INVICTUS
Genre: Drama/Family/Romance
Characters: Law / Luffy with Bonney & Kidd… And Corazon.
Rated: M, for language, violence, adult situations and sensitive subject matter.
(Warnings: M/M; Contains mentions of character death, graphic violence, and references of child abuse.)
Summary: After his foster father's unexpected death, Law returns home for a funeral expecting to wrap up some things. What he doesn't expect to find is the surprise secret brother Corazon's been hiding. His name is Luffy, and from day one, Law knows he's going to be a pain.
Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to One Piece or its Characters, or the poem which shares its name with this story. Those rights would go to Eiichiro Oda and William Ernest Henley respectively.
Chapter One: Born to Drown and All for One
The sun was beginning to set, but it was still hot as fuck as Law stood there in the cemetery, antique sword strapped to the back of his best black Armani suit, sweating his ass off.
Winter was a foreign concept in Dressrosa.
It had been an obnoxiously beautiful day, blue skies with just the right amount of fluffy white clouds—and it was turning into an obnoxiously scenic sunset. Tangerine skies, clouds tinged pink like cotton candy…
Law's stomach revolted at the thought.
It'd been a beautiful service too. Not that it'd had anything to do with him. No, that would all be thanks to his sister. She'd miraculously managed to orchestrate the whole thing, all Law had to do was show up. But he'd managed to fuck that up as well.
Like so many things in life.
He'd only made it here today because his sister had taken it upon herself to make the two-an-a-half hour drive by rental car to Law's own apartment in Sabaody, just to check on him.
She'd been worried when he hadn't returned her calls. Given the current circumstances Law couldn't blame her. She'd found him of course, her dear and successful older brother, passed out in his own shower, dried bits of vomit in his hair, clinging to an empty bottle of Jack Daniel's.
Which would've been embarrassing enough, but then, after finally managing to rouse him, he'd still been too inebriated to clean himself off.
So she'd had to take care of that too. Law still wasn't sure how his tiny sister, a whopping five-foot-five, had managed to hold him up in the shower, all six-foot-four of him. But that was his sister. She was just awesome like that.
And she had only tried to drown him once.
Law was pretty sure the other times had been accidents.
She might have left him there, to recover from his stupidity on his own, if had it been any other day. But Law was thankful she hadn't.
Thanks to her efforts—and a decent number of traffic violations—they had both made it in time for the beginning of the memorial, where she'd given a touching eulogy, her eyes tearing up as she stood at the podium.
Law himself only caught the first have of her speech.
He'd had to rush out midway to avoid puking in the pews.
He'd made it.
Barely.
To his eternal shame, he'd spent the remainder of the service, hugging a toilet in the men's room.
His speedy retreat hadn't gone unnoticed either.
People might have assumed it to have been caused by an onslaught of grief—if they hadn't smelt the liquor fumes on his breath…
A shower and all the mouthwash in the world couldn't fix that one. Sorry, sis.
It just proved what they'd thought of him all along. Law was a fuck up—a disappointment as a son.
Nothing he didn't already know.
Ignoring the whispers, he'd managed to do his duty as a front pall bearer, and successfully held his stomach together during the funeral itself. But that had been the end of his tolerance.
Normally he couldn't give two-fucks what they thought, but, Bonney had worked so hard to make everything perfect, and he didn't want to fuck it up by getting into it with the other mourners.
So now, here he was, standing alone over a freshly covered grave, sweating his ass off, avoiding their scrutiny by skipping out on the after reception.
Yeah…
It had been a beautiful service. Even if he had missed most of it.
Law could only thank-fucking-god for sisters, because when it came to important shit, brothers were fucking useless. While Law could perform open heart surgery, and his brother easily kill a man with a teacup, neither one of them would have had the first clue about shit like floral arrangements or photographical montages. His brother didn't have an organizational bone in his body. Law might have been able to struggle through it, if he hadn't been mentally checked-out.
This left his younger sister, as usual, responsible for pulling their asses out of the fire.
And, as usual, she'd done a memorable job.
Law's only real discrepancy, was with the headstone—or rather—not the marker itself, but its inscription. The words, elegantly scripted in black marble, just seemed so fucking inappropriate.
"…Bloodied but unbowed?" Laws face screws up as he reads it again.
Normally, he would have blamed it on his brother—dark metaphors where more his kind of his thing—but as previously stated, brothers were fucking useless when dealing important shit. So no. It had to have been his sisters doing. And after everything she'd done, the shit she'd been through, he wouldn't dare criticize her unusually morbid choice of words.
Not out loud anyway
Speaking of, Law could hear the light sound of footsteps. High-heels, clipping down the walkway before crunching through the green, manicured grass.
They stop just behind him. He doesn't bother turning around, knowing they could only belong to one person.
"I can hear you thinking," Law murmurs, quietly, because sounds tended to carry in cemeteries.
"And what," comes the curious, feminine response, "—am I thinking?
Law closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, hangover still pounding away inside his skull. "Something condescending I'm sure," he replies, only half-joking.
A few more footsteps, and Law opens his eyes, head turning only slightly, to see his sister standing beside him.
Even in his periphery, Bonney looks stunning as always.
Like Law, she had stood out among all the other mourners, but for different reasons.
Beautiful, but dangerous, Jewelry Bonney was a snakebite-heart with a bubblegum-smile.
