankful,” Sabo snarls, face all scrunched up and teeth bared, “you’d get your ass handed to you back there if it weren’t for me.”

Ace blinks up at him. He barely has the time to see Sabo shake out his right fist, before he notices Ace staring and hides the hand behind his back.

“Are you alright?” Ace asks, before he can stop himself.

“Fine,” Sabo mumbles back, then steps up towards him and offers his left hand, which Ace promptly takes and allows himself to be pulled back up and onto his feet, “we’d better get moving. It’s too dark out here to count the money properly.”

He moves back, putting more space between them again, then kicks at a chipped piece of rock beside his boot to occupy himself briefly. He looks uncomfortable – to say the least.

The blond doesn’t look at Ace again, but when he speaks, his voice, through audibly strained, sounds genuinely apologetic.

“Sorry. About earlier. That was mean.”

Ace narrows his eyes slightly at him, but decides not to push him further. Sabo has always been the one between the two of them more likely to back off and apologize, even in instances when Ace was clearly the one that started it.

Sabo stands stiffly a few steps beside him, clearly waiting for Ace to take the lead so he can follow. His gaze remains downcast, and though his arms are angled away, hidden behind his back and out of Ace’s view, he can still see the slight movement of Sabo’s right forearm – as if the other boy kept slowly tensing and relaxing his fist.

He doesn’t seem as upset anymore, but it’s obvious that something is still off.

“Yeah,” Ace says lightly. He turns on his heel, looks around briefly to locate where the ravine flattens out, “you’re right. Let’s go.”

He doesn’t turn to check. The rustling of leaves under Sabo’s boots is enough to tell him the other boy immediately goes after him.

The way back to the bandit encampment passes in a somewhat strained silence.

Ace has half the mind to wonder whether maybe, just maybe, he shouldn’t have teased Sabo like that. It seems being addressed in a feminine way struck somewhat of a weak spot in him – especially considering how impulsively Sabo has reacted to it back at the inn.

Still – Ace has called him many things before, and it’s been rather uncommon for Sabo to lash out like that. On the rare occasions he did, there was usually something else that bothered him, usually something related to his family.

Ace chews at his bottom lip anxiously.

Except Sabo hasn’t been home since the early morning and has spent the entire day with him.

He pulls at a nearby branch absently to pluck a handful of leaves – and not a heartbeat later there’s a loud smack, followed by Sabo’s dismayed cry as the branch swings back and slaps him right in the face.

Ace feels his heart leap up his throat.

If Sabo was angry with him before – he’s definitely going to hit him now. There’s no way Ace can convince him it was an accident, and that he truly didn’t think when he pulled at the branch, especially considering that similar things tended to happen before between them and were usually done deliberately, just to tease the other.

He’s even ready to apologize right away, which is a rare feat in itself – but just as he turns to face Sabo, his eyes are immediately drawn to Sabo’s right hand.

The boy has raised it up to his face to pick out the remaining leaf litter from his teary, red-rimmed eye, giving Ace an unobstructed view on the absolute sorry state of it.

The back of his hand is swollen and the skin across it is tainted purplish-red, caked with drying blood and dirt. There’s a nasty, uneven cut over the protruding ridge of his knuckles, and Ace suddenly recalls with bright detail how Sabo’s fist connected with that drunkard’s mouth – the injury must’ve happened then, and Sabo must’ve split the skin across his knuckles upon making contact with the man’s teeth.

Ace’s eyes widen comically once the realization settles in. He can’t even begin to imagine how much force Sabo must’ve put into the punch, if it hurt him to this extent.

For once, Ace wishes he had caught a glimpse of the proverbial other guy, before they managed to make their escape.

Sabo stares back at him and drops his hand immediately the moment he sees Ace’s all to focused on it. His face is still flushed and splotchy, even though they’ve been walking for the past fifteen minutes – and Ace notes that both of his eyes are weirdly shiny and red, almost as if he has been…

He can’t even bother to finish the thought, as Sabo’s boot catches onto a particularly winding root and he trips, falling onto his knees and elbows like an inert sack of potatoes. A frustrated, broken sound tears itself out of him and he scrambles to get up again, quick and jittery as if there’s someone right behind him ready to grasp his ankles if he isn’t fast enough.

Ace jumps to his side in an instant, reaching out to grab his arm and steady him.

“You’re hurt,” he says, and it’s not even a question.

It’s no longer just his hand that’s hurt either – both of Sabo’s knees are smudged with dirt, pieces of rotten leaves and twigs sticking to them where the skin has been scraped off, a tiny rivulet of dark red, viscous liquid slowly trailing down his right shin.

Sabo wrenches himself away, reels back like Ace’s touch burns him.

“It’s nothing,” he chokes out, “don’t touch me.”

And then, despite the ridiculousness of the situation, almost as if on an instinct, he adds weakly:

“Please.”

There’s no mistaking the wetness in his eyes as anything other than tears, and Sabo angles his face away before they overflow and spill down his dust and sweat-covered cheeks.

