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At the rooftop open-air rest area of the medical school, the afternoon sun was just right. Law, as usual, pulled out the simple deep blue insulated bag with the wave pattern under the envious or teasing gazes of his friends. This morning before leaving, Shanks had mysteriously said he was "trying a new recipe," making Law especially eager to see.
Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi had come to have lunch together today, joining Law's group at the same table. Bepo was happily gnawing on an extra cod fillet he'd negotiated from the cafeteria, while Penguin and Shachi drank soda and compared their in-game stats on their phones.
The moment the zipper slid open, a unique aroma-a blend of citrus freshness and the charred fragrance of grilled food-wafted out, instantly overpowering the greasy smell of the cafeteria's fried foods. Bepo's nose twitched immediately, and he even forgot to chew the fish in his mouth. "S-so good! What is it today, Law?"
"Not the usual steak or fish," Penguin leaned over and whistled. "Wow, the plating is too good! Is Mr. Shanks opening a restaurant?"
Shachi stroked his chin, offering a professional critique. "The color combination is very appetizing. The sauces are packaged separately to preserve texture. As expected of Mr. Shanks."
It was an exquisitely plated orange-honey grilled chicken breast quinoa salad. The chicken breast, grilled to a golden hue, was cut into bite-sized pieces and evenly mixed with vibrant kale and perfectly cooked tri-color quinoa, adorned with toasted almond slices and fresh orange segments. Beside it was a separate small container of what looked like a delicious citrus-flavored yogurt dressing. There were even two thoughtfully included slices of garlic bread, toasted to a light crisp, perfect for soaking up the orange juice and honey essence at the bottom of the container.
"Wow! Another fancy one today!" Usopp leaned in and sniffed. "Citrus scent! Feels so refreshing!"
"The nutritional balance is still perfect!" Chopper analyzed instinctively as a doctor. "High-quality protein, complex carbs, healthy fats, vitamins... and it looks super tasty!"
Nami glanced over, making a precise valuation. "That brand of organic quinoa and almonds... Mr. Shanks really..."
Even Zoro took an extra look, while Sanji narrowed his eyes, seemingly analyzing the yogurt dressing's recipe.
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched the corner of Law's mouth. He was used to his friends' exaggerated reactions by now. He picked up his fork, ready to enjoy this clearly thoughtful lunch-
"Gomu Gomu no-Rocket!!!"
Along with Luffy's signature yell and a commotion of clattering and chaos, a black figure was sent flying by his attack, heading straight for the small round table where Law was sitting!
"Law, watch out!" Penguin reacted first, but he was too far away.
"Ah!" Bepo was so startled his bear ears shot up.
Bang-Crash-!!
Everything happened in a flash. Law had no time to react. He felt a jolt in his hand, followed by the sharp sound of the insulated lunchbox being knocked over, its lid flying off, and food spilling out. The colorful salad instantly splattered across the floor. The golden, tempting chicken breast was now coated in dust. The vibrant greens wilted. The carefully prepared yogurt dressing splashed a stark white puddle on the white tiles. The two slices of garlic bread rolled to Bepo's feet, smeared with sauce and grime.
Time seemed to freeze for a second.
Law froze in place, his hand still holding the now-empty fork suspended in mid-air. He stared at the mess on the floor. At the lunch that just minutes ago had been emitting an enticing aroma, carrying the effort and care of Shanks' early morning work, now transformed into an unsightly pile of garbage. His chest tightened as if gripped by something-a mix of shock, heartache, and immense, overwhelming grievance surged up, catching him completely off guard.
This wasn't ordinary cafeteria food or some random takeout. This was made by Shanks. Made by Shanks humming off-key tunes in the morning kitchen, meticulously prepared just for him. He could even picture Shanks' serious profile as he selected the oranges, his focused expression as he tasted the dressing, that small, private hint of pride as he arranged the plate.
Now it was all gone.
"S-sorry! Law! I didn't mean to! It was Lucci who started it!" Luffy hurried over, his face showing panic after causing trouble as he looked at the mess.
Nami had already landed a sharp knuckle punch on Luffy's head. "Idiot Luffy! Look what you've done!"
Usopp gasped. "Oh no, oh no... Law's sacred lunch..."
Chopper was flustered. "Law, are you okay? Did it hit you?"
Zoro clicked his tongue. Sanji frowned, looking towards Lucci, who was straightening his clothes not far away, his expression dark.
Bepo looked at the sauce-and-dust-covered bread slice that had rolled to his feet, then at the once-delicious salad on the floor, and finally at Law's stiff back. His large eyes filled with sympathy and panic. "Law... your lunch..."
