Kidd found that sleeping in a submarine was, without a doubt, the most terrifying thing. Not only was "his" room shared by three other people who loved to stare, but he was forced to shared said room by way of bunkbeds.
...
Bunkbeds.
...
And he was going to get the bottom bunk! The bottom-fucking-bunk!
Each bed was the standard naval bunk, with sturdy wooden walls and an unpleasantly hard mattress. He had strongly objected to the installation of such sleeping quarters when making his own ship, lest he subject his crew to sleeping in makeshift coffins. How anyone could feel comfortable boxed in like a sardine, Kidd would never know.
His bunk mates were also obnoxiously interested in him, or rather what he wearing. After tossing his blood and dirt stained clothes at someone who looked like they would clean them correctly, he sought out a shower once again. He was uncomfortably sticky from wearing his bloody clothes, and he couldn't deny the smell of mustard his hair had already absorbed despite the thorough washing he had given it not even an hour before. He was given a black boiler suit to wear, thankfully without the yellow accents, and directed to the showering complex. Despite his protests and internal rant on how tacky the jumpsuit was, he was told to wear it unless he wanted to freeze to death. The communal showers were surprisingly spacious, with checkered monochrome tiles and polished steel finishes. Unlike his own ship, the submarine was without tubs, but Kidd didn't mind standing up for a shower. His own bathroom had an open shower in the back of the narrow room, which he usually just used to rinse off before soaking in his tub. There was no reason he should stew in his own filth,.
"So...you're C-Captain Kidd, right?"
He lifted his head from his stoop on the rock-hard mattress, glaring daggers at the only other occupant. The man wore a hat just like everyone else on the sub, but looked far too slim to fit in with the others Kidd had seen. Lime green hair stuck out from beneath a purple beanie, pale skin and magenta eyes the only visible facial features. The male wore a white surgical mask over his mouth and nose, making his wispy feather-light voice sound slightly subdued. He had thought the other was a female upon first inspection. His lashes were certainly long enough, and he held a certain delicacy to his frame Kidd had only seen in women. His boiler suit was rolled up at the sleeves, exposing slender arms and dainty fingers that were most definitely manicured.
"Yes."
The boiler suit bulged and tugged where his muscles protested against the fabric, and the pant legs were a tad too short to be tucked into his boots. He felt ridiculous in the garment, even if his goggles gave him some sense of security. The fabric was too scratchy, even with the underclothes he was given. He was itching to tear them off and chase after his clothes, but he knew that Shachi was right. He hadn't noticed it when he wore his coat, but the air around him was cold enough to turn his breath into white puffs.
The green haired male seemed to grin behind his mask, "Oh, good! I was worried I got your name wrong, Noro says I do that a lot." He stuck out a slim hand, and Kidd already knew his own would utterly dwarf it. He shook the man's hand and wondered at its fragility, frowning at the limp grip.
"You didn't tell me your name."
The males eyes widened, and Kidd was caught off guard at how pretty the boys eyes were. This has to be a chick, no man is built like that. He mind wandered to Trafalgar and he silently chastised himself.
"Oh! My apologies! Noro says I do that often. My name is Rei."
Kidd nodded to himself, already annoyed with the forgetful male. His mind was on other things, and he easily tuned Rei out as his thought strayed to Trafalgar.
So he was once owned by a Celestial Dragon who is now chasing after him...he has to pass through Sabondy Archipelago to get to the New World...if he makes it that far...bastard better make it that far...
"Oi, Rei shut your mouth. Who the fuck is the human flare?"
His internal musing were cut short at the callous voice coming from the open doorway. The submarine did not seem to come with many doors, and most of the empty doorframe he had passed led to bedrooms and bathrooms. He didn't see a person standing in the doorway, but as he looked down he realized there was a black cat glaring at him from beyond the threshold. The red-eyed cat stalked into the room, heated gaze never leaving Kidd perplexed stare, and leapt into Rei's lap and curled up there as if it was where he belonged. He gave Kidd a bored glance, licking at the pads of his feet.
"So who's the blazing inferno over there? Oi! Rei! I'm talking to you dipshit!" His ears flicked back and he sunk his claws into the boy's pants, Kidd wincing at the act. The pink-eyed boy didn't seem to notice that he had been virtually skewered, and just giggled to himself, petting the grumpy talking feline.
"This is Captain Kidd, Noro! He's going to be sleeping here for a few days!"
Ears titling forward in interest, tail curling absently around the boy's wrist, Noro turned carmine eyes back to Kidd.