Ace’s left standing, his hand still up awkwardly, right where Sabo has pushed him away. His heart hammers in his chest and he feels like it’s not Sabo swaying on his coltish, pale legs in front of him, but rather like he’s facing a wild, overgrown boar – he doesn’t know whether he should fight or run, but he knows that one wrong move is all it takes for it to charge at him.

He doesn’t want to fight Sabo, Sabo’s already hurt, Ace wants to help him, but Sabo’s shaking all over, hugging his hand to his chest, trying to make himself as small as possible without actively fleeing.

“Sabo,” Ace tries again. His lips pull tight into a frown, and he takes half a step towards the blond, “what’s going on? Why are you crying?”

It’s a mistake.

Sabo’s wide eyes blink at him and a mix of fear and utter shame spills across his features. Ace throws out his arm to catch him, but Sabo breaks off into a sprint before his fingers can even graze the soft cotton of his navy blue jacket.

Ace’s first instinct is to chase after him. He forces his body to remain still instead.

Sabo made it clear he didn’t want Ace anywhere near him, and even though the reasoning behind his behavior is entirely beyond Ace, the least he can do is give Sabo the space he needs. There’s only a few places the other boy can possibly run off to, anyway. Ace doesn’t understand what caused him to act like that, but fine – if he wants to suffer in solitude, then so be it.

He watches Sabo’s blurry silhouette melt into the foliage, until he can no longer make out the shape of his stupid tophat. Waits some more then, in case Sabo decides to change his mind, but since he doesn’t – he steps back onto the trail leading to the bandit settlement.

He has no other choice but to leave him alone. For a while, at least. Ace’s already listing in his mind which of their chosen hideaway spots seem to be Sabo’s favorite – he’ll make sure to check them all later.

But first, he’s going to need something to help Sabo clean up his wounds.

They’re supposed to go fishing tomorrow and Ace can’t have his only companion indisposed. Yeah, of course, there’s also Luffy – but Luffy’s nothing like Sabo, he can’t even hold the fishing rod without falling into the water and he keeps eating the fishbait raw. But above all, Ace would just like to avoid Sabo’s hand shriveling and falling off because it got infected by some drunkard’s rotten spit.

Even though it seems Sabo doesn’t particularly mind.

Ace’s a good friend though – he’ll take care of Sabo even if Sabo doesn’t want to be taken care of.

He supposes it’s just something good friends have to do sometimes.

*

When Ace emerges from the treeline near Dadan’s cabin, Luffy’s perched at the front porch, waiting for him. As usual.

There’s a somewhat familiar, small glass jar at his feet, half-way filled with a wriggling, pink mass. Luffy’s been digging up earthworms and putting them aside for some reason, and Ace suppresses an elder sibling’s urge to ask him if the contents of the jar mean Luffy’s not going to join him for supper.

The younger boy looks up at him almost immediately, like he’s got some sort innate ability of sensing Ace’s presence before he even gets close. Luffy’s eyes light up visibly the moment he sees him – still, his gaze darts to the side at once and before Ace can even greet him, he asks:

“Where’s Sabo?”

As if it hasn’t been obvious already who his favorite brother is.

“Dunno,” Ace replies with a shrug, lifts a hand up to gently pat the top of Luffy’s head, “probably at the treehouse.”

Luffy immediately reaches towards him with a rather clear intent of wrapping all four of his rubber limbs around Ace’s middle, but his nails are black with dirt and slimy with worm goo and without thinking twice, Ace uses the same hand he’s got in Luffy’s hair to push him to the side and slide past him, towards the front door.

He barely registers the displeased whine that comes from somewhere behind him. Ace’s got his priorities sorted out – and while Luffy’s contentment usually scores pretty high up on the list, as of recent most of it has been occupied by Sabo.

Ace cracks the door open, peeks inside – the cabin is dim and quiet, without anyone in sight.

“The old hag is out?” he asks lightly.

Luffy steps up beside him, climbs up onto his tippy toes, but even then he’s too short to reach the window. He valiantly tries not to let it show too much, though.

“Dadan is sleeping. Or has been, at least, when I took the jar.”

Ace gives him a quick, sideways look. That’s why the jar looked familiar. Ace has seen it placed at Dadan’s bedside, where she used it to store the unburnt butts of her cigarettes. He briefly wonders what Luffy did with them before the earthworms took their place.

It’s none of his business. Sabo’s more important right now, than whatever scolding they both might get once Dadan realizes the sogged cigarette butts have been unceremoniously dumped out beside her mattress. Maybe Luffy’s eaten them – Ace has quickly learned not to underestimate the younger boy, and if that’s the case then maybe they would get away with the scolding in the end.

Either way, he doesn’t really feel like asking.

Ace stalks inside, takes a quick, assessing look over the various makeshift shelves and cabinets stuffed alongside the walls of the cabin.

“You left him at the treehouse?” Luffy inquires, following close behind.

He waddles after him like a lost duckling as Ace moves around the cabin in search of something resembling a first-aid kit, and Ace has to pay great attention not to step and trip over him.

