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As usual, Law walked into the school's common room right after the lunch bell finished ringing, carrying his familiar dark blue thermal lunch bag with the subtle wave pattern. Inside was another carefully prepared meal: today, pan-seared salmon with asparagus and a small container of sea urchin chawanmushi, one of his favorites. The aromas were sealed tight, waiting to provide a warm reward for a tired morning.
The room was already buzzing. Luffy was shouting "Meat!" at the cafeteria's fried pork cutlets, Nami was calculating calories while eyeing Usopp's fried shrimp, Chopper nibbled on carrot crackers, and Zoro and Sanji were engaged in their usual lighthearted bickering. Law's entrance drew some of the usual glances, particularly toward that coveted lunch bag.
He'd just set his things down in his usual corner and was about to unzip it when a slightly nervous female voice spoke beside him.
"Trafalgar."
Law looked up. It was a girl from another class in his department, with chestnut-brown hair and a delicate face. She was holding a bento box tied with a cute ribbon, her cheeks slightly flushed. He vaguely recognized her from some group discussions but didn't know her.
"This... I made it myself. I heard you often bring your lunch. If you don't mind, please try it." She offered the bento box. Her voice wasn't loud, but it was enough to draw attention from nearby tables. Usopp perked up, Nami stopped her calculations, her look turning curious.
Law's brow creased almost imperceptibly. His grey eyes were calm as he looked at her, his tone its usual cool and distant self. "Thank you, but that's unnecessary. I'm used to eating my own." He gestured to his thermal bag, his refusal clear.
The girl's face reddened even more. She seemed completely unprepared for such a straightforward rejection; a flicker of embarrassment and stubbornness flashed in her eyes. "It's just a small gesture between classmates... Please accept it." She bit her lip, then, without waiting for a response, actually set the bento box down on the table in front of Law. As if afraid of another refusal, she said hastily, "Please be sure to try it," before turning and quickly walking away, leaving Law with the abruptly placed pink box and a suddenly delicate atmosphere.
"Whoa-" Usopp was first to react. "Law! A love bento!"
Nami stroked her chin, her eyes calculating. "Seems Law's appeal isn't limited to the operating room."
Luffy leaned over, sniffing the pink box, then sniffing Law's bag. "Doesn't smell as good as Shanks' cooking! Law, open yours! What is it today?"
Law ignored the chatter. Expressionless, he picked up the pink bento, stood, walked to the communal table usually for forgotten lunches, and placed it there, clearly not his. Then he returned to his seat and unzipped his bag. The familiar, layered aroma wafted out, momentarily overpowering the other food smells.
He picked up his fork and began eating, movements precise, as if the interruption hadn't happened. Only a faint thread of irritation passed through him. He disliked disruptions, especially messy interpersonal ones.
Luffy, trying to telepathically claim a piece of salmon, suddenly remembered something and pulled out his phone, typing rapidly.
"Luffy, what are you doing?" Usopp asked.
"Telling Shanks!" Luffy declared, mouth full of a meatball he'd snagged from Ace. "Someone gave Law a bento! Shanks should know!"
Law's fork paused. He looked at Luffy, gaze cool. "Don't."
"How is that meddling!" Luffy argued. "Shanks is your boyfriend! Of course he should know!" The message was already sent.
Law's irritation ticked up slightly, not at Shanks, but at the unnecessary complication. He trusted Shanks wouldn't misunderstand, but explaining felt like a bother.
Sure enough, minutes later, his phone buzzed. A message from Shanks: "Luffy says someone gave you a bento?" Tone neutral.
Law put down his fork and replied: "Yes. Classmate. Refused. Left it in common area."
Shanks replied almost instantly: "Got it. Focus on eating. Don't let it get cold." A head-patting emoji followed.
Law looked at the emoji, picturing Shanks' likely amused yet exasperated expression. The irritation faded. He put his phone away and continued eating. Shanks' reaction was expected-no interrogation, just a check-in. It was the trust they had.
But it didn't end.