"Whatever, just don't snore and I won't take a dump in your shoes during the night."
Maybe they were a rare breed, Kidd had never seen a talking cat before, but he had no qualms with killing the infuriating furball.
He was in for a rough few days, it seemed.
Law glided to his room with little on his mind. There was an emptiness inside him no food or drink could fill, and in his deranged state he wondered about scooping out his insides to see what remained. He was a hollow shell, a walking corpse, and he knew the signs of shock better than anyone else. While he had successfully disassociated himself from the situation until it was resolved, as he was proficient in doing, he could no longer stave off the inevitable. He hadn't yet succumbed to despair, just beginning the denial stage of grief. He couldn't fathom what had occurred, not after so long going without intimate touches of pain and reluctant pleasure. The misery he had left in his childhood was coming back to snap at his heels, to gnaw at his ankles until he could no longer continue forward on his path.
Of course, his closest crew members knew his pattern, but they had never witnessed him react to sexual assault so soon after it had occurred. They were used to nightmares and panic attacks of a past unforgotten, of suicidal impulses and long bouts of consuming depression. They forced him to eat and bathed him when he was too forlorn to leave the relative comfort of his bed. They could listen to his plights and soothe his worries the best they could, but not even Bepo could save him from his own inner demons. Penguin had left him to his own devices only out of respect for his right of privacy, but he knew the man had him on surveillance to assure his safety.
His largest hazard was himself, after all.
His room was located at the submarine's rear, just below the turbines. The back of the submarine consisted of only the motor room, allowing him enough distance from his crew and enough background noise that no one would hear his screams. Only Penguin, Bepo, and Shachi held the transmitters of the surveillance snails in his room so they could come when he needed them. At first he had protested such treatment, likening the devices to baby monitors, but after his first failed suicide attempt in their presence, he could no longer deny the obvious. The three of them shared a room together, with the receiver to his bedroom snail monitor located somewhere out of sight from prying eyes. Every room in the submarine was also soundproof, which added to the the trio's argument that he needed to have people to come to his aid during the night.
He could only pray they didn't resent him for the lack of sleep.
The door to his room was always locked, and he did not have the key. The only key was in the hands of Penguin, but in any case Law preferred using his powers to teleport himself inside. With a small flick of his wrist he was transported passed the steel frame and into his small bedroom. The only light in the room came from the small lamp by his bedside, revealing the disaster of his bedroom. The room was only ten by ten feet, with a queen-sized bed taking up five by seven of those 100 cubic feet. His bed was unmade, grey comforter and white sheets tangled up in a ball around one of his pillows. The headboard rested against the center of the steel wall, facing a dark blue painting. Upon further inspection one could notice the churn of bubbles and motion to its surface, revealing it to be a sheet of glass several inches thick. He normally pulled the dark curtains affixed on either side to block out unwanted underwater visitors, but in his absence Penguin must have opened them for the atmosphere. Staying in the dark would only worsened his depression, he would say, but Law didn't need his reminders.
His room already spoke for his broken state of mind. The shelving on either side of the room were stuffed with papers to the point of near collapse, the desk in front of the window pilled high with books and charts he had read a thousand times. The plush carpet was completely obscured with wanted posters, medical files, wads of tissue, empty bottles, a plethora of discarded cigarettes, and miscellaneous papers. The room was musty and collecting mold in soiled paper. Penguin was under strict oath to leave his mess where it was, despite his protests. Everything in his room was the way it was supposed to be, and he considered it his den. The foul odor that hit his nose upon arrival had already integrated into his senses and disappeared.
He spotted a half empty wine bottle sitting under the bedside lamp like a present from a god he didn't believe in. In a moment he had chugged the thing down, ignoring how warm and noxious it was.
He wanted to get drunk.
He wanted to forget.
He wanted to sleep and never, ever, wake up.
If he hadn't left the room when he had, he was sure he would have snapped the cat's neck without a care. He could deal with the feminine airhead, but he was not going to put up with an impudent talking cat. The only reason he hadn't killed the rude feline was because Rei reminded him too much of an innocent child to shower him in his 'friend's' guts. If he was going to be spending three days in that room, it was certainly not going be at anytime Noro was present. Which was why he was now stalking the frigid halls of the submarine with a murderous aura. He wanted his coat back so he could get out of the nearly skintight boilersuit. It did well enough to keep him warm, but to keep him comfortable? It could do much better in that department.
