Chapter Text
He doesn’t know how, but it worked. Months of strategizing and meticulous planning had added up to this moment; Trafalgar Law on the Thousand Sunny, Caesar Clown successfully kidnapped, and Doflamingo effectively blackmailed. Law can’t help but let out a small smile as the transponder snail clicks shut.
Doflamingo will resign his position as a Warlord and Law will be one step closer to honoring Cora-san’s late legacy.
Finally, far away from the sound of steaming pipes and the weird constant gurgling of chemicals, Law can settle in some peace and quiet.
“Shishishi you can’t catch me!,” his allied captain shouts as he swings by, evading Usopp’s pursuit. The sniper stomps behind him, slingshot aimed at Luffy’s back. Their cheerful laughter fades away as they disappear.
“Do you really think those idiots can take down Doffy?,” Caesar Clown grumbles. The mad scientist sits nearby with his wrists trapped in sea stone prism handcuffs. Law feels a growing pressure push on his temples.
“We will,” Law answers, avoiding the convoluted response of ‘Kaido will defeat the Warlord’ and ‘we aren’t going to actually fight Doflamingo.’
The sound of wooden planks breaking and Luffy yelping eventually reach their ears. Caeser shoots him an unimpressed look and Law closes his eyes in frustration. His headache is now 10x stronger than before. Maybe there was no true peace and quiet on the Thousand Sunny. Law ventures down the hallways trying to find it.
He passes one room. Behind the door, a hammer bangs on metal and Law quickly concludes that it’s Franky’s area. Though he respects the craftsmanship, it’s not what he needs right now. He keeps walking until the sound is completely gone and he’s standing in front of some double doors. He hears a pen scratching on paper and he raises his hand, knocking on the wood twice. With a fluttering of petals, the door swings open. Law carefully enters, sword resting on his shoulder.
Nami is at her desk with her diligent hands tracing a map outline. Robin quietly sits beside her on a long semi-circle bench. The raven’s eyes glued to a book on her lap. Neither of the women turn to him as he settles down in the opposite corner. Law leans Kikoku against the wall and his leg. His eyes naturally linger on the different books lining the tall shelves.
They’re organized in sections. One row contains history encyclopedias, while the row under it is full of recipe books and ingredient pamphlets. He’s searching for a leather spine with a medical symbol, when a fluttering of petals grabs a textbook from the upper, right shelf. Arms appear and disappear with an easy grace as they move the book towards the surgeon. It gently lands in his hands.
“Thank you,” are the first words Law speaks out loud in the calm space.
He opens it to the first page as Robin finally looks up at him.
“You’re welcome, Torao,” she gives him a quick yet sincere nod, before returning to her own reading. Law’s shoulders relax as he scans the table of context. He eventually lands on a topic he’s not quite familiar with and flips to the page number.
Time flies as he absorbs new information, sorts it in his mind, and then rereads it to cement his understanding of the concept. The second he’s done with a textbook, he shambles it back to its previous spot and a fluttering of petals delivers him a new one. Law’s on his fourth book when he realizes he’s been stuck on a single sentence for over five minutes. He’s confused until he notices that his eyes are the ones failing him, not his brain. They keep blinking slower and slower, and his eye lids are getting heavier and heavier as the words continue to blur on the printed line.
Law feels the familiar flutter of petals, but this time they don’t return with a book. Instead, the arms return with a blanket, which they lightly drape over his shoulders. He blames the setting sun and quiet atmosphere for dragging him into an unplanned slumber. He wakes up to a dark night sky and a decorative pillow under his head.
The library is abandoned, aside from a single lit candle on the desk and a bowl of food on a metal tray. The bowl is thankfully covered, so when he lifts up the lid, the soup is still warm. He grabs the accompanying spoon and takes a sip of the rich broth. It meets his lips and fills his stomach in such a soothing manner that when it’s done, Law’s out like a light again.
When he wakes up early the next morning, he feels somewhat rested. His body still aches from the fighting done a few days prior, but at least he slept without any interruptions. He marks it as a small victory.
Though Law would prefer to stay in the comfort of the library, he knows he needs to return the bowl and metal tray. In the same breath, he also knows that he needs to confirm Doflamingo’s official resignation.
He’s making his way towards the kitchen when a news coo flies overhead. It drops the daily newspaper and Law urgently shambles it into his empty hand. He’s so distracted, trying to read the headlines, that he doesn’t realize the sound of dress shoes hitting the ground until they’re walking right beside him. The tray and bowl are taken away from his hand as smoke fills the air.
He’s barely reading the first paragraph as Sanji opens the door and they enter the kitchen.
“What does it say?” the cook asks as a greeting. The dishes are put in the sink and he begins washing them.
Law’s rereading the headline and examining the fine print underneath it. His eyebrows knit in frustration and his mouth sets in a straight, irritated line.