Penguin and Shachi also dropped their playful expressions. They knew too well what this lunch meant to Law-it wasn't just a meal. It was a symbol of Mr. Shanks' silent care and the tight bond between them. Penguin cursed under his breath, "Damn it, Luffy..." Shachi had already quickly pulled out some napkins, wanting to help clean up but not knowing where to start.
Law couldn't hear anything anymore. His friends' concerns felt like they were coming through a layer of fog. He slowly put down his fork, his fingertips feeling slightly cold. He crouched down, trying to pick up the overturned, now-empty insulated lunchbox. A bit of orange sauce and quinoa grains still clung to the rim. He stared at that bit of residue, feeling only a sting in his nose and an unfamiliar, wet emotion clogging his throat. It wasn't because he was hungry, or because it was a waste. It was because... Shanks' effort and care had been so roughly overturned. And he had been powerless to stop it.
"...It's fine." He heard his own voice, surprisingly calm, even a bit hollow. He stood up, holding the dirty lunchbox, not looking at anyone. "I'll go clean up." Then he turned and quickly walked away from the rest area, his back seeming stiff, even a bit hurried, as if staying one more second would let that strange sense of grievance break through his self-control and expose itself to everyone.
He left behind an awkward silence and Luffy's increasingly loud apologies.
During the afternoon classes, Law was somewhat distracted. The image of the spilled salad and Shanks' back, busy in the kitchen in his apron, kept flashing before his eyes. That feeling of grievance hadn't faded with time; instead, it seemed to ferment, slowly swelling, becoming concrete and slightly sour. He knew it was somewhat inexplicable, even childish-it was just a lunch. Shanks wouldn't mind. He'd probably even laugh and say, "I'll just make it again."
But he just... felt a bit sad. And a bit angry. Angry at Luffy's recklessness, and even more angry at himself for not reacting faster, for not protecting that lunch.
This mood persisted until he got home.
Pushing open the door, the familiar aroma of cooking already wafted out. Shanks seemed to have come home early today and was preparing dinner in the kitchen. Hearing the door, he poked his head out, wearing his usual warm smile. "You're back! How was lunch today? Did you like the new flavor?"
It was this sentence, like a key, that gently unlocked the floodgate in Law's heart.
He stood in the entryway, still holding the now-cleaned but seemingly still bearing the traces of loss insulated lunchbox. He looked at Shanks' smiling eyes, at his red hair that looked especially soft under the kitchen light, at the silly whale on his apron...
All his forced calm and rational analysis instantly crumbled.
Law opened his mouth, wanting to say as usual "It was fine," or a simple statement like "It got knocked over." But the sound that came out felt unfamiliar even to himself-carrying a hint of a barely noticeable tremor and a... grievance that sounded almost like whining.
"...It got knocked over." He looked down at his shoes, his voice muffled. "Luffy and Lucci were fighting... bumped into the table... it all spilled..."
His voice grew smaller as he spoke, becoming almost inaudible by the end. That bit of grievance and heartache was laid bare before Shanks in this near-tattling tone. After saying it, he himself froze, his ears rapidly burning-What am I doing? Tattling like a child? And so... clingy?
The sounds from the kitchen paused for a moment.
Then came the sound of slippers quickly shuffling across the floor. The next second, Law was pulled into an embrace that smelled of cooking oil and warm body heat. Shanks' arms held him tightly, his chin rubbing against the top of Law's head.
"It's fine that it spilled, as long as you're okay." Shanks' voice came from above, low and gentle, without a trace of blame or surprise, only pure comfort. He even chuckled softly, his chest vibrating with pleasant amusement. "My little doctor, is this about feeling bad for the food I made, or... feeling bad for me?"
Being called out so directly made Law's face even hotter. He buried his face deeper into the crook of Shanks' neck, not making a sound, but his arms quietly circled Shanks' waist, gripping the apron strings at his back. This action was undoubtedly a tacit admission.
Shanks clearly received this signal. Surprise and an indescribable, soft joy intertwined in his heart. Law rarely showed his emotions so openly, let alone this kind of dependent, aggrieved whining. It made his whole heart feel like it was soaked in warm honey water-sweet and soft.
"Okay, okay, don't be upset." Shanks patted his back gently as if comforting a child, his voice softening further. "If the food's gone, I'll just make more. I'll make as much as you want. Okay?" He loosened his hold a bit, cupping Law's face with both hands, forcing him to look up. Law's eyes were slightly red-whether from anger or grievance wasn't clear-and his golden eyes held a misty sheen as he avoided Shanks' gaze.
This look made Shanks' heart melt completely. He lowered his head, kissed the corner of Law's eye, then his nose, and finally pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to his slightly pursed, unhappy lips.
