A/N: This is part of a series supplementary to the long fic, Repossession (not a K-T rating). This one can be read alone. Please note: More A/N at the end of the fic.

Chapter 1: Remiges

Marco drew Law to him, his kisses as soft and hidden as the symbols Law sewed into the hems, neck and wrist lines of the black Nehru shirts he wore. Intended only for his partner's discovery. The Phoenix loved the small grunt of pleasure and surprise, the almost instant opening of Law's lips, before he attempted to pull away, the brush of his goatee against his own few bristles. They had a wedding to go to and Marco knew Law would be pissed off if he went with stubble rash. The Heart captain was best man, after all.

The ensigns were embroidered into the cloth and only those who knew about them knew about them. Marco's palms ran up Law's sides under the tunic, the cotton soft against the back of his hands.

"Don't." Law spoke quietly and pushed him away slightly, though not forcefully, and he tipped his head against Marco's own. Law was warm. The feel of each rib, of conjoined tendons and muscles, the contours of flesh and bone was an enticing reminder that the doctor had invited him into his world. Allowed him access.

The shirt flowed about Law, by design and from wear, but was formal enough for Smoker's wedding. A tendril of tattoo breached the slight v-collar. Once everything had gained even keel between Law and Marco, the tunics the surgeon whipped up were less hair-shirt, less Victorian, and more likely to reveal tantalising hints of bits of him he didn't mind others seeing. Law didn't find them tantalising. If others got something out of it, then let them.

Marco dropped a hand from Law's chest and ran his forefinger and thumb like a sliding weight along the hem of the shirt, pausing whenever he felt the familiar areas where the cloth was raised, as if the material itself was in relief to the tiny hidden designs. By touch alone he knew what they were now, but had only learnt that information after lying by Law's side one time, and examining each and every one of them stitched into this particular outfit. Or, more correctly, he'd studied those nearest him, considering Law had been ensconced in the shirt at the time.

It intrigued him. He hadn't even guessed at how many motifs Law had stitched into the cloth. Law and Marco had been kicking back in their room, on a lazy evening after a busy day. They hadn't showered or dressed for bed, they hadn't even had dinner. Law ignored Marco while he fiddled with the border of his clothes. A tattooed hand landed on that blond clump of hair occasionally to let him know he hadn't been forgotten.

Law retained some habits from being with Luffy. Marco was nowhere near as demanding, nor as ADHD riddled. Quite the opposite. He made Zoro look like the energiser bunny. But, reading glasses on, immersed in a book, pen at the ready for notes, Law hadn't wanted to be distracted, so he appeased any calls for attention by providing the basics without being asked.

He had no clue whether Marco liked having his hair petted while they were just hanging out, but he'd never complained. Law didn't really know what Marco was currently doing, but it seemed to have something to do with his outfit, the one he was wearing. As long as he could continue reading, then there was no harm in his curiosity.

Except he had had to remove his top. It was easier to give in. Law chose his battles. However, he'd been ordered to strip far too often when he'd been owned by Doflamingo – that's when the sadistic freak let him wear clothes – so he didn't take kindly to any requests to strip when he wasn't in the mood to bare flesh.

He knew it wasn't a hardship for Marco to see him shirtless, and Law grumbled, but knew the Phoenix meant no harm, and he didn't seem to be in a particularly amorous frame of mind. So he closed the book, removed his glasses, rucked the cloth from behind and pulled it over his head. That was quite the effort for downtime.

Marco took it with thanks, and crawled up the bed to lie beside Law. He marvelled at the intricate patterns his partner had worked into the material. He paid no attention to the sinfully lush body beside him. Law didn't mind.

Suturing wounds, extracting bone from flesh, realigning limbs to knit and mend correctly – Law's skill with the needle wasn't such a stretch of the imagination when you considered his profession.

Before he'd started making these shirts, plain to the casual eye, he'd always included one of his many motifs into the clothes he wore, but they'd been noticeable. A stark white against black, yellow defying the monochromatic shades he preferred, sometimes even a bit of red stitching around buttonholes or sewn around a pocket, like the warning strip of a spider huddled in her corner. For a man who preferred to fly under the radar he had quite the knack for drawing attention.

Things had been good for a number of years now. Marco was happy, and grateful, but never took their relationship for granted. After the Kid assault, things had got worse before they'd improved. Law's life ran the gamut from terrible, to seeming to cope, to not coping at all, to Marco fucking everything up royally. From that confused mess, Law found his feet and blew through all the shit whirling around and within him to land squarely on his feet.

He'd had every right and reason to just keep on shooting through the sky though, leaving his Whitebeard partner of some time behind, but once he'd made up his mind, he dared to extend his hand again. The Phoenix hadn't hesitated to grip death between his fingers - he doubted he'd ever get another chance - and they'd set out again.

Inspecting the tunic on a mattress that recalled the way he and Law slept, it wasn't like Marco had no knowledge of the embroidered symbols. They'd been together long enough that he knew the habits and likes of the surgeon. The black on black had been a new style, though, and it was harder to distinguish the designs.

On that laidback evening, he'd pulled the Nehru tunic near for closer examinatin, and Law had put his book to the side for the moment, and snuggled behind him, watching him and his reactions from over his shoulder. He then dipped his head, and pressed a lazy kiss against the few freckles and moles gathered near the Whitebeard's shoulder-blade. He closed his eyes and waited.

Marco adjusted when Law's arm had slipped under him and the other around him. He adapted his body to the other man's as Law hooked a knee over and between his legs, as if he were a cushion the younger man needed for comfort. Marco was used to it. When things were fine between them, his lover was tactile. The Phoenix enjoyed it.

