Chapter Text
Kid
A lot of people classified Kid as ‘stupid’, someone who did things without considering the consequences, he always took ‘live in the moment’ too literally. So, when he asked Law if he was free for a date, and Law said yes, Kid’s world began to crumble. Now what? He wished so desperately to have kept his quote unquote relationship a mere hookup because now, he had to actually impress him. Not just anyone, Kid had to impress Trafalgar fucking Law. Law who drove a custom Audi RS7, Law who wore solid gold earrings, chains and rings, Law who hung out in the VIP skybox of the most expensive club in Dressrosa, Law who was the son of a Donquixote brother. And what was Kid? He worked sixteen hour shifts at a car shop, he barely made minimum wage, he lived with three roommates in a house meant for one person, he wore second-third-fourth hand clothes, most were DIY-ed, not because he was a true punk, but because every cent went to rent, groceries and bills. What was he supposed to do? He didn’t even know what Law liked, what food he preferred, what he would want for a date? And…
Oh fuck, Kid stopped in his tracks, only a few feet from his front door as the horror dawned on him, I don’t even have the fucking dad’s approval. It had slipped Kid’s mind that Corazon’s only words to him were ‘I just wanted to let you know that you’re not good enough for Law, no one is.’ Corazon clearly didn’t fuck with Kid, his friends, his home, or anything about him. So why did he fucking ask Law on a date? And why the fuck did Law say yes?! Couldn't he have just slapped Kid across the face, laughed at him and gone back to class? Why did he smirk at him and mutter ‘I’m free on Saturday after eight, don’t be late picking me up’ before strutting off? The asshole had to have known that Kid was completely and utterly clueless, right? That the most luxury Kid could afford was a pizza and a six pack of PBR, that his ‘first dates’ were crust punk shows where someone always ended up hospitalized, that Kid fucking sucked at romance. Man, he wished he was Wire, that motherfucker wrote fifteen page love letters for his crushes, or at least Heat, cause he bought flowers. But did Law like flowers? Fuck, fuck, fuck! “Why did I do this to myself?” Kid groaned, only to be startled by Killer’s voice, who was smoking on the porch.
“Do what to yourself? What did you do this time?” His hair was disheveled like always, and he was in a loose tank top and boxers, his cigarette barely halfway burned.
Kid walked up to the creaky porch fence, “nothing, I just got work tomorrow, and like… ugh, I don’t know,” he looked up, and Killer took the hint, flipping his cigarette and tucking it in between Kid’s lips. “I sometimes wonder if I shoulda stayed in school, finished college or some shit, maybe I would’ve been better off.” he said after an exhale of smoke.
Killer hummed in acknowledgement, taking the cigarette back. That was always an unspoken agreement between the four of them– that Kid had more potential than he displayed, that he could’ve gone to college or trade school, and been a real mechanic, not someone who just worked without a degree because the Franky House didn’t want to pay for regulations. Not Killer though, he only had the basic skills to work fast food places, nothing for college or university; the same went for Heat and Wire, they all always wondered why Kid stuck around. “This ain’t something you talk about often, what gives?”
A fork in the road, because telling Killer the truth would mean that the only reason Kid was questioning his potential was because of Law, and that he wanted to be on his level. But could he even lie? How could he lie to Killer, they’d grown up together, he would see right through Kid. “It’s stupid,” Kid settled, his shoulders slumping as he walked up the rickety steps, “I always question myself when it’s for other people, but I’m also egotistical as fuck, nothing makes sense.”
With a side eye, Killer watched him walk to the door, and he sighed, following him. “You’re not egotistical, Kid, that’s your whole problem. You pretend to be to make yourself all big,” he understood that Kid was really not in the mood for a lecture, but he did it anyway, “is this about the guy from the club?” He saw Kid physically cringe as he pulled his leather jacket, the clinking of his chains the only noise between them as Kid slumped onto the couch. So it was about the guy, obviously. With a sigh, Killer sat down on the couch across from Kid, “Kid, what did you do?”
“I asked him out,” Kid crumbled almost right away, wiping at his face in regret, “but like… I don’t know why I fucking did that, dude, I know nothing about this guy. I don’t know what he likes, he’s filthy fucking rich, he’s not easily impressed, I have nothing to show but a good fuck,” there was a long few moments of silence between them and it was interrupted by a sigh from Kid, “and even worse… I don’t know why he said yes. I’m starting to think he only said yes to see how badly I fuck up.” It honestly was a possibility, the more he thought about it, the more he realized he knew nothing about Law.