"My Law was wronged." After the kiss ended, Shanks rested his forehead against Law's, speaking softly, his tone full of tenderness. "I'll make you something extra delicious tonight, double compensation, okay?"
Law grunted a muffled "Mm," still refusing to look up.
Shanks' eyes shifted, a sudden idea forming. He scooped Law up in one motion-not a romantic princess carry, but like picking up a large stuffed toy, having Law wrap his arms around his neck and legs around his waist, carrying him like that towards the living room.
"Hey!" Law was startled, instinctively holding on tighter.
Shanks set him down on the sofa but didn't straighten up. Instead, he leaned over, completely enveloping Law within his presence. He lowered his head, beginning a new round of more detailed, comforting marking. Feather-light kisses fell from his forehead to his cheeks, from his earlobes to his neck, interspersed with gentle licks and soft nips, as if trying to drive away all those unpleasant emotions through this method, covering them with traces of his own overflowing affection.
"Shanks..." Law squirmed from the ticklish sensation, trying to turn his head away, but his voice had lost all its strength.
"I'm here." Shanks responded, his kisses reaching Law's collarbone, lingering there for a long time, leaving a noticeable red mark. Then he looked up, his eyes bright like a big dog waiting for praise after doing something good. "Still upset?"
Looking at Shanks' face so close, filled with concern and adoration, that inexplicable sourness and disappointment in Law's heart had long been washed away by this torrent of tenderness. He raised a hand, touched Shanks' cheek, his fingertips tracing the slightly prickly stubble on his chin.
"...Not upset anymore." He said quietly.
Ahem.
A deliberately cleared throat came from the side.
Law's ears burned instantly. He'd completely forgotten about Shamrock was still in the room! He cautiously glanced towards Shamrock sitting in the armchair nearby. The other man raised an eyebrow at him.
Shanks laughed and leaned in to kiss Law's flushed cheek again. "Good." He stood up, pulling Law up with him. "Come on, help in the kitchen. Big feast tonight to soothe your shock."
Dinner was indeed exceptionally lavish. Not only was there grilled fish, which Law loved, but Shanks had specifically recreated the orange-honey grilled chicken breast from lunch, with double the portion and an even richer sauce. He'd even baked a small cream cake decorated with fresh fruit, placing it in the center of the table.
"This is...?" Law looked at the cake.
"To celebrate our Dr. Law learning to express his feelings appropriately today." Shanks grinned, cutting a piece and holding it to Law's lips. "Here, taste it. Is it sweet?"
Law glared at him but opened his mouth to eat it anyway. The cream was sweet, the fruit fresh, the cake soft. It was indeed very sweet.
At the table, Shanks was even more attentive than usual, serving food, refilling soup, taking care of every detail. Although Law kept saying, "That's enough," "Stop putting more on my plate," his heart felt like it was soaking in warm water-soft and cozy.
However, just as Shanks was about to serve Law a third helping, Shamrock set down his knife and fork, wiped the corner of his mouth with his napkin, and spoke calmly. "According to the calculation of caloric and nutritional intake, Law's current consumption has already exceeded the optimal range for his evening metabolism by approximately 15%. Overcompensation may affect sleep quality and appetite for tomorrow's breakfast."
Shanks' movement halted. He looked at Law, who indeed had slowed down his eating, then at Shamrock's expressionless face. "...Oh," he said sheepishly, putting down the serving spoon.
Law felt relieved and shot Shamrock a nearly imperceptible grateful glance-he really was full.
Shamrock received the look but gave no indication. He simply picked up his knife and fork again to finish the last of the vegetables on his plate.
That night, Shanks' doting escalated even further. During bath time, he insisted on squeezing in to "help." After the bath, he patiently blow-dried every strand of Law's hair, massaged his slightly stiff shoulders, and even when Law wanted to read by himself, Shanks had to squeeze over, wrap his arms around him, rest his chin on Law's head, calling himself a "human backrest."
Law, having no energy left to resist, simply relaxed into the overly warm embrace. The words on the page gradually blurred. In his ears were Shanks' steady heartbeat and regular, long breaths.
He thought about the spilled salad from the day, about his own unfamiliar grievance, about Shanks' immediate embrace and doubly gentle compensation... The last bit of discomfort in his heart dissipated.
Perhaps, it was okay to be a little childish like this occasionally.
Because there would always be someone who took your grievance seriously, accepted your whining without question, and then used double the sweetness to completely neutralize that tiny bit of sourness in your heart.
Outside the window, the moonlight was gentle. Inside, wrapped in a reassuring scent and warmth, Law gradually sank into sleep. His last hazy thought before drifting off was: Tomorrow... I have to remind that idiot Luffy to stay away from my lunch.
And Shanks, holding him tightly in the dark, curled his lips contentedly, pulling the person in his arms even closer.