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Ace hadn't known you long at all, meeting you on a small island while exploring on his own. Striker had been damaged during a storm, and you and your two friends had let him crash at your place while he worked on the small ship. It was a little cramped, as he was intruding on what was already a roommate situation- but it didn't bother him. He was used to bunking with crewmates, after all. Taking a couch in the living room didn't phase the young man.
It wasn't a large town, but it was big enough. He helped out here and there, did odd jobs to afford supplies for striker and... food, once you and your buddies realized just how much he ate.
It was a lazy Saturday morning when he woke up, sprawled on the soft couch, gangly limbs tangled in the knit blanket you'd given him. He sits up to see you and your roommates whispering conspiratorially around the coffee pot, a hush falling over you all when you notice him looking. "Uh... whatcha whisperin' about over there?" He drawls, voice still groggy. You share mischievous looks with your friends, before sauntering up to the couch with a grin. You lean over the back of it, one arm folded on the cushions while the other shoves his hat onto his head.
"I am so glad you asked, Ace," you tell him, barely able to contain your glee. He lifts the brim of his hat, taking in the infectiously jubilant look on your face, that little twinkle in your eyes. "So. You... kinda eat a lot, and we don't have the biggest budget," you started. His brows furrowed- he was about to say something apologetic, but you held out your hand. "Ah ah ah! Lemme finish, I'm not mad!" You steeple your fingers together. "Charlie reminded us that there's a spot in town with a real... interesting meal deal. And we all agree you might just be the perfect man for it." Oh now he was interested.
"... Meal deal, huh?" He says, lazy grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. "What kinda deal are we talking?"
Charlie ran up behind you, throwing an arm around you tightly which earns a strange, strangled noise as you're awkwardly shoved against the back of the couch, no doubt feeling the wooden frame against your diaphragm. "Eating contest!" they shout, wearing a grin of their own. "There's a diner that has this thing- if you beat the last person's record, you and whoever you bring get to eat for free! You can pick a dish from the options provided and whatever drink you want! Last guy's record is 24 plates!"
Ace's eyes widened. He suddenly felt very awake, stretching his legs out and rolling forward onto his feet in one smooth motion. "And you JUST remembered?! What the fuck, that's just my kind of deal! If I didn't know better, I'd say y'all were holding out on me!"
You'd finally wriggled your way out of Charlie's grip, dramatically smacking a hand over your chest, "WHAT! We would NEVER! How could you even SUGGEST such a thing?!" you shouted, feigning hurt.
Imani makes her way to a now-standing Ace next, curly hair still in her satin sleeping bonnet. She handed him a mug of coffee. "Well, we're telling you now, aren't we? Think you can handle 25 plates of... well, whatever you order? The current record holder chose hashbrowns, I think," she mused, eyes crinkled with mirth.
"Where have you BEEN?" Charlie shouted before he could open his mouth. "Of course he can!"
"Of course I can!" Parroted Ace. "You dare question my abilities?!"
-
It isn't long before Ace finds himself in a popular brunch spot by a busy pier. It was a two-story building with some balcony seating, plain wood with some white siding. He didn't get to examine it all that much, because you had enthusiastically pulled him along by the hand- both of you flanked by Charlie and Imani. His three hosts practically buzzed in excitement, the idea of winning free food from their guest's gluttony too exciting to pass up. He couldn't deny his enthusiasm either, laughing as you yanked him after you.
The booth is comfy, he thought as he sank into the cushions. All of you huddled together over a menu, Charlie and Imani to his right and you to his left with his arm over your shoulders. Charlie was practically laying on Imani's back, face peaking over from the crook of her neck. "Okay, so the popular options for the challenge are hashbrowns, pancakes, and biscuits and gravy. I think eggs benedict is an option too..." You muse from under Ace's arm.
"Ooh..." He exclaims, brows rising. "D'you think I can pick more than one?" He asks, lifting the menu closer. "Or like, some bacon on the side, maybe..."
He doesn't miss the grins you and your friends shoot each other. "I don't think they'd refuse something that would make the challenge harder," Imani reasons, resting her face on her hand. "We can certainly ask."
"They always say you gotta foot the bill if you fail the challenge, but I like our odds," Charlie quips, hugging Imani a little tighter.
The server approached the table, brows raised at everyone's giggling. Ace cracks his knuckles with an almost sinister smile. "I could have us all eating for free for days. It's showtime, baby!"
