it begins here.
i.
It's like the old adage goes: 'Curiosity killed the cat'.
Such a waste, he thinks, backed up against the wall of an abandoned tea export company, blood trickling down his jawline. Humans are naturally curious creatures, and life is anything but simple. After all, curiosity is the drive that keeps Eustass Kid going.
Late afternoon casts fire across the mossy ground, and Kid drinks the scene before him in, watching, waiting, calculating. He can't stop staring. His heart thuds loudly against his ribcage, muscles itching to fight, and he sees the man miss a step, sword arching too far right, feet too close together.
He knows now that the blue light will expand. He knows that he will teleport himself away. He knows the Warlord will expect it, and turn, beam searing the ground as he moves.
Kid also knows that deep inside that Warlord, there is a bolt, and though a small part of him wonders why, the larger part of him thrums excitedly, peeling off the wall and holding his hand out before him. There is a pull, a solid grounding, and the Warlord materialises in his mind as a collection of beams and welds and wires, accompanied with a soft tick tick-ing and resonate hum.
Kid holds there for a second, absently aware of the presence that appears in his periphery, seemingly out of nowhere.
"Eustass-ya—"
He drowns out the voice, mapping Kuma, pouring through the data before him. The motherboard hums beneath the control point of his chest, and Kid tracks across and up. There's the camera, then the speech module. A part of him begrudgingly admires the robot—ingenious, really, how alive it seems—but it doesn't last long as Kuma turns to them without any hesitation, opening his mouth to ready the beam once more.
Beside him, Trafalgar bristles, his Room expanding with a flicker. "Fuck—"
"Don't," Kid orders.
"You're too slow, Eustass-ya."
Trafalgar disappears with a blink, sword slicing through the ground and unbalancing him temporarily. Kid curses. The beam is blinding, but he gathers his balance, holds his focus, tries to ignore the idiot doctor as he hurls barrels and plants and people at the Warlord.
Battery, heat exchange, engine, polymer—
No, must be down—gyro, sensors—
Ah.
He finds it, wedged between a yellow wire and a copper beam.
"Eustass-ya, hurry up!"
Law has this dangerous edge to his voice, tinged with panic and annoyance, and Kid can't hold back his smirk. With the crook of one finger he focuses his power, locking onto that point inside Kuma and twisting the bolt left. It eases out smoother than he hoped, and he lets out a satisfied huff, grin spreading across his features.
"Oi, Trafalgar, you can—"
And then his world explodes.
It is, at this point, that Kid indulges in his curiosity. He had been that one milli-second too slow, which is ironic, really, when he thinks on it. Because if he'd been any earlier, then he wouldn't have been saved by Trafalgar Law, and if he hadn't been saved by Trafalgar Law, then…
Well.
He lands with a heavy thud in the grass, teleported some metres away, sprawled out on his back. In the distance there's an excited 'Woop!' from his first mate, and the unmistakeable sound of a machine dismantling and exploding. More cheers fill the air, and it takes Kid a moment, maybe two, of blinking before his blurring vision starts to resemble something other than stars.
Law's smirking, smug face swims into view. He hovers over him, leaning heavily on his nodachi, which is buried threateningly in the grass next to Kid's face. Kid's eyes flick to the side, tracking the temper of the severe sword with mild caution.
"Well done, Eustass-ya," Law drawls. Then, "You almost killed us all."
Kid hitches himself up on his elbows, closing the tense gap between them. He scowls. "What, couldn't do it yourself, Trafalgar? Had to wait for me to save your pretty ass?"
Law's golden eyes dance underneath his hat, full of mirth, and he simply grins.
It's creepy.
"Fuck off," Kid mutters after a beat, reaching up and shoving the doctor aside.
His hands find the ground and he shakily pulls up to a stand, slowly activating every muscle to make sure nothing is broken or pulled. Law watches him calmly, his two crewmates and the bear running up to stand diligently behind him. Kid holds his gaze as he stretches his arm across his chest, momentarily distracted by the trail of blood that drips from Law's painted fingers, staining the grass.
The Archipelago is unnaturally quiet.
The aftermath of battle is not something Kid isn't used too, but this one is different somehow, pregnant with waiting. For what, he doesn't know, but it makes him cautious nonetheless.
