Yaaaaay! I updated twice in less than a day! This NEVER happens! I'm serious though; don't expect it again.

I'm so happy I got to write Thatch. I have OCs for Whitebeard's crew members coming out of my ass (see a nice little list of potential future characters in my other fic, 'Whatever God' and tell me what you think each of them should be like – some of them have details included about them, but most don't, so I need ideas for their characterisations and purpose among the crew) but the canon guys are still fun to see wandering around.


Day 41

Thatch bounced on his heels. Today was the day. Marco was gonna shit a brick. How convenient that he had to come back from a week-long trip today of all days. Poetry.

The man carefully balanced a tray in each hand and nudged open Marco's already-unlocked-via-lockpicking bedroom door with a foot. That should be the last of it; anything else would be simply impractical. Everything was perfectly in place as it was, and Marco would get one hell of a surprise when he got home. All that was left was to remove any evidence that Thatch was involved, including washing the ever-loving crap out of the trays and bowls he'd borrowed from the kitchens for his joke. Marco might not be an astrophysicist, but he was still smart, and would probably cast his suspicious eyes on Thatch first, so he would have to have a poker face like never before if he fully intended to pull this off. He'd also have to fabricate an excuse to follow Marco to his room, because after all the work he put into it, there was no way on God's green earth he was going to miss Marco's face when he saw.

Cackling madly to himself, Thatch turned to leave the room. What stopped him dead in his tracks was Ace staring at him blankly from the still-open doorway of Marco's room.

The boy always had a nervous energy about him and wandered around almost constantly, so Thatch really should have seen it coming. What was worse, he knew that Ace and Marco were on relatively good terms, both being fire-types and inclined to sympathise with the other. Balls… if Ace blabbed, Thatch was in deep shit. Deep shit that was probably going to be on fire. And then Oyaji might get involved, and at that point, all bets were off. The Commander of the Fourth Division paled dramatically, not that anyone could see it in the shadows of the still-darkened room.

"H-hi, there, Ace… Buddy. How's your day going?"

Ace had a look on his face that spoke of such what-the-fuckery that Thatch nearly bust out in nervous giggles. "Dare I even ask what you're doing? I mean, this is Marco's room, right?" he said quietly.

Thatch coughed and scratched the back of his head. "Uhh… It might be; yeah."

"So what are you-"

Ace didn't get a chance to finish his thought as Thatch darted forward, yanking him into the room with an arm wrapped around his shoulders conspiratorially. "Listen, Ace. You know Marco gets back today?"

"Yeah…"

"And you know what day today is?"

"Yeah, but don't tell me you're seriously-"

"Ace, you can't tell anybody about this. Marco would kill me. Hell, now that you know, you're in just as much danger as me, fellow prankster or innocent bystander status notwithstanding. Not even taking into account how much time I spent on all of this! You've got to admit, this is a thing of beauty."

Ace cautiously lit up his hand and held it around. His eyes widened and he whistled in appreciation. "Shit, man. You really went all out, huh?"

Thatch grinned. "I never do anything halfway. Surely you've figured that out by now."

"I guess not. But is Marco the type who can take a joke? He seems kinda…" Ace trailed off, trying to gesture with his hands to fill in the blank.

"Oh, yeah, he's got a stick the size of a warship up his ass, but that's really what gives it sport."

"It'll be a contact sport if he finds out it was you."

"Well, I'm not gonna tell him. Were you planning on telling?" Thatch gave the kid his best puppy-dog eyes. "Please don't. I want to keep my balls."

Ace rubbed the bridge of his nose, laughing like he wasn't quite sure what else to do. "…Fine. This once. Don't expect me to go pointing him in the wrong direction if he asks, though."

"Thanks, my man. You know, you are a seriously okay guy. There aren't many who would risk pissing Marco off. I owe you one." Thatch grabbed Ace up in a big friendly hug and darted out the door before Ace could get out more than an embarrassed squeak.

Left alone in the still-dark room, Ace just stared after the departed man, red in the face and dumbfounded. "…What the hell did I just agree to?" he asked the walls.


"Welcome back, son!" boomed Whitebeard. "Are we readied?"

"Completely," Marco said with a smile, still shouldering the bag of all his crap that he took with him on trips. "Had to borrow an extra skiff just to get all of it out this far, but I got it all. George even did us a favour and threw in a couple extra barrels of sake. I don't even think he charged us full price for the flour, either."

"Excellent. George really is such a generous sort. We can't come to expect it, though; he has no reason to be that free with his goods. He must be in a good way just now."

"Seemed that way to me," Marco said.

"Well?" Whitebeard growled out to the rest of the men. "What are you waiting for? Marco can't be expected to haul up all of that on his own! Are you going to sit on your fattened rumps or help the man?" Under the noise of the flurry of movement, Whitebeard bent low. "So, Marco, is there anything left over in the budget?"

