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When darkness falls over the deck of the Sunny, most of the crew is already initiating their night routines. Each of them have their own things that they like to do in private, and this is the best time for that — Nami perfecting her maps, Sanji doing meal prep, Chopper studying in the library. They’re inside in different rooms, and this is probably the quietest the Sunny can get, though there’s still the hum of a violin coming from the aquarium and the odd noise from the lower deck. A light breeze brushes the leaves of the tangerine trees, whispering secrets into the night. The air is cold even as it reaches Law’s lungs, stinging the inside of his nose and down his throat as he leans against the railing.
An hour earlier, the guys were drinking together on the deck. They brought out the sake and what was left of the food for the day, sat around it for a while and talked about whatever was on their minds until there was nothing left to eat. It’s one of those things that happen every now and then in the ship and that Law is starting to get used to, the simple routines slowly sinking into his mind and replacing the weirdness with familiarity. He wonders if this is normal and each of them felt this way when they first joined the crew or if there’s something fundamentally different with him, with the way his insides twist sometimes at the thought that this is okay — that he has nothing to worry about, not right now. At some point, Franky left to work on stuff, then Usopp and Sanji got up as well. Law doesn’t remember how he ended up standing to the side. He doesn’t suppose it matters.
It’s just him, Zoro and Luffy now. He keeps his eyes fixed on the stars as the other two laugh behind him, too lost in his own thoughts to chat with them. The Sunny has been sailing smoothly for a couple days, any sign of land long gone beyond the horizon — nothing but ocean for miles until it blends with the sky. He fiddles with the sleeves of his coat, pulls at a lose string by his thumb. This is almost… nice. It’s a strange feeling for Law, one so rusty he isn’t sure what to do with it, like he’s discovering a new state of being. He’s discovering peace. Zoro’s laugh is a rare occurrence in the heat of the day, but the night pulls it easily from his lips, a deep hearty sound that fills the gaps in the wood planks. No need to be serious when the whole world fades into dark blues and purples, the delicate shine of the crescent moon scattered by clouds giving the deck a soft silver glow. It’s a side of him that doesn’t come out often, one that surprised Law when he first caught a glimpse of it. He can’t help but think Luffy knew this about Zoro, the way he seems to know all other things. It makes sense, really. Maybe everything makes a little more sense at night.
Their chatter quiets down, eventually. Law snaps back to reality at the silence that has fallen over the deck, and he notices even the faraway violin stopped, leaving only the natural sounds of the wind and the sea. There’s some shuffling behind him, then Zoro’s voice cuts through the wind as he announces he’ll be taking off to the crow’s nest for the night watch. Law turns around just in time to see Zoro give him a head bow and hop on the ladder, while Luffy remains sprawled on the grass alone.
It’s not usual for the captain to be up this late; at least it hasn’t really happened in the time Law has spent with them so far. Luffy is bright and fast during the day, always moving or jumping around and talking loudly, laughing even louder. Sometimes it’s hard to keep track of him around the ship, arms stretching out and slingshotting the guy from one conversation to another. Luffy is anywhere the daylight reaches as if he’s in a competition with the Sun himself over who gets to rule the day — he might just be winning, wide smile stretching over his tanned skin and dark eyes unwilling to back down from a challenge. All that Law can do is uselessly scan the deck for Luffy at every hour, biting the inside of his cheek so he doesn’t ask, again, ‘have you seen Luffy?’ and gets a funny look and a head shake in response. There’s this unnamed feeling creeping around in the crevices of his heart during the day, and he hasn’t quite got used to it yet, isn’t sure if he should. But when the Sun sets and nighttime comes, Luffy is fast asleep in a stark contrast to his otherwise energetic self, body slumping over the mattress or even the floor, loose curls falling onto his face.
Today, Luffy is awake. It’s an odd sight in a particularly quiet night — Law has only ever seen him awake this late in the heat of the battle, adrenaline pumping through every cell of their bodies and into the air around them. He briefly wonders if this is another discovery he’s making, another thing that happens on occasion and he just wasn’t aware of, or if there’s some other reason. Maybe all that chatting kept him up, though Law doesn’t suppose Luffy would be one to have trouble sleeping. He sighs and turns away once again, stars blinking down at him.
