for an anon prompt on my tumblr, and also Icewing5 for the cool idea. Maybe one more in this au for Wordlet? We'll see! Thanks for all the lovely reviews; I love you all!
"Are you sick?" Ace demands.
"No!" Sabo says, and Ace just stares at him. "Okay, fine; maybe a little."
"Ugh, no, go away," Ace says, flopping back down into the grass. "Come back when you're better."
"But today's when we're supposed to go over–!"
"Nope! I am not catching whatever you have, Sabo! Go away!"
"It's just a sniffle! We can still–"
"Nope, nope, no, get your gross face away from me! It's leaking!" But Sabo just tackles him and smears his disgusting face liquids all over Ace's shirt. "You're disgusting," Ace says, but he also gives up.
"It's just a sniffle," Sabo says again, but Ace can feel the heat of his skin even through all those layers.
"Liar," Ace says fondly, but he doesn't try to get up. A nap sounds pretty nice right now anyway.
He opens his eyes sometime later but he's still dreaming. There's a turning swirl of blue and green above him and the grass is suddenly sharp like needles.
"I'm awake," he says, but he doesn't believe it.
"M'too," Sabo says beside him, or something like it. "Awake. Yeah."
They lay there a while longer, and Ace stares upwards with eyes full of blur. A bird screams a ways off and there's cicada song loud in his right ear.
Then Sabo rolls over and groans. "Ace," he says, "I think I'm sick."
"Me too," Ace echoes. "But this is your fault."
"I don't wanna go home," Sabo says, ignoring him entirely. "I can't be sick at home."
Ace met Sabo only a while back, and he's the closest and only friend Ace has ever had. They've talked about sailing away and have plans to start a stash of money, but they never talk about personal things, not really, so Ace never wondered if Sabo had somewhere safe to be sick.
Ace should probably to go back to Dadan's anyway. He doesn't want to, but he does know better than to wander through the forest when the horizon isn't staying steady.
He manages to sit up and squints forward into the tree line. His everything hurts, but the world's staying more or less level now. "I'm gonna go," he says and doesn't move.
"There's something on your face," Sabo says. He reaches over to try to rub it off, but misses. "Hey, stay still."
"I am," Ace protests, which is even true. Probably.
Sabo's fingers poke his cheek, and then rub. And then rub harder. "It's not coming off," he says, and Ace scowls.
"They're freckles; they don't come off."
"No, the–the word. Where'd you get a marker anyway?"
Ace stares at him. Sabo's face is a bit red and his eyes are swollen. "You look awful," he says.
"Focus, Ace," Sabo demands, snapping his fingers. "Where's the marker?"
"I don't have one," Ace says. His hearing is dull on the left side. That's–is that normal? "I think I'm sick."
Sabo makes a huffing sound and says, "Oh boy. Have you got somewhere you can go?"
Oh, right. He ought to get to Dadan's. They may not care, but they also won't care if he curls up in a corner for a few days to ride this out. "Yeah, let's go," Ace says, and stands up. He does it carefully and slowly, and the second he's upright he sneezes so hard he almost falls over.
When his eyes clear again, Sabo's right next to him. "C'mon," he says, grabbing a blue sleeve.
"Are you sure?" Sabo asks. "I can come with you?"
Ace scowls and takes a step. Not as hard as he'd thought; walking will be okay. "You'd better. This is your fault and you can't make me sicker anyway, so you at least have to help me get better."
Sabo says nothing, but he grabs Ace's arm and together they find a swaying balance that gets them all the way to the hideout.
Ace pushes open the door and heads right into the back. He walks past someone who says something, so he stops and looks around.
Magra is staring at him, so Ace raises his chin. "I'm sick," he says. "I'm gonna sleep in the back room for a while."
Magra blinks. "Oh, is that the Scrawl?" He comes forward, hand out, but Ace flinches back, hissing.
He'd forgot Sabo was behind him, but Sabo manages to catch them both before they fall. "It's the plague," Ace lies shamelessly.
"Looks like the Scrawl to me," Magra says, but he doesn't try to touch again. "If it is, it'll pass in a few days. It's easy to catch if you've never had it before, but you can't catch it again."
"Is that why Ace has words on him?" Sabo asks from behind him, quiet and tentative.
But if Magra notices or cares that there's a second brat where there was previously only one, he doesn't show it. "Yeah," he says instead. "It's like a summer cold, only words that people've said to you that you think are true appear."
Sabo makes a sound behind him, but Ace is looking down. One of his hands says brat, big and bold, and if his grandpa is the worst this disease has to offer, that's more than fine.
"But it's not fatal," Sabo says, and Ace looks over. Sabo's hands are clean. "And it's passing?"
Magra nods. "Yeah, head on into the back room. We've all had the Scrawl before, I bet, so we can't catch it. I think we got an extra blanket around, too," and he wanders off.
Ace watches him go for a second, then looks back to Sabo. "This way," he says, and tugs on Sabo's fingers. They stumble over the high threshold, but in the back corner is the mess of sacks and old clothes that Ace sleeps on when he's here.