-
"ACE! ACE! ACE! ACE! ACE!"
"C'mon man, you got this!"
"TEAR THOSE BISCUITS UP, DUDE!"
"Ten more plates! You're already more than half-way there!"
His new friends are cheering him on, and a decently sized crowd had formed around their table. He wasn't sure how long it had been. Twenty or so minutes, maybe? Imani had been right in that he had been allowed to add more to the challenge- the server saying it was their budget on the line with a smug look. The guy wasn't quite sweating yet, but Ace had time. The rest of the staff were an equal mix of troubled and giddy, taking detours on their ways to other tables to see if this ravenous stranger was still going.
And he was- burning through dense piles of biscuits and pancakes, greasy strips of bacon and even licking plates clean of sauce like it was nothing.
He was going strong, halfway through plate 21 (A massive stack of pancakes) when he started to feel it: the tell-tale wisps of drowsiness, the darkened corners of his vision... Fuck, he thinks, right before face planting right into his food.
Gasps sound out from the onlookers. Charlie swears. "Is- is he dead?" A waitress asks, voice thin and reedy.
"No, no, it's fine- he's fine he just does this sometimes!" You say, trying to placate the muttering crowd before turning to Ace, gently shaking his shoulder. "Hey man, c'mon- you gotta rally. C'mon man wake up, please! You're our meal ticket, get it together!" You whisper-shouted into the young man's ear.
He didn't stir. Shit. Shit, shit, shit- the four of you are getting close to time. He needs to win this, you believe in him, he's just gotta-
Ace shot upward, resuming his meal like nothing had happened, just as you and your friends knew he would.
"YES! RISE! RIIIISE!" Cries Charlie, pumping their fist in the air as the onlookers gasp. Ace doesn't waste any time on explanations or platitudes, instead doubling his efforts to finish his heaps of food. A few of the staff are staring in abject horror by now, but Ace slows for nothing.
Plate 21 is shoved to the side, and he starts on 22.
Then 23.
Then 24, the same number of the previous record holder, but he wasn't slowing down. Charlie and Imani have both started laughing incredulously, now, and you're cheering his name again.
He finishes 25- a platter of biscuits stacked on top of each other, and he reflexively reached for the next, nonexistent plate before he's startled by Charlie's jarring bellow of "FUCK YEEEEEAAAAAAAH!!!" followed by the rest of his little party all whooping and hollering like their lives depended on it. Ace joined in, of course- after a solid five second burp that had you laughing your ass off.
A shell-shocked waiter took the orders of you and your roommates, and once that's over... "And can I get the shakshouka and two of those little bacon quiches?" Ace pipes up again, hand raised politely. There was a beat of silence- your massive grin and the giddy, shocked faces of your friends all staring at him, before the waiter himself finally broke.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU?!"
-
You all ended up going back to that spot for the next three consecutive days- Ace eating just one more plate every time. The crowd grew as well, of course, creating an increasingly boisterous environment until finally, on the fourth day, Ace and his new friends arrive in front of the restaurant to find a crudely drawn portrait of him along with bold red letters that read "!!!BANNED!!!"
"... Aw," Ace muttered, shoulders slumping in disappointment. He had really started looking forward to those little quiches.
"What the hell? What a bunch of sore losers!" You exclaim, hands on your hips.
"I dunno... We have been bringing him here to repeatedly eat plate after plate for free," Charlie reasoned, and Imani nods along in agreement.
"We keep unleashing the beast upon them. It was bound to happen eventually," she shrugged breezily. "The best things in this world are the most fleeting."
You snort. "Okay Socrates. Where do we eat, then?"
"Do you think they'd let you bring me takeout..?" Ace piped up hopefully, looking back over his shoulder at you three before he turned back at the cartoon depiction of him with a huff. The way they drew him with a... pronounced stomach really made him look like Luffy. "... This better not end up on any on my wanted posters," he grumbled.
You end up buying him a quiche, opting to fill up properly on street food.
-
A month later, Ace has long since made it back to the Moby. He's found himself missing you all- part of him wishing you were the types for piracy... but you lot seemed pretty happy where you were.
"Aaaace~!" He hears the familiar voice of Thatch. "Hey hey, you've got a letter from someone!" Ace quirks a brow, turning from where he'd been leaning against the taffrail. "Er... someones, plural, actually. Three names on this!" The cook saunters over, handing over the large envelop with a grin.