It’s quiet for a long time, nothing but the lull of the waves hitting the wood. Law is not sure what time it is, but he isn’t tired — or he is tired, but that’s been true for so long that he doesn’t really know anything else. At this hour, the sky is a colorless blanket over the sea. He recognizes some of the constellations above, traces them with his eyes. Watching the stars is better than sleeping, at least for him. Safer, in a way that’s hard to explain. There aren’t any clouds tonight, he notices, and he breathes out in relief even though he should have nothing to worry about right now. But Law isn’t great at not worrying, never really was. He pulls down the brim of his hat when the wind moves it, an awkward strand of hair getting on his face. Law doesn’t take his eyes off the dark sky, though he assumes Luffy has already gone to bed at this point.
The whip of an arm proves him wrong before he can even complete the thought.
In a millisecond, Luffy is standing next to Law against the railing, looking like he’s been there the entire time except for the way his body wobbles with the impact. Law turns to face him, those round eyes fixed on his face without a word — then Luffy blinks slowly a few times and it’s clear that he’s sleepy. “Not going to bed?”
A tilt of his head, like a puppy hearing an odd sound. “Don’t wanna.”
“Hm.”
At the lack of response from the captain, Law taps his fingers against the railing, the soft thuds easing off the anxiety that the quiet instills on him. He was never one to talk much, never knowing what to say. Which is not usually a problem when he’s around Luffy, who can very easily talk for the both of them and seems to read Law’s mind when he doesn’t have the energy to say anything. Except he’s not talking now, and Law isn’t sure what to do with this sleepy version of Luffy — this small, wide eyed boy, with a slight furrow on his brows and bottom lip jutted out in a pout. There’s something on Luffy’s mind that he’s not saying, that much is obvious. Law doesn’t know how to ask, so he chooses to wait instead — Luffy always ends up saying what’s on his mind, anyway, this can’t be so different. His fingers tap on the wood at a quicker pace, following the rhythm of his nervous thoughts.
Luffy stares at Law in silence for an eternity, blinking slowly with the weight of his drowsiness. Dark eyes pierce through Law’s face as if they’re trying to see inside him, and he isn’t completely sure they can’t. He has the urge to look away, but something keeps him from moving. Luffy’s eyes slip away from his face and down his throat, his chest. His brows furrow deeper. The scar under his eye scrunches a little each time he blinks, and it’s endearing. His attention doesn’t waver for a second — there might be a hole in Law’s chest now, with how much Luffy’s eyes are burning into him, but he stays still until the other finally draws a breath and opens his mouth, “How does it work?”
“How does what-”
“The heart thing,” he says, simply.
Law takes a breath, fingers pausing against the wood. He raises a brow and waits a beat for some kind of elaboration, but the captain seems satisfied with his sentence. The heart thing. Of course he has a clue what it refers to, and he’s not surprised that it would come up in conversation — it’s more surprising that it took this long to come up. He can’t be sure what Luffy is thinking of it, though, and that thought makes his shoulders tense. He swallows, “What about it?”
“You just take it out and-”
“Yeah.” His nails dig into the wood and a paint chip comes off. It isn’t such a complicated process, though it took a lot of practice to perfect it — years before he could even properly move objects, much longer until he managed to achieve this neat little trick — but he doubts Luffy is interested in the boring details of the many failed attempts he had to go through to hold a heart in his hands.
He leans his side onto the railing more, feet shuffling softly against the grass. Luffy is only barely lit up by the silver glow of the moon, the brim of the straw hat peeking out from his back. He isn’t wearing a jacket in this cold, probably hasn’t even noticed the cool wind whistling in their ears. Law shoves his hands in the pockets of his coat, trying not to twitch as Luffy eyes him even more curiously, if that’s even possible. Except there’s something else besides curiosity. Something that feels like hesitation — no, it can’t be that. Luffy doesn’t hesitate. And why would he, about such a simple subject? Law’s powers are no secret. They can be hard to wrap your head around, and some of it isn’t known yet, but it’s decidedly not a secret.
Luffy smiles then, a subtle thing in the night, and Law is forced to look beyond his shoulders at the vague shape of the stairs. This is a strange conversation, if he can even call it that — not enough words were said for it to even be one, being honest. But Luffy is looking at him in that odd way, and Law thinks he’s finally about to clear up what’s been bugging him this whole time.
