Wow! So, this is my first fanfic. I'm not sure if anyone will actually read this, but to those of you who do please feel free to drop a review! :)

Warnings: Swearing, sexual references, and slight OCness

Characters belong to Eiichiro Oda

Not Another Excuse

Chapter 1: Late Night

Marco had always prided himself on being careful and thorough. He refused to do anything without being absolutely sure. So, when it came time to move on and make a change he had found the best, most affordable place he could.

It had been a little over a week and a half since moving in. Marco had unpacked most of his things, scattering them throughout his tiny one-room apartment until he was satisfied. Everything had checked out as far as he could tell. What he had seen of the apartment online had been exactly what he had gotten. The only problem, however, was what he hadn't seen online.

Lying wide-awake in bed, Marco ran a hand through the thick wisps of blond upon his head. His legs were slightly spread, bed sheets strewn haphazardly around him. He glared upwards at his trembling ceiling, silently cursing those above him.

He was beginning to regret having moved into the place.

They were at it again.

Their bedsprings were squeaking loudly, the headboard assumingly trying to bang holes into the walls and unabashed, toe-curling screaming nearly shaking his tiny apartment to pieces.

And all of this was coming from upstairs.

By now, he was really regretting having moved. Sure, it had looked good online, but this just wasn't worth it.

Sex, sex, sex—that seemed to be one of the few activities the couple actually engaged in. When they weren't screwing like rabbits, however, Marco knew they fought loudly and almost violently. There were times when he thought he heard something being thrown, crashing against the wall or floor and smashing into thousands of pieces. More than once he thought about stomping upstairs and intervening—but he never did. He was well aware of where that fighting would lead to.

Still, he preferred the fighting. They were easier to tune out. This, on the other hand, was a bit tougher and a lot more…distracting.

Marco knew it was wrong, but he couldn't help himself. He allowed his hand to snake down, brushing his exposed stomach and venturing lower to clutch at the elastic band of his underwear.

From above, the voices crescendo, the banging of their headboard growing louder and harder.

He let his hand slip beneath the band, fingers wrapping firmly around himself. Slowly, he began to pump himself, gradually moving in time with the growing rhythm of the couple above.

Pressure began building up in his lower stomach, his toes curling and unfurling. The blond bit his lip, trying to contain any sounds from escaping him.

Rolling his eyes back, he let his eyes flutter close. He knew it was coming, could feel beads of cum begin to dribble over his hand. Slight disgust was following closely with his finish, but there was no helping it. He was going to cum.

"—Marco it's Thatch, Marco it's Thatch."

With an annoyed groan, Marco let his hand fall away from himself, rolling over to face his phone. It was buzzing loudly on his nightstand, his brother's name flashing in bold lettering.

'Goddamn it, Thatch!'

"What?" He barks into his phone, only to be met by his chuckling brother.

"What's got your feathers all ruffled, birdman?"

Marco could feel his brow twitching in annoyance at the birdman comment. Out of all the nicknames the man came up with, that had to be his least favorite—well, that one and pineapple.

Sighing, he fell back on his bed, once again staring up at his ceiling.

"They're at it again, yoi."

"Damn," Thatch laughs unsympathetically. "Do those two ever rest?"

From above, there was a particularly loud bang coming from upstairs, followed by a loud drawn out moan, one Marco was sure Thatch could hear over the phone.

"God, I hope so, yoi."

"Why don't you just complain to the landlord? I'm sure they'll end your little problem right away," Thatch suggests, though unhelpfully.

Marco doubted his landlords would give a damn whether or not he was having a hard time catching a good nights sleep. As long as it didn't disturb them, anything was fine. The walls and floors were already pretty thin, it was understandable that things would be heard from your neighbors, most of them things you'd never thought you'd hear coming from next door. In those apartments, there was virtually little to no privacy whatsoever.

"I'm sure they will, yoi," Marco responds sarcastically, which seemed to have gone unnoticed, or at least ignored, by his brother.

"That's the spirit," he chirps, sounding quite proud of himself. "So, when do we get to see you? You know, Pops' been asking if any of us have heard from you, you've been quiet since you've moved. Besides catching glimpses of you at work, I haven't really seen much of you either."

Marco sighs. He knows Thatch is right. He hadn't really spoken to his brothers nor left his apartment since moving in—hadn't really felt like it. The move and his job had drained him of all his energy, it seemed, and his neighbor's long, nightly escapades didn't seem to be helping.

"Soon. I promise, yoi."

Thatch hesitates for a moment, "Well, OK, if you say so. Just make sure you call in from time to time. We miss you and Pops…you know him. He worries about you—about all of us, you know?"

"I know. I'll keep in touch, yoi. I promise."

"Good."

They had stayed on the phone a bit longer before finally saying their goodbyes. Marco missed his family and was glad he had heard from at least on of them, though he could've done the calling or visiting at anytime he chose.

With the night now quiet, Marco settled down somewhat comfortably in his bed. He would change how things were tomorrow.

For now, all he wanted was a good night's sleep.