Never one for standard black anything, she looks like a macabre sugarplum fairy, right down to the laced up leg ribbons. Her dress, a corset-styled top with matching frilly skirt, is all black lace and pink sugar frosting.
Her bubblegum pink hair is twisted up at the nape of her neck, and styled in an ornate braid. She'd added fuchsia highlights since he'd last seen it. It looked good, complimenting to her exotic facial features.
She's watching him, with those mesmerizing eyes of hers. Like sparkling amethyst. Though technically classified as blue, they were so rich, so deep, that they appeared purple.
In comparison, he'd always felt that his own eyes—which were also technically categorized as blue—were nothing but a pale, washed-out imitation. They were more gray than anything. Like an ugly winter sky.
In any city that wasn't Dressrosa, anyway.
"There's a reception going on back at the house you know," Bonney tests, and to her eternal credit, it isn't in a condescending tone. Just conversational. "You should see all the shitty food people are giving us."
"Hmn," Law hums, and sticks his hands in his pockets. "Like there's anything you won't eat."
"Not true," she replies, smiling coyly. "Old Lady Tsuru broke out the toxic fudge," she shrugs. "Figured I'd save that for you."
Law mentally cringes. He'd once spent three days, sick as a dog with food poisoning, courtesy of that dish and a stupid dare on his brother's part. He'd never forget it.
Law hmph's and his sister chuckles.
"We should get back," Bonney finally presses, lightly bumping him with her hip.
To Law this sounds like a horrible idea. The worst Idea. And he mentally struggles for any valid argument against it.
"I can't," Law says. Bonney looks at him expectantly. He shrugs. "It's like Noah's Arc in there…" he finishes weakly.
It's a flimsy excuse.
His sister knows it.
Bonney rolls her eyes. "Well grab a damn life vest," she replies, sarcastically. "It's a funeral—somebody died. People tend to cry when that happens."
Law winces.
Like he needed the reminder.
He'd almost forgotten about Bonny's inability to pull punches. Over the years she'd never really grasped the concept of tact. She had, however, apparently learned to sense the discomfort of others because she sighs, giving Law a seemingly regretful look.
"We really should be there."
Law decides a change in topics is in order. "You're staying at the hotel right?" he says, though he already knows the answer—knows that they've been in town for a few days already—knows that they are staying there. Not at the house.
Roci's house.
"Yeah, um," Bonney says after a moment, sounding almost embarrassed. "Me and Kidd both have rooms. We just—uh, you know—we couldn't…"
She doesn't finish. Doesn't have to. The message is loud and clear: 'We just couldn't stay in Roci's house without him in it.'
Law just shrugs. What could he say?
That Roci is dead?
That he isn't ever going back to that house because he was now buried?
Practically beneath their feet?
Right… because he really wants to see his sister cry some more.
He might be a dick, but he isn't THAT much of a dick.
If his brother and sister want to stay at the stupid motel, instead of coming home, where they belong, with him—then that was just… fine.
"You could get a room too," she says, hesitantly. "Then the three of us could head over to the house together, and you know, sort things out..."
"It's fine Bon," he says, shaking his head. "Really. It's fine."
It's fine.
Those words seem to be becoming his new mantra as of late, but that was okay.
Because it is fine .
Really.
.
It's fine that his brother and sister can't handle sleeping at Roci's house. It's fine that he's going to be staying there by himself, completely alone. It's fine dammit, because he's fine, and maybe if he says it enough he'll actually start believing it—
His sister doesn't look convinced.
Growing up, she'd always had the ability to see through Law's bullshit. Under any other circumstance, she would have called him on it, but not today.
Not on this.
She just bites her lip. Because it was so very fucking obvious—even to a stranger—that just like her and Kidd, Law was so very, very fucking far from being fine.
They were all living in glass houses.
Each afraid of throwing the first stone, for fear that they'd be called on their own bullshit I'm-just-fine façade, because among the three of them, none of them were any good at dealing with emotions.
They might not have been blood related, but if there was one thing they all had in common, it was that they were all equal-parts fucked-up.
Hell, it was probably why they were all so close.
He could appreciate the irony in that.
'Yeah,' Law thinks. 'We're all fine here folks. Move along. Nothing to see.' He can't smother the laugh that escapes. At first its short self-deprecating kind of chuckle, but then it just seems to bubble over into something that's—maybe—just a tad bit manic, because now his sister is looking at him sort of strangely…
She doesn't say anything though. Still afraid of those stones apparently.
Whatever, so maybe Law was a little bit manic—but wasn't it considered socially acceptable given the situation?
Wasn't someone allowed to act a little crazy after burying the only parent they'd ever known? Leaving said person practically alone in the world and experiencing a whole new level of hell because—while that parent was now gone, forever—the one responsible for his death was still out there, somewhere, walking, breathing…
Maybe then, a person was allowed to go just a little bit fucking crazy…
And if society didn't approve, well, fuck them.
Law had never really given a flying-fuck what society thought of him anyway. If he had, he wouldn't be standing in a cemetery with a Nodachi strapped to his back. He also wouldn't be the surgeon whose body was practically covered in black tribal tattoos, the word death printed across both sets of his knuckles.
That was his big fuck you to society right there, permanently inked into his skin, on display for the world to see…
Yeah.
