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Summary
Luffy once heard Dadan say that the only time Ace wasn’t a demon was when he was asleep. He didn’t really understand it, but he knew Ace didn’t like being called stuff like that, so it stuck in his head a little.
To Luffy, he just looked like Ace. The firelight made him seem even cozier than usual, really. Luffy crouched down next to his brother and watched the rise and fall of his chest, vaguely surprised at how something so boring could be so mesmerizing. He poked his tummy. Trailed his wandering finger down the sparse path of black hair that dipped below the belt of his shorts. He swallowed.
“Ace,” he whined, tugging at the side of his open shirt. “Get up, stupid. I wanna do it.”
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