He felt like he had gone circles around the vessel and yet, for the amount of passengers he knew to be on board, there was no one to be found. Many of the rooms he passed had neither door nor occupants, and he was at a loss for where to go.
He was so very, very lost.
Kidd's stomach voiced its protest. Fucking Shachi-shit didn't tell me where the fucking kitchen is and there aren't any goddamn signs! He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten, and it felt like ages since he'd been on his own ship.
What I wouldn't give for a plate of scrambled eggs with cheese...isn't it noon?
They had boarded Trafalgar's submarine at daybreak, quickly fleeing the island in hopes that Marines wouldn't catch on. While Kidd had little regard for Marines, he was tired and wasn't into the mood to crack heads. He was thinking too much, and he wanted nothing more than to eat away his worries. His high metabolism would take care of the rest.
He heard someone's voice faintly down the corridor, and hurried to its source as quietly as possible. The one only person he had come upon so far had nearly shat themselves in terror at his approach, and had run before he could get out a single word. He'd rather not lose the opportunity to snag a meal, and so he tred lightly.
"I know, me too, but at the very least they've finally met one another. They seem to be on good terms at the moment, but of course I didn't ask what they thought."
He didn't recognize the soft low timber wafting from what looked to be a dark storage room. From his vantage point, pressed against the wall, he could only see brown crates and the outlines of large baskets hidden in the gloom.
"Is that right?" The person let out a chuckle, "Ye of little faith."
Clearly they were talking on a den den, and judging by the hushed whisper of their voice they likely didn't want to be found doing so.
Kidd's natural curiosity was piked, hunger momentarily forgotten.
"Well, Captain is...Captain had a rough time, and yours' didn't look much better, to be honest."
Wait, is he talking to someone in my crew? What the fuck?
He couldn't think of anything anyone in his crew had said about the Heart Pirates to suggest they were on amicable terms. Killer had mentioned encountering the crew on his own nearly two years ago, when the Heart Pirates were just getting a name for themselves. But it couldn't be Killer, right? He would have said something...
"No, I think he's fine, but Captain is...he's probably in a wreck right now, but I know he needs his space. I just...I knew going to this place was going to be a bad idea! I told him about the shit heads in that place, running the black market, but of course he already knew that. It wasn't like we had much choice, though, we had to stock up and this was the island the log pose chose...but I just-I hate this, Killer! I feel like a failure!"
Kidd's blood ran cold at the confirmation, his exposed arms going numb from something other than the chill. He didn't know what to think at the moment, his mind had simply flat-lined. He barely registered the words that followed.
"I know it's not my fault, but I can't help it...and you know he feels like its his fault, he always thinks that way. He takes everything onto himself so others don't have to, but he doesn't seem to realize we care about him! I can't tell you how many times he forces me out the door when I come to his cries at night, hiding his face so I don't see him cry. He wants people to think he's a heartless machine of a person but all of us here know what nightmares are like."
"..."
"...Yeah, this morning was nice...it was refreshing to see you after so long, it's been three weeks, I thought I would die."
Kidd's brain worked at a sluggish pace, picking up the lovesick tone in bits and pieces.
...
...Oh...
"Thank you for taking such good care for Matthis, Killer. I only sent him because I thought you might like him, Freya was under the weather."
...Matthis is the name of that bird Killer kept in his hair, yeah? Holy shit who the fuck is this guy-Killer had a boyfriend the whole time I thought he was straight and with a Heart Pirate?
"You really are wonderful, Killer. Thank you, ah-oh damn it, I should probably check on Bepo and see if he's fairing alright. I'll call you later today, alright? Yes...Uh-huh...I love you too...have a good day, Killer."
Kidd's body moved before his brain reacted, retreated behind a corner as the unknown man began to leave the room. His behavior was entirely ridiculous, there was no reason he should be acting so fearful of this man, he simply wanted to know their identity and why Killer hadn't told him. He peaked around the corner and grit his teeth when he saw a man walking in the opposite direction down the corridor, wearing a familiar flapped hat.
That's Penguin, right? Trafalgar's first mate? What the fuck?
He was angry, confused, and indignant. He didn't care who Killer was fucking, he just cared that the other had felt it right to hide the relationship from him. Countless times he had brushed off his lovesick behavior as a product of Kidd's imagination, no matter how often he confronted him.
Does he not trust me as much as I thought?
He didn't want to think about that possibility.
...Did Trafalgar know?
