A/N: Y'all can blame Wren's love for crazy pairings for this. Based off the prompt: Thatch/Ace. Guilt, chain, boutique.
The bike chain slipped through his fingers, and Ace hummed a haphazard tune, locking the wheel of his BMX to the light post. The morning sun poked fingers of sunshine over the horizon, warm rays that heated his dark skin, and Ace gave a languid, cat-like stretch in the sunshine.
The movement, however, disturbed the ratty binder he was wearing and he gave an irritated groan, hands dropping from above his head and letting his head roll back on his spine. Hitching down the sharp edge of the binder he was using in replace of his usual one, Ace gave a grumpy sigh and tried to smooth his baggy shirt over his chest, noting how the binder he was wearing did very little to actually help with his chesticle 'problem'.
"Stupid Luffy and that stupid dog-," He mumbled angrily to himself, not truthfully altogether extremely irate, but pissed anyway that he'd have to get another binder to replace the one that Luffy had stretched past repair. How the other boy had even managed to so thoroughly destroy his binder was beyond him, but as it was it left Ace in a bit of a pickle. He didn't want to try and shop for a binder at a store near where he lived, in case anyone from work spotted him, and he most certainly couldn't order one off the internet; not with how long they took to get to his mailbox and how expensive ordering binders online had become.
Pushing open the door to the tiny – an exceptionally pink – corner store, Ace gave a small swallow and tried to keep his head held high. No matter how many times he had to do this, he still felt apprehension and fear curl in his gut, and his skin prickled uncomfortably. He had to resist the urge to pull down the hem of his shirt, knowing that it would do little to actually help his predicament, and instead made a very fast bee-line towards the darkest section of the store he could find. There was no-one else but him and a very lazy cashier in the store, and as Ace rifled through tops for something he could use as a replacement till a proper binder could be found, he found himself relaxing incrementally.
The bell above the door to the boutique chimed cheerily, and Ace felt his shoulders jolt in surprise at the noise. Unused to having anyone else be wandering around the store at such an early hour – which, truthfully, was why he went – the boy quickly ducked behind one of the clothes racks.
It proved to be a horrible hiding place, considering that it very literally only held two pieces of clothing, and, guilt pooling in his stomach, he swiftly tried to pretend that he was doing something else.
"How're you, Thatch?" The cashier's voice was friendly, and held the hint of a laugh at the pile that the shop's new occupant had dumped on the desk. "Trying out something new, I see."
"Nahh, just picking some stuff up for my brother. Izo won rock-paper-scissors last night so I was the only one not allowed near the alcohol." A cute pout came on crazy-hair's face, and Ace very firmly turned his gaze away, determined not to make eye contact, even as his brow furrowed at the other guy's use of the word 'brother'. Considering the sparkly fabric that the so-called Thatch was shaking, Ace was pretty sure he had his gender nouns wrong. Then again, he really didn't know these people, so who was he to comment?
Unnoticed to Ace, he'd subconsciously started sorting through the binders again, and had moved closer to the duo to better hear their conversation.
"If you're trying to find a good binder, a friend of mine uses a homemade one that's apparently very comfortable."
Ace full on jumped at the words, shoulders ending up somewhere near his ears once again, and he turned to give an untrustworthy glare at the so-called Thatch, who'd ended up behind him.
"Excuse me?" He asked in complete bewilderment, hands dropping from the binders to fall to his side.
"You know, if it wasn't for the completely vicious – and might I say, uncalled for – glare, then I would totally call you the cutest guy I've ever laid eyes on. As it is, you'll have to settle for second best, freckles."
His brow furrowed in confusion, and he felt his cheeks heat slightly as he eyed the other guy across from him, completely mystified. Was this Thatch guy...hitting on him? He wasn't even in anything particularly flattering, and he most definitely wasn't cute.
Obviously taking his silence as an indication to continue, Thatch grinned flirtatiously. "You, me, hot dogs and fireworks?"
"I cannot believe that your pick up line involved hot dogs."
"It involved fireworks too!" Thatch protested laughingly, but his easy-going grin still stayed on his features.
"Well, I suppose that makes it for it," Ace retorted sarcastically, arching an eyebrow.
Thatch decided to switch tactics, leaning on the clothes rack and offering Ace an open-looking and charming smile, "Do I get a name now, too?"
"Well presumably yours is Thatch but I suppose I can come up with another one if you want. What about Sparklyhead?"
Thatch looked stunned for a moment, before crowing triumphantly. "Ha ha! So you were paying attention! Knew it."
Ace flushed a bright red, grumpily eyeing Thatch and resisting the urge to pull his jumper somewhere around his ears. He knew exactly how ridiculous (and girly) he looked when he blushed, and it didn't exactly help him feel manly at all.
"So, how about it? I know a great place for watching the fourth of July stuff."
"If I say yes then can we add ice cream to the hot dogs and fireworks deal?"
"If I say yes do I get your name?"
"Ace. Ace D. Portgas."
"Thatch. And most definitely."