like fuel to the fire
summary: Monkey D. Luffy has been assigned to be Rob Lucci's intern at Kobe port's customs. What follows is Lucci's slow descent into /feelings/.
preview of where I eventually want to end up: "Woah," Luffy mumbles dazed, lips shining with spit. Lucci thinks about how easy it would be to manhandle him against a wall, nudge his legs apart with a knee and buck against him like a dog in a rut. He blinks owlishly, slowly, crossing gazes with Luffy's large, expressive eyes, and thinks that maybe he just wants to kiss him again.
Do you ever have an idea that just doesn't go away? Well, meet mine~
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chapter 1
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Eight minutes before the alarm on his phone goes off, Lucci stirs awake and snaps his eyes open. The Maersk Elgin's docking at five thirty and he needs to be at the harbor's Rokko terminal at least half an hour beforehand to prepare the inspection. It's pitch black in his bedroom aside from the streetlight falling in from the window. He sits upright, stretches his arms out above him, gets the crick out of his neck and throws the sheets off his legs, almost knocking the white roll pillow off the foot-end.
Lucci switches the lamp on his nightstand on. He squints bleary-eyed against the yellowish-white glare, hauling a hand through his unruly mop of hair and scratching the base of his neck, fingertips reaching past the neckline of the tank top he sleeps in.
His bedroom is sparsely furnished due to a lack of space. Lucci lives in a two-story building down some small, crowded neighborhood about a twenty-minute drive away from port where he works as a customs officer; but there's a hospital nearby, and a park with a basketball court that's always deserted in the evenings. He grabs his phone, gets out of bed and heads on down to the kitchen. Blinking the last sleep from his eyes, Lucci looks disheveled in just a pair of boxer shorts and a tank top.
Summers are hot and humid even at night, and aside from the constant hum of the air-conditioner and the shuffle of his bare feet, it's dead-quiet inside the house.
With the sound of the coffee machine on the background chasing away the silence, Lucci rounds the kitchen counter, opens his fridge and grabs a glass jar of jam and bagged pastries. There's a detailed drawing of a rabbit on the paper bag: the local bakery's logo. After a quick breakfast, he drinks his strong cup of coffee in peace, scrolling down the news on his phone, sweeps the crumbs off his plate into the paper bag, gets up and slides the glass door open to the patio. Outside, the temperature's bearable and the air's not too clammy yet.
There's a decently-sized dovecote mounted against the wall, made from pinewood. A pigeon's low and steady cooing can be heard from the inside.
Lucci softly knocks on the wood and when he hears the rustle of feathers, he starts to strew the crumbs over the ledge, clicking his tongue to draw the pigeon out. The bird's name is Hattori. Over five years ago, Lucci found the pigeon as a helpless, young squab in a broken nest on the ground and decided to raise it by himself.
The sound of cicadas dooms up from his neighbor's backyard behind the garden wall, but he barely pays heed to the noise. He checks if there's still enough water in the bottle holder to last Hattori for the day.
Back inside the house, Lucci continues his morning routine. With the grace of a large cat on the prowl, he silently trudges up the steps of the staircase and makes a beeline for the bathroom, which interior is much like the rest of the house: modern, monochrome and sleek. He does a hundred pushups on the bathroom floor and takes a quick, cold shower.
After toweling himself dry and combing his unruly, wet mane, Lucci attentively studies his reflection in the rectangular mirror above the washing table, searching for stubborn hairs in his brows and goatee, set of tweezers in hand, and brushes his teeth.
He unceremoniously dumps the wet towel and his sweaty underwear into the laundry hamper, the wicker lid falling back shut with a curt bang. Quickly steps into a pair of designer boxer-briefs and pulls them up over his ass, so the white elastic band spelling out Emporio fits snug around his hipbones. 'Dress to impress' has been a motto Lucci adhered to since his early teens.
Most of his wardrobe consists of designer suits, quality clothing, patent leather dress shoes and fancy loafers, but in his opinion, an expensive taste's well worth the price. It's something he acquired from his uncle.
Lucci was orphaned at a young age and since he didn't have any relatives who were financially able to raise him back in Italy, he got sent off to Tokyo, where his uncle worked at the embassy. Money was never an issue, but him being a foreigner was, sometimes. He stands shirtless in front of his closet, pensively rubbing his chin as his gaze goes from one coating hanger to the next, trying to decide on what shirt to wear.