“Apparently, the world government won’t accept a Warlord resigning as a simple act,” Law’s voice doesn’t betray his anger, “they’re giving Doflamingo an extra week to settle any loose ends he might have with overseas organizations or any matters to do with the kingdom of Dressrosa.”
A tsk leaves the cook’s lips as the dishes are set on a rack to dry.
“It sounds like they’re giving him some leeway,” Sanji responses astonished.
“It sounds like they’re giving him time to take Ceaser back and reconsider being a Warlord,” Law bluntly concludes.
The energy he’s managed to obtain is quickly drained as he realizes that the world government wouldn’t let a pawn like Doflamingo leave so easily. Law’s plans are going to have to be put on hold until the Warlord officially loses his government backing.
Fuck, he needs coffee.
“Can I-”
“The coffee grounds are on the top shelf in the pantry,” Sanji swiftly replies.
Sanji is aware that Law probably needs coffee as much as the blond needs a smoke when he hears bad news. The surgeon’s dark circles speak for themselves.
“Room,” a blue orb encompasses the small space they’re in when Law continues, “shambles.”
The coffee grounds appear on the table, a dark roast selection, while Law grabs the coffee pot and fills it with water. He pours it into the machine, and it begins to brew. Sanji walks around him, gathering an arm full of spices and ingredients to begin breakfast. He already has a pot of water boiling on the stove for Robin’s tea. Law watches the coffee drip as his brain runs through a dozen scenarios.
On one hand, he wants to arrive at Dressrosa as soon as possible. He wants to see Doflamingo lose his power and fall right into his trap.
The coffee keeps bubbling, and the vivid scent reaches his nose. Law acknowledges that his current plan of action is no longer an option.
They can’t barge in without an upper hand, which leads them to an option Law hates to take; the Straw Hats and him are forced to wait. So counterintuitive and against everything in Law’s bones, he’s going to have to wait until the Donquixote’s title is completely revoked.
Another week until he can finally fulfill his goal. Another week until the nightmare of Doflamingo’s reign is over. Another week until he can see his crew. Though the first two statements make his blood boil, the last one makes his heart ache.
The coffee keeps dripping and filling the pot as Law reminisces about the Polar Tang. Call it the days that dragged into weeks then into months, where he had to juggle a hidden motive and deal with Caesar’s erratic ego to dig up information, Law hasn’t had a chance to think about his home.
He misses Penguin’s and Shachi’s scheming. He misses Bepo’s constant apologizing. He misses how irritated he would get when people would bang on his private quarter’s door at ungodly hours of the night. He misses his crew’s warmth. Their joy.
The coffee is done, and Law quickly has a mug in his hand. Most importantly, he misses feeling safe.
Since getting sick with Amber Lead disease, he’s never felt safe, and with Doflamingo, it only got worse. But there was a time, before any of that had happened, where Law truly felt normal. He remembers Lami rambling to him about something new at school and he remembers his dad ruffling his hair after he correctly recited a medical treatment. He even remembers his mom hugging him tightly before falling asleep every night. There are still times, in his private quarters, where he could convince himself that all of this was still true.
Where Law could sit on his bed and read a book that wasn’t about medicine. Where he could build a puzzle or draw pictures to color. When Bepo would make sure no one entered or bothered him during his alone time. When he could forget that he was a pirate captain or Warlord. After months and months of denying himself that comfort, he now knows that he’ll have to wait at least another week.
Law doesn’t know if he can survive that long. His headache returns.
“Cook-ya, do you have sugar?”
Sanji pivots in his spot and hands him a small container. Wanting to drink his coffee as fast as humanly possible so that he can drink another cup and eventually the whole pot, Law opens the utensil cabinet without asking.
In the haze of his pounding temples, a green object catches his eyes. It’s tucked away neatly next to the organized spoons, forks, and knives. It could’ve easily been a green cap for all Law cared, but the clear rubber nipple clarifies the object’s significance.
It’s a pacifier.
There’s an unopened two pack behind it; one blue and the other yellow. He can’t help but think about the one in his own desk. Not so easily accessible as these ones, but instead hidden away in secret and embarrassment.
His hand twitches and begs to reach out to them when Sanji strides right next to him and hands him the spoon he was originally looking for. There’s a fire in the cook’s eyes that Law hasn’t had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of. Now it’s targeted straight at him.
“Don’t mention it,” it’s hissed out and Law understands his strict tone of defensiveness.
He’s still a stranger and he’s accidentally stumbled upon something private. Unfortunately, the hidden, softer side of him doesn’t. It stings like an old forgotten wound. Law can’t afford to uncover that feeling, so he sternly pushes it aside.
“I won’t say a word, Black Leg-ya,” Law responds in his usual careless tone. He keeps his voice neutral to show that he means it.
“Good,” Sanji concludes and returns to stirring a pan as Law adds the smallest spoonful of sugar to his coffee.
He’s a doctor. He knows he can’t deny his little side forever. When Law takes a sip, he convinces himself that adding the sugar is a good enough indulgence.