Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Famed post-rock metal star Eustass Kid of the band the Kid Pirates and his bass guitarist who goes by the name Killer have been in a severe car accident, say reports. The record label has not released the health status of either band member but say this will be affecting this year's world tour and to stay tuned for updates.

Kid and Killer were supposedly driving back from a house party hosted by the Red Haired rock legend Shanks when their vehicle slipped off the side of I60 into the ditch, rolled, and wrapped around a large telephone pole at high speeds. It is unclear if there were drugs or alcohol involved but knowing the history of the Kid pirates-”

Trafalgar D. Waterlaw clicked off the news report, turning in his rolling chair back from the TV to his desk. He remembered the accident when it occurred years ago, the news having been devastating to a large community of fans. The rock star had always been known for being reckless and frequently injured, but such a major accident shocked and worried fans. Everything had been kept under wraps regarding the specifics regarding both band members' health, although Killer started making public appearances again long before their Lead singer did with heavy scarring on the wolf-hybrid’s left arm.

The tour had been quickly canceled and fans refunded with the statement that while Kid would be okay, he was still recovering and may not be up to live shows or public appearances for some time but that they would work on a new album in the meantime.

When the new album was released 2 years later, with it came the first public appearance of Eustass Kid since the accident with the shocking addition of two custom made metal prosthetics replacing both the avian’s left arm as well as his left wing. The world was rightfully shocked at the severity of the injuries caused by the accident, the large scars still visible on the man’s face, chest, and hips. All questions about his recovery were clearly PR scripted answers, but it seemed as though the band was back in full swing.

A few venue shows were held spread out across that next year which led to now, 3 years after the accident, and the request sitting on the snow leopard hybrid’s desk.

Doctor Trafalgar was well renowned as one of the best in the business regarding medical care for the rich and famous. Not only was he a licensed physician and surgeon, for the longest time he was held under the umbrella of Doflamingo records and worked exclusively with their clients. Now, a few months after his break away from the record label due to a lapse in contract, he was finally taking his own clients. Most of the requests were boring, from old contacts of his record and for minor issues.

The one that lay on his desk currently was an interesting one. An on site doctor is needed for the Kid Pirate’s upcoming tour, the current doctor not being available to travel with the tour. The doctor will be on call 24/7 specifically to handle illness, injury, and general wellbeing regarding the band as well as to manage the current medical conditions of the band both with medication as well as alternative treatments.

That was how the job was detailed anyways. No specific health conditions were listed for privacy sake, however knowing the history of the two lead band memoirs, Law can only expect them to be his primary patients. Traveling with patients wasn’t uncommon in this business but he had never traveled with this type of band before. The pay was the major incentive. Not only would food and board be paid for, he would get a generous salary on top of that and any equipment needed. It was a significantly better deal than any others Law had received so far.

So, after careful deliberation, Law signed the contract and emailed a copy of the signed form over to the Band Manager.

Three days later he stood outside the Band Manager’s office for his meeting with both the current physician as well as the manager himself. His long white tail with black spots swayed from side to side as he waited in the lobby, laptop in hand. Meeting the client for the first time was always a bit nerve wracking since he had no clue what to expect. It made him glad that it was common practice to use scent patches to hide one’s secondary status and pheromones when in business meetings, although he knows logically that living with the tour group meant the inevitability of being around others without wearing them which always took a bit of time to adjust to.

A black man, shorter than Law but not by much, with buzzed dark brown hair and clean face in a blue suit came into the lobby soon after Law’s arrival. The man extended a hand, smiling warmly as Law met the hand with his own tattooed one. The grip was strong and it only took Law moments to recognize that while the man before him didn’t seem imposing, the man could clearly end a fight if needed. While the man’s brown eyes were kind and soft, the grip showed strength signaling not to mess with him. Posturing.

“Doctor Trafalgar, it's nice to finally meet you in person. I’m Mahlik Brooks, the Band Manager you emailed with. You can just call me Mahlik.”

“It’s nice to meet you. Just Law is fine.”

Mahlik let go of the handshake first, moving to lead Law into an office a few doors down the hall. In the room sat an older gentleman with whom Law was very familiar with and greeted with a warm smile and a pat on the shoulder, the older man opting not to stand up.

“Doctor Hiriluk, how nice to see you again. How is your boy, still training with Doctorine?”

“Yes yes, Law, Chopper is doing excellent. A prodigy really. How have you been? Finally away from that damn record label?”