“Can I hold it?” What?
Law freezes. His face contorts into what probably looks like irritation, though that’s not what he’s going for. He doesn’t know what he is going for, if he’s being honest, but he’s learned very quickly that Luffy could care less what face he makes — he always seems to know what Law is really feeling. Which is a thought he would rather not dwell on for too long. His heart contracts awkwardly in his chest and he avoids Luffy’s gaze once again. Did he mean his own or… “Yours?”
“No, silly. Yours.”
What the fuck?
Law’s heart twists in his chest under Luffy’s attention. It’s a bad idea. A terrible one, at that. He should roll his eyes, say no, thank you, and turn back around; maybe physically leave and go to bed. It’s late, it would make sense. He wouldn’t need to explain it if he didn’t want to, would never have to deal with the consequences of Luffy holding his heart. What kind of request even is that? The thing would betray Law immediately, it should not be trusted — could never be trusted, not around Luffy. Hearts are fragile organs, too. One wrong move and he could get hurt. It’s a bad idea, and he should say that to Luffy now.
Law doesn’t have to oblige to everything he gets asked. In fact, he’s quite the stubborn guy. He never does something just because somebody asked him to. He shouldn’t do this, either.
But Luffy never asks questions, never hesitates, and Law… Well, Law has a hard time saying no to him. He’s pinned down by some invisible force as he lets Luffy look at him like he’s a bug found under a rock on the ground, an expectant gleam in his eyes. They haven’t left Law’s chest. Law thinks he might be trying to carve a hole into him with his mind — he’s not completely sure it wouldn’t be possible; hopes he won’t have to find out so soon. His tongue is heavy in his mouth as he tries to process this. Luffy wants to hold his heart in his hands. Why? He wishes he could read Luffy’s mind, or at least that Luffy couldn’t read his so easily.
Against his better judgment he breathes out, “Yeah, okay.”
Luffy’s face lights up and Law is sure this is his last day on Earth. He sighs and extends a hand out in a practiced movement, palm down hovering between his chest and Luffy’s. His gaze locks on those round eyes, dark and sharper than they’d been minutes ago. He’ll regret this in the morning, but that thought loses importance the longer Luffy’s gaze lingers on him. He focuses on the air around them, cool breeze brushing their clothes. Pulls these particles, fingers flexing as the soft glow of a room appears between them — small at first, a shiny marble of concentrated energy. It pulses and starts expanding from the tips of his fingers until it engulfs them both, light softening as it grows until it’s almost transparent.
He takes a steadying breath, the room breathing with him. The wooden rails buzz lowly as it touches them, a sound only Law can hear even though it’s so clear to him — every movement echoes in his ears, every blade of grass ruffled by his shoes when he straightens up and away from the railing. Years he’s been doing this — thirteen, to be exact — and it’s still overwhelming at first, much more so with the way Luffy is quietly watching him, face lit up in a silvery blue. Law closes his eyes, then, shifting his focus away from Luffy’s expectant ones and tuning out all else as he centers his attention on his own chest. He turns his palm upward, reaching past his sternum and through the space between his lungs until he can feel it. After that, muscle memory takes over. He mutters ‘shambles’ under his breath, out of habit more than anything, and shifts his fingers as if he’s pulling on an invisible string tying his heart to his chest. There’s a dull pressure, his insides shifting at once. It takes only a second, and then his hand is heavier where it hangs in the air. He blinks down at his heart through the spots dancing in his vision, pushes the dizziness down and prays that Luffy won’t notice how weirdly the thing is beating.
The pink flesh is wet, covered in thick veins that thin out towards the apex. Blood flows fast around it, coming out of the aorta in small gushes before disappearing into the nether — into Law’s body, he remembers. This is his heart, after all. There’s a movement in his peripheral, and he lifts his gaze to see Luffy, eyes impossibly round now, so big and bright they could be lighting up the entire deck. He takes a step closer, lowering his face until he’s so close to Law’s stretched out hand that his breath fans over the organ — it squeezes, beating visibly faster, and Law cusses himself out in his head. This isn’t supposed to happen, but there’s nowhere to run now. Not that he can run when Luffy whispers a low “Woah…” right onto his heart, the tingling sensation running down his spine and making the thing beat even weirder. Luffy’s lips stretch in a smile, and Law cringes. His hand trembles where it’s stretched out — he’s not entirely sure if the pull in his stomach is the same usual sensation he gets when his heart is outside his body or if it’s the way Luffy is examining him like he wants to add Law to his collection. He’s hoping that if Luffy has noticed the awkwardness, that he at least will let it go unmentioned, let Law keep his dignity — if anything — when he walks out of this ship in a couple weeks.