Under the bright bedroom lights, the blackish purple color of the crossed-out squares tattooed on his arms is overexposed, boldly standing out against his slightly-tanned skin.
When he's fully dressed and put his hair up in a ponytail to get it out of his neck, Lucci deliberately leaves the first two buttons of his shirt unbuttoned, spritzes some of his favorite cologne against the column of his throat and pops the collar. It's still so early but he feels surprisingly awake. Must've been the coffee. He just needs to get his lunchbox from the fridge, with the leftovers from yesterday's dinner, and grab his phone from the counter and his briefcase, then he can slip on his shoes and head off to work.
Driving down to the harbor in the dark feels like being in a movie. Streetlight falls through the front window of his car in neat intervals. Lucci likes the contemplative quiet of the city during nighttime. It's a stark contrast with the bustling port just beyond its borders.
Spandam's waiting for him at the beginning of the terminal, with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his blazer and his tie whipping around his neck. There's a strong wind that sprays the smell of seawater into their faces. Dockworkers are scrambling around them, readying the terminal for the ship's arrival, and in the background, over the sound of the waves crashing against the walkway, the wheels of a movable crane bulldozer over the concrete. Lucci furrows his brows when he sees his superior isn't waiting for him alone.
One of the foremen he recognizes to be Franky is standing next to him, talking excitedly to a young man barely out of his teens. Lucci's never seen the boy around here before.
"Ah, Lucci, there you are," Spandam beckons him over impatiently when he's close enough, obviously tired of being ignored by his company. "Remember that, ahem, assignment we talked about last week?" All he gets in response is an unimpressed, stone-cold expression. Spandam bristles and continues irritably, "About the internship, yes? Pah, well, this is your internee. Monkey D. Garp's grandson—"
Before Spandam manages to wedge another word in, the boy pipes up loudly, "Oi, I can introduce myself!"
"My name's Luffy," he says over Franky's roaring laughter, turning towards Lucci with a big grin on his face. "Nice to meet you!" His words aren't accompanied by the customary bow or handshake, but there's enthusiasm visible in his loose-limbed, almost lanky posture. "And I know more people who work here than just my gramps."
Lucci wonders how much it would affect his perfect record if he turns around and walks away now. This boy's going to be a headache, of that he's sure.
"Like me," Franky agrees gleefully, pointing at himself with a satisfied smile curled on his lips. "Hah, Luffy's been around the docks since he's been a kid, always getting into trouble—" Lucci snaps his head up at the word, looking sharply at the foreman as he says this, while Luffy happily nods along in confirmation.
"Did you know Shanks had to dive into the water to get 'em out once? Garp was so pissed."
Done with the conversation, Spandam loudly scrapes his throat, and when that doesn't get their attention, he exclaims rather loudly, "Yes, yes, but Garp's grandson – "My name's Luffy!" – will be upholding a certain standard now, and who better to coach him than our very best, mmmh?"
Scratching the side of his head, Franky looks somewhat dubiously at Spandam and mutters, "They'll be evenly matched if you ask me."
Spandam huffs in return and replies stiffly, "But I didn't." Jabbing his forefinger at Lucci, he continues, "He'll be under your supervision. Show him what we do around here, ease him into it with some easy tasks and please don't give Garp a reason to complain about us. Last thing I need is the coast guard nagging at me!"
"I'll make sure he's on his best behavior," Lucci responds coolly, before turning away and walking further down the terminal. He pauses and casts a glance over his shoulder at Luffy. "Are you coming or not?"
Luffy wasn't really paying much attention to the conversation going on around him; he was watching wide-eyed how the dockworkers install the movable cranes along the walkway and drive their container handlers around. When Lucci addresses him, he tilts his head in surprise. Giddy at the thought of getting on one of those huge container ships, he bounces after him, moving on the balls of his feet. Lucci heaves a deep sigh.
When the Maersk Elgin docks, the cranes are neatly lined up along the terminal walkway with plenty of space in between to stockpile the containers. They're standing near the far end for the inspection.