An embroidered heart led the symbols - not bigger than half a centimetre. The texture below the tips of his fingers was incidental but pleasant, almost like the clanking of the worry beads his mother had constantly passed between her hands. A similar kind of motion, of comfort from repetitive touch.

A coloured-in cross, the symbol the Heart pirate flashed on the back of his hands, followed the first design. The cross had been blocked in to hide Doflamingo's past damage and ownership. Law hadn't gained that marking by choice. Marco wondered at him including it.

The amoeba sun-like figure from his forearms, and the more aggressive Jolly Roger were all embroidered in. Cora's smile promised to rupture more than a good mood, though it looked as if he'd have a great time doing it. Marco thought the one on Law's back looked gleeful but not quite sane, or had, before Kizaru's lashes.

Swirls and curls interspersed the more recognisable images. They encapsulated and protected the whole. Why the doctor didn't stitch them in a noticeable colour he didn't know.

And then. He drew the cloth in and then out again to get a clearer view. And then, what the fuck was that? Oh Christ, how hadn't he noticed it before? The tips of his fingers trailed the cotton. Tail feathers were sewn into the hem on one section of the side seam as if they had spilt onto that part of the tunic by accident. The feathers twisted and entwined, much like the curlicues of the heart emblem, acting as a rudder, as fluid representation of mobility and balance, as they stretched up the seam.

Not massive, nor tiny, the image was virtually camouflaged, it blended so well with the overall material and colour. The plumage of the bird's breast rose along the joined material. Outstretched wings – taking to the sky – were sewn into the front and back panels of the shirt.

Marco pulled the material in closer yet. And, yes, near to where Law's arm would naturally fall when relaxed, hiding the image from detection, a primary feather or two was stitched in blue. The only goddamn colour on the whole shirt.

Marco didn't doubt Law's love, but it wasn't loud. The Whitebeard commander wasn't about chest-beating-declarations either, but he'd always known where he'd stood with Ace, good and bad. Memories of Ace were valued, and prime among them was his ready use of endearments, his effusive claims of forever after. Marco smiled.

The last time Law ever felt any relief or sense of belonging as a child had been upon hearing bold words of love from a dying man to the boy he was saving. And there had been only one man.

Deeply jaded, he'd believed these adult words of survival, had to believe them, and also believed the expression of affection. Even as Cora's first words proved to be false, Law never gave up on the second, although he was well aware that love was something that could be taken away, maybe would be taken away, and he'd never been sure why the man had cared for him. Was it because of the Will of D? Sengoku hadn't thought so.

Law's emotions ran deep, and he was loyal, but words of devotion weren't commonplace. He spoke them at times, always when appropriate and needed, but sometimes Marco wanted to hear them just a little more. He drew in a breath and Law's arms tightened. He was still there. The Whitebeard pirate had almost forgotten.

"You sewed a phoenix."

"Mmm."

"It's blue."

"Only five feathers."

"Why?"

Marco felt the shrug of shoulders behind him.

"Looked good."

Law kissed the spot on Marco's back again. Yawned. He was about to fall asleep, but they had to get the dinner on.

"Feathers are made of keratin. Like our hair, our nails." His words were groggy.

Marco placed the tunic on the pillow beside him, trying his best not to scrunch it. Then again, when they got hot and bothered, they didn't care too much about their clothes, so he didn't know why he was worried now. He brought Law's curled hand from his chest to his lips, blew into the rounded digits, and pressed his own fingers over the nail stubs.

Law hummed into his back. He sighed against his skin. Happy. Or if not quite that pinnacle, content.

Marco wasn't sure of the exact correlation.

"So?"

"They renew. Nails. Feathers. Phoenix flames."

Except if they'd been burnt off.

Marco felt Law's lips move against his own flesh.

"He couldn't stop me from being a doctor. Kizaru. He didn't damage my fingers so badly I can't operate. He couldn't make me forget Corazon or my crew by slicing up my back. Our troubles didn't stop us from finding a solution."

Law liked the feel of his many deformities being caressed, of being acknowledged as part of him, not the whole of him.

"I might be keratin deficient. Marked. But I can draw from those around me, from different sources."

"From your own self."

Marco held Law's hand with both of his now, his thumb still pressing against Law's thumbnail, his calloused skin running over his tattoo.

"Being fucked-up sometimes only runs skin deep. Sometimes they only succeed in fucking you up that far."

In the end.

Law's love could be hard to find. There were hints, suggestions, if he thought you were interested, if he was interested, located somewhere in chests buried in the ocean sand. But for Marco, the key had always rested in the creases of his unfurled hand. Sometimes the Phoenix just couldn't see for looking.

A/N: This story follows on from and reflects back to the long fic, Repossession (not a K-T rating). At the end of that fic, Marco and Law are partners, and Marco has helped Law through some pretty horrific situations.

Luffy is now the Pirate King and Zoro is his faithful partner. Law and Luffy were a couple for two years. All characters live in a kind of One Piece AU on a series of islands a ferry ride away from one another. The World Government is a lot less corrupt than it used to be.

In this AU, Law is in his thirties.

Thank you for reading.

Note: Dec 8, 2018: The Vivre Cards have come out with Marco's height, and he's got 12cm on Law. When I started writing these two, a post on Oro Jackson had Marco at about 184 cm, which I prefer. I initially wrote Marco taller, and readjusted everything. Now, it seems I need to go the other way! BUT, I'll just leave author notes instead. It's always an AU anyway.