Law's eyes hold him still, and Kid is sure he has forgotten to breathe.
"I heard that there's an Admiral lurking around." Killer steps up beside him, breaking his thoughts, and Kid can practically feel the tension leaking out of him. He looks from him to Law, then back again. "We shouldn't stick around."
"Agreed." Law sheathes his weapon and shoulders it. He turns, casting a private glance back towards Kid, smirk gracing the corners of his lips. "I heard that there's a bar not far from here. Once the Navy disappear, it will be interesting to see who remains."
And with that, he is gone, leading his crew down and away through the bubbles of the island. Killer says something mocking, but Kid barely hears it, watching as Law fades from view, the pooling blood on the grass darkening with the sun.
ii.
What is most curious, is that Trafalgar Law is still there the next day by the time Kid wakes.
It is mid-morning, sunlight streaming through the dirty window of their room. The rival captain stands just off to the side near a rickety bookcase, in all his stoic grace, slightly hunched with his hand splayed open in the air before him.
He crooks one finger, then two: now three.
Kid stares at the even rise and fall of Law's bare chest, tattoos rippling in the sunlight. The morning haze leaves his mind blissfully empty. Sounds of the bar below wash over him, all laughter and jeers, and he starts to lose himself in the smells of the street that drift through the open window. Coffee, bacon, fresh bread… and something else. A deeper smell. Spearmint and spice.
Law jerks suddenly, golden eyes snapping towards him. "What."
Kid blinks. This is a wholly new experience to him unto itself. Most of the casual lays Kid has sought in the past are well on their way by the time he wakes. Whether it is out of regret, or they simply have somewhere better to be, he never cared to discover.
One-night stands are fun.
Simple.
Kid likes simple.
"What do you mean 'what'?"
Law cocks his head curiously to the side. "You're staring, Eustass-ya."
Kid instinctively looks away, but unsurprisingly there are little distractions to find in 100 beli room, and he is back to staring after a beat. He watches, transfixed, as each finger slowly bends with purpose. The blue Room expands and contracts, centring around the surgeon like a laser. Kid feels it hum in the air, sending a cool temor up his spine—not quite uncomfortable, but not pleasant.
"One might think," Law drawls lazily, smirk touching his lips, "that you're looking for a weakness."
Kid snorts. "Like I need a weakness to kick your ass."
No reply. Just a slightly unnerving glare that fades into a smile.
"What are you doing anyway?"
His question thankfully turns the surgeon's eyes away and back to his own outstretched hand. For as much as Kid liked last night and the prospect of more, Law has a look about him that is just a little too intense and a little too… insane for him to be wholly comfortable with yet.
Which is rich, coming from someone like Eustass Kid.
"Exercises," Law replies simply, continuing his methodical movements.
"Right."
Maybe it's just Kid, but his exercising tends to be a lot more vigorous.
As if reading his mind, Law explains, "My devil fruit drains much of my stamina and reflexes. I hope that by forcing it, it will adapt my body to prolonged use of Room, like an athlete training or a boxer sparring."
"Huh."
"You sound sceptical, Eustass-ya."
Law's tone is goading, as if encouraging Kid to challenge him. He ignores the bait, though. Mainly because Kid doesn't exactly feel like explaining to a doctor, rival captain, and potential… something, that his 'complex' devil fruit makes metal come to him, and makes it fly away, and that's about it.
So, Kid just shrugs. Law shoots him a coy smile in response, eyes dancing in the morning light.
Kid doesn't like the way his stomach lurches at that, heart pausing mid-beat.
"I was thinking we could grab some breakfast and coffee," Law says casually, returning to his exercising. "Unless you have somewhere to be?"
"Nup."
Kid knows he sounds like a dickhead and an idiot, but that's really all he can muster now, tongue all tied and twisted and stomach summersaulting like a circus act. He stumbles out of bed, body moving in well-rehearsed actions, as he grabs his clothes and dresses deliberately.
He tries to ignore the way Law's eyes track his every move, that blue dome still pulsing; and he tries to ignore how much he likes it, the Surgeon of Death, wholly focused on him alone.
He really does try.
iii.
A breakthrough. Finally.
