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The day after the party, sunlight slanted lazily through the curtains, painting the bedroom floor with warm patches. Law was woken by a heavy, warm weight and a damp sensation on his skin.
He pried his eyes open to a blinding expanse of Shanks's fluffy head was buried in the crook of his neck. The usually stylish red hair was a complete mess, several strands sticking up and lightly brushing Law's chin with each steady breath, tickling him. The 'damp' feeling came from Shanks's unconscious, puppy-like licking-he was nuzzling and lightly mouthing Law's collarbone with his lips and tongue, occasionally letting out a soft, contented sigh.
Law:"..."He tried to shift, intending to dislodge the large accessory clinging to him.
But the moment he lifted his arm, Shanks, like a guard dog triggered by an alarm, immediately tightened his embrace, limbs winding more possessively around Law, almost molding him into his chest. More than that, a low, disgruntled rumble sounded from deep in his throat-a protest from a large dog disturbed from sleep. He nuzzled further into Law's neck, lips grazing the skin and leaving behind a trail of damp warmth.
"Shanks,"Law's voice was hoarse with sleep and exasperation."Let go. You're crushing me."
Only then did Shanks half-open his eyes, drowsy and confused. The red eyes were hazy in the morning light, filled with sleepy affection. He blinked slowly, recognition dawning. Then, a huge, utterly goofy grin split his face, his eyes crinkling into crescents. All traces of sleepiness vanished, replaced by pure, radiant energy.
"Law! Morning!"he announced brightly, not loosening his hold in the slightest. Instead, he leaned in, showering Law's face, forehead, and the tip of his nose with several damp, enthusiastic good-morning kisses. They weren't hard, but they were relentless and affectionate, brimming with unadulterated joy."You're awake! Sleep well? I slept super-well! Holding you is like holding the best pillow in the world!"As he spoke, he nuzzled Law's cheek, inhaling deeply as if confirming the scent of his favorite person.
Law was a bit overwhelmed by this canine-style greeting barrage. He turned his head away from the persistent licking, pressing a palm against Shanks's forehead."Stop. I need to get up."
"Just five more minutes..."Shanks instantly adopted a pitiful expression, his invisible ears seeming to droop. He rested his head against Law's palm, rubbing against it, his eyes wide and pleading."Just five... I was so happy last night, I'm still a bit dizzy. Need you to recharge me."
Looking at this version of Shanks-who had completely shed his usual mature, steady demeanor and now resembled nothing so much as a giant, cuddly dog-Law's residual irritation and awkwardness melted away, replaced by an odd mix of exasperation and fond indulgence. He sighed, withdrawing his hand."Three minutes."
"Deal!"Shanks immediately took advantage, snuggling closer. This time, he turned on his side, enveloping Law completely-an arm across his chest, a leg thrown over his, like a dragon guarding its treasure or an oversized golden retriever, encircling Law in an airtight territory. He rested his chin on top of Law's head, sighing in contentment, occasionally dipping down to press a kiss to his hairline.
When the three minutes were up, Law attempted to rise again. This time, though reluctant, Shanks loosened his grip slightly. However, his gaze remained glued to Law, following him like a shadow as he got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. As Law closed the door, he caught a glimpse of Shanks leaning against the wall outside, waiting with palpable longing. The look was exactly that of a dog shut out by its owner-full of yearning and a touch of pathetic abandonment.
When Law emerged after washing up, Shanks immediately attached himself again, invisible tail wagging. He sniffed at Law's neck, his eyes brightening."You used my mint shower gel! Smells good!"He loved it when Law carried his scent.
Breakfast time saw Shanks's dog-like behavior peak. He bustled around the kitchen in his little whale apron, but looked back every thirty seconds to confirm Law was still at the table. Each time their eyes met, he'd beam a huge smile, as if receiving a reward. Even flipping pancakes seemed imbued with a joyous rhythm, accompanied by a cheerful, off-key hum and the occasional imitation of a happy bark: "Woof! Eggs are done!"
He plated the eggs and bacon with meticulous care, even drawing a wobbly heart with ketchup beside Law's eggs-though it looked more like a melting potato. When bringing the plates over, he didn't walk normally; he practically pranced, like a dog proudly carrying its prize back to its den, his eyes shining as he looked at Law, his whole face screaming "Praise me! Praise me!"
Law stared at the bizarre ketchup heart, his lip twitching, but muttered,"...Thanks."
Shanks instantly looked as thrilled as if he'd been scratched in just the right spot, his invisible ears perking straight up. He pulled out a chair, not sitting opposite Law, but right beside him, leaning in close.