Over the next few days, the girl persisted. She stopped approaching directly, opting to leave the bentos-on his library seat, by his locker, passed through others. The boxes and ribbons changed daily. Law's response never wavered: find it, pick it up, deposit it in a lost-and-found or on a communal table. He didn't ask her name. It was irrelevant.
His inner reaction shifted from nuisance to detached indifference. He disposed of these gestures like clutter. His life was his studies, hospital rotations, and home with Shanks. These were just ripples in a deep pond, swallowed quickly.
He didn't notice Luffy's diligent reporting to Shanks: "Pink box in the library!" "Blue bag today!" "Law didn't even look!"
Shanks' replies were brief: "Okay." "Luffy, eat." "Thanks."
On Shanks' end, he wasn't oblivious. Luffy's daily bulletins kept him informed of the persistent admirer. The first message had sparked a tiny, instinctive alert-not doubt towards Law, but a protective twinge. It vanished at Law's reply. He knew Law. The refusals were pure Law, and pure them.
But the persistence, happening day after day, planted a seed in his preoccupied mind. He was drowning in the final stages of a cross-border merger, often arriving home long after Law had fallen asleep, able only to watch him sleep. He knew Law could handle the situation perfectly well. Yet, quietly, a partner's instinct to assert presence, to protect their shared space, began to grow. It wasn't born of distrust, but from a desire to safeguard what was theirs. He wanted to make the 'no trespassing' sign unmistakably clear.
So, after a brutal week, though exhausted, Shanks carved out an afternoon slot. He didn't call Law first. Instead, he dialed Ben Beckman.
"Beck, a favor. Swing by Law's school, common room or library area. A girl might be lingering, maybe leaving things. Just observe, confirm. Don't approach her or Law. Report back." His voice was tired but clear.
A beat of silence. "Understood. Details?"
Shanks relayed the sketchy description from Luffy's reports. Beckman was efficient. An hour later, he called.
"Confirmed. Chestnut-haired female, near the med school main building. Appeared to be waiting. Held a wrapped box. Observed for ten minutes. No approach made to Mr.Trafalgar. She placed the box on a second-floor stair landing windowsill and left. Disposal required?"
"No. Law will handle it. Thanks, Beck."
Hanging up, Shanks leaned back. So, she was still trying, maybe seeking a better opportunity. The idea of a more personal intervention solidified. Not because Law couldn't handle it, but because he wanted to be there, together. A clear signal might help.
Two days later, the merger deal was finally signed. Shanks took a half-day. He didn't tell Law. On the way, he stopped for those cheese tarts from the famous shop Law had mentioned.
Carrying the pastry box, he strolled to the common room entrance. It was noisy inside. His appearance-tall, striking red hair, casual elegance-drew glances as he entered.
Law sat with his back to the door, focused on his lunch, trying to push aside hidden broccoli. He didn't notice the shift in the room.
Shanks spotted the familiar dark head. A smile touched his lips. He nodded at Luffy and the others who noticed him, then walked calmly over to stand behind Law.
Only when a shadow fell and that familiar scent-sunshine and faint aftershave-reached him did Law look up.
Seeing Shanks, surprise flashed in Law's gold eyes, then relaxation, and a silent 'what are you doing here?'. "Done?" he asked, voice softer.
"Just wrapped up. Missed you, so I came." Shanks said it easily, as if it were the most natural thing. He set the tart box down. "Here, the ones you wanted."
An ordinary exchange, yet it carried an intimacy that felt exclusive. Shanks reached out, thumb brushing a nearly invisible speck from Law's lip. "Finished?"
"Yeah."
"Good timing." Shanks glanced at the crowded seat beside Law, then at his own hands. He smiled slightly, voice lowering. "Scoot over?"
Puzzled, Law shifted inward on the bench, making space. He assumed Shanks would sit beside him.
Shanks didn't sit on the empty space.
He turned and sat down on the spot Law had just vacated-still warm. Then, his arm went around Law's waist.
Law: "?"
Before he could react, Shanks' arm tightened with a gentle, firm pull.
Law found himself half-lifted, half-guided, and settled onto Shanks' lap.