Trafalgar Law gave not-one-shit what anyone thought of him.
The only man, whose opinion mattered, was dead.
From the bullet hole in his head…
Law practically chokes on his own twisted laughter. His body is trembling.
Winter must have settled itself over Law, because despite the heat, it feels like his insides are frozen, his blood is an icy cold weight in his veins that leaves him chilled all the way down to his bones.
Law feels like he's about to crack. Like he's going to fracture as his body shakes itself apart—
Suddenly, there's a a pair small, warm arms wrapping themselves around his waist, and an equally warm body pressing into him. A head full of soft pink hair is tucking itself against his shoulder, just beneath his chin.
Bonney doesn't say a thing, but she does hold him tightly, the way only Bonney does, in a practical choke hold.
Normally Law would complain about the level strength she uses, but right now, it feels like that strength is the only thing that's holding him instead he buries his face in that soft pink hair and breathes deeply, inhaling the soothing scent of lavender. It's from the special shampoo his sister has always favored.
It's familiar and it's Bonney.
Reminding him that he's not completely alone. His eyes actually tear up a bit, and he's so grateful that all he can do is wrap his own long arms around her, reciprocating the gesture.
They stand there like that for several long minutes, clinging to each other, holding each other up.
Eventually the trembling subsides and Law finally manages to reign in his emotions, putting them back behind the stonewall and letting the mask fall back into place. He gives Bonney one last hard squeeze before they slowly ease apart.
Law's hands go back into his pocket. Bonney gives a little sniff, lightly punching him before looking away as she straightens out the ruffles of her dress, carefully fluffing the fabric back out where it'd been pressed flat.
"You know," she says at last, her eyes a little redder. "We really should get back. We left Kidd all alone back there. You know he can't swim either."
She gives Law a teasing smile, which he returns, because it's so true.
Sure enough, Kidd must've been drowning by now…
But then he hears the chinking sound that's accompanying approach of another set of footsteps, these ones much heavier than Bonney's, because they are being made by a familiar pair of clunky old combat boots.
"I don't think it's going to be a problem," Law says, as a deep loud voice calls out to them.
"HEY!"
They turn around and there's Kidd. Their heathen brother is marching towards them, silver chains chinking together as they swing from his black bondage pants. He's decked out in his red leather trench coat and vintage Metallica t-shirt. His flaming red hair is swept back, as usual, with a pair of goggles.
He looks positively menacing as he glares at them, furiously, with those devilishly golden eyes of his.
Eustass Kidd was one pissed-off looking giant.
If Bonney was petite when compared to Law, then she was completely dwarfed when it came to Kidd. Most people were. Not even Law could measure up to their brother's hulking six-foot-eight frame. Kidd towered over just about everything, and could easily scare most people into shitting themselves with just a look. He stops in front of them, wearing that same look right now.
Too bad for him, Law and Bonney are immune.
They knew that angry was just Kidd's default setting.
"If you fuckers were going to ditch," Kidd growls, accusingly. "You could have at least told me."
Law rolls his eyes and Bonney waves a dismissive hand.
"Quit you're bitching," she says, clearly unimpressed. "We're all going back."
Wait. What?
Law and Kidd's faces both give her equally rebellious expressions of 'Oh-hell-no.'
"No way," Kidd crosses his arms through the air protest. "I'm not going back there. It's like, a fucking Lifetime movie convention! I swear to God Bonney… if one more old-fart tries to fucking hug me—"
Law snickers, because honestly, who would dare?
"Augh!" Bonney throws her arms up, clearly fed up with her brothers and their intolerance for waterworks. "Seriously! What is wrong with you two?"
Kidd gives Law a look and mouths 'What'd you do?'
Law just shrugs. Because, sisters, right?
"Really, guys?" Bonney looks back and forth between them, exasperated. "You're both just—just, fucking mean."
Both Law and Kidd turn to give her twin looks of disbelief.
Bonney blinks. "What?"
"Hello—Misses Pot? Have you met the fuckin' kettle?" says Kid.
"Seriously Bon," says Law.
There's a set of equally un-masculine yelps as Bonney punches both of them in their shoulders. Law mentally curses her damn boney knuckles, but isn't dumb enough to say anything out loud.
Kidd however was a slow learner.
"Violent bitc—OW!" Kiss hisses, stepping back out of striking distance, covering his abused arm after Bonney gets him again, "Fine then," he grumbles, petulantly. "You go back there."
Bonney's mouth falls open. "Are you crazy?" she says, voice rising several octaves higher. "I'm not going back there by myself!"
Translation: 'I can't deal with crying people either.'
Law shakes his head. Hypocrite.
"Well then," Kidd smirks, looking pleased with himself. "It looks like we're all going to be out here for awhile. So. I say…" he smiles wickedly, reaching into his oversized pockets, pulling out a glass bottle filled with sloshing clear liquid. "—we have ourselves a good, old-fashioned, Irish wake."
Law's stomach nearly revolts at the thought.
Bonney just gives Kidd a look, because this is such typical Kidd behavior. "Wakes are before the funeral. And they are only Irish if you're Irish," she says, pointedly. "You just want to get smashed."
"Fine then," says Kidd, notably not arguing. "None for you then."
Bonney scoffs, rolling her eyes.