He watches, horrified, as Luffy raises his own hands and slowly cradles Law’s heart in them, thumb resting on the ventricular groove as if it belongs there. He lifts it up carefully — too carefully — and straightens up, curious eyes fixed on the thing. Law tries not to flinch at how warm the touch is, how he can feel every minor shift. It took him long enough to get used to Luffy’s touches when they were limited to the outside of his body; the way he grabs Law’s wrist to drag him around, how he drapes himself over Law’s shoulder when he’s doing something, the pushes, the random hugs. He has learned that Luffy is a very physical guy, and he doesn’t seem phased by Law’s annoyed expression, specifically crafted to hide the way his nerves light up every time he’s around the other captain.
He’s brought back to reality when Luffy shifts his weight and places the heart in one hand, then the other. His lip juts out as he moves his hand up and down, tilting his head as he does it, then blinks back at Law with furrowed brows, “Thought it’d be heavier.”
There’s a joke he won’t say at the tip of his tongue. Instead, he just clicks it, “Shouldn’t be.”
Then Luffy raises the devious thing against the shine of the moon and the stars, the deep shadow cast by the aorta softening as it reflects the blues and grays of the night. The cold air snakes around them, crawling over his exposed heart, but Luffy is so warm around him that it’s all he feels — it emanates from him as it always does, the Sun shining even this deep into the night, touching him so softly as if he could break. He’s never seen Luffy be this gentle before, doesn’t understand why. Thinks maybe he’s going insane. He watches as his own heart squeezes and contracts in Luffy’s hand, and he can’t decide if the thing looks like it’s trying to escape or not — maybe it likes this, being this close to the boy, so close in fact that eyelashes brush against the arteries when he blinks. Luffy’s eyes are so big, so pretty, and he distantly notes he’s probably falling harder than before. There’s nothing he can do about it at this point, so he closes his eyes again and tries to pretend this is all a strange dream.
“Can I…?”
“Sure.”
He hears Luffy giggle, a golden sound he can taste at the back of his tongue. It’s a sound that plagues his dreams, follows him around no matter what he does — it reminds him of things he doesn’t think he deserves, never did. Luffy laughs like the world is a funny thing at his fingertips, like he has nothing to worry about and neither should you. Law used to think it was naive. He used to think it was stupid, that Luffy couldn’t have seen enough of the world to be laughing like that, but he was wrong; the guy has witnessed it all, and he’s still laughing. And maybe he does have the world at his fingertips, because here he is holding Law’s heart in his hands, giggling like he just had a wonderful idea, and Law does nothing but stand there with his eyes closed.
His insides are buzzing as if Luffy has his hands straight in his chest, his ribs, pulling at this stomach. It tickles in a way that makes him think something else is going on. He doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t want to know what Luffy plans on doing with his heart, would probably let him do anything he wants. It’s not like Luffy is going to try to kill him, right? So he should be fine. He should be safe, here. The thought sinks into his bones, heartbeat feeling nearly regular now — enough that someone without medical knowledge won’t know the difference. Nothing bad is going to happen that hasn’t already happened, so Law relaxes and allows Luffy to have his moment of curiosity in the dead of the night. His heart will be fine — it has been, even with every look Luffy gives him like he’s some plaything. He’s nothing but a bug under Luffy’s gaze, one he stares at innocently and then walks away. His heart will be fine, he has survived this long.
His heart feels… warmer. Unnaturally so. It’s strange that he can even feel something like that, even stranger that he’s noting it just now — it means something has changed, or at least that’s as far as he can guess with his eyes still closed, right hand gripping the railing. He can still feel every molecule within his room, although he’s been fairly distracted from them, except trying to focus his senses on Luffy sends a shock wave through his spine, like he was struck by lightning. It’s odd, and as much as he wants to keep ignoring it — it’s just a dream, nothing but a dream —, curiosity gets the best of him. He opens his eyes to the sight of Luffy holding the thing up to his face, way closer than before, his mouth open and tongue lolled out against his right atrium.