"Is it..?" He takes it from his brother, looking at the names on the envelop. "Oh shit, it's them! Remember those three I told you about? The three I crashed with back when Striker broke down?"
Thatch settles next to him, leaning his back against the rail, legs crossed as he looks over the younger man's shoulder. "Ohoh. The food scheme trio?" He asks, leaning in closer as Ace tears open his mail.
"Eyup," He confirms, fishing the contents out. The first picture is of a small black kitten- fast asleep on a plate of pasta. On the white borders of the printing paper, he reads: We named her after you! It's like you never left!
"Awww," Thatch coos, and Ace can practically hear the taller man's teasing grin, even if he isn't facing him. He... almost feels choked up, but he reigns himself in. It is a cute cat, though... ignoring his brother, he pulls the picture away, shuffling it behind the others. The second picture is of you, lifting cat Ace by the scruff as her little front paws desperately wrap around a half-eaten burrito, face buried in the open end. Your mouth is open, eyes wide in incredulity, probably in the middle of playfully scolding the tiny beast. Him and Thatch chuckle over the picture, Ace moving onto the third- a picture of the kitten cradled in Imani's manicured hands, little eyes contentedly shut with a little orange hat perched on top of her tiny head. "Oh my god, Ace!" Thatch cries, snatching the photograph out of his hands. "That's absolutely adorable, look at the little-" he's cut short when the fourth picture is revealed to them both.
A copy of the crudely drawn "!!!BANNED!!!" poster the diner had put up.
Ace sputters, and Thatch wheezes with laughter, snatching the drawing up too before Ace can react. "H-HEY!" He shouts, but the Chef has already bounded away, calling for the attention of the others. "HEY, GIVE THAT BACK, YOU ASS!" He shouts, rushing after his brother.
"Why don't you make me?" He taunts, holding the questionable rendition of his likeness just out of the shorter man's reach. "Aw, are you mad? What's wrong? I just wanna show the family this stunning portrait of our beloved baby brother!" Ace redoubles his efforts to jump for it, memories of doing the same thing to Luffy as kids flashing through his mind- before he got the hang of his rubber powers, of course.
"IT LOOKS NOTHING LIKE ME!" Ace yells, leaping upward, hand outstretched-
-and Vista swipes it from Thatch's hand instead, laughing heartily. "The hat and the tattoo beg to differ," he points out before handing it off to Izou, who just smirks- quirking an immaculately plucked brow as he glances between the drawing and Ace's real-life grimace.
"What a flattering picture," he teases. "They even got your freckles."
"Oh, come ON!" Ace practically whines, lunging for Izou who just steps out of the way. He steadies himself, turning to see that Marco has it now. Damned bird. "Marco." He says sternly, reaching a hand out as his body literally begins smoking. "Give me that, damnit."
"What's the problem?" He asks, lazily grinning. "I think it's a wonderful picture. Are you sure Luffy's the one with the rubber-rubber fruit?" He asks, no doubt referring to the massive, caricature-ish belly he's been drawn with.
"Shut UUUP," he groans, yanking his hat down over his face- growing redder at the playful teasing of his brothers. It all devolves into a massive game of keep-away, his siblings passing it around while running interference. He has just broken free from Thatch's headlock when he spots Banshee's sly, half-lidded smirk as she hands it off to a giggling nurse. His stomach drops. "NO!" He cries, lunging once again with an outstretched hand- only to be tackled full force by a cackling Haruta. "Get offa me, you shit!"
"Hell no! Where's the fun in that?!" He shoots back, gangly arms shoving Ace's face against the hardwood floor, wrenching a grunt from him. His own arm shoots behind him, yanking a fistful of Haruta's hair- but then he hears it.
Oyaji's distinct, booming laughter, all the way from his cabin. He lets go, slumping face down against the deck with a groan. It's over. Damn you, damn Charlie, Damn Imani- and damn his wretched siblings. Haruta slides off of his back with a snicker, rubbing his head where Ace had yanked his hair. "Don't be a sore loser, Ace," he quips, only to immediately end up in a headlock.
When all is said and done, he keeps the pictures of cat Ace- the others teasing him about when he'll take them to meet his niece. And that sea-forsaken poster? Thatch has it framed and hung up in the Galley.