Kid presses his palms into his eyes, rubbing them gingerly in the hopes they'll refocus, throwing absent 'yeah's and 'nah's where appropriate at the transponder snail to his side. His workbench is a mess of shattered log pose's, overfilled notepads, coffee-stained mugs, beer bottles and tools—the guilty remains of his past week with little-to-no sleep. He's sure at this point he could rival Law with his brooding, insomniac vibe.
He stifles a yawn, smiling vaguely at the one intact log pose before him, two needles pointing steadily, and the last, whirling like a spinning top. It had been quite some work, ruining the pose like this. Requiring a steady control of his power, Kid pooled his energy into the environment around him, twisting the magnetic field. There was much hypothesising, and back-tracking, double processing and cursing. What he had, arrogantly, assumed would be easy, had turned into a laborious week-long task, holed up on an abandoned island with an incredibly agitated, ready-to-fight-literally-anything, first mate.
He envied his crew, partying still on Sabaody, without Killer to hover over them like an overprotective mother panther.
"Eustass-ya." Law jolts Kid out of his thoughts, the den-den mirroring his frown. "Are you listening?"
No. "Yes."
Of course, he doesn't buy it, and Kid can hear the faintest smirk in his voice when he asks, "What are you thinking about?"
What an odd question. What an oddly personal question. This isn't like them. Their relationship is in and out, hot and cold—there is never any warmth, never any comfort. Law has not, and Kid thought he never would, care about what he was thinking. In fact, more than once, the Surgeon has commented that he was certain Kid thinks nothing at all.
This is weird.
Kid is sure this is where he should reply with something romantic, or witty, or intelligent. Maybe Law will even laugh, and they'll continue talking until midnight, seas apart but as close as the lovers can be. That's what they do in those shitty romance books that Heat reads, right? A little bit of flirting with banter, and then next minute, they're making love or some shit in the mountains.
"Eustass-ya," comes the Northern drawl. "You seem occupied."
The image of him leaning over Law and ploughing into pristine white snow, his skin searing hot in the cold of a winter mountain, burns into Kid's mind, and he speaks without realising he's doing it:
"I'm thinking about fucking you."
The moment shatters.
There is a long, agonising silence on the other end of the line, the snail's face as blank as ever.
Words. Words have never been Eustass Kid's forte. And as he slams his forehead on the table, hoping to beat his own idiocy out of him, beer bottles clinking together loudly, he can hear Law finally break the silence with a sigh.
"I'll be at Captain's Flat by Saturday."
There is the distinct clank of the phone call ending, his cabin filled with nothing but lonely silence, and Kid wonders just how many times he can bash his head on his workbench before he suffers from something much worse than his own idiocy.
iv.
Law is lazily flicking through the day's newspaper, a month later, when Kid comes bounding into his cabin on the sub.
He's feeling tense today—dangerously so. Him and Killer had collided this morning in a big way, something that they haven't done since—shit—since they left the South Blue. Definitely overdue, the two had resorted from petty bickering to a full-on brawl that was cut-off by some local marines snooping around. Killer had fucked off promptly, and Kid was left with nothing but an intense burning rage and the need to fight—or fuck—or both.
"Oi, Trafalgar."
Law sighs. "Hello, Eustass-ya."
"Let's do something."
He's pacing, tearing off his heavy coat and hurling it at the bed, cracking his knuckles, scratching at his chin. The humidity of the submarine is doing nothing to better his mood, sweat already beading on his shoulders and trailing down his back. Kid flicks his hand, attracting a set of old, gold coins into his open palm, before launching them back to the chest by Law's desk.
"Fuck, it's fucking hot in here."
"I don't want to do anything in this weather," Law drawls as an answer, barely glancing up from the paper. Kid sees the familiar face of one of the Warlords on the front page, smirking beneath Law's tattooed fingers—doesn't miss the neat, purposeful tear that disjoints the photo. "And stop touching my things."
"C'mon."
A wary sigh is his only answer.
Kid runs a hand through his dirty hair, turning to the small circular window. Rain mars the world outside, but he can still see the streets of the city are alive, bright red umbrellas filling the crowded alleyways. He mutters, "I need to punch something."
Law turns a page. "Of course. Violence is often your first and only answer to frustration."
"We can fuck instead?"
Kid can't hide the hopeful lilt to his tone, and Law's eyes find him then, a small scowl gracing his features.
"You really are nothing but a brute."
