A/N: Happy Birthday Thatchy! Because he deserves all the love. (also, what are titles and how do they work..)
Warnings: Beginning has implied abuse. But that's about it.
He pulled himself out of bed and got up, stretching. He made a face at the pile of paperwork he'd been neglecting and was about to turn away when his calendar caught his attention. He groaned audibly.
That's right...that's today... he thought to himself. Shaking his head, he turned and left his room, starting on breakfast for the day on his mind.
His footsteps echoed loudly off the walls in the empty hallway. No one else was awake since it was so early, save for those working in the kitchen. He entered said room, and quietly started to work. No one paid him any mind, nor did they say anything. On the way over he'd been wondering what kind of dish he should make for breakfast. Since it was a special day, he decided to make something sweet.
He walked to the pantry and grabbed an assortment of various fruits, as much as he could fit in his arms and went back to the kitchen. Finding a clear spot on a counter, he grabbed a knife and quickly set to work, chopping up the produce.
He was so focused on his work that he paid no attention to footsteps coming up behind him and stopping. He was cutting strawberries when it happened. A fist struck in on the side of his shoulder and he went sprawling to the ground.
He grabbed his shoulder and winced when it hurt to touch. He looked up at the one who had struck him.
"How many times have I told you about cutting the strawberries unevenly?! We don't have time for that shit around here! Either you learn how to do it the right way the first time or I'll make you learn!" the man yelled. His eyes went wide in fear at the man's threat.
The man looked over at the counter and the abandoned fruits. His eyes narrowed and Thatch felt the temperature in the room drop a little. The man turned slowly, to level his menacing gaze at the cowering boy.
"And just what, exactly, were you about to make anyway?" He questioned. Thatch knew that no matter the answer he gave, it wasn't going to be satisfactory, but he decided to try anyway.
"I was...well, I was going to make crepes..sir. Because today is my-" a fist in the side of his face interrupted his statement. Thatch tried not to cry out, knowing it would only anger the man further.
"I don't care what today is! It doesn't matter. I've told you countless times to only make the prescribed dishes and you don't listen. Looks like i'm going to have to teach you the hard way." He said and then reached down to roughly grab the shoulder that was still sore from earlier. He yanked Thatch upwards and spun him around.
"Thatch!" yelled a very concerned voice right in his face. Thatch blinked several times and stared at the very worried face of his close friend.
"Are you okay, yoi?" Marco asked him.
"Huh? Oh, yeah..was just...thinking of some things. I'm fine." Thatch answered vaguely, hoping he would take the hint and not ask any more.
"Ah. If you say so. You were staring off into space, yoi." He looked unconvinced though, but didn't prod any further. "Anyway, did you finish that paperwork I gave you last night?"
"Ahaha...about that...see I was going to get to it, but you see there was this thing I had to attend to with Haruta and we just got so consumed with it that the time just sort of slipped passed us and the next thing I know it's after midnight and well..I do need my beauty sleep. I mean I know it's hard to believe, but I don't just naturally look this stunning. I have to put in a little effort here and there, ya know?" He grinned at Marco, who just stared at him incredulously.
"Speaking of 'putting in a little effort here and there'..." Thatch gulped; he knew he wasn't getting off the hook so easily. "How about you put a little of that effort into your paperwork?" Marco gave him a hard stare.
"I would but, you see, the kitchen is a little short staffed today so I was going to be in here all day helping out and-"
"I don't think so. I'll get someone else in here to help out. You are finishing that paperwork today. In fact, you're going to go do that right now, because I'm certain you've got so much unfinished besides that, that it'll take you awhile. Now get." Marco ordered him. Thatch looked around at the others in the kitchen but all of them turned away, ignoring his silent pleas for help.
"But Marco..." Thatch tried again. Marco grabbed his arm and started dragging him towards the door.
"No buts! You are going back to your room and finishing that paperwork. And you're not to leave until you're finished or I send someone for you. Understand?" and before Thatch could give an answer either way, Marco shoved him out the door.
Resigned, he headed towards his room, knowing it was pointless to try and find something else to do. When Marco gave the order, he had no choice but to comply. If he even tried looking for Haruta, Marco would have his head on a plate before he could even blink.