He turns to Law then, who still looks queasy. "Come on bro, its moonshine." And it's the way he says it, stressing the word like it made all the difference.
Law is not convinced. "Where'd you even get that stuff?"
Kidd shrugs nonchalantly. "Stole it out of Smokey's truck."
Law shakes his head. He really isn't surprised that Kidd had known where to find Ol' Smokey's stash, or that he'd obviously broken in to the detective's truck to get it. Things like locks had never really deterred Kidd.
"Classy," Bonney mutters.
Kidd ignores her, waving the bottle at Law. "Hair-of-the-dog Law," he tempts. "Get rid of that hangover and get one over on Smoker."
Law has serious doubts about that first thing, but second has serious potential. Law never had been able to pass up any opportunity to piss off Smokey. Kidd had hooked him, and by the look on his face he knew it too. "Alright," Law sighs, "Pass it here."
"Yes!" Kidd pumps his free hand in the air, because now he's got his co-conspirator on board with him.
Bonney groans. "You too?"
"Relax Bon-bon," says Kidd, grinning as he passes the bottle to Law. "It's not like we're going to drown our sorrows—we're just taking them for a little swim."
"You don't know how to swim," Bonney counters. "You only know how to get shitfaced."
"Also a valid point," Kidd nods, agreeing without shame.
Law ignores them both as he unscrews the metal top. The fumes are strong. He hesitates the briefest of seconds before taking a deep swig—it tastes like fire, and burns all the way down his esophagus and into his stomach.
"Augh," Law makes a horrible face. His eyes feel like they are melting as they tear up. He gives a few sputtering coughs, trying to keep the acid in his stomach from coming back up. He wipes his eyes and mouth with the back of his sleeve, before screwing the lid back on loosely and passing the bottle back to Kidd.
It never makes it to him though, because Bonney intercepts it, rolling her eyes. "Give me that," she grumbles.
"Attagirl Bon-bon!" Kid whoops, arms going up in victory.
Bonney scowls at his antics, looking like she wants to hit him again—but Kidd knows they've got her.
It was the unspoken, and unbreakable, majority rule:
What they did—they did together.
Roci would laugh and call them Musketeers.
One for all.
"I hate both you both." Bonney makes a face at the bottle, but she takes off the top and takes a long swallow anyway. She ends up coughing way worse than Law, who just chuckles as Kidd smacks her on the back. "God," she sputters at last, "That is vile"
Kidd just laughs. "Cheers to that!"
So, in the end, they all ended up in the pool.
The sun went down, and together, they managed to polish off Smoker's moonshine.
Sitting and drinking around Roci's grave, they took turns taking shots and raising toasts, to the tombstone, which bore the name of the man who'd been a father, to each of them, and in every sense of the word…
~ 1972 – 2016 ~
Rocinante "Corazon" Don Quixote
'…Bloodied but unbowed.'
X X X
Law doesn't get back to the house until after ten. Kidd and Bonney had taken a taxi back to the hotel, but he refused the ride when they offered, because he actually wanted to walk.
Though he hadn't gone straight home of course.
After he'd waved off his siblings, he'd felt very nicely buzzed. While basking in the ability to not think for awhile, he'd decided to take an aimless stroll through the plots.
It was a predictably clear night, the moon bathing everything in a soothing blue light and Law quickly found himself in the oldest part of the cemetery, admiring the larger, more unique markers.
There were quite a few statues, some broken or crumbling, but to Law it was all part of the appeal.
It was wilder there, the layout more chaotic, the trees and shrubbery denser, and humanity felt so much farther away.
It had been relaxing and quiet, until he'd started hearing weird, suspiciously animal-like noises, and Law suddenly remembered a documentary he'd watched recently. It had been all about coyotes, how there were thousands of them living in the cities, right in peoples back yards, and how they were especially fond of making their homes in cemeteries.
Law was so not an animal person. Especially not a coyote-animal person, so he'd made the quick decision that it was time to end his macabre midnight wanderings and head home.
It's a short trip, and once he's there, under the safety of the porch light, he feels silly about being so jumpy, especially once he checks his pockets and realizes that he's lost his keys somewhere along the way.
"Sonnofa-" Law slurs slightly. Now what? Even if he went back, he'd never be able to find them now, isn't even sure when they might have fallen out. Luckily for him, at least he still has his phone; so he does what he's always done in a crisis such as this.
He calls Bonney.
It only rings twice before she answers. "Yeah?"
"Yeah-hey," Law responds, clearing his throat. "Uh-well, I'm home... Funny thing though," Law rubs the back of his neck, "I kinda, um. Lost my keys? Somewhere. Not… not really sure."
Bonney sighs into the phone. "Spare key Law," she says tiredly. "Top of the doorframe."
"Ah. Shit," Law wants to face-palm himself, because, duh, he should've known that. "Yeah, hang on, I'm getting it."
Bonney makes a sound, acknowledging him.
Law reaches up to the top of the front doorframe, feeling blindly for a second, before his fingers find the cool metal of the key and he pulls it down.
If there was one thing Roci could always be dependable on, it was locking himself out of his own home. Half of the neighborhood was probably aware of just where this key was located, considering the number of times his adoptive father had had to use it.