Usually, Kid playfully retorts any insult thrown his way, but this time, Law's bitter words drag across his skin, rage returning with sudden intensity. It boils within, and his hands curl to a fist, ready to lash out and destroy. He wants to feel the world around him shatter. Needs it to.
He grinds out, "And you're a real fucking cold-hearted fuck."
"Perhaps," comes the infuriatingly vague reply, Law's eyes returning the page before him. Like this conversation is beneath him. Like Kid is beneath him. "Or perhaps I just do not wish to engage in your childish behaviour."
Ah. Kid let's out a shaky breath. His jaw aches from clenching to hard, and he can feel the dull throbbing pain in his palms from his nails digging their way in. And shit, why is this fucking ship so hot.
He tries to reason, "I'm on the fucking edge so back the fuck—", but Law cuts him off, tone frosty, with a sharp "Of course."
Amazing, really. It's like the surgeon is programmed specifically to say the exact wrong thing at the exact right time to just make him explode. To the point that Kid thinks that maybe he does explode, vision whiting out for the briefest moment, his hearing reduced to nothing but a low whine.
When he comes back to, he hears himself say, voice strangely distant, "I'm going." He wobbles over to the bed, snatching up his coat and shrugging it on. The weight grounds him somewhat, and he takes a deep breath of the stuffy air, head a foggy mess. "Need a good fuck and a drink."
"Oh?" There's the familiar rustling of a page being turned, and it takes all of Kid's self-control to not rip that paper from Law's hands and hurl it out of the window. "And who would be so lucky to be graced by your company this afternoon?"
"Anyone but you."
Kid's at the door, wrenching it open, desperate for air.
And then Law says:
"Goodbye, Eustass-ya."
There is something so final, so dramatic about his tone, that it has Kid pausing in the empty hall, still gripping the door handle. An unfamiliar, almost nauseating feeling stirs deep within his stomach.
"You don't own me, Trafalgar," he breathes to the wall, shattering the silence.
"No," Law admits, "but I own a part of what we have."
Kid wants to ask what it actually is Law thinks they have, but he finds words are beyond him at the moment, and Law continues with utter sincerity, "You either want me and no one else, Eustass-ya, or you can leave."
He wants to leave. He really does. He's sure in that moment that he has found the most temperamental, psychopathic man on the Grand Line to sleep with.
And yet… it is this that keeps Kid's feet firmly rooted in place.
A temperamental, psychopathic surgeon is exactly his type.
After a minute of silence, Kid turns, grins. "If I stay, will you fuck me?"
Law's eyes flash dangerously, his mouth forming a snarl, and before Kid can react, he's standing out in the pouring rain, the Polar Tang innocently bobbing in the tumultuous waves before him. The docks smell like piss and shit and vomit, and he is drenched within seconds.
The door to the deck of the sub creaks open, and Law pokes his head out, finding him through the grey with a sharp glare. There is a small moment where they both just stare, before Law sticks up his middle finger and withdraws, slamming the door shut so hard Kid is sure the whole sub rattles on its bolts.
He smiles, takes to the street, rolling his shoulders. Kid is unable to help the laugh that rises from inside, the air and rain cooling his burning cheeks.
Maybe he'll just stick with a drink for the night.
v.
They don't fall in love. Not really.
What they share is a kind of toxic infatuation, dancing around the edges of their souls, touching, retreating, and taking and taking and taking. Kid loves the way Law unravels for him, completely and utterly vulnerable, and he will steal this in any way he can. After all, the sex is amazing, but making Trafalgar Law completely lose his cool—to watch him nearly destroy a whole marine base because Kid had insinuated something about something that had just tipped him too far over the line—
That is much more enjoyable.
Which is why, three months later, Kid is unsurprised to find himself once again sprawled on his back in the sand with Law looming over him. This time, however, the nodachi—Kikoku, Kid had discovered on one of their calmer nights—presses dangerously against his chest, just above his beating heart.
He gurgles out a laugh, blood pooling in his mouth, and he turns to the side to spit. The colour is too black, and his vision swims.
Law's eyes darken. "I don't want your pity."
Ah. Kid blinks, slowly. Darkness is creeping in, and idly, as he starts to drift in and out of consciousness, he wonders if he did really take it too far this time. But then a cool hand ghosts his face, pressure releasing off his chest, and he scrambles up the hill in his mind, desperate to open his eyes.