It would explain why Trafalgar was so trusting in allowing his crew to see to their treatment. It would make sense why he was casually letting him stay on his ship for an extended period of time, allowing him to roam the ship in the others absence. Kidd's temper flared, and he went back to scouring the ship, this time for Trafalgar's whereabouts.
The submarine seemed to only have one map, and he sped off toward the end of the ship as he located 'Captain Trafalgar's Quarters' printed in bold on the plaque.
He lives behind the fucking motor room?
He spun the latch and entered the engine room, clasping his hands over his ears at the piercing sounds. Pipes screamed and something was clanging incessantly in the overcrowded space. Arrows rotated in their gauges, steam jettisoning from capped valves. The bronze pipes were organized in four rows, and Kidd submitted to shimmying through the cramped aisle. He held his breath as he passed between the scalding metal, the fabric of his boilersuit only centimeters from catching fire. The room itself was a sauna, the enormous fans overhead doing nothing for the sweltering atmosphere. He slipped out of the room as fast as he could, sweat dripping down his body and cooling in response to the cold air outside. As soon as he had spun the lock back in place, he let out a breath of relief. Now he was colder than ever, his sweat drying as frozen bullets, his clothes sticking to his skin and causing him to shiver.
There's not a single light! How the hell is anyone supposed to find this bastard's room when its like an abyss in here!
He stumbled in the darkness with his hands running along the wall, searching for the tell tale sign of a door latch. True to the map's depiction, there was only a single door in the horizontal hall. When he tried to turn the latch, however, it was if it was jammed shut and wouldn't budge an inch. Sighing through his nose, he drew a deep breath and knocked on the steel door. The echo resounded through the corridor in an eerie crescendo, and Kidd found himself longing for a light to ignite beneath the door frame.
...
"Kidd-ya? What do you want?"
Trafalgar's voice came muffled through the solid door, Kidd straining his ears to hear him.
"Did you know our first mates hooked up with each other?!" He shouted in the darkness, getting down to the point.
...
"Yes? Is there a problem with that? I was not aware you were in the dark about it."
Kidd felt his eyebrow twitch, missing the way Trafalgar's voice sounded fainter than before. He hadn't thought about what to say, especially not if Trafalgar had thought he knew.
"...Whatever, where the hell is your fucking kitchen? That killer whale ran off before I could ask and your ONLY fucking map didn't say anything about it!"
...
"Sorry about that," There was the sound of shuffling papers, and Kidd heard the distinct sound of a steel waste bin toppling over, "Patients are usually led to my office, and we've never had visitors."
Trafalgar's response was delayed, and Kidd felt like he had been doused in flames. In his rage over Killer's tryst he had completely wiped the previous situations out his mind entirely. Fuck, I shouldn't be here. He's in no mood to talk, I'm such an idiot!
"...Trafalgar?"
He didn't know what he wanted to say to the man, or what he could possibly say considering the circumstances. Here in the darkness he was reminded of the icy fingers of fear, and was humbled by it. Not being face to face gave him a confidence and autonomy he likened to participating in a confession. Of course, neither of them were qualified for playing the part of a priest.
"What is it Eustass-ya?!" He shouted in clear exasperation, "If you had any working brain cells at all you'd realize that I'm not in the mood to listen to your complaints!"
...
"Well, how about I listen to your's, then?"
...
"I beg your pardon?"
...
"I'm...I'm not going to say I understand what your going through, because that's something only you know, but I'm here...to listen, I mean...I'm not to tell anyone about any of this...I've got morals...believe it or not...and, uh...do you...do you want to talk about it?"
...
...
Silence was the only response. After a few solid minutes of waiting in darkness, Kidd was ready to give up and go back to searching for food, only to freeze at a small voice.
"Can I trust you?"
Kidd swallowed thickly, the sound defening in the icy corridor.
"Yeah, I won't breathe a word."
"...You won't laugh?"
"I won't laugh."
"...You won't leave?"
"I won't leave."
...
"I want to die..."
...
Trafalgar sounded like a child's, thick with tears and sorrow. He dared not breath, in case he missed the soft voice.
...
"I think I've always wanted to die..."
...
"I'm not...I'm not normal. You saw it. You know. I'm just the product of tainted tap water, a mutant for another's fancy..."
...
"My own mother didn't know whether to love me or dissect me, and my father would rather I not exist at all. They were well-renowed doctors of the highest caliber. I was just a stain on their ledger, as far as he was concerned. My mother wanted to masquerade me as a girl, while my father refused to pretend anything was wrong in public. They...they never thought to ask me...if I...if I thought I was a girl or a boy..."
