Work Text:
"This on the right... right?" Killer's lips touch the scar across the chest and stomach. He runs his tongue over it, more carefully than he touched other marks on Kid's body.
"Hell if I remember!" Kid growls. Dozens of scars remained on his body throughout his short life, he even didn't count them. "Maybe Big Mom left it, or maybe..."
He presses his lips together at the last word. Killer dosen't react (or Kid dosen't see his reaction).
"That time I cut Hawkins... here." He plants a kiss on the smooth, bright pink skin and traces the long scar with his finger.
Again, Killer relives his battle with Hawkins on Onigashima. He sees his straw doll connected with Kid's body; he smells the blood, the fire and the smoke. His eyes sting, and Killer tells himself that's just because of fumes. Hawkins laughs, and his voice rustles with straw. Killer has a choice: either give up or kill his own parther.
"Forget Hawkins, he's already fucking dead!" Kid pulls him out of his memories. "His Devil Fruit power, the man himself and those damned voodoo dolls — they don't treaten us now, you hear me?!"
Killer brushes the thoughts of Hawkins away like a bad dream:
"...but the most important thing is whose lives are in my dolls!"
"Please, I'm begging you, forgive me," he whispers brokenly, resting his head on Kid's chest. "I didn't know. I wanted to kill him, but instead I could have..."
There are a lot of scars on Kid's body, and Killer can't bear to look at right ones — the one he left with his own hands.