Law
“Law?” The door clicking open with the jangle of keys made Corazon look up from his papers, “welcome home, how was class?” he asked, watching Law drop his bag by the kitchen island. Typically, everyone in the Donquixote clan lived in the estate that Doflamingo owned, and for a while, so did Law and Corazon, but after countless… issues, Corazon decided that it would be best for Law to have his own place. Obviously, Doflamingo didn’t approve, but it was becoming impossible for Law to live in the house, so Corazon offered to move out too (which was just a front, because he was rarely home, so the apartment was basically Law’s).
Law kicked off his boots, pulling out his earbuds, “class was fine, I had to leave the lab early to help Penguin though so I’m tired,” he explained, clicking off his music and putting his phone back into his pocket, “so I might go and sleep for a bit.”
“Sleep? It’s almost nine though, won’t that mess with your sleep schedule?” He paused, watching Law ponder his words, before he spoke up again, “ah, nevermind, you should sleep as much as you can.” he encouraged. Law’s insomnia had been an issue since he was seven, and for a while, Corazon thought that it was just difficulty adjusting to his new life. No kid ever adjusted easily to being adopted, but after the sleeping issues persisted into his teenage years, Corazon had him put on medicine, not that it helped much, Law still struggled immensely. So, seeing him asleep in that redhead’s bed was surprising, and not in a good way; just who was this guy, and why was Law comfortable enough to fall asleep in his bed when he struggled to sleep in his own? When Law disappeared into his room, Corazon turned back to his work, but his mind was still occupied, because well, it was rare for Law to see a guy more than once. Corazon wasn’t new to how Law got around, and he was fine with it, as long as Law kept safe, but typically, a hookup was a one-time thing, Law wasn’t someone who was interested in the same person for too long.
In his room, Law dropped onto his bed, letting out a sigh, followed by a yawn. When he felt his bed dip, he sat up, “hi, Bepo, how’s my baby?” he cooed, pulling the polar bear cub into his arms– yes, they were that rich, that for Law’s birthday, Corazon got him a baby polar bear as a gift. Illegal? Yes. adorable? Fuck yes! Law was toying with Bepo’s ears and petting him, and it was then that a thought that he had been trying to put off came crawling back. “Why did I say yes?” he asked Bepo, toying with his ears. Truth to be told, Law didn’t know why he said yes to a date with Kid– it wasn’t like Corazon would approve, but even then, Law’s standards were so much higher than some punk mechanic who lived with three roommates and ate cold pizza. Law always put himself on a pedestal, he was untouchable, unreachable, so damn desirable, settling was the one thing he didn’t do. He had grown up with countless people, men, women, neither, and in between trailing after him, begging him for a chance; as a kid he had playground notes of “I have a crush on you”, as a teenager he had countless prom invitations all thrown in the trash, and now, as an adult, constant desperate attempts for his attention. But no one ever stuck, they were all tryhards, and more importantly, ran the other way with their tail between their legs the second they laid eyes on either Doflamingo or Corazon, but Law cut them some slack, no one wanted to end up as a torso in the river, now did they?
But why Kid? He was everything Corazon warned him about: brash, aggressive with bad habits, shitty living conditions, with equally shitty friends. Kid smelled like beer, nicotine, metal and car oil. He wore tattered clothes that dragged on the floor when he walked, and chains that made him sound like machinery when he moved. Every other word out of his mouth was a cuss word, he had no impulse control and was messy (seriously, his room was putrid). There wasn’t a thing about Kid that was good, not a thing that Law could show off, especially in front of Corazon– but now, he had a date. Saturday, 8 p.m., in front of the Donquixote estate.
Kid
Saturday, 8 p.m., in front of the Donquixote estate. Ah fuck, this was actually fucking happening. Killer had forced Heat and Wire into helping Kid get ready for a date, a date which was the nicest “restaurant” that Kid could actually afford (which basically meant that it was a restaurant that Law wouldn’t even spit in). Kid’s idea of a date typically was a metal show followed by vomiting from the mosh pit, but he couldn’t even imagine Law in such a circle, so he actually followed Killer’s advice. That was why he was standing at the gate of the Donquixote estate in a simple black t-shirt (“no Slayer shirts” Killer had said), his cargo pants and boots. His only jewelry was a chain around his neck, not heavy spikes or clanking metal– oh, and his makeup was minimal too. Wire had kindly done his makeup, light brown eyeliner and very light red lipstick, no heavy black liner and lipstick so red it could’ve been blood. Kid didn’t feel like himself as he double triple quadruple checked the address as if the monument of a mansion wasn’t obvious in front of him. He sighed, wiping at his face in pure, unbridled anxiety, stuttering around the gates, his hand refusing to press the buzzer. “Come on, stop being a bitch!” he hissed to himself, practically punching the buzzer, trying to gas himself up.