He trudged back to his prison room, grumbling about overstuffed turkeys and dumb flaming chickens the whole way there. Sighing, he sat at his desk he stared at the stupid stack of papers before he grabbed one and began his prison sentence work.
He worked tirelessly, trying to get through all the work that Marco had given him the night before. Just when he'd finished that and was three sheets into the rest of his work, there was a knock on his door.
He looked up, confused. It couldn't have been more than a little passed lunch time and he knew Marco would certain that no one disturbed him while he was working. So who was knocking and why? Was Marco already sending someone for him?
Shaking his head and standing up, he decided not to question it too much, lest his luck turn against him and he end up with even more work. He shivered, hoping that wasn't the case. He opened the door now expecting to be met with a new stack of paperwork to do and was greeted by the sight of...Ace.
When Ace saw the door open, he grinned and waved at him. "Yo, Thatch! Marco sent me to get ya. How's the work coming along?"
Throwing a glance at the remaining stack, he quickly stepped out of his room, closing his door so Ace couldn't see how much was left.
"Ah, I was just about finished." He told him, smiling. "Or nearly." He added at Ace's disbelieving glance.
"Anyway, and more importantly, i'm hungry. Let's go get some grub." Ace told him, all but dragging Thatch along with him. They chatted idly as they walked.
"Ya know Marco's gonna go nuts if you don't finish that paperwork soon. It's why I went ahead and did mine." Ace told him. Ace was nearly as bad as Thatch was when it came to turning in paperwork but it seemed he'd learned his lesson, or at least did played it like he did, this time around.
"I know! There's just so much though...but he didn't have to lock me up in my room though." He scowled at nothing in particular. "Not that I expected any better today anyway..." he mumbled. Ace gave him a look but said nothing. And neither did Thatch.
They finally neared the doors to the galley and Ace's face lit up in a grin. Stepping forward a little he let out loudly, "Alright! Time to eat!" Thatch rolled his eyes at the younger man's antics.
Thatch put his hand on the door, pushing it open. He looked at Ace as he said "I know you like to eat, more than the next guy, but there's no need for-"
"SURPRISE!"
Thatch jerked backwards in surprise and would have fallen over, had Ace not been there and caught him. He looked around, confused and little taken aback. The grinning faces of his crewmates stared back at him. He faintly noted the foods and drinks decorating the various tables. As well as the decorations on the wall.
"Wha...?" Thatch couldn't speak.
"Happy Birthday Thatch!" Ace told him, laughing. The rest of group then yelled 'Happy Birthday!' in a not-all-at-the-same-time chorus. It seemed some of them had started partying a little early. (Well they are pirates.) Thatch was still confused though.
"Wha..why? It's just my birthday...it's not anything special to celebrate..." He said glumly, turning his gaze to the ground. Marco rolled his eyes before stepping forward to throw and arm around Thatch's shoulders, smushing Thatch between Ace and himself.
"Why wouldn't we celebrate your birthday?" Ace asked him. Thatch looked at him, but turned his head to look at Marco when he started speaking.
"You're our brother. Of course we'd celebrate your birthday." Marco explained.
A deep chuckle had them all turning to look at the man they called their father. "Don't look so distressed my son. It's your birthday, and we're glad you're here with us so we're going to celebrate it. Simple as that."
At his words, the crew all cheered and everyone raised their glasses and started the party, oblivious to the continued turmoil of one Division Four Commander.
Thatch looked back at Marco again; Ace had already run off to join the party and start chowing down.
"But...why?" Thatch asked again. One of the corners of Marco's mouth lifted up into a smile.
"Like Pops said. It's simple. You're our family. We care about you. So we'll celebrate your birthday." And with that he walked off to join the party as well.
Family huh? He thought, watching everyone having a grand time. He put his hand on a shoulder that had long since healed its bruising.
Grinning, he took off to join his family in their festivities.
Notes: That beginning was much sadder than I intended it to be. I apologize. Today wasn't a good day for me, and it kind of eeked into my writing, but the ending was better, right? At least, I hope it was.
Anyway. Happy Birthday Thatchy!