Sabo told him once his family kept theirs in a bathroom cabinet – if only there was a bathroom in the shithole the bandits lived in. There’s a dilapidated latrine outside, but Ace doubts he’d find anything of use in there. There might be something in one of the chests where Dadan stores bars of gray soap and cleaning rags, for the rare occasions she orders them to heat up some water and drag a wooden tub inside so she can scrub them clean once in a while.

“He went there himself,” Ace explains absently, half-distracted, as his eyes frantically search the upper shelves, “he’s… unwell.”

“Sabo’s sick?!” Luffy wails, his big, brown eyes already welling with tears.

The shrill noise makes Ace jump where he’s standing, and he swiftly falls to a crouch beside Luffy, hands flying up to press against his mouth.

“Stop yelling,” he whisper-screams, keeps the hand tight against Luffy’s mouth just in case, “He’s hurt, but it’s nothing serious – he stumbled and fell.”

Well. It is technically the truth. Luffy doesn’t need to know that they went to the village and robbed a bunch of adult men just a couple of hours earlier – Ace can’t afford to have him go and babble about it to anyone he meets. He talks about Ace enough, anyway.

Luffy’s round face turns a dangerous shade of purple, and Ace hastily removes his hand, letting him take a few deeper breaths.

“No screaming,” he warns, “and if you keep it low, maybe you can help me with something.”

Luffy blinks the tears away, nods eagerly in acknowledgement, and with the crisis averted, Ace can focus on what he has actually come here for.

“I need something to clean the scrapes. You know how it is – you’ve fallen plenty of times, you know how much stuff gets in there.”

For once Luffy seems to be entirely focused on him, and keeps nodding his head with every word that Ace directs his way.

“I’m also going to need something to wrap it up for him, just in case. Do you know where Dadan keeps anything that I can use?”

Luffy perks up visibly.

“The bandages!” he exclaims, then slaps his hands against his mouth before Ace can even scold him again for yelling. When he speaks again, it’s much more subdued, though it’s clear how much effort it takes him to speak that way.

“Yeah, they’re– up there.”

Luffy leads him into the kitchen – even though it’s certainly way too generous to call it that way, as it’s just an adjacent room with a few cupboards, a large wooden table and an old, tiled stove. He points towards one of the shelves above the table and it doesn’t take long for Ace to locate the small, tin box nestled between all sorts of run-down kitchen utensils.

Neither of them can really reach it, but Ace’s quick to stuff his arms under Luffy’s armpits and lift him up, until their combined height allows Luffy to grab the box for him. He hands it to Ace, and Ace wastes no time knocking the lid off to examine the contents: there’s a few strips of neatly folded, clean cloth, a couple of sewing needles, some scraps of gauze and a piece of fishing line wrapped tightly around a wooden splinter.

A first-aid kit, truly.

“Yeah, that’ll do,” Ace huffs out, visibly pleased, “good job, Luff.”

Luffy beams at him, but Ace barely spares him a glance. He hastily puts the lid back in place, stuffs the box under his arm and turns towards the door, ready to leave.

“Ace, wait,” Luffy calls after him abruptly, makes him stop in his tracks.

“What did I tell you about yelling–,”

He turns on his heel, lets his gaze drop – Luffy stands behind him with his hand outstretched, holding the neck of a small bottle in his equally small fingers.

The bottle is filled with a clear, runny liquid that almost looks like water, but when Luffy pushes it into Ace’s hand, Ace suddenly smells the sharp and distinct odor of distilled liquor.

“Dadan’s still sleeping,” Luffy assures him quickly, seeing the utterly incredulous look that Ace gives him, “I took it from her – will top it up with water afterwards. Pour it over the gauze, it’ll help you clean the wounds.”

“How’d you even…,” Ace starts, then changes his mind, not really sure if he wants to know how Luffy apparently seems to know where Dadan stores liquor and a makeshift wound-sewing kit. He follows Luffy’s surprisingly reasonable advice though, and removes the lid again to pour the contents of the bottle onto the bandages and the gauze haphazardly.

“Duh,” Luffy huffs out, points to the scar below his eye – it’s still pink and shiny, the newly-formed tissue keeping the edges of the cut together still fresh and tender, “I know how to take care of all sorts of wounds! Back in Foosha, Shanks showed me how to do it. He’s the one who stitched my cheek! He used that smelly liquid to clean it, too. ”

And then, like an afterthought, he adds: “It stings, though. Like, a lot – it’s real hard not to cry then, so make sure not to call Sabo a crybaby.”

Ace narrows his eyes at him.

Yeah, Luffy’s their designated crybaby and both he and Sabo do think he’s physically weak, but he’s younger than them too, so it’s not like they can ask much from him yet. Besides, crying is Luffy’s baseline response to a lot of things: he cries when he’s happy, when he’s angry or surprised, hell, he’s either laughing or crying most of the time, with a very limited assortment of other emotional responses – unless he’s asleep, but that doesn’t really count.