"—And since the ship comes from Shanghai, we have clearance to open around fifteen percent of the cargo even if the documentation checks out." Lucci stops talking when he notices the boy hasn't listened to a single word he said.
The lights from the ship reflect a blinking red and blue in Luffy's big, expressive eyes as he stares unabashedly, mouth slightly open and rocking back on forth on the tips of his toes.
Leaning in, Lucci says with a cold smirk, "You could at least pretend to listen."
He blinks, suddenly coming back to the conversation and chuckles sheepishly, bringing a hand to the back of his head. "Shishishi, but that would've been even ruder," Luffy remarks as if that would get him out of trouble.
Seizing up the height of the ship's hull, he then prompts, "So when are we going aboard?!"
"We're not," Lucci deadpans, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pants. Some hairs come loose from his ponytail when the sea breeze picks up again. At Luffy's pouty expression, he merely scoffs and says, "If you would've payed attention, you'd know that we inspect the containers off board. We check two or three right here and the others at the shelter."
"Aw…" Luffy mumbles, and judging by the high, innocent tone of his voice, most of what Lucci said went over his head anyway. "But we can go inside the containers, right?"
Lucci closes his eyes briefly and takes a steadying breath, borrowing on his patience to get him through this conversation. It's not that he's bad with people; his no-nonsense demeanor and appearance usually pave the way to smooth social interactions. His mind's susceptible to intrusive thoughts when he has to deal with people too long however, and those thoughts usually turn to violence.
Shortly after moving to Kobe, Lucci became a member of a Muay Thai club. It's one of the few martial arts disciplines that promises the intense workout he needs.
His uncle made him do all sorts of fighting sports during his teens to get him out of his hair. Lucci learned to love the thrill of a good fight. He's even gotten suspended a couple of times because he'd gotten carried away and beat his opponent to a bloody pulp on the mats. There's something particularly satisfying about blood drying in the creases of his knuckles.
"Oi, can we go into the containers or not?" Luffy pipes up again impatiently, apparently not so keen on being ignored himself.
Lucci stares the boy down, nonplussed by the demanding tone in his voice and the gleam in his eyes, and studies his appearance for a moment. There's a thin, long scar under his left eye. Even in the relative darkness, the whitish tissue sticks out against his suntanned skin. His shirt's too big around his shoulders, store-bought, and rumpled, hanging half-out of his pants. Luffy furrows his brows together and returns Lucci's stare defiantly.
In the background, the rumble of the cranes and of the containers being placed down on the concrete resounds over the shouts of the dockworkers.
"Yes," Lucci eventually says, smirking coldly again. "You can go inside. Be careful nobody gets the idea in their head to reseal the container though. You might run out of air." Softly he mutters under his breath, "And that'd be a real pity."
"Why would anyone close the container? You'll be there to make sure everything's alright, right?" Luffy responds easily with a carefree grin on his face, and he crosses his arms behind his head, looking off at the ship again.
Taken aback by the boy's response, Lucci doesn't reply right away, absentmindedly scrutinizing his profile for a moment. He then bristles and clicks his tongue in annoyance. Some dockworkers are busy offloading a container for inspection a couple of feet away from them; the reflective strips on their safety vests glinting silver in the slivers of light. Lucci unclenches his fists and walks on over, expecting the boy to keep up.
"Oh!" Luffy yells excitedly when he sees one of the dockworkers with a crowbar. "Can I open it?!"
Startled, the dockworker almost drops the crowbar and fumbles to keep a tight grip. He looks from his colleagues to Lucci to the boy and then back to Lucci, instinctively knowing he's the one who really calls the shots. Rolling his eyes, he reminds him snidely, "You're supposed to be on your best behavior."
Luffy rubs his chin pensively, nods to himself and then turns to the dockworker with the crowbar, looking at him earnestly. "Can I please open it?" He asks politely.
It's going to be a long day, Lucci thinks as he watches how the astounded dockworker hands the crowbar over to the boy and helps him open the container. He's going to pay a visit to Spandam's office once they're done with the inspection. Agreeing to coach an intern is one thing, but Lucci has no intention to become a glorified babysitter. With a hoarse creak, the container door slowly swings open under the force of the crowbar; Luffy starts to laugh loudly and his entire face lights up in triumph.
Lucci just barely resists the urge to dunk him into the sea.
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