"Don't worry; we have enough to fix the railing you broke with plenty to spare."

"I didn't break the damn railing; Ace did."

Marco rolled his eyes. "You threw Ace. He hit the railing. Kinda hard to change direction in midair. Ergo, sorry Oyaji, but you seriously did break the railing."

"Nonsense. The boy knows thermodynamics. He could've avoided it if he really wanted to."

"Mmm-hmm." Marco just chalked up another battle he was never going to win. "Did you see him in the last port town we visited, by the way?"

"Hm? No. He left the ship?"

"Yeah," Marco said. "I was surprised too. He haggles like an old pro. Saw him talk this one stingy old hag down to a third of the price she was asking. I bet we could let him handle the money one of these days. He's got a good face and a way of charming folk when he wants to; I bet we could get great deals on some of the harder-to-get stuff. Then you won't have to rely on me all the time. And besides, it's not like anyone else on this ship is any good with money at all."

"True. They spend like drunken sailors."

"They are drunken sailors."

"Point taken. But if you're right, that's all the more reason to make him one of your brothers. Have you talked to him at all?"

Marco sighed. "If he asks, I'll answer. If he doesn't want to, he doesn't want to, and I've got no business meddling in his decisions if that's the case."

"You don't want him with us?" Whitebeard asked, looking put out.

"Of course I do! I like him plenty; he's a good kid. I just don't want to accidentally screw him over. He's gonna be a great man when he's got a few years on him."

"You're probably right," the huge man grudgingly admitted. "But I think it says something that he left ship at one point and then got back on."

Marco smiled. He'd hoped Oyaji would catch that detail. "Me too. Or at least I hope so."

"So, you must be tired. Lord knows you had to haul all of that nonsense back on your own. Get some rest for now, because I'm quite certain your brothers and sisters will kidnap you later in the name of feasting upon the new provisions, and I don't trust them to raid my kitchens without some sort of responsible chaperone."

"Which is me?"

"Exactly. Now go get some sleep."

Marco smiled, tossed a half-assed salute Whitebeard's way, and ambled off towards his room. He'd missed his own fireproof bed. He'd come close to igniting the cargo on the way back, and Lord knew that would have ended badly. Alcohol, flour under pressure, and ignition make for a pretty damn bad combination. It might be worth it to talk to Ace later and see if there was some sort of way to avoid that problem in the future.

Thatch ran into Marco in the hall, a huge grin on his face. "Hey! Welcome back, man! I hear you scored us some extra booze?"

"I might've. But right now, I'm gonna crash. If folk are planning on partying later, wake me up, but if you're not doing it now, I've got no reason to be conscious."

"Reasonable."

Marco furrowed his brows. Something seemed a little off and he wasn't sure what. It was just a vague sense of apprehension, but he knew it too well to dismiss it. "Thatch, what did you do while I was away?"

The twitch was barely there, but Marco's eyes caught it anyway. "What did I do? Well, I ate, I slept, I might've breathed a couple of times when I remembered to…"

"I'm serious. Did you fuck with any of my stuff?"

"Me? Never. You wound me," Thatch said. "Well, catch you later?"

"…I guess." Marco heard the man's footsteps behind him rapidly speed up as soon as he turned his back and braced himself for whatever the hell Thatch had most definitely done to his personal effects.

He approached his door and cautiously wrapped his fingers around the handle. It didn't have an electric current running through it… That was something. He pushed open the door in a swift movement and stepped back. No trapdoors, no buckets of water crashing down, no tripwires. Maybe Thatch hadn't been lying?

He flipped the light switch on the wall and cursed raucously. That filthy bastard had placed all of his smaller shit in jello.


As Marco rampaged through the ship, bellowing for Thatch to get his lying whore ass out and face him like he was indeed in possession of any balls at all, both the target of his rage and Ace were giggling uncontrollably behind a panel in the wood on the second deck.

"Thanks for giving me hiding place, man. I'd be dead by now if it weren't for you," Thatch said, wiping the tears of mirth from his eyes.

"No problem. Found this place when this one time I got flung into the wall and it felt kind of hollow. But seriously, you must have some kind of death wish or something."

"Naw, I just love April Fool's Day."

"Yeah, well, Marco doesn't."

Both burst out in fresh bouts of laughter, trying hard to stay quiet so Marco wouldn't hear them and nearly breaking ribs in the effort.

"You are awesome. High-five," Thatch said.

"Thank you. I try."

And thus their glorious partnership in evil began, even though when Marco eventually found them Thatch sustained major injuries and Ace, being a Logia user, remained unharmed.


(A/N): Oh, Thatch, only you. You're a bad influence on everybody, I hope you know.

For those paying attention to dates and how they line up, you should be able to puzzle out what the next chapter will be about. *wink wink*