He also cries when he’s hurt, but that’s to be expected, especially for a small kid like Luffy. Sometimes things hurt so bad you can’t help but cry – Ace’s been there a few times himself. He’s not proud of it of course, but at the same time he doesn’t think it’s a sign of weakness, but more like a… reflex that you can’t help. It’s fun to laugh at Luffy when all he does is cry, but neither he or Sabo truly dislike him for that.

Ace has never called Sabo a crybaby before. He never has had any reason to.

Beside him Luffy sniffles thoughtfully.

“Maybe I could go with you? I can hold Sabo’s hand while you clean his scrapes! Makino held mine when Shanks put in the stitches, and it did help a little.”

“Absolutely not,” Ace tells him, but perhaps he refused Luffy a bit too quickly though, judging from the pout that immediately appears on Luffy’s face. Ace sighs, slaps a hand against his forehead, drags it down his face in exasperation, then tries again: “I need you to stay here and cover for me, if Dadan wakes up and starts asking why I’m still out after nightfall.”

He glances down at the box, held securely in his hands. “Or why any of this is missing.”

Suddenly, Ace remembers the wallets he’s stolen. He hasn’t really managed to check them for contents yet, but even if there’s nothing of value inside, it would probably serve as a good distraction for Luffy – for a while at least.

“Here,” he says, then reaches into his back pocket to fish one of them out and thrust it into Luffy’s small hands, “just – don’t rat me out, alright?”

Luffy blinks down at the object in his hands, then up at Ace.

“Where’d you find this?”

“In the forest,” Ace lies smoothly, “someone must’ve dropped it.”

Luffy looks confused for a second, then his face lightens up in a blinding smile and he promptly stuffs the wallet behind the waistband of his shorts. Ace gives him a last, careful look, then turns around to finally leave.

He’s jumping down the raw, rough planks that make up their front porch when he hears Luffy yell after him once more.

“Don’t forget to kiss him afterwards!”

Ace doesn’t bother to stop and get distracted again, but he also can’t stop himself from throwing Luffy a slightly disgusted, slightly disbelieving look over his shoulder. And Luffy just– shrugs, like there wasn’t anything out of ordinary in what he has just yelled to Ace, loud enough for half of the bandit settlement to hear.

“That’s what Makino always did! It’s supposed to make it hurt less and heal faster.”

Ace just sighs deeply, then breaks out into a full run. He crosses the treeline effortlessly, and with the tin box safely clutched to his chest, he quickly finds one of the trails leading deeper into the forest, in the general direction of their treehouse.

It makes the most sense to start looking for Sabo there. Of course, Ace will drop by and check a couple more spots on his way there – but there’s virtually no reason for the blond-haired boy to hide in caves or other hollow tree trunks, as it would probably be hard for him to climb, considering the state of his hand. Even if he couldn’t climb up the treehouse either, there was small clearing below it, hidden from the main trail by all kinds of shrubs and bushes that grow around it. The secluded area in itself and also provided a great vantage point, as it overlooked the coast and allowed an unobstructed view on all the ships that entered and left the bay.

And Sabo has always liked looking at ships.

*

Ace doesn’t find Sabo by the creek, or by the huge, fallen tree trunk they use as their makeshift pirate ship, or even by the small, sandy meadow where they often fight each other for fun. The treehouse is his next destination, and he’s ready to bet an arm and leg that Sabo’s there, but still…

Ace can’t stop thinking about him, for some reason.

He is sure that the blonde boy is mostly alright. Sabo isn’t some kind of damsel in distress – despite his aristocratic upbringing, he’s well versed in all sorts of physical combat: he can kick well, bite hard if necessary, he runs fast and climbs even faster, he can also throw punches with great accuracy – as he has proven yet again earlier today.

He’s also incredibly smart, much smarter than Ace – not that Ace would ever admit it out loud. But Sabo knows a lot about navigation and geography, he can tell apart all sorts of plants and animals and knows a lot about what they can be used for. Before meeting him, Ace was only able to divide whatever he found in the forest into two groups: edible and inedible, the knowledge gained mostly based on his own personal experiences.

Sabo is the only one among them who can read and write, and just like all of his other skills, he’s eager to share.

They don’t have access to a lot of books – mostly whatever they’ve gotten their hands on via theft or what Sabo has managed to carry out of his house. Ace’s pretty sure he knows all of them by heart, including all of the illustrations.

He still likes it a lot when Sabo reads to them.

It’s not like he’d ask Sabo for it, though. But one of the advantages of having Luffy around is that Luffy also loves listening to stories, and Ace can just hover around whenever Sabo sits down to read something to him and pretend he’s clearly, absolutely not interested in kid stories for kids.

If Sabo suspects something, he hasn’t really approached Ace about it yet. He does read a little bit louder, though. When he notices that Ace’s nearby.

A loose rock on his path almost makes him trip and fall, mirroring Sabo’s earlier tumble – but somehow he manages to stay upright.

There’s a warm feeling spreading inside his chest, but he supposes it’s from all the running. It’s not the first time he’s felt it – sometimes, when he sprints through the forest early in the morning to meet Sabo at the edge of Gray Terminal, he gets the same thing.

Something to do with the cooling air, probably. Or he’s just getting out of shape, because of all the babysitting he needs to do around Luffy.