There was a short spark of static, “can I help you?”
Fuck! “Y-yeah, I’m here for Trafalgar– uh, Law, we have uh… we’re hanging out.”
“With Law?”
Kid’s heart skipped a beat, “yes.”
There was some rustling and unintelligible conversation before the buzzer loudly beeped and the large gates began to retract, “come on in, Dellinger will wait with you while Law comes down.”
Dellinger, Kid repeated in his head as he began to walk down the large garden-like entrance way, the gravel crackling under his boots. The mansion was something Kid would see on TV, never in real life; it looked like it could be a museum, and Law just… lived here? Suddenly, Kid wondered what he must have thought walking into Kid’s bungalow that he shared with three other people. In front of the mansion’s main entrance, in between the marble columns, stood a blonde teenager in a white baseball cap with horns, who waved at Kid like they had been best friends for life. “Hey, are you–”
“Dellinger! I’ll wait with you inside while he gets ready.”
Kid followed Dellinger inside, feeling his breath get stuck in his throat as they walked through the hallway that led to massive bronzed double doors, and when Dellinger pushed one open, they were in the foyer. The foyer was two stories high with a stained glass skylight, the moonlight wasn’t visible, not with the chandelier (that was probably bigger than Kid’s entire bedroom) that was hung from the middle of it. Dellinger’s heels clicked against the marble floor as he led Kid past the wooden, spiral stairway and to another set of doors. This time, the doors were white with slits of glass, and Dellinger dragged the door to the side, walking inside. There was a large circular tea table that looked like it was made of pearl, with matching chairs. Dellinger took a seat on top of the table, looking Kid up and down. This is so awkward. Kid wanted to just go home, to admit defeat and cry himself to sleep for making a clown of himself.
Not that he could, because the door slid open again, “Eustass-ya,” Kid could’ve sworn he broke his neck from how fast he turned around, “come on, let’s go.” Bored as always, Law was in a white tank top, his tan lines of wearing a t-shirt visible along his tattoos, with the same flared jeans and heeled boots. It felt unfair, Kid had worked his ass off to look different, to look better for their actual first date, but Law was wearing basically the exact same shit as always! He didn’t wait for Kid to follow him, instead walking out of the tea room, as Kid practically ran after him after mumbling a vague thanks to Dellinger. When Dellinger wished them a good time on their date, Law flipped him off without looking, instead leading Kid down a different hallway. This hallway led to a staircase that went to the underground garage, and Law stopped at a completely different car, a pink Lamborghini Revuelto. “Geek out if you want,” Law said with a subtle smile, unlocking it.
A fucking Lamborghini Revuelto. Kid couldn’t fucking believe it, “and I thought your Audi was insane. Do you have any idea what a monster this is? She’s a V12 hybrid monster! We're talking 6.5 liter aspirated V12, plus three electric motors!” He excitedly ran a hand along the top of the car, “holy shit, she’s slick, the whole body’s just screaming downforce, she can go from zero to sixty in less than five seconds!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Law tossed the key at Kid, “you gonna drive it or what?”
Kid must have heard that wrong, “m-me?” when Law nodded, Kid shook his head right back, “L-Law, I can’t– this… this isn’t a car, this is… this is like, a fuckin’ jet, I can’t–”
“You don’t expect me to drive myself to my first date, do you?” The little shit. He leaned over the roof of the car, the same glazed look of boredom in his eyes as he watched Kid stutter and fumble with the key, “come on, it doesn’t bite, Eustass-ya, it’s a fucking car.” He snapped, opening the door and sliding inside, slamming it shut.
For a few seconds, Kid pondered his options. The safe choice (Killer in a halo and wings on his right shoulder) was to politely decline, explain that driving a luxury car he didn’t own was too big of a responsibility, and offer to pay for an Uber instead, which would probably lead to Law laughing at him and never calling again. The dangerous choice (Heat and Wire in devil horns on his left shoulder) was to get in, ride that beautiful beast until the tank read ‘E’, which would get him both the experience of driving a Lamborghini and get him laid. “Fuck.” he groaned, opening the driver’s door and getting in.