It's too small for both of them and too hot to curl together, but they do anyway. Sabo's big stupid hat is somewhere on the floor because it keeps poking Ace in the face, and Ace falls into a fitful sleep, restless and dizzying.
He slides into awareness later. How much later he doesn't know or care, but it's dark-ish and there's a coarse blanket over both of them.
"Sabo," Ace says, reaching out to poke.
"Hm'wzt'mp," Sabo says, then rolls over enough to mash his face into the ground. "Go 'way."
"Sabo," Ace says again, ignoring all that. His friend's skin is hot to the touch, and his hand doesn't feel like his own. "You're real, right?"
"-kinda dumb question-" Sabo mutters, and opens one fever-bright eye to look up at him. "We're both real."
There's brat on his hand and son of a monster on his other wrist, and as he watches, swirls of ink are settling into more words on his arm. It doesn't feel real at all.
He looks back over and Sabo's pushing himself up, eyes stuck on Ace's cheeks.
That's right, there's a word there, isn't there? "What does it say?" he asks, and looks over Sabo's skin again.
"Nothing," Sabo says, but he reaches out to trace the letters and Ace can almost tell anyway.
But this isn't at all fair; Sabo's skin is clear. There's no words, no ink, and when Ace reaches out to turn his arms over, they're still clean. "I got this from you," he says. "We both have this, the writing thing! So why don't you have words?"
Sabo shifts, and his eyes are a sick kind of shiny. "I do," he says like a secret. "I have two."
Talk about unfair, when he has a whole speech on his forearm. "Only two?"
"Yeah," Sabo says. "I found 'em earlier, and one of 'em's yours."
"Only two?" Ace repeats, voice higher and tighter than intended.
"Things you hear that you believe," he repeats, leaning in too close and breathing fast and hot. "Who talks about me, Ace? Cause we don't; we're too busy. My parents don't; they prefer to pretend I don't exist, and the stuff they do say–I know it isn't true. You're the only one who talks to me, Ace, and no one talks about me."
He's panting now, and it's not fair–Ace is covered in words and Sabo has none, and that's–"Show me."
"What?"
"Show me my word."
Sabo stares at him, so Ace pokes at him 'til he moves. He reaches up, slow, like Ace is gonna change his mind, but Ace just waits.
And Sabo finally tugs that dumb napkin he wears loose, and there, right in the hollow of his throat, is a rough liar.
"I didn't mean it," Ace says, and he can't tell if the low-level nausea is the sickness or shame. "I didn't mean it like that, Sabo, I didn't–"
"I know," Sabo says, and ties it back up. "It's fine anyway," but he's looking away and rubbing one hand over his stomach. "It's good that my other one's not the only–"
Ace surges forward and grabs at his shirt. Sabo protests but Ace gets it high enough to see the beautiful cursive worthless that follows the bend of the ribcage.
Sabo scoots back and smooths his shirt down and Ace lets him go. They both sit in silence for a while, then Ace says, "You're worthwhile."
Sabo smiles at him, a bit sad.
"You're great, Sabo," Ace says earnestly. "You're strong and brave and you've saved my life; you're literally a life-saver," and then he holds his breath and watches blank skin stay blank. "It's all true! Why isn't it working?"
"Because it doesn't matter if you think it's true," Sabo says, so very gently.
"But you're–I–"
"It's okay, Ace," Sabo tells him, with his shiny eyes and red face and puffy nose. "Don't worry about it for now. Go back to sleep."
"No," Ace says. "I'm gonna–" He starts to get up, and Sabo throws his weight against his shoulders.
"You can't fight a sickness," Sabo tells him, but Ace is gonna try anyway.
"I'm gonna punch it," Ace says, struggling weakly to get up. He's hot and hurting, and then he sneezes, loud and sudden and all over Sabo.
Sabo blinks. "You're gross," he says, but he grabs Ace's shirt to wipe his face with, so if anyone here is gross, it's him.
"Whatever," Ace says, giving up. He'll punch the disease later. In a bit, after the world resettles and maybe a nap. He puts his wrist over his eyes to block out the little light that's left.
"Ace…" Sabo says, and he's still holding Ace's shirt up. He's probably reading more things, but Ace doesn't want to know.
"Sleeping," he announces. "So I can stand up so I can punch the sickness."
Sabo makes a sound and then lets his shirt fall. "Sure, sounds good," he says. "I'll back you up."
"Course you will," Ace says, and yawns massively. "You've always got my back."
There's a moment quiet enough for Ace to dip into darkness, but he makes sure to get in the last word, because after all, "This is your fault, anyway."
Sabo huffs and taps his shoulder. "Go to sleep, dork," he says, and Ace does.
"Hey, Luffy," Ace says, many years later. "You know you're our precious little brother, right?"
"And that we love you and know you'll become the Pirate King?" Sabo adds.
Luffy sniffs and looks up at both of them. "Of course I know! Shishishi!" and that's it. He doesn't ask why or doubt them; just takes it at face value, and Ace and Sabo exchange looks over his head.
"You're really special," Sabo says fondly, slinging an arm over his shoulders and pulling him into a sideways hug.
"One of a kind," Ace says.
Luffy smiles at them both, and then he sneezes again.