Doesn’t matter. Ace has almost reached the treehouse, anyway.

*

Ace sees Sabo before Sabo can see him.

It’s– deliberate. Ace has chosen to stay low and move with the shadows that the surrounding foliage provides, instead of barging into the clearing at full speed and yelling out for Sabo before he even managed to slow down.

Sabo can be skittish, sometimes. And he’s been already acting weird before – Ace can’t afford to startle the other boy and risk making Sabo run from him yet again.

All of the effort he put into getting the first-aid kit would go to waste then.

He places the box carefully under one of the bushes, then stalks a bit closer.

With his hat and googles taken off and placed carefully aside, Sabo has busied himself with setting out on the grass everything he’s managed to steal earlier. Ace can’t help but notice that he keeps his right hand carefully pressed against his chest, as if trying not let it move too much. Using only his left hand, he’s carefully sorting every single coin and bill, putting them all in their respective piles.

Ace waits for Sabo to turn his back on him, then launches himself from the bushes with all of his strength and pounces.

Sabo’s head snaps towards him at the sudden movement and he lets out a high-pitched, startled cry. It quickly turns into a painful grunt when Ace collides with him, pushing his shoulder into Sabo’s middle and tackling him down to the ground.

There’s a brief flash of panic across Sabo’s features, but it’s immediately replaced by outrage the moment he realizes it’s no one else but Ace settling his butt comfortably over his stomach, with his legs bracketing him from both sides, preventing him from being able to escape.

“What the hell!” Sabo seethes out, bucking his hips in a futile attempt at throwing Ace off.

Ace just grins at him, entirely unphased.

“Hello to you too,” he says, wrapping his legs just a little bit tighter around Sabo’s waist, just to make sure he stays there, “good to know you’re still alive. I almost thought you went and died somewhere in a ditch, after somehow getting hit in the head and breaking your skull. Considering how stupid you’ve been acting all afternoon.”

Ace is heavier than him, with his thicker bones and denser muscle, and Sabo eventually gets winded and gives up. He lays back, lets his limbs relax a little, as he tries to even out his breathing. He stubbornly remains silent and avoids Ace’s gaze, but that doesn’t mean Ace hasn’t been staring at him for the past few minutes, looking up and down his body carefully, checking for any other possible injuries other than what he’s already seen earlier.

Sabo’s pale eyebrows are drawn in a frown, and his face still has that flushed, pink hue to it. There are also twin, smudged streaks on both sides of his face, clearly left by tears that have dripped his cheeks and washed the dust that covered his skin.

“I’m not stupid,” Sabo says petulantly after a while, but at least he’s saying something and it’s not insults.

“I never said you were stupid,” Ace deadpans. He digs his knees into the dirt on both sides of Sabo’s body and lifts up his hips a little, testing if Sabo would use it to his advantage and bolt.

He doesn't. Another victory.

“Only that you’ve been acting stupid. That’s a difference.”

“I wasn't acting stupid, either.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Ace swings his leg across Sabo’s thighs and moves off him, settling down onto the grass beside him instead. He still has one hand fisted in the front of Sabo’s jacket, just to make sure Sabo isn’t going anywhere – but it seems like Sabo has fully given up and doesn’t consider running anymore.

“Why didn’t you say you were hurt?” Ace asks him, once the other boy picks himself up as well and sits down cross-legged next to him, with his back against the tree trunk.

Sabo looks to the side for a moment. He swallows audibly, then lets his eyes turn downwards, as he stares at his hands placed limply over his lap.

“It didn’t hurt as much, at first,” he says, quietly.

He flexes and relaxes the fingers of his right hand carefully, in a similar manner Ace has seen him do before. A brief, painful expression crosses his face, but it disappears almost as quickly as it appeared.

Ace reaches out with his own hand – hovers it in front of Sabo, palm up. He doesn’t voice the request, but it’s obvious anyway, in the cautious way he meets Sabo’s gaze.

Sabo sighs again and the uncomfortable look on his face melts into something softer, more resigned. He tilts his head back, lets it hit the tree behind him and without looking, extends his arm as well. Ace picks it up carefully, slips his fingers under Sabo’s palm and turns it up-side down, so that he can bring it up towards the dying sunlight and examine it properly.

His knuckles are heavily bruised – the area around the protruding, delicate bones has turned dark purple and tender like an overripe plum, but at least the place where the skin has been torn apart isn’t bleeding anymore. Ace brings his other hand up as well to press and prod gently at all sorts of spots across the back of Sabo’s hand – nothing seems disfigured though, he can’t feel any abnormal movement under his fingertips either, so thankfully nothing looks broken.

Which is good news, overall – because it mostly means Ace can fully take care of Sabo himself, without asking any of the adults for help.

Ace touches a particularly sore spot and both of them jump a little in their seats, Sabo – probably because of the pain, and Ace because of the quiet, strained whine that tears itself from Sabo’s mouth and startles him. He looks up at him immediately, and though Sabo’s quick to bite down at his lower lip and swallow all other sounds, the tightness around his eyes clearly shows that the painful sensation is still present.