...
"Mother considered me her daughter, and tried to force me to foster my baby sister Lami as some sort of experiment...I think she loved me...I...I think so..."
...
"Have you ever heard of Flevance? The White City?"
...
"It was a town in North Blue known for its amber lead. It was a white ore more valuable than gold, and it was ubiquitous in nature. Our buildings, our food, our flora, our weapons...our whole world was a glossy white...it matched the snow..."
...
"Our country was prosperous...We could afford every advance in medical technology, and so we became the pinnacle of the medical community...My father was the greatest doctor in the whole country...but even he couldn't save us from ourselves..."
...
"What the World Government and our own Royal Family failed to inform us was that Amber lead was incredibly toxic. Amber Lead Syndrome was a non-contagious, heredity disease caused by the accumulation of the lead in the bloodstream after constant exposure. It was unnoticeable in the early stages at low concentration, but as it progressed each passing generation was given shorter lifespans. Everyone in Flevance had the same accumulating concentration of lead poisoning, and, by the time my generation was born, we were expected to die before we ever came of age."
...
"No one on the island was able to cure the disease, not even my father, but at the very least he held hope since it was not contagious. However, the Government refused to disclose such information...and they decided to quarantine us. The victims begin to break out in white patches all over their body, and their hair becomes bleached white. The patches caused chronic pain, and eventually led to a painful death...One day...the royal family snuck out across the border...and the World Government came in to exterminate us..."
...
Kidd was silent throughout the revelation, though his breathing labored as his throat constricted with grief. Every word out of Trafalgar's mouth was detached, apathetic, and Kidd could practically see the man's vacant expression as he stared back into his past. He had nothing to say in response, after all, what was there he could possibly say?
...
"...I was smuggled myself out under a pile of corpses...but even then I wasn't safe from the Government. They, who knew the disease was non-contagious, spread false information across the seas to kill any citizen of Flevance on site lest they risk contamination. No hospital would treat me, no cure existed, and in the end...I became nihilistic..."
...
"I was ten years old with only thirty-eight months to live...I despised the word and wished for nothing more than the death of everyone around me...so I decided..."
...
"I wanted...I wanted to take down as many people as I could with me...so I...joined the Donquixote Pirates."
...
Kidd found it hard to breathe, the strange feeling he got whenever he glanced at the man's jolly roger finally clicking in his mind. It was a modification of the infamous bifurcated grinning roger. His brain worked clumsily, connecting the dots sluggishly as if he was wadding through a viscous mixture. His heart short-circuited at the following sentence.
...
"You can surmise for yourself what usefulness I provided."
The mess of his room had been exacerbated in the last half hour or so, and Law's anxiety had followed suit. When Kidd had knocked on the door, even whilst scan was active, he had barricaded the door with his body. It wasn't as if it was entirely irrational, not with the red-head's convenient magnetism. Calm down Law, he had consoled himself, you could take him apart before he even tried. You're safe, you're safe, you'resafeyou'resafeyou'resafesafesafesafesafe-
But then Kidd had gone on about Penguin and Killer's illicit relationship, and he chastised himself for his skepticism. Eustass Kidd may be an intelligent man, but he was an open book and seemingly incapable of concealing his intentions. Except, he corrected, when he pretends to care about me. It was his first coherent thought in an hour, but it was not a fact that frightened him. He was in a flux of emotional distress, and there was nothing stopping him from taking a letter opener to his veins. If Kidd had not interrupted him when he had, a different set of people would have been banging on his door.
They had then proceeded to have a short, predominately one-sided chat about nothing. He was uncomfortable where he was sitting, wrapped up in his own limbs and sorrow, but it was than leaving his room open for assault. The other captain was trampling on his already frayed nerves, and he just wanted to be left to his own detrimental devices.
"What is it Eustass-ya?!" He had barked, "If you had any working brain cells at all you'd realize that I'm not in the mood to listen to your complaints!" He had thought it was over and done with, that the idiot would leave him be. Eustass "Captain" Kidd seemed fond of proving him wrong.
"Well, how about I listen to your's, then?"
It was like bathing in ice water imbued with hell fire.
"I beg your pardon?"
He wanted to shut his ears against his response. He wanted to forget the man even existed. The thought of explaining his past, to anyone, was more frightening than repeating his time in that cramped cell.