"Got it," Law says, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a half-smile, remembering the number of times he'd come home, back before Bonney had suggested the hide-a-key, when he'd find Roci sitting on the porch steps, grinning, lit cigarette in his mouth and a dozen dead ones at his feet, waiting for one of his kids to come home and let him inside.
Law held the key in his hand, thumb rubbing over the cool metal fondly. "Yeah. Yeah, I got it," he says. Bonney hmms and he shakes his head before using it to unlock the door, and going inside.
The door creaks, much louder than he remembers it ever being before, as he reaches out in the darkness to flip on the light switch.
Law pockets the spare key.
He won't admit that he hesitates. Just for a moment. Staring into the familiar, yet foreign space that's always been home.
He shuts the door behind him—again, a much louder sound than he remembers—and walks inside.
Everything is just as it's always been. Everything is still in its place. The mismatched furniture, the different knickknacks, the photographs on the walls, everything is still the same…
It's the silence and stillness that dispels the illusion.
Walking, slowly, through the house is a strangely deafening experience.
There should be music playing, something old like The Beatle's, maybe Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, should be competing with Kidd's screeching metal.
Kidd and Bonney should be pacing around, Bonney yelling into the phone with Kidd trailing behind making obnoxious gestures and interruptions.
And Roci himself should have been sitting in the kitchen, at the table, cigarette in his hand, smile on his face, observing all the antics of his children…
Law's throat feels tight.
"Law?" Bonney's voice comes through the phone, he'd forgotten it was still on, and it shakes him from his thoughts.
It's a more than welcome disruption.
"Y-yeah, uh—No, I'm here. I'm in." Law squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing them with the heel of his free hand, before he opens them again, blinking. "Yeah, I'm…I'm good…" he clears his throat.
"Well, good," Bonney says. "I'm glad you remembered how to use a key. Now –"
"Yeah. No—I got it. Hey…" Law interrupts, because it sounded like she was about to hang up, and he really doesn't want her to hang up just yet. So his brain scrambles for something, anything that they could talk about.
Something not painful anyway.
His eyes dart around and he notices something he'd overlooked at first. There are clothes, things that are obviously not Roci's (who had a very distinct choice of apparel) scattered around.
Law picks up a red sleeveless hoodie that's draped over a chair. It's too small to have ever belonged to Kidd. "Hey, did you leave some stuff over here?" Law asks.
"No, all my stuff's here," she says. "Why what're you looking at?"
"Some clothes," he says, and there's more. Like some torn off shorts and a few t-shirts, also pretty small. "They look kind of old."
"Hmm. I don't remember seeing anything laying around earlier—not that I was actually there long enough to really look," Bonney mumbles grumpily, because she, of course, had had to hunt down her missing brother. "But guess they could be mine, if they're old. Maybe Roci was doing some cleaning," she says, and Law can imagine her shrugging. "What's there?"
"I dunno," Law says. "Like… a red jacket? Some old jeans, some shirts—"
"Gee, that's specific," says Bonney sarcastically. "I don't remember any red jackets. Read me some of the labels."
Law does, naming off the different brands, rolling his eyes, because of course his sister would recognize those. Bonney never forgot a label.
"Wait—wait. Hang on," Bonney interrupts. "You said they're mine?"
Law blinks. "Well, yeah," he says. "They're small as shit. "
Bonney scoffs. "What are the sizes?" she asks. "Specifically."
"Ugh," Law groans, totally not seeing the point of this, but he finds the jackets tag. He blinks. The print looks like it's squirming around so he kind of has to squint before he can read the fine print…
"Extra-small," he huffs, putting the hoodie back. "Like I said."
Bonney makes an annoyed sound. "Pant size moron."
Law grumbles, picking up a pair of the shorts, he doesn't really see what the difference is. Small was small. "They're 28-30's."
Bonney snorts. "Law you dumbass," she says. "Those are BOYS clothes."
"Huh…"Laws face scrunches up in confusion. "Well they aren't mine and they can't be Kidd's." His brother had never been small a day in his life.
"Hmn," Bonney says after a minute, like she's thinking about something. "Maybe they're something someone donated?"
Law hums. "Yeah. I guess." It would make sense; Roci was a retired cop-turned-social-worker, so he was always getting donations for shit. So great, mystery solved. Law tosses the pants back.
But now what? He still didn't feel like hanging up.
Then he has an idea. Something sure to get his sister talking.
He makes his way into the kitchen and—
"Ah-shit," Law stumbles, tripping over some dishes someone left on the floor.
"Now what?" comes Bonney's exasperated voice. Law realizes he's probably keeping her from sleeping. Doesn't care.
"Someone left some dishes on the floor," he mutters, because seriously, what the hell? Who leaves dishes on the floor? Not that he bothers picking them up…
"Kidd." Bonney says, and Law agrees.
Yeah. Probably.
He ignores the dishes. Instead he moves to the island counter, ignoring all the different plates full of Ceram-wrapped foods that had been thoughtfully left behind (Including, he notices with disgust, a plateful of Old Tsuru's toxic fudge.) and goes to the end drawer.
Pulling it open, he takes out what he's after and closes it loudly.
"What was that?" his sister asks.
Law is already smirking, sliding his sword off and laying the Nodachi on the kitchen table. He pulls out a chair, sitting down with his prizes, replying with a falsely innocent "Nothing."