He doesn’t tell Ace to let go, though.

“I meant it, you know,” Ace tells him, placing Sabo’s hand back onto his lap gently, “you punch well. This is probably nothing to how that bastard’s face looks like now.”

A small, weak smile forces itself onto Sabo’s bitten lips.

“I meant it too,” he says back, “you wouldn’t survive a day without me.”

They’re back at it again with the banter – all is going to be well.

“You need to get that cleaned, though,” he nods towards Sabo’s lap, “your knees, too. Anywhere else where you got hurt?”

Sabo shakes his head. “No. And – I will, just need to get back home. I need to make sure Stelly doesn’t see me. If he snitches on me, father’s probably going to kill me.”

His weak smile morphs into something that almost resembles a smirk.

“Or worse – he might just decide to ground me.”

Ace grins at him. “Well, you’re in luck. Good thing you’ve got such a thoughtful friend, then.”

Sabo’s eyes follow him curiously when he pushes himself off the ground and climbs back onto his feet.

“Sit,” Ace tells him, just in case, “I’ll be right back.”

Then sprints across the clearing towards the bush, under which he has left the first-aid kit earlier. When he returns, Sabo’s right where he left him. Ace drops down onto the grass unceremoniously, then gingerly places down the tin box between them, like it’s some sort of offering.

Sabo’s eyes dart between the box and Ace’s face, as he visibly fails to understand the value of it. Ace sighs, then knocks off the lid hastily. The strong smell of alcohol quickly permeates the air around them, making Sabo wrinkle his nose a little.

“What’s this for?”

Ace pushes out his chest a little.

“The liquor is for disn–, desinf–, wound cleaning purposes!” he announces proudly, before his expression turns serious and he lifts a finger to wag it at Sabo in a warning, “I had to bribe Luffy to get it though, so you better be grateful.”

Ace sticks out his hand once again and looks at Sabo in an expectant manner.

Sabo tentatively places his hand in Ace’s own, but there’s a gentle, curious look in his eyes, and the entire ordeal reminds Ace of the illustrations he’s seen in Sabo’s books, where the fancy-dressed ladies accept the hand offered to them by fancy-dressed gentlemen, after being asked for a dance.

Ace picks up a piece of alcohol-saturated gauze, then leans over Sabo’s hand. He looks up briefly to meet his wide-eyed gaze, then warns:

“This might sting a bit.”

He waits for Sabo to nod shallowly in acknowledgement, tightens his hold around his fingers just in case, then dabs the gauze carefully against his knuckles.

Just as expected – Sabo’s first instinct is to hiss and yank his hand away. Ace steals a quick glance at his face: his eyes are glued to the gauze held steadily in Ace’s fingers, the scleras shiny, slightly more wet than before, and his lower lip is caught behind his upper teeth. He can feel Sabo shaking a little in his grip, but it’s obvious he’s making a valiant effort to fight his own reflexes and not move too much despite the unpleasant sensation.

The warm feeling in his chest is back and Ace can’t help but be proud of the other boy. Doesn’t think to say it out loud, but still hums quietly in approval, before getting to work again.

He works quickly, methodically – uses the gauze to remove the dirt and caked blood, focusing more on the areas where the cuts could’ve potentially had the most contact with that drunkard’s spit. It takes him a couple of minutes to wipe it all properly, and when he’s done the skin is a little bit more red and a little bit more irritated, but it’s clean.

Sabo remains quiet for the most part, save for a few louder intakes of breath every once in a while. He’s managed to relax a little bit during the process, and has slumped back against the tree trunk, watching Ace do his thing with the same patience he usually has reserved for Luffy’s antics.

There’s some more gauze left, and Ace decides to tend to Sabo’s scraped knees next. They’re much less work though – under all the dirt and dried grass juice, his pale skin is marred with just a few, shallow scratches. Ace makes sure to clean it all properly as well, including all the dried blood that has dripped across his shins, almost all the way to the upper edge of his boots.

After some consideration, he reaches for the strips of cloth. He swathes Sabo’s hand with them carefully, making sure not to jostle it too much, then uses whatever remained of them to cover the scratches on his knees as well. He doesn’t really have a lot of experience in proper wound dressing, but it looks like he’s done a pretty good job so far – the bandages wrap snugly around Sabo’s hand, stabilizing the delicate bones there without becoming loose anywhere. Ace even managed to tie the free ends of them in a tight, pretty bow, tucked right under Sabo’s wrist.

Quite satisfied with his handiwork, Ace leans back to sit on his haunches. He looks up, just in time to catch the blond’s eyes on him – Sabo isn’t crying anymore, which is a good sign, even though his face still looks somewhat pained. It’s nothing like it was before, though: with red-rimmed, wet eyes, tear-streaked cheeks and an embarrassed flush spreading across his cheeks.

He suddenly remembers Luffy’s words, and something clicks in his brain.

“Did it really hurt that much? When you punched that guy?”

Sabo shrugs.

“Nothing worse than how it feels now.”

Ace swallows with effort, suddenly feeling uneasy. “You were crying. Before.”