Law takes a seat next to the man, placing his laptop on the desk as he addresses the caribou hybrid.

“Yes, I’m fully independent now. Which is why I have the freetime to do this.”

Mahlik made sure the door was closed while the two men caught up before sitting across the table from them both.

“Seems you two already know each other. Good. Well, let's get to business. Of course I know I don't have to remind you that confidentiality regarding all of this is taken very seriously about the band’s medical records. You come highly recommended so I doubt this is gonna be an issue. Are there any questions you have about the position before we start going over the medical files of the band members?”

Law opened his computer, starting it up to pull up his notes as the other man talked.

“My only real question is if I will be on the bus with the band or on the crew bus. I would prefer to be with the band if possible in case of any medical emergencies with the members.”

“Completely agree. And if any of the members give you problems just let me know. They can all be pretty stubborn, especially Kidd. Medically speaking he is also your primary patient.”

Law nodded, jotting down notes as Dr Hiriluk spoke up.

“I’m sure you know of Kid’s amputation. He still has a fair amount of neuropathy from the accident that we treat with pain killers as needed. Issue is, Kid is an addict. So medication needs to be kept secure with you to be dosed out accordingly. On top of that, Kid was already immunocompromised to begin with.” The doctor cleans his throat, adjusting his position in the chair. “ We have had a hard time pinpointing what exact disorder fits his symptoms, but he is more prone to illness, often has joint or muscle pain, frequent dislocations, migraines, and vertigo. The tentative diagnosis is hEDS for the time being as we are more focused on treatment. It got significantly worse after the accident and thus is the primary reason for needing an on sight doctor.”

“I’m surprised you’re approving him to go on tour at all. Being immunocompromised puts him at a high risk to be around such large crowds.”

Mahlik spoke up before the elder doctor could, obviously having been expecting the question.

“Kid is determined to see this through. I have the power to cancel at any point should you deem it necessary. Until then though he is determined to see this through whether we want him to or not. We specifically are not doing meet and greets this tour as an added precaution so he will not directly interact with the fans. He is good with the prosthetic but not good enough to deal with a bunch of fans tugging on it.”

“There is one more thing, Law. I know you have experience with hormones and scent patches. Living in such close quarters as well as you being the doctor on sight, you do need to be aware that despite what the media may think, Kid is not a beta.”

It takes a moment for Law to process the implication of that as he turns to look from the doctor back to the manager.

“Are you saying that Eustass-ya is an omega? Cause if so this is going to be infinitely more difficult. I'm an alpha. You stick me, a new alpha, into what he inevitably deems as his pack? You might as well be asking for a damn bloodbath.”

Chapter Text

Eustas Kid never knew what a life was without pain. Between growing up on the streets in the slums of south blue city to now with more money than he could ever desire, he still never knew what painless felt like. His joints had always caused problems, his head often prone to random moments of dizziness or pain, his body constantly rebeling.

So when he got old enough to know what drugs were they were quick to sink their claws into the omega. Even before he got famous, hard drugs, painkillers like dilaudid or oxy, muscle relaxers, cocaine or even at times acid, all of them were in his system at one point or another.

It got worse when he found himself with enough money to buy them.

After the accident his habits started taking a worse toll on his health. His joints were harder to ignore the pain in, he needed more drugs to run through his system to just get through the day. He had more bad days. Even as he got used to his prosthetic and powered through, relearning how to play guitar, he struggled in private health wise. The only person he let in was Killer. Packmate since the streets, Killer was the only one he ever trusted. Of course he had to tell his doctor some things to get what he needed, but the gritty parts? Only Killer knew the full details and was privy to the bad nights.

So as Eustas Kid kneeled in front of a toilet, spitting saliva and alcohol from the previous night into the porcelain bowl on the morning he was supposed to start tour, his joints screaming at him and head pounding with his one wing limp against his back and both prosthetics still in the other room, Killer stood dutifully behind him with a steady hand on his back and his calming alpha scent flooding the bathroom.

“Kid. You don’t have to go through with this. The tour is way too much, way too fast. You’re killin’ yourself as is, man.” The other’s southern drawl was laced with concern for his closest friend. Kid had been on a downhill slide since the loss of his wing and arm and Killer was adminantly against the idea of a tour so soon. But his friend was stubborn. All Killer could do was try to keep the other as on track as possible.

“F’ck you Kill. I’m fine. I can do this. M’just hungover.” Kid sat up straight, back and wing leaning against Killer’s legs as he sniffed. “Need my uh- painkillers. And I’ll be good.”