Law is there. He smiles, and says, "Fight me."
Kid wants to say something witty and funny, like fuck you, but his brain refuses to move his mouth. Instead he stares, mapping the tired lines of his lover's face, a black cloud of pain and secrets. He finds the energy to lift one arm, hand grabbing Law's shoulder, and with all the effort Kid can muster, he pushes him away.
Law stumbles to the side, all grace gone, and Kid takes the second to breathe, watching the clouds drift across the midday sky. He hears the Alabasta steel blade sing as Law twists the hilt with his wrist, and he is bathed in a Room.
Then,
"I'm sorry."
Really, honestly, he truly is this time. And not because he can see that his heart is about to be pushed out of his body, and possibly hurled into the ocean behind them, but because—
Well, shit, he fucked up, okay? Kid knows he's an arrogant asshole, but he still has some semblance of humility.
Law hesitates, the tip of the blade once more at his chest, and hisses, "What?"
Kid catches his gaze, wild-eyed like a caged animal, and says again, "I'm sorry." Then, "And I'm not gonna fight you."
"Why?"
"Don't make me repeat myself, Trafalgar."
The tension seems to melt away from his body, the Room disbanding, and he weakens the grip on the sword with a sigh. "You are—"
"I know," Kid agrees, pushing the blade to the side and sitting up. His world spins, and he puts a hand to his head, hoping to steady his vision. "Fuck me, I didn't know it was like that, okay? I just thought you were a fucking brat."
He hears the sword slide back into its sheath and looks up to see Law smirking at him from beneath his hat.
"Well," Kid elaborates, "more of a brat than usual."
Law laughs at that. The tension fizzles out of the air as quick as it appeared, and he sinks down next to Kid, laying back in the sun. A gull lazily lifts off the gentle waves, taking to the sky, and filling the island with its lonely caw.
A minute passes.
Then two.
Kid lays down by his side, centimetres away, fingers almost brushing. He does not move to close the gap.
"I mean it when I say don't touch me," Law breathes into the silence.
Kid says, "Yeah, I got that."
More silence. Then:
"You wanna talk about it?"
"No." Law pauses. "But I will tell you one day."
There is a movement to his side, a sigh, and then Law is above him once more, lips brushing against his own. His breath is warm and sweet, and he hovers for a beat, staring down into Kid's face, eyes roaming greedily as if he cannot take enough in.
"Can I kiss you?" Kid asks, voice much too quiet for his liking.
"No."
Law adjusts himself, palm lying flat against his jaw, thumb rubbing across his cheek. Like an enjoyable book, he takes his time, fingers dancing lightly over Kid's face, ghosting his eyelids, brushing across his mouth. He smiles, then, tongue lazily licking his lips, eyes full of mirth, before it flickers to something more melancholic, almost sad.
"I love how such a dangerous man is so vulnerable here," he whispers.
Something coils in Kid's chest at his words. He says, mouth arid, "Only with you."
Again, a sad smile graces his features, and he breathes against Kid's lips, "Did I hurt you?"
"No," Kid replies, blood still resting on his tongue.
Law moves down then, leaving him cold and empty. His mouth finds Kid's neck, tongue flicking out and licking slowly from collarbone to earlobe, where he pauses, breaths hot and shaky in Kid's ear. He murmurs, "Do you want me to?"
Kid sighs. His hands move of their own accord, gripping at Law's waist, offering him enough leverage to buck his hips, desperate for friction, for any contact at all. He feels the smile against his jaw, the small laugh that escapes from Law, and Kid thinks that he has almost died there, then, on that shitty little island in the middle of nowhere.
"I'm sor—"
Law's mouth clamps down over Kid's, and in one fluid movement, he slides, pressing his whole body against Kid and straddling his waist. The contact is a release, and Kid groans into him, pushing his upper body up, tongue diving into Law's mouth. He tastes of peppermint and spice, and Kid can't—won't ever—get enough.
When Law pulls away, breathing heavily, he says, voice barely audible, "I know, Eustass-ya. I know."
They're not in love. Not really. But as they slowly unravel, the midday sun making their movements lethargic and languid, lips messily brushing any place they can find, hands desperately roaming—
Kid wonders.
vi.