There it is.

Sabo jerks his head to the side, looking away immediately. He sets his jaw tight, chews at his bottom lip – looking just as upset as he did earlier, on their way to the bandit settlement. He sniffles wetly, looks up, his eyes fill up again with tears again, and it’s obvious he’s trying his best not to let them spill.

“You’ve never acted like that,” Ace continues, trying to make his voice sound as neutral as possible, “I didn’t want to upset you. Was it because I called you a princess?”

Sabo shakes his head rapidly, but he still refuses to meet Ace’s eyes. He stays quiet for a few more moments, but when he speaks again, it’s like a dam burst open all at once.

“It did hurt. Quite a lot,” he chokes out, voice quiet and tight, “and then, after I fell – I was scared you were gonna laugh at me, like you laugh at Luffy. You’re my best friend, I… I didn’t want you to think I’m weak or something.”

Ace stares at him, dumbstruck.

Eventually Sabo gets worried by the sudden silence, and turns to look at him. There’s an anxious expression on his face, mixed with some weird determination – like he’s both intent on proving his worth to Ace, but also scared of his reaction.

Ace isn’t sure what to say – he doesn’t really know how to reassure himself, let alone other people. He’s never been good with words or emotions. Robbing people and hunting boars has never really required any of that. Besides, the only real experience he has with providing comfort comes from Luffy, even though most of the time it’s enough to distract him with food or some sort of game to get him to stop crying.

But Sabo?

Ace has never had to calm him down like that – he’s never seen Sabo so distressed before. He’s Ace’s best friend, too. Has been his only friend, matter of fact – at least until Luffy showed up. He feels like he should put in some effort for him. So in the end, he settles on saying the first honest thing that came to his mind.

“I don’t think you’re a crybaby, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Sabo blinks at him.

“I don’t think you’re weak, either. You’ve almost shattered your hand punching a guy three times your size, right in his mouth. I don’t think that’s a sign of weakness,” Ace says firmly.

It still doesn’t seem to be the right thing to say, because Sabo remains silent, watching him with eyes at least twice as big as they’re normally are. He’s shaking a little, too – but Ace can’t tell if it’s because he’s cold or in pain, but he supposes the latter seems more probable. Ace still has his fingers wrapped loosely around Sabo’s bandaged hand, which now rests loosely on his clothed thigh – and neither his hand or his thigh seem that cold to touch.

Quite the opposite, to be honest. The warmth of Sabo’s fingers feels almost the same as the warmth he’s felt in his chest before.

Ace wants to be of use, wants to help Sabo feel better somehow.

Except he has no idea how.

Unless…

The memory of Luffy’s advice suddenly appears in his mind.

It still seems absolutely gross to him, but for some reason – he can’t let it go either. Ace can’t really say he’s got experience in kissing or being kissed as a way of providing comfort, but he’s seen parents kiss their children better, after they’ve fallen over or hurt themselves accidentally. From what he recalls, it did often have some sort of soothing effect on them, helping them calm down quicker and move on from whatever minor injury they’ve sustained.

Maybe Luffy was right, for once.

As much as the idea disgusts him, it remains his best and only option. He tries to be reasonable – yeah, the sheer idea of kissing someone makes his stomach lurch uncomfortably, but then again it’s his best friend’s wellbeing that’s at stake here. Ace has eaten raw fish and drank water from puddles multiple times before, surely kissing Sabo’s hand shouldn’t be that big of a deal. Especially if it’s meant to ease his pain and ensure he heals quickly and without complications.

Ace swallows with effort. He suddenly feels dizzy – but maybe that’s just the lack of air, as he abruptly realizes he’s been holding his breath. To make things worse, he can feel Sabo’s entire body tense, like he’s about to jump to his feet and run again.

It’s the least he can do, before Sabo decides to get away.

So Ace braces himself and before he can change his mind and back off like a coward – he squinches his eyes shut, lifts Sabo’s hand up to his face, then presses his mouth to the soft, pale underside of his thin wrist, right where the clean edge of the cloth digs slightly into his flesh. The sharp smell of alcohol makes his eyes water a little on the inhale, and there’s a slightly unpleasant, tingling sensation right where his chapped lips are touching Sabo’s skin. For a moment, Ace’s sure he can even taste it – the residual, bitter tang of liquor, saltiness of his sweat and the coppery aftertaste of dried blood.

Sabo whimpers somewhere above him and just like that, Ace immediately reels backwards, dropping his hand like it’s made of fire. His own arm flies up to his face, willing to wipe his mouth out of sheer instinct, but somewhere in the process he catches Sabo’s wide-eyed gaze – and it’s enough to make him freeze in place.

Ace swallows with effort, cursing himself mentally. The kiss was supposed to make Sabo feel better, not hurt him more. Stupid, stupid Luffy, setting him up like that – how the hell has he allowed himself to be played with like that?

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, feeling suddenly both embarrassed and hot all over, “didn’t mean to hurt you again. Sorry, sorry. ”

Sabo’s still staring right into his eyes. His gaze darts lower momentarily, then back up again.