"Try the bacon, I made it extra crispy, how you like it,"Shanks said, spearing a piece with his fork. Instead of placing it on Law's plate, he held it right to Law's lips, eyes filled with expectancy. If he'd had a tail, it would have been wagging furiously.
Law hesitated, then took the bite. Shanks's gaze followed the motion of his jaw intently, as if gauging his satisfaction. When Law swallowed and nodded, Shanks happily took a bite himself. Then, very naturally, he offered Law a bite of his own honey-slathered toast."Try this, it's sweet."
Looking at Shanks's complete lack of hesitation in sharing food, and into those clear, unguarded red eyes that held only his reflection and overflowed with happiness, Law finally took a bite from Shanks's hand. The cloying sweetness of the honey spread on his tongue, yet it seemed less sweet than half the joy in Shanks's eyes.
Breakfast felt like an extended game of affectionate feeding. Shanks delighted in offering Law bites and accepting the occasional morsel Law passed his way. Each exchange made his eyes shine even brighter, as if completing a vital ritual of intimacy.
After eating, Law wanted some air on the balcony to check his herbs. Shanks immediately followed like a loyal hound, carrying both their coffees. As Law bent to inspect the mint, Shanks stood behind him, arms loosely around his waist, chin resting on his shoulder, breath warm against his ear, occasionally offering utterly unhelpful commentary: "So green!""So many leaves!""Smells so fresh!"His presence was like a warm, quiet, immovable backdrop.
When Law tried to focus on a basil plant, Shanks suddenly nuzzled the back of his neck, inhaling deeply with a satisfied sigh."Law, you smell like sunshine and herbs, and a little bit of my shower gel... so good."His voice was low, husky, laced with unmistakable adoration. His lips brushed the skin behind Law's ear, leaving a damp, warm spot.
Law shivered almost imperceptibly, his ears burning. He straightened up, trying to extricate himself from the overly intimate position."...It's hot."
Shanks immediately loosened his hold but kept a hand on Law's waist, looking at him with innocent eyes."Back inside then? I'll fan you?"He actually made a show of using his hand as a fan, waving it clumsily but earnestly near Law's face.
Law wordlessly swatted his hand away and turned back to the living room. Shanks was right on his heels, as if Law were his magnetic north.
The entire morning, Shanks remained in a state of extreme euphoria and clinginess. When Law read, Shanks sat pressed against him, head on his shoulder, occasionally rubbing his cheek against Law's arm. When Law used his laptop to research, Shanks pulled up a chair beside him, not disturbing, just quietly watching Law's profile with eyes soft enough to drown in, fingers unconsciously twirling a lock of Law's black hair. When Law got up for water, Shanks jumped up: "I'll get it!"He'd rush to pour it, then insist on sharing the same glass.
He even mimicked canine behaviors to express his joy. For instance, when Law gave a slight, almost imperceptible smile at a medical finding, Shanks's eyes would widen as if he'd discovered a new continent. He'd then lean in, affectionately bumping his forehead against Law's and emitting a happy little hum. Or, when Law silently allowed a particular intimate gesture, Shanks would happily spin in a small circle beside him before pouncing from behind, wrapping him in a hug, burying his face in Law's back with a contented, rumbling purr.
Lunch saw Shanks's feeding and sharing escalate further. He barely touched his own plate, his attention wholly on what Law ate, whether he liked it, if he needed more, offering the best bits from his own portion or feeding them directly to Law. He, in turn, would periodically 'steal' food from Law's plate-usually things Law had indicated less fondness for or couldn't finish-justifying it as'helping out,' and wearing an expression of having scored a major victory with each bite.
By the afternoon, Law decided on a short nap, thoroughly drained by the overly energetic and clingy giant dog. Shanks was, of course, overjoyed at the prospect and stuck to him like glue.
The moment Law settled on the couch, Shanks swiftly attached himself, limbs winding around Law to arrange them into a comfortable, tightly intertwined position. He buried his face against Law's chest, took a deep breath, and let out a long, utterly contented sigh, his whole body relaxing as if he'd finally returned to the safest, most comfortable den.
"Law..."he murmured, lips moving against the fabric of Law's shirt."...So happy..."
Held so securely, Law could feel every rise and fall of Shanks's chest, the strong heartbeat, and the complete, unreserved dependency and attachment. He lifted a hand, hesitated, then finally let it settle on Shanks's fluffy red hair, giving it a tentative, somewhat clumsy ruffle.
The action made Shanks shudder, then hold on even tighter. A low, pleasurable sound, almost a whimper, vibrated in his throat, like a big dog being petted in just the right spot. He even lifted his head, meeting Law's gaze with those damp, starry red eyes, before actively nudging his head further into Law's palm, asking for more.