!?!
Several stifled gasps and exclamations sounded. Usopp's eyes went wide. Nami covered her mouth. Chopper yelped and hid his face. Zoro raised a brow. Sanji clicked his tongue, smirking. Luffy yelled, "Shanks! You're Law's chair now?!"
Law froze completely. In public! His ears burned instantly, heat rushing to his neck and cheeks. He tried to stand, but the arm around his waist held him firmly, gently pressing him down.
"Don't move," Shanks' amused voice was close to his ear, warm breath brushing. "Let me hold you a bit. Need to recharge. Wiped out." The voice held genuine tiredness, and a hint of... whining?
Law stiffened, and then the urge to resist faded by half, almost inexplicably. He could feel Shanks’ chest, his heartbeat, and smell his scent even more clearly now. Embarrassment burned through him, but beneath it, a subtle, warm current stirred in response to this blatant dependency and closeness. He knew Shanks-this wasn’t just affection; it was a way of marking territory. A gentle yet unmistakable signal: Mine. This is how it is.
And Law, after the initial shock, accepted it. He trusted Shanks. Compared to prying eyes or some admirer, he cared more about the tired man holding him. He could feel Shanks' exhaustion. He could be... a charging station.
So, under everyone's gaze, Law kept his face impassive, though his red ears betrayed him, and... stopped struggling. He even adjusted slightly to sit more securely, back straight as a rod, like a stiff cat resigned to its fate.
Shanks chuckled softly, his chin nudging Law's hair. With his free hand, he opened the tart box, forked a still-warm piece, and brought it to Law's lips. "Try it. Fresh."
Law glared, eyes saying 'enough,' but under Shanks' insistent, amused gaze, he opened his mouth. Rich cheese and flaky crust melted on his tongue. Delicious.
"Good?" Shanks asked, taking a bite from the same piece, natural as breathing.
"...Acceptable." Law mumbled, trying to ignore the stares burning into his back.
So they sat, one holding calmly, the other being held stiffly, sharing tarts in the corner. Shanks asked softly about Law's afternoon classes, commented on the sweetness. Law answered briefly, but his body slowly relaxed, even leaning back slightly into Shanks' embrace to rest better.
Shanks felt content and at ease. Holding Law, feeling his solid weight, seemed to lessen his own weariness. He was fully aware of how bold this display appeared, but it didn't bother him-that was the entire point. He wanted any onlooker to understand clearly: this was their normal. This level of intimacy was part of their everyday life. Watching Law gradually accept it, the last traces of annoyance from the persistent disturbance vanished from Shanks' mind, replaced by a warm, settled certainty.
From behind a pillar, the chestnut-haired girl witnessed the entire scene. She saw the always-aloof Trafalgar Law held in a possessive embrace, saw him allow it, watched them share food and speak in quiet tones. That natural, effortless intimacy between them stood like an impenetrable wall. Her face paled. Clutching another ribbon-tied bag tightly, she turned and walked away, for good.
The incident sparked no discussion between Law and Shanks. For them, it was just a sweet, recharge moment after a long week.
After the tarts, Shanks held on a little longer before releasing him. Law sprang up as if burned, face still warm, quickly smoothing his clothes, shooting Shanks a weak glare.
"I have class."
"I'll walk you." Shanks stood, taking Law's book bag. "Dinner? Celebration feast."
Talking quietly about menu options, they left the common room together, leaving behind various looks.
Evening, in the car, Law watched the passing city lights before speaking. "...Next time, not in front of so many people." Voice quiet.
Shanks, driving one-handed, found Law's hand and laced their fingers, thumb stroking. "Scared you?"
"A bit." Law admitted, but his fingers tightened around Shanks'.
Shanks laughed softly, pleased. "My fault. But..." He glanced over, eyes soft. "Holding you felt really good. Better than ten espressos."
Law didn't reply, ears warming again. He held Shanks' hand tighter, fingertips tracing calluses. After a long moment, he muttered, almost inaudibly: "...At home, fine."
Shanks' eyes lit up, smile brilliant. "You said it."