“You got a half hour till you can take em. Gotta eat somethin’ first too. Think you’re good to get up yet?”

The red head groaned dramatically as he laid his forehead against the cool porcelain to take a moment for himself.

After the moment passed he nodded, using his good arm to grab hold of Killer’s extended one to pull himself up. Eustass was tall, somewhere around 6 feet, and if not for how tired he looked he would surely be intimidating even for an omega. Not for Killer though. Killer, despite being slightly shorter, could never be afraid of his friend, just for him. So, supporting Kid with a hand on the others back in between the massive red wing and the amputated base, he guided Kid to the kitchen of their shared house. A house that already had any clothes and important belongings packed up and loaded onto the bus as of yesterday. All they had left was hygiene items, the clothes they’re wearing today, the clothes they slept in, which in the case of Kid was none like always, and medication.

Killer had ordered food in from the restaurant down the street and already had it sitting in the fridge ready to be reheated and eaten. Kid made his way to his regular seat, slumping into it like a sack of potatoes with an unhappy grunt. Mornings were always hard. He was sure Killer could smell the distress every morning and just never commented. He was there to help whether he could smell it was needed or not. The wolf hybrid always knew when something was wrong with Kid even before they both presented.

Killer made his way to the covered food, tail swinging lazily behind him as he began the process of nuking it in the microwave. The blonde fur of the tail was long and neat, having already been brushed this morning as well as the long hair on his head and soft, canine ears. Killer was always much more groomed than Kid, his goatee always looking nice whether he wore the metal mask or not.

Kid watched as Killer moved, eyes following the others face as they always did when Killer didn’t have the ever present mask on. He felt privileged that Killer trusted him and the band enough to walk around without it. He knew the item was a form of comfort and protection for the elder, having been a constant presence even before they both met. It was always a regular face mask and sunglasses until Kid made him the first metal one. The newest one was sitting on the counter, ready to be put on to allow the alpha to face the world without his anxieties getting in the way.

“Oi. Kill. You gonna be okay on the bus with the doc? I know you’re worried about me but you aren’t exactly great with new people.” Kid watched as Killer’s muscles tensed, but his voice came out as steady as ever.

“I’ll just wear the mask. It’s fine.”

“You can’t sleep in it. You know that.”

There is a slight hesitation before a more genuine response. “He has to see my face anyway. He is a doctor after all. Our doctor. I’m gonna have to get over it either way. Plus, he gets a whole separate bunk area than we do. I….It’ll be fine.”

“And if it isn’t you tell me, yeah? So we can work somethin’ out.”

“Only if you actually try to get along with the doc. You know Mal warned us about him being an alpha. You get a bit….protective of the pack. But we need the guy otherwise there is no tour. Done. He leaves or gets hurt and we have to end the tour. So you can't throw him off the bus.”

Kid grumbled as the food was placed in front of him. Methodically he eats it without really thinking about it or even tasting it. Food is food and Kid is a garbage can.

“I can play nice.”

“Says the guy who threw a photographer into a table and broke the table and nearly the photographer.” Killer smirked, leaning an elbow against the table as he ate his own food. The memory of Kid nearly mauling the photographer played back in Kid’s head and he winced. That was pretty bad.

“To my defense he asked me if you knotted the band betas in place of an omega or not. So. I think it was justified.”

“I’m not saying it wasn’t! I was right there with you. But….we can’t pull that shit on him unless he really deserves it. I dunno shit about this guy other than he is an alpha who used to work for Doflamingo records and you know how shady those people can be. But apparently he is good at what he does. So you can't scare him off unless you find a replacement.”

Finishing off his plate helped Kid come to himself a bit more, feeling less nauseated and more awake. He could still feel the aching pain but the morning sparks and vertigo was at least dimming. Killer placed 2 small pills in front of Kid that he took without question, washing them down with his water.

“Let me guess. All the people we sent the application to turned me down?”

Killer nodded, looking at his own food as he ate. “To the public you’re pretty aggressive. We all are. We get in fights, we all have criminal records, after that one incident you’re basically a known addict. Plus add in major medical issues like an amputation no one is willing to risk their career on it if one of us doesn't make it through the tour. We are walking red flags and that's without them knowing your secondary gender.”

Kid runs his hand through his fair, red hair, sweaty and flat due to lack of product. “Guess we really are stuck then, huh?”

“Just try to make an effort to get along. For your own sake. But also ‘cause I don’t want to deal with it.”