Friday rolls around a couple of weeks later, and the two rival captains find themselves, surprisingly, in that 100 beli room on Sabaody once more.
Well, 'surprisingly' is a stretch, considering Kid had requested specifically "That shit-ass room with the pink toilet", because, though ready to murder literally anyone in the pub that looked at him sideways, he is a sentimental bastard, and it was totally worth it to see Law's calm façade crack for that 1.2 seconds he said "Huh, cool" upon walking into the room.
Kid stretches out across the uncomfortable, lumpy bed, muscles all loose and relaxed after their steamy catch-up, and watches as Law takes to a chair in the corner, carefully sliding his sword out of her sheath. He has this feral expression about him that Kid can't quite look away from, and as if sensing his concern, Law's eyes snap to him and positively shine.
Kid's stomach drops with dread. "What?"
"Can I ask a favour of you, Eustass-ya?" Law asks without hesitation.
A million red flags appear. "Ah—"
"I'll let you do whatever you want to me."
Kid's first, and most logical answer, is no. The second is a series of extremely panicked questions that are only heightened by the palpable excitement Law is clearly struggling to contain.
However, what leaves Kid's mouth is a very keen and greedy, "Fuck yeah", accompanied by a considerable number of images so explicit, that it even leaves him a little stunned at his own mind.
Law's smile explodes. With the sunlight drowning the room in its warm orange glow, and Kid realising that he is an idiot and why the fuck did he say that, Law looks every part the insane Surgeon of Death that haunts children's nightmares.
"Wait—" Kid starts.
But Law has already jumped up, and paces the room with long, careful strides, sword in hand, as he says, "This will probably hurt less if you give me your heart."
"Probably?"
"I can only guess at the effects, but yes, probably. I would have used it in battle—I don't particularly want to cause you harm, even though you can be an insufferable asshole—"
"Oi—"
"—but," he continues, pausing and running his palm along his blade in the creepiest way possible, "it drains too much of my energy and leaves myself, and consequently my nakama, vulnerable. So—"
He is babbling. He is brimming with excitement. And Kid is starting to feel extremely, exceptionally, panicked.
There have only been two times Kid has seen Law excited. The first was after his return from the Paramount War. Kid hadn't weaselled out of him exactly what he saw or what happened, but Law had returned to Sabaody at some time between 1am and 3am a week after disappearing, bursting into his captain's cabin on his ship and throwing himself on top of Kid, who had barely anytime to wake let alone register what was happening. Law was never particularly eager for sex, before, after, or even during, and Kid remembered being worried for a moment that maybe he was actually dreaming the feverish pirate captain moaning on top of him that night.
The second and most recent time Law had let loose, had been an accidental slip on Kid's behalf, alerting three Navy warships of their location. Which, of course, wouldn't have been a big deal—himself and Killer had worked through more than that, just the two of them alone—until Law had decided that it was a big deal, and adopted this manic persona that had even Killer backing up against the wall in fear. Kid remembers Law saying something like, "Excellent, I want to try something," and had then, in one clean sweep, pulled out over a hundred marine hearts at once.
So, yes, Kid is not feeling particularly calm as Law turns to him with a grin.
"May I have your heart?" he asks.
Kid wants to say, "You already have it", or something equally as lame, but instead he just resigns, standing cautiously as Law directs him to a certain spot in the middle of the room, measuring the space with cool, golden eyes. He raises his right hand, fingers splayed towards the floor, and mutters under his breath. Room bathes them, Kid's skin crawling in response.
He stands still, hands limp by his side, awkward and unsure of what to do. Law reaches out with his free hand, pressing it into Kid's chest, and holding it there for a moment. It is beating a little too fast, a little too out of focus, and Law must feel it, his shoulders falling in response.
"You okay?" Law breathes.
It is weird, Kid feels, being like this. Vulnerable, open. Uncertain. Waiting for something to happen, your life completely in someone else's hands, voluntarily.
But—
There is a wonderful emptiness and lightless in his bones, and Kid loses himself in the feeling of Law's hand on his chest, the man so close he can count each excited breath that kisses his collarbone.
Kid leans down, brushing his lips against Law's, savouring the smile that dances beneath. "Just hurry up, Trafalgar."
"Mes."
There is cold.