Licking the heart was not in Law’s list of things Luffy might do.
Luffy’s eyes are closed now, long lashes contrasted against his cheeks. The moonlight reflects the slope of his nose and catches on the ragged corners of the scar under his left eye. He has his tongue on Law’s heart, saliva running down the side now, and he can absolutely feel the way the organ twitches under his muscle as he laps it. He licks it one more time, a long strip from the apex to the aorta, and his brows furrow slightly like he’s trying to decide what to think of the taste — as if Law is a piece of meat he has never tried before. He might as well be. Law is lightheaded. His muscles have turned to jelly and he can’t move, mind slow to catch up with his body. This is his last day on Earth, for sure. He’s going to die here, heart in Luffy’s mouth.
It can’t get much worse than this, Law thinks rather stupidly because a second later — as if he can read Law’s mind — Luffy opens his eyes to lock them on Law’s and grins at him, teeth glistening under the silver light. There’s a dark glint to his look, predatory in a way he has only seen mid-battle, like he knows exactly what he’s doing — knows Law is helpless against him, this feeling overflowing as he struggles for air. Luffy must know with the way he lets the moment stretch out, gaze following Law’s smallest movements, grin widening when the treacherous thing starts racing in his hand, the adrenaline making Law dizzy at once. He’s sure this can’t be real; it has to be some kind of dream or hallucination caused by sleep deprivation.
“Tastes funny!” He’s licking his lips now, like a maniac. Like he hasn’t just flipped Law’s entire world upside down, ruined his life forever. He is barely holding himself on both feet now, Luffy’s eyes searching between him and the organ pumping in his hand — he brings a finger to it, tracing the arteries before staring at the fluid on his hand. Law makes a noise in response, something akin to a grunt. Luffy’s grin grows even wider and he asks a question, but it doesn’t sound like one at all. “Could I take a bite?”
“No,” he has the presence of mind to say. “You’ll kill me.”
“You’re not that weak,” he laughs. He laughs and then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, “I’m not letting you die.”
I’m not letting you die.
It’s too honest for Law’s ears, that unnamed feeling constricting his throat as he stares back at Luffy, searches his face for any sign that he knows what this is doing to him. All he finds is the look of a man that doesn’t lie, and that strange hesitation from before is nowhere to be found when he takes his focus away from Law’s strained expression and carves his teeth into Law’s heart.
The last thing he sees before his vision goes white is the blood staining Luffy’s front teeth, the soft flesh dipping under them. This is it. He’s dying at Luffy’s hand. He’ll be torn apart and cut into pieces so Luffy can analyze every little piece of him, study every cell of his body and categorize him like one of his beetles. And Luffy is gonna know — there’s no way he doesn’t already know — exactly how Law feels about him. That strange feeling that has become so familiar, so comfortable the past couple of weeks. He’s been particularly good at refusing to acknowledge it, pretending it didn’t affect him. After this though… He can’t keep pretending. He can’t even know what’ll happen next. What is Luffy even thinking of all this?
His legs give out. Law vaguely registers a familiar noise and there’s an arm stretching and looping around his waist one, two, three times and Luffy holds him up without a strain. Law’s heart nearly stops at that. His knees are weak beneath him — if Luffy lets him go, he’ll be on the ground in a blink. But he won’t.
Law wants to say a million things and none at all. There are so many questions stuck in his throat, but he doesn’t have the words to free them or the courage to get answers. All he does is stare at Luffy, big brown eyes and moonbathed lashes, smooth arms around his middle. He’s not sure he can even talk right now. He doesn’t really want to think about what will happen when the Sun rises tomorrow and makes Luffy golden again, when he can’t look at the guy without thinking about his heart in Luffy’s hand and how it looks like it belongs in there.
“I think it likes me.” Luffy grins, like the devil he is.
“I like you, idiot,” he chokes out. It’s not a confession — Luffy doesn’t need one — but it’s all he can muster right now, harsh tone weakly attempting to cover up the fondness underneath.
“I know that! Oh. It jumped.”