In a corner no one could see, the very corner of Law's mouth lifted, just a fraction. He continued carding his fingers through Shanks's soft red hair, the motion gradually becoming more natural.
Shanks relaxed completely, his breathing evening out into a slow, deep rhythm. He soon drifted off under Law's rhythmic stroking, though even in sleep, his arms remained firmly locked around Law. He'd occasionally nuzzle unconsciously or mumble some indistinct, happy dream-words.
Law looked down at his utterly unguarded sleeping face-the tousled, sticking-up hair, the slight upturn of his lips-and felt the warm, silky strands under his palm, the solid, warm weight in his arms. The last trace of exasperation born from excessive clinginess dissolved.
Alright.It seemed his red-haired giant dog was fully in overloaded-happiness-and-separation-anxiety mode today. Clingy? Fine. After all...this warm, fuzzy feeling, this wholly devoted, adoring gaze, this unabashed joy and contentment...it was actually...kind of soothing.
Law closed his eyes too, gradually relaxing in the rhythm of Shanks's heartbeat and the warm circle of his arms. Maybe playing dog-owner for a day wasn't so bad. At least his dog was the most unique, most enthusiastic, and the one that made his heart soften the most in the whole world.
In the lazy afternoon light, Shamrock emerged from his study, having just concluded a lengthy international video conference. He pinched the bridge of his nose, intending to brew a strong espresso in the kitchen to clear his mind of the mountain of financial data and market analysis reports.
Then, he witnessed what could only be described as a spectacle.
His younger brother-who was, in Shamrock's extensive database of three-plus decades, generally characterized as jovial, charismatic, and occasionally reliably steady (in his own way)-was currently... positioned on the large living room sofa in a manner defying precise linguistic description.
More accurately, he was positioned on-or rather, nearly fused to-Law, who was leaning against one end of the sofa, engrossed in a heavy medical journal. Shanks resembled an oversized dog determined to squeeze into its owner's lap. He was curled on his side, pressed flush against Law, his head pillowed on Law's thigh, red hair mussed. One arm was draped possessively across Law's waist, the other hand loosely gripping the sleeve of Law's free arm, as if afraid he might vanish. His eyes were closed, but his lashes fluttered occasionally, a faint, silly, satisfied smile on his lips. Every so often, he'd nuzzle Law's leg with his nose or emit a tiny, comfortable whimper.
Law, for his part, maintained his usual impassive expression, focused on the journal. However, Shamrock's keen observer's eye noted that Law's other hand rested on Shanks's fluffy red head in a posture of almost instinctive relaxation, his fingers unconsciously, very slowly, combing through the unruly strands. The gesture held an ineffable quality of... indulgence and habit.
Shamrock, empty coffee mug in hand, halted at the threshold between the living and dining areas. His red eyes narrowed slightly, like a precision scanner encountering anomalous data it couldn't immediately categorize.
What...was this?
In his database, his thirty-plus years of cognitive modeling regarding his brother, Shanks was indeed emotionally expressive and enjoyed physical proximity with family (specifically, Law and himself). But this state of near-puppyish regression, this whole-body dependency, this almost besotted absorption, fell entirely outside his standard observational parameters. Particularly because it seemed to have persisted for a considerable duration (inferred from morning auditory data and the current tableau), and because Law... appeared not just to tolerate it, but to facilitate it?
Shamrock's brain processed at high speed, attempting to retrieve recent relevant event data. Keyword search: Party. Mihawk. Law's proactive behavior... A preliminary logical chain formed: Shanks, having received excessive emotional validation from Law's public display, was experiencing a temporary behavioral regression or atavistic tendency, manifesting as hyper-attachment and a sharply increased demand for physical contact with Law.
Conclusion: Non-pathological. A short-term behavioral anomaly following emotional feedback overload. However... The specific observed behaviors-nuzzling, whimpering, sleeve-gripping, lap-pillowing-continued to hit a new low in his understanding.
Expressionless, he walked to the kitchen island and began operating the espresso machine. The machine's faint whir seemed to alert the large canine on the sofa.
Shanks's invisible ears seemed to twitch. He blinked open drowsy eyes, first looking up at Law to confirm his presence, then rubbing his cheek against Law's leg before languidly turning his gaze towards the kitchen.
"Oh, hey Shammy, done with the meeting?"Shanks's voice was thick with sleep and contentment. He made no move to get up, instead tightening his grip on Law's sleeve slightly, as if showing off a prized possession.
"Affirmative,"Shamrock replied succinctly, his gaze sweeping once from Shanks's lap-occupying posture to Law's calm profile."You two...are resting?"His wording was, as always, objective, but the slight upward inflection betrayed a trace of confusion.