Emptiness.
Then Law takes a step backwards, boot heel clicking against the floorboards. In his open palm, there rests Kid's heart, still beating quickly, but still beating. It's so strange to see that Kid can't help the laugh that bubbles free from his belly, and even Law smiles, eyes sparkling in the low light as he stares at his newly acquired prize.
"Cool." Kid admires the organ, marvelling at the calm thud thud thud that has settled over him. "How will you know it's mine?"
"I don't usually carry multiples around with me. But yours..."
He fades, and Kid presses. "What? Is it fucked?"
"No," Law laughs. "I don't know." He brings it close to his chest, holding it carefully, then pockets it in his coat with a mysterious smile. "I just like it."
Kid is glad Law no longer holds the heart, certain that it stopped for a full second there.
"Ready?" Law asks, flexing his left hand, the right effortlessly expanding and contracting Room.
"I guess."
Because, really, he has no idea what is going on, and, to be honest, could not have been prepared for it even if he did; one second he is staring into Law's golden gaze, and the next—
Burning. Everywhere, everything—just burning.
There is a sharp, intense pain in his chest, and then it sears, fire burning up and around. Someone is there, reaching inside, grabbing his lungs and wrenching them out. Kid wraps his arms around his middle, trying to hold it together—stumbles—coughs. His vision blurs and Law disappears, and then there is black, there are stars, there is the shimmering dance of light.
And just as quick as it happened, there is nothing.
It takes a moment for Kid to gather himself. He's in the pink bathroom, curled up on the cold tiles. There is the steady stream of a shower running, humidity thick in the air from the heat of it, and Kid is alarmingly aware of how fine he feels, like nothing happened at all.
Something feathers up his side, and he turns, Law leaning over him, fingers tracing the lines of his muscles. He smiles.
"You're awake."
"Uh." Kid struggles to sit up, Law gripping his elbow to steady him. He's not in pain any longer, but he feels shaky, almost uneasy, like a baby wobbling to stand. "What happened?"
"I'm not sure." Kid's sharp glare has him elaborating, with a very dramatic eye-roll, "I haven't named it yet. I only used a tenth of its potential power, but, to put it in layman's terms, I burnt your insides with an acute amount of radioactivity to destabilise and unbind the atoms of your being. Ultimately, I was able to reverse the effects, but, I imagine if I can centralise the energy of Room with more time, it will have a cascading effect, particularly if I can Shamble—"
Kid kisses him. Partly to shut him up—the last thing he wants to think about is radioactivity and his body—but mostly because when Law talks like that, unchecked, the rare release of his iron-clad grip on self-control, Kid just loves it.
Law struggles, angry muffled protests filling Kid's mouth, but Kid is firm, holding him still and silent; and then, Law relaxes. Leans forward and into him. One hand slides up, tangling in Kid's messy hair and pushing further. He tastes like peppermint and spice.
Somehow, it feels different to their normal routine. Law is always languid, distant almost, but here he is, in Kid's arms, no space between them, and no chance for space. He kisses once; twice.
Six times.
Warmth pools in Kid's core, and he falls back onto the tiles, pulling Law down with him. Law is all over him, hands scrabbling at clothes and tugging roughly—and then he is kissing deeper, with an urgency Kid can't keep up with, body full of tremors and shaking breaths. They roll on the cold tiles, tangled in each other, and Law groans, a gravelly sound deep within his chest, hand fisting Kid's hair aggressively and pulling away.
He stares down through half-lidded eyes, smile tugging the corners of his mouth. "Your heart is beating very fast, Eustass-ya."
Kid blinks. He is about to say that he doesn't think so when he remembers, hand touching his chest, ghosting over the empty hole he'd forgotten was there. "Oh."
There is a long silence between them, broken only by the sound of the streaming shower, neither looking away. Law looks sheepish, almost hesitant, and Kid tries to think of something to fill the silence, drawing nothing but blanks and half-finished thoughts.
Eventually he finds himself, wrapping his hand around Law's neck, and pulling him down again. He breathes into his mouth, "Keep it for tonight."
Law laughs into him; says, "Okay." Then, "Thank you for trusting me."
And Kid has nothing interesting to say, so he says nothing at all, meeting Law for another kiss, savouring the taste of mint and spice that rests on his tongue.