Law opens the pack of cigarettes, the only brand Roci ever smoked, putting one in his mouth. He takes the classic Zippo lighter, its side panels embossed with the ace of hearts insignia, holding it close to the cigarette—and incidentally the phone—in his mouth, before flipping the top back, making a distinct metallic chink.
"Laaaw," Bonney's voice comes through the phone.
Law hits the striker and hmms a response, knowing damn well he sounds like he has something in his mouth.
"You're not smoking are you?"
Law knows this is an accusation and not an actual question.
"Mmh," he chuckles to himself, lighting the cigarette. He takes deep hit before exhaling through pearly white teeth, right into the mouthpiece. "Nope," he drawls smugly.
"Trafalgar Law," Bonney says. "I know you're drunk, but you BETTER not burn the house down. I thought you were a damn doctor! That shit will kill you—" Bonney gripes on as Law just smiles to himself.
Suddenly there's a thumping sound from somewhere above.
'What the hell?' Law thinks, looking up. And because he is drunk, he accidently lets the end of the lit cigarette tilt against his knuckle.
"Fuck!" Law hisses, dropping the cigarette and nearly the phone along with it.
"What? What happened?" Bonney's concerned voice is in his ear.
Law holds the phone between his cheek and shoulder, sucking on his burnt knuckle while reaching down for the culprit. "Burnt myself…" he murmurs absently.
"Serves you right," Bonney mocks, and then, "I thought you weren't smoking!"
Law scoffs. "Like you believed it." Bonney starts bitching some more, but then he hears it again. Thump. "What…the hell?"
"Law—"
"Sshh," Law hushes her, standing up. He kills the cigarette in the ashtray. "Hang on."
"Why, what'd you do—" But Law cuts her off.
"Bonney, shut up a sec," Law listens for it.
Bonney exhales harshly. "Don't you tell me to—"
"Really, I keep hearing something…"
There's a brief silence, and then:
Th-thump.
"There it is again. I can hear it, there's—I think—there's something... something is upstairs..."he trails off, moving out of the kitchen now, towards the staircase, still listening.
What could possibly be up there?
Bonney actually goes silent for a moment, and then "What do you mean?"
Law rolls his eyes. "I mean, exactly what I said—there is something upstairs. I can hear it knocking around in one of the bedrooms up there," he says, before quickly adding "I'm going to check it out—hold up a sec."
"Law!" he can hear his sisters warning, but he's already putting the phone down—and maybe it's the level alcohol running through him—because he's already climbing the stairs. And he's not really thinking—about silly things like armed intruders, or home invasions, or that maybe he should be grabbing his sword—only that he really really wants to find out what's up there.
Once he's on the top landing, after taking the steps two at a time and, amazingly, not tripping over his own feet, he flips on some of the lights.
He's still got the phone in his hand, and he can hear Bonney's muffled protests coming through, but other than that it's quiet. And he's not really sure where to start. There are three bedrooms up here and that sound could have been coming from any of them. He doesn't feel like searching through each of them trying to figure out.
He's about put the phone back to his ear, because his sisters pitch is becoming noticeably higher and louder, when he hears it again, distinctly coming from the last room.
His room.
Law narrows his eyes, and he lifts up the phone to try and pacify his sister, while walking towards his old bedroom. "Bonney calm down, I'm checking it out, okay?"
"NO! It is not okay! What are you THINKING?!" Bonney practically shrieks through the phone, in a pitch only dogs can hear.
Law winces and has to hold the earpiece several inches from his ear to avoid going deaf. Bonney always overreacts. "Chill Bonney, Jesus."
"What if it's a PERSON making that noise?!"
"Tch," Law clicks his tongue. Like he couldn't handle it if it turned out to be a person up here. Drunk or not, Law could handle himself. "It's fine look, I'll be right back. Don't have a coronary."
He hesitates at the door, not because of thoughts like burglars, but because its been a really long time since he's been in this room.
Too long.
Law breathes in, and eases the door open slowly, the light from the hall pouring in behind him.
He can't see anything, nothing human-shaped anyway, so he steps inside, hitting the switch on the wall.
The light inside the room comes on, but there's nothing really out of the ordinary, other than the fact that it's filled with stacks of boxes, some of which have been knocked over. It looks like Roci's been using it for storage. Something about that makes his chest clench and his throat tighten.
It was like looking at physical evidence of his absence. Like Roci really hadn't expected Law to come home…
He wondered. Were Kidd's and Bonney's rooms like this?
Law swallows hard, clearing his throat a little, and starts searching the room more thoroughly.
The contents that had spilt out of the boxes looked like more donations, it wasn't anything he recognized, just more small clothes, some books and other odds and ends that weren't his. Actually, it looked as if most of his things had been packed away.
There were, he noticed however, quite a bit of old food wrappers, even some soda bottles, strewn around the room. The only thing he could think was that, maybe, the garbage had attracted rats?
God, Law hoped not. Rats were so damn disgusting. With their twitchy noses and glassy black eyes. They carried any number of diseases, things like rabies and bubonic plague and were just—gross.
He lifted the phone. "Ugh," he moans. "I think—it might be rats…"
Bonney breathes an audible sigh of relief. "Rats?"
"Yeah I mean," he nudges one of the boxes with his foot, ready to jump back should anything small and furry jump out at him. "I found some stuff upstairs—looks like Roci was storing some stuff up here. There's like, food containers and shit."
