Smoker sighed as he dropped his keys on the hallway table. Today had been nothing but paper work, and preferring to be in the field, that translated as a day of Hell. On top of that, there'd actually been something to do in said field, and he'd been unable to be part of it. Weren't Friday's supposed to be better than this?
Trudging down the hall to the kitchen, Smoker stripped of his jacket and holster, collapsing in on the chairs around his kitchen table. Apartments were too small to bother with attempting a dining room, and there was rarely anyone over he'd care to impress. Eyes roamed lazily on around the modest room, pausing on the counter. A small, definitely homemade cake had materialized onto his counter since he'd left that morning, yet he was sure he'd locked his door…
Smoker pushed himself from his chair, exhausted mind complaining profusely about the need to think after such a day, and made his way over to examine the offending object. The icing on top, surprisingly legible, read Happy Birthday Smokes. The cop smiled.
After wrapping the cake and putting it in the fridge, Smoker slipped out of the kitchen, quietly making his way to the bedroom. Peering inside, he could easily make out the sleeping form of his guest. Portgas D. Ace had become an almost constant visitor in the last year or so, but Smoker was almost certain Ace was out of town. And he was positive he'd never told the boy when his birthday was.
Mind, if everything Ace did was logical and legal, the two would never have met in the first place.
Silently, Smoker crossed to the bed, shutting of the bedside lamp as he did so. The book Ace had been reading before falling asleep had become the boy's pillow. Hoping to keep the library from charging for a damaged book, Smoker slid the book out from under his guest. He pulled the covers over the boy, pausing when the Ace shifted in his sleep. But the boy didn't wake.
Snagging his pajamas, Smoker slipped back out of the room. His couch wasn't that uncomfortable, and he really didn't have the heart to move the boy. Oh, but he was getting soft in his old age. Then again, Ace had made him a cake. Maybe it was just…equivalent exchange. That is, if the cake was indeed edible. Ace wasn't know for his cooking prowess.