"Yep! Law's reading, I'm keeping him company,"Shanks declared, utterly unabashed, snuggling closer to Law like a dog seeking more attention."Law's book is super interesting. I don't get it, but the sound of him turning pages is nice."
Law's finger, turning a page, paused for a microscopic fraction of a second before continuing. He didn't look at Shamrock, but the very edge of his ear seemed tinged with the faintest pink.
Watching his brother in this state of "Law-is-my-universe"contentment, practically aspiring to become a permanent accessory, Shamrock silently collected his espresso. He didn't leave immediately. Instead, he leaned against the island, taking small, deliberate sips of the bitter liquid, continuing his live observation.
The next few minutes provided Shamrock with more anomalous data:
When Law leaned forward slightly, reaching for a water glass on the far side of the coffee table, Shanks-still pillowed on his lap-immediately lifted his head, alert. He stretched out an arm in an awkward but swift motion, retrieved the glass first, and handed it to Law with an eager flourish, watching him drink with rapt attention before settling back down with a look of profound satisfaction.
A bookmark slipped from Law's journal as he turned a page. Shanks reacted faster than Law, bolting halfway upright to snatch the bookmark from the air. He carefully slipped it back between the pages Law had been reading, handling it as if it were fragile, then looked up at Law with bright, expectant eyes, clearly awaiting praise.
Law seemed to ponder a particular passage, his brow furrowing slightly. Shanks immediately lifted a hand, smoothing the crease with his fingertip."What's wrong? Don't understand something? Want me to look it up?"he asked softly, despite knowing his medical research skills were likely negligible.
Shamrock: "..."
He considered whether his caffeine intake needed adjustment, or if an ophthalmological exam was in order. Was this creature radiating goofy, besotted happiness and exhibiting symptoms of severe dependency disorder truly the same individual who commanded negotiation rooms, moved with effortless grace in kitchens, and exuded reliable charisma among friends?
Law, finally seeming discomforted by Shamrock's sustained, silent scrutiny, lifted his gaze to meet those probing, emotionless red eyes. He cleared his throat almost imperceptibly."Sham. Is there something?"
"Negative,"Shamrock stated calmly."Merely conducting routine environmental observation."His gaze pointedly swept over Shanks again."Observing that...the frequency and intensity of certain behaviors exceed baseline parameters."
Shanks immediately caught the implication. Far from being embarrassed, he buried his face against Law's side, his shoulders shaking with muffled laughter. He then looked up, directing a brilliant, almost blindingly bright smile at Shamrock-a smile brimming with brimming with triumphant pride."Shammy, are you jealous? Law is my exclusive cuddle-pillow and priority care subject today!"
The corner of Shamrock's mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly. Jealous? No. His emotional processing module currently had no capacity for such a base-tier emotion. This was more... cognitive disruption. And a sliver of assessment regarding whether this blatant besotted would impair his brother's daily functional capacity.
Law's ears turned pinker. He jabbed an elbow, not too gently, into Shanks's head."Shut up."
Shanks let out a theatrical "Oof!"and playfully ducked, but his grin didn't fade. Instead, he used the motion to rub the top of his head against Law's arm, even more like an attention-seeking puppy.
Shamrock finished the last of his espresso in silence. He decided to terminate this observation session, which was causing ongoing contamination to his rational worldview. Before turning back to his study, he cast one final look at the conjoined pair on the sofa and delivered his characteristically flat, objective assessment:
"Based on observation, the sustainability of this interaction model is questionable. Furthermore, it may negatively impact spatial utilization efficiency in common areas and the visual comfort of other occupants. Recommendation: Moderation."
With that, he took his empty mug and retreated with measured, precise steps behind his study door, as if staying a second longer would cause another fragment of his data-and-logic-based worldview to crumble.
On the sofa, Shanks, watching his brother's brisk retreat, burst into louder laughter, burying his face in Law's stomach, his shoulders shaking.
Law felt the vibrations of his mirth, sensed his unbridled joy, and glanced at the firmly closed study door. In the end, he merely released a nearly inaudible sigh, the hand resting on Shanks's head unconsciously softening its touch.
It seemed that today, not only he, but even Shamrock would be forced to adapt to this red-haired giant dog, currently operating in a state of joy-overload and behavioral anomaly. Though, seeing that flicker of something close to 'bewildered' cross Shamrock's perpetually composed face... had its own amusement.
The corner of Law's mouth lifted again, just a fraction. He returned his gaze to the journal in his hands, but the hand stroking the red hair never stilled.