"Where at?" asks Bonney.
"My room." Law reaches out and picks up an old straw hat that's perching on one of the bed banisters. Definitely not his. Law's hats tended to be of the fuzzy variety,
"Oh…" There's a noticeably heavy silence on the other end of the line.
Law's eyes narrow. He sets the straw hat back down. "Bonney—did you…" Law clears his throat. "I mean… did you know?"
More silence. He hears Bonney take a slow breath. "Yeah… yeah, I knew. It's—it's been that way for awhile."
Laws mouth falls a bit. "How long?" He doesn't know why, but this, somehow, feels like a betrayal. Like, how could Bonney have known? She could've warned him, could've let him know…
"Law, look, it's not really—I mean, it's just a couple of boxes right? It's not really important."
Law is about to point out that, yes, it damn well is important, when he catches a flash of movement from his periphery. "Shit, hang on Bonney."
Law turns around, expecting to see an ugly little furry body skittering around—maybe a pair of beady eyes staring at him—but what he gets instead is a another flash of movement—again just out of his line of sight—only this time its noticeably larger…
Much larger than a damn rat.
And fast... he's not sure where it—
"Law…?" Bonney's voice is concerned. "What's going on?"
"Something's in here with me…" he says quietly.
A box tips over behind him and he can hear claws scratching across the wooden floorboards—he spins around. Something's just run back behind the closet. His heart is starting to pump pure adrenaline because—fuck—this something very large…and very furry…and kind of grayish-blonde and …oh-my-god—
"Fucking coyote…" Law audibly swallows, stepping back, suddenly wishing for his sword downstairs, right where he left it. Shit. Why'd he do that?
Stupid Law. Stupid- stupid-stu—
"What? Law, did you say coyote?"
Law nods, before remembering that Bonney can't actually see him nodding. "Yeah I—fuck. Bonney this thing is fucking huge." All Law can think about now is that stupid documentary he watched, how coyotes were scavengers, how they ate trash and broke into peoples houses and how they ate this one girl—and fuck, this is so much worse than dealing with rats.
"I thought you were in the house!"
"Sonnofa…!" Law jumps. Something else tips over to his left. How'd it get over there? It was like this thing was circling him, sizing him up.
Law curses, tries blindly side stepping—which was a lot harder to do with the alcohol onboard—across the cluttered floor, wanting to get to the door. If he could just shut the damn thing in here…
Why couldn't it have been a damn person?
People he could deal with, but things with fur tended to hate him. Tended to try and maul and maim and—
"Law!" Bonney is yelling into the phone.
Laws feels like he's been shot up with epinephrine, like his hearts going to beat its way out of his chest. With his eyes still glued in the animals approximate location, he trips over something and ends up stumbling into a stack of boxes.
"Fuck!" Law curses, Bonney is still yelling, but he's dropped the phone. It hits the floor. Slides out of reach. He doesn't dare go after it, doesn't dare lean down, giving this thing an opening.
Screw the phone.
He can call his sister from the one down stairs. He is not spending the night in the ER getting rabies shots and stitches.
He kicks the debris aside, he's almost to the door. There's so much shit on the floor—fuck he's almost—
CRASH!
More boxes.
And—FWOMP!—Law's fallen. He's hit the floor, he's—
"SHIT!" Something lunges at him—It's right in his face!—Law throws up his arms—It's …!
"AHH!" Law screams.
"RREEEEAR!"
Bonney's screaming too.
"HSSSSS!"
X X X
Twenty minutes later, Bonney bursts through the front door, wide eyed, face flushed, looking like she's just run the whole way from the hotel, only to find her brother, still in one piece, sitting calmly on the stairs with a flat expression on his face.
"Wh-what…" she pants, leaning over, hands on her knees, "…What h-happened?"
"Did you know," Law says, nonchalantly, fingering a set of fresh set of fine scratches on his cheek. "—Roci had a cat."
"L-aw...? Your face. It's—" Bonney's looking like her brains having trouble catching up, but then her face screws up. "Wait—did you just say cat?"
"Apparently," Law continues, "He's been feeding it. In the kitchen. It's the ugliest thing you've ever seen. It's—"
Bonney holds up a hand.
"No, no, wait—cat?" her mouth drops open in disbelief. She looks like she's about to smack him, her voice rising high. "A fucking cat?"
"Yeah," says Law, slowly.
"Really?!" Bonney shouts. "A-fucking-cat! Really Law?!" she accuses loudly, jabbing a finger at him. "You said coyote!"
"Hey!" Law defends. "You should see this thing! This isn't just a cat! It's fucking huge, it's—"
"A FUCKING CAT LAW!" Bonney looks near hysterical.
Law blinks. "Y-yeah."
"I THOUGHT YOU WERE BEING MAULED!" Bonney shouts, flailing her arms, and Law really starts to take in his sister's frenzied appearance: Her hair's a mess, she's got slippers on her feet and she's not even wearing real clothes. His normally immaculate, fashionista sister, is standing there, barely dressed, in nothing but pajamas.
He tries to imagine her having fled the hotel, through the lobby, looking like this; wonders what could have possibly possessed her, and then realizes. Damn.
He fucked up.
Bonney smacks him in the back of the head. "You're a fucking moron!" she swears, but its lacking its usual heat. Law had really frightened her, and that made him feel like shit.