Kid chuckled, hand moving to push at Killer’s shoulder before he stood up with a stretch. His red cardinal-like wing extended across the length of the counter as he did so.

“Well I’m taking a shower. I smell like puke. You already talk to Heat and Wire today?”
Killer nodded, moving to clean up the empty dishes. “Yeah. They got up about half an hour ago, gonna meet us at the studio. Apparently Wire slept through their damn alarm, again, so Heat dumped fuckin’ water on them.”

Kid snorted, moving back towards the bathroom.

“Sounds about right. Fuckin skunk probably smoked too much last night.”

Moving into the bathroom Kid went about his morning routine, taking a shower and avoiding his reflection till the last moment. Cleaning his body and wings to the best of his ability with one arm was difficult and annoying but something he had adapted to quickly. Touching the scars on the other hand was something he tried to limit.

The room filled with steam, the shower hot enough to turn his skin red like his hair and wing. He wondered abscently if he could boil himself like a lobster? As he climbed out of the shower, refusing to use the hand bars as always, Kid grabbed a towel to wrap around his naturally strong built body. He had never purposefully bulked up muscle wise, but somehow genetically won the lottery. Looking at himself in the mirror he took note of his appearance.

He had never been a skinny kid. Always chubby and wide, now turned into a thick build with a layer of fat on top that he couldn’t ever seem to get rid of. The scars mauling his pale skin extended from the top of his head, down past his eye and all the way onto his chest and shoulder ending in the amputation. Another ragged scar ran just below his hip bone to his navel.

One one side it looked dangerous. Intimidating, Punk rock.

On another side it showed how badly he fucked up. How one poor choice while trying to go after one of the larger rock groups ended in driving while high out of his mind and nearly killing himself and his packmates.

With a deep breath Kid shook his head, knocking the thoughts out before they could manifest more. Before they could take over and prevent his day from continuing. With an only slightly shaky hand he moved to apply a thick rim of eyeliner and smudged black eyeshadow hiding the deep bags under his eyes. His maroon lipstick was applied liberally, covering years of scarring from split lips. His hair was gelled into a familiar fashion, stuck up similarly to his performance hair, if only a little tamer.

Moving back to his room, Kid changed into a simple t-shirt and jeans, finally putting on both his metal arm prosthetics. The wing was so heavy he opted to pack it and only wear it for shows or public appearances, not wanting to risk even more issues for his back. His black steel toed boots were laced up, and as he moved out into the living room Eustass could finally feel the medication starting to kick in. As he faced Killer, who was dressed in his usual blue hoodie with a t-shirt underneath, ripped jeans and similar boots, Kid could finally feel like himself. Like he could actually do this.

Killer held a duffel bag of the remaining items in one hand, an energy drink in the other and his White painted steel mask over his head. His wolf ears twitched as he turned to greet Kid and offered one last item in the palm of his large scarred hand.

Kid took the patch from the other’s hand, slapping the scent patch on his neck. It blended seamlessly with Kid’s skin and his normal scent of cinnamon and roasted oranges was quickly replaced with a neutral scent, letting Killer’s natural sandalwood and bourbon smell take over.

“Ready Kid?”

“Let’s get this shit over with.”

Chapter Text

Law was confident in his skills as a doctor. He had seen plenty of addicts in his time with Doflamingo records and knew he could handle that aspect of the job. The pain management would be easy as he had no current plans on changing around anyones dosages mid tour. He was mostly in place for emergencies like sudden illnesses or injuries.

What Law wasn’t confident with was sharing such a small space with an already formed pack of hybrids that he had no connection with. He wasn’t exactly a stereotypical posturing knot headed alpha so that wasn’t the problem. However stepping into a den of known violently protective pack members was never a very good idea.

So, on the morning of the tour Law made sure to put on scent patches and use neutral scented soaps. He had already sent all of his items to be packed onto the bus, now just left with a final duffel bag of items he did not want to trust to others as well as a few changes of clothes.

After smoking his first cigarette of the day and eating an apple, Law moved through his daily motions. Shower. Scent patches. Hair and makeup. Double check his piercings were all still in place. Clothes. Medication.

His routine was the same every day, something he rarely changed. Living on a bus with 4 others is going to be an adjustment for sure. Staring into the bathroom mirror one last time he double checked everything was correct. He put his contacts in already, dark eyeshadow now lining chocolate brown downturned eyes. All vitiligo visible on his face was covered by makeup, no spots visible to the naked eye.