“You kissed me,” he says, but it lacks the confidence of a statement, coming out more like a unsure question.

Ace’s face feels hot like it’s been sunburnt.

“It was Luffy’s idea,” he supplies quickly, desperation ringing clear in his voice. He’s unable to tell whether Sabo is offended, disgusted or just surprised, but Ace has already decided he’ll kick Luffy’s ass the moment he gets back, “he said kissing is supposed to make wounds heal faster! I didn’t want you to get in trouble because you got hurt. Y-you were crying, I figured it was because you were in pain, and I just wanted you to feel better.”

He’s aware that he’s babbling now, borderlining on incoherence, but he’s determined to provide some sort of explanation, blame it all on Luffy if he has to, just so Sabo finally starts speaking with him again and doesn’t just get up and leave, after Ace has just offended him with his brutish, bandit manners.

Sabo’s face scrunches up in an indescribable grimace, that’s like a mix of elation and anguish both. His lower lip trembles, and then, despite everything – his face suddenly splits into a huge grin just as tears fill his eyes, and…

Ace is completely at loss.

Before he can think of anything else to say, Sabo all but throws himself at him – wraps his arms around Ace’s shoulders and pulls him in for a hug, with such strength that it pushes out all air from Ace’s lungs. He’s shaking again, like he’s actually crying this time – and he just might be, judging from the few drops of wetness that trickle down Ace’s bare shoulder. It’s suddenly hard for Ace to breathe, but Sabo just clings to him with all he’s worth and Ace’s pretty sure he’d rather pass out than push him away.

The warmth in his chest is back with twice the strength now, and it’s so much more pleasant to just let himself not think for once and just… feel it. He brings his own arms up around Sabo’s slender body to reciprocate the embrace, then pats his back a few times, sort of awkwardly, as he’s not really sure how to proceed.

Most of the hugs he’s experienced so far only involved Luffy simply ignoring his personal space, and have been generally one-sided, at best.

Sabo weeps openly into his shoulder, but they’re pressed so close together that Ace can still hear the repetitive, hiccupy “thank you, thank you” that’s being mumbled into his neck. He’s all slimy and gross from Sabo’s snot and tears, but despite that – Ace can clearly feel that the other boy is smiling, where his face is pressed into the crook of his neck.

It takes Sabo a good couple of minutes to calm down, and when he leans back, his face is all red and splotchy, swollen and wet from all the crying – but he’s still smiling so hard that it’s making his eyes squint.

The sight of him feels like staring into the sun for too long, and Ace has to force himself to look away.

“Thank you,” Sabo repeats once more, cringing a little at how his voice cracks twice during the simple statement. He reaches out to take Ace’s hand and envelops it tightly in both of his own. “I’m so glad we’re friends.”

Ace feels dizzy – he’s quite sure he might be coming down with a fever or some other stupid disease, because of how hot he feels all over. He brings his arm up to rub at the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish.

“You would’ve done the same for me,” he says, daring to glance back into Sabo’s eyes briefly. He’s met with a gaze full of nothing but trust, gratitude and pure, brimming joy – it makes something new swell inside his chest, take root in all that warmth and bloom, threatening to wrap around his throat and strangle him.

He quickly looks away once more, before the feeling gets overwhelming.

“Let’s go,” he says instead, distracts himself with picking up the remaining strips of gauze and cloth – rolling them up neatly and throwing them back into the tin box. “It’s getting late. Let’s not give your father more ideas to ground you.”

Sabo lets go of his hand, then nods shallowly in agreement. He makes a quick work of swiping all of his sorted out earnings back into the pockets of his jacket. They scramble to their feet soon after, then make their way back into the forest.

Sabo’s smile doesn’t falter even for a moment and not a single tear trickles down his cheek again.

*

He walks Sabo all the way to the edge of Gray Terminal.

They talk briefly about the fight, just the usual stuff: things that went right, things that went wrong, what they would have to focus on next time. It’s something they’re both familiar with, something they’ve done for a while now – especially in situations where things don’t exactly go as planned. It makes them fall into their usual, comfortable rhythm, and soon it’s like nothing out of ordinary has happened between them at all.

Somewhere along the way Sabo catches his hand and laces their fingers together once more.

Ace used to find the gesture limiting, constricting even – it reminded him too much of Dadan using force to grasp his hand and drag him somewhere he didn’t want to go.

He quickly realizes it’s so much different with Sabo. With Sabo, he goes willingly.

It also feels... nice. Comforting even. So Ace allows it, just this once – just to humor Sabo, as he’s been through a lot already. Ace supposes he’s earned at least that small amount of comfort.

There’s barely any sunlight left when they part ways and promise to see each other the next day, just like they normally would.

Later that night, when he gets back to Dadan’s cabin, he doesn’t kick Luffy’s ass. Instead, Ace shares his blanket with him and lets him curl up by his side on the thin, worn mattress.

He falls asleep with Luffy’s weight sprawled half-way on top of him and the phantom warmth and pressure of Sabo’s bandaged fingers wrapped tightly around his own.