Now Law's standing and before she can resist, he's hugging his sister. She stiffens for a second, before grumbling a low "You really suck Law," and then she's hugging him back.
"Yeah I know," he comforts.
Bonney clears her throat after a minute, pushing him away, she's breathing easier. She gives him a rough shove before heading into the living room. "I get the big couch" she says, then waves over her shoulder, "You get Kidd."
"You're staying?" Law asks, hopefully. And then "Wait, Kidd's here?"
"Of course I am." She calls out, already curling up at one end of the longer couch. "And of course he is. He's on the front lawn where I left him," she looks back at Law, eyebrow rising. "Did you think I was going to take on some rabid coyote by myself?" she snorts, "He was going to be the bait."
Law just laughs. Shaking his head, because, knowing his sister, it's exactly something she would do.
Bonney's pulling down the afghan and wrapping it around herself, muttering. "Honestly…Can't leave either of you two alone…"
Law just grins.
Eventually he manages to rouse Kidd into a semi conscious state and walks him inside. He passes out again on the floor and Law and Bonney leave him there, unanimously deciding its his own fault for drinking so much.
Law is thoughtful enough to put him in recovery position so he doesn't pull a Hendrix.
And despite earlier claims, Bonney ends up sharing the long couch. Though she does make him get his own blanket.
Law's even nice enough to grab one for Kidd while he's at it.
For Law it's a familiar scene, with him and Bonney lying stretched out at opposite ends of the couch and Eustass snoring from the floor. Back when they'd all lived under this same roof, they'd often passed out in a similar fashion. Law couldn't count the number of times they'd all fallen asleep, camped out haphazardly around the living room because of one thing or another.
It was a comforting feeling.
"Really Law," Bonney says tiredly, blanket pulled up to her chin. "How the hell do you confuse Puss-in-boots for Wile E. Coyote?" She gives him one last kick beneath the blankets for good measure.
"Hey," says Law, defensively, pulling his leg back. "You should see this thing. The size of it—it's like Catzilla. And I swear to Christ, it's the ugliest thing you've ever seen."
Bonney starts to laugh quietly.
Law's brow furrows. "What?"
"Nothing," she smiles, "It's just. You're so surprised," she gives him a pointed look. "Roci always did have a thing for ugly strays."
Law blinks. And then finds he himself smiling too.
Yeah, he supposed, maybe, it wasn't such a surprise.
It was true. Roci definitely made a habit of taking in the world's unwanted.
After all, he had taken them in.
"I guess your right…"
"'Course I am," she half shrugs.
Law snorts.
"So," Bonney asks, settling into the couch. "What are you going to do with Catzilla?"
"Feed it I guess" he shrugs. It was only one fur-ball. How much trouble could it be? Plus it had been Roci's, and for Law that sealed the decision.
"I can handle one stupid cat." And he could. If Roci had been able to handle three teenagers, then Law could definitely handle one stupid cat.
"Right." And its silent for a moment, Law thinks maybe she's fallen asleep but then she says, softly, "He wasn't there you know."
Law looks at his sister, but she doesn't meet his eyes.
"I didn't see him. At the funeral." Bonney bites her lower lip worriedly. "I mean, it's not like I invited him or anything but… Do you—I mean…Do you think he knows?" The air is suddenly heavier. There's only one person his sister could be talking about.
"Of course he knows," Law's face darkens. His eyes are deeper, stormier. "He always knows…"
"Stupid pink-fucker," Kidd grumbles, rolling over on the floor. And just like that the tension is broken.
Law snorts and snickers.
"Oi! " Bonney smiles, rolling her eyes. "Jarhead! Aren't you supposed to be too drunk to be conscious?"
"Mmh," Kidd murmurs, trying to get comfortable on the floor. "Semper-fi bitch."
Law and Bonney both laugh. She tosses a cushion at Kidd's head and he oof's, but instead of throwing it back, he curls up with it, seemingly going back to sleep.
'Always faithful.' Law thought. It suited both his brother and his sister.
Settling in for the night, Law listens to the quiet rhythm of Bonney's breathing and the rumble of Kidd's freight train snoring, and he smiles to himself.
Because for the first time all night, Law finally feels like he's home.
He hadn't realized it, but he had been afraid. From the moment he'd gotten the horrible call, he'd been afraid. That without Roci acting as the glue holding them together, somehow, everything would fall apart.
That he would be left alone. Again.
He should have known better.
Because the minute they'd thought he needed them, they were there. Still were here. Fully-clothed, drunk or not.
And Law had never been more grateful.
All for one.
Yes. Rocinante was gone. He had died. But the family he had created was still here. And Law knew that, somehow, they were going to survive.
There was another, heavy, thump from somewhere upstairs. Law looks up, and then rolls his eyes, turning over. "Stupid cat," he mutters.
A pair of yellow eyes watches him from beneath an end table, its owner twitching its tail and glaring at this new human with disdain.
There's a few more soft thumps from above.
But Law ignores them, pulling the blanket over his head, and letting the peaceful feeling in his chest carry him into sleep.
A/N: So that's the first chapter, sorry, I know its kinda long, but I wasn't sure where to cut it. This is my first fic and the idea's been kinda beating around in my head for awhile. Hopefully I didn't mess it up too much. Let me know what you think.