He could do this. He wasn’t with them anymore. If he could survive the Donquixote family he could survive anything. This will be easy.

Moving out of the apartment he locked the space behind him, a cab already waiting for him downstairs. The air outside was damp with early morning dew and still chilly, winter starting to fade into Spring around the city. Flowers were starting to bloom and showers regularly taking place but the mornings always still held the chilly bite of cold wind. He tugged his jacket tighter around his body as the cab driver took him to the studio, fingers anxiously picking at chipped black nail polish.

It was only ten minutes later they arrived at the lot and pulled up along an oversized bus. The bus was long and tall, a similar one parked nearby. One for managers and one for the actual band. This was it, no turning back now.

Tipping the driver, Law got out of the Cab and walked towards the first bus where he could see Mahlik as well as a few other staff members and four bodies clearly belonging to the band. Here goes nothing.

Kid was still exhausted by the time he and Killer got to the studio. He had drank far too much last night in preparation for the whole ‘meeting a new doctor’ thing. He couldn't sleep if he didn't drink, his mind still whirring about how poorly this could turn out. Of course now he regretted it, even if the hangover was on the tail end.

He stood between Killer and Wire outside of the Bus, his manager Mahlik going over the rules of the trip.

“Okay guys. You know the rules. I can call this off at any time and so can the new Doc. No fighting. No partying. No encores unless Killer is doing them, not Kid. We aren't doing meet and greets so don't go promising fans to meet up. No after bars. Lay off the drugs and alcohol till after the shows not before, it's pointless to ask you to knock it off entirely.

We will stay in hotels three times a week, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. That does not mean you get to go the whole week smelling like animals. Every morning we will fill up the water tanks so you guys can shower on the bus. I’m looking at you, Wire. And finally- don’t fight the doctor. Be nice. Don't act like wild animals and scare him off. You are lucky he said yes to signing up for this and if he leaves or gets hurt your tour is done. No arguments. Kid- are you even listening?”

Kid blinked, eyes turning back to look at an obviously annoyed Mahlik. He wasn’t listening, having zoned out, but could assume the most of it.

“Yeah yeah don’t kill the doctor. Got it.”

He does actually plan on trying not to hurt the new guy. But he also knew the reality of this. Not only was he incredibly protective of his pack, Killer was too. They both had their own violent tendencies to deal with, and the bus is only so big.

He connects eyes with Killer’s mask where he knew bright blue eyes hid. He was sure Killer could see the disguised worry in his eyes. The apprehension.

Kid was worried about how Killer would handle the new doctor more than about how he himself would handle it. But the time for worrying was over as Killers blonde fluffy ears and Heats gray fox ears both tilted, heads turning to watch as a cab pulled into the parking lot and a tall black haired man stepped out with a duffel bag.

The man was Tall, probably around Kids height with his boots on, skinny with jet black hair. As he came closer to the group who was completely ignoring Mahlik at this point, Kid could see golden piercings lining the man's ears and face, tan skin with sunken brown eyes heavy on the eyeliner. The duffel tossed over the man's shoulder didn’t look heavy, a simple black bag to match the black jacket, ripped black jeans, and black combat boots. At least the man looked like he could fit in instead of like a prick.

As the doctor approached Mahlik moved to the front with a smile and a wave, holding a hand out for a handshake. The other extended a hand in return, tattooed fingers making an appearance before quickly going into his pocket.

As the doctor spoke, Kid could hear the gravel of the other's deep voice. Not as deep as his own but enough to be noticeable. It had a slight smokers grate to it as well.

“My name is Doctor Trafalgar Waterlaw. Just call me Law. I’m not here to harass you over your health or for a new diagnosis. Just to keep track of medications and for immediate illness and injury. Just because I am a licensed surgeon does not mean I am doing surgery on a bus. So don't do anything crazy and we will get along just fine.”

Kid’s red eyes followed down the others form to the swishing spotted cat like tail. A hybrid like them. Snow leopard maybe? He could see the others sniffing the air and curiously noticed he couldn't smell anything. Doctor must wear a patch like him then.

Killer was the first to break the silence. Stepping forward.

“Names Killer. This is Kid, Wire, and Heat. I’ve already put all the meds and shit on the bus so whenever you’re ready.” Killer’s voice was tense and protective even if Kid knew Killer didn't mean to. But something about the presence of the doctor seemed to set the anxious man on edge.

“Let's get going then. No use waiting around.”