"I'm...I'm not going to say I understand what your going through, because that's something only you know, but I'm here...to listen, I mean...I'm not to tell anyone about any of this...I've got morals...believe it or not...and, uh...do you...do you want to talk about it?"
They were almost the same words.
The same words.
Tears welled in his eyes at the thought of a black feather coat, wisps of cigarette smoke curling about a tousled blonde head of hair. He had been, was, Law's eternal salvation. There was no possible way he could have survived without that man-with his eternal well of patience and unrelenting pursuit of Law's own happiness. He may not have been able to give Law happiness in the end, but he sure as hell had never been happier in the arms of another man.
"I don't understand what you're dealing with, how could I? This pain is yours alone, Law, but that doesn't mean you have to bear it alone. I'll listen to your grief and stay with you until the storms finally clears, yeah? Talk to me, please, Law."
His lower lip trembled, tears like stalactites as they fell down his chin, and the words tumbled from his mouth without even thinking. All the while he bit back the inevitable sobs threatening to break free. It was surreal, even as he grieved, speaking such words so freely even when his heart was in a vice. How long had it been since he last recounted his past to a living breathing person? How long since someone had lent an ear to his sorrows without breaking down and making it all about themselves. His crew was his family, they knew his plights, but sometimes even they were not enough to curb the loneliness from his being. He was a walking storm cloud, saturated with despair, and ever now and then he needed to lighten his load.
The man was quiet on the other side of the door, and Law was too frightened of abandonment to use his powers. If he was there, he was there. If he wasn't...Law wasn't sure he would survive the night if that was the case.
"You can...surmise for yourself why I was useful to him..." He finished with a whisper, the tears never stopping. If he had heard himself on playback, he was sure his voice had cracked a thousand times. If he had sounded comical, Eustass never said a word. In fact, Eustass had yet to speak at all.
Fear of rejection boiled in his stomach like a disease, and with every empty second he came closer and closer to vomiting. He waited for the wave of 'I'm sorry's, the customary pity party.
"...Well, that sucks."
...
Law floundered at the response, mouth imitating a gasping fish, before bursting into a bout of raucous laughter. He hadn't expected the words in his wildest dreams. Such a blasé reaction was mortifyingly unbecoming of such a tragedy. Yet, it was the perfect response from the red-head. He was unpredictable in the best of ways, which was why Law had tolerated his existence from the beginning. The world was overrun with mundane people, and even his own crew had become infuriatingly predictable. Hide he loved them with everything he had, his interpersonal skills of observation had ruined any surprises they thought to throw his way. They were endearing and precious to him, able to comfort him in his foulest moments, but they could not hold a flame to his insatiable mind. They had become boring, in their responses, in that he could gauge their every act.
Eustass Kidd escaped his reading skills, and the change was thoroughly refreshing.
"T-That's the understatement of the century, Eusatss-ya!" He wheezed, clutching at his sides as he heaved with laughter. Eustass' voice echoed his own, booming laughter echoing in the hall that separated his bedroom from the motor room. A wave of giddiness passed over him, and he let his head fall against the steel door with a resounding thud. His brain was high as kite, and he couldn't deny any secondary influences.
The belt around his upper arm wasn't just for show.
I made a mistake, his rationality supplied, but his heart felt lighter for it.
What's one more?
With a flick of his wrist he had a body pressed against his side, cramming him between the wall and a warm body. His coherence was waning, and he hoped that the confused man beside him would chalk up his sob-story to a drug-induced fantasy. It wasn't hard to believe, his past sometimes didn't even seem real to him.
"W-What the hell?!"
His new companion was ruffled, but at least he was attractive in a boilersuit that didn't even fit him. As Eustass backed himself further into a file cabinet, realizing their position, Law let his eyes rake along swollen biceps straining against polyester fiber. His pupils dilated as heat pooled in his belly, and he shifted his legs at the telltale warmth between his legs.
His sexual preference was limited by his aversion to sex, due to his negative history with the activity, but he appreciated a good looking man when he saw one*. He had no interest in women, and his preference for men tended to streamline towards people who reminded him of his beloved Cora-san. Such specimens were usually in looks alone, and Kidd happened to be the only one of far who resembled the man in sentiment.
This did not change the fact that he detested sex and all forms of physical contact that he did not enact himself. But he was influenced by a mixture he had concocted himself. It left him inhibited and foggy, and gave him less aftereffects than if he had gone with something else.
"C'mere" Law cooed, and grabbed Kidd's face in his hand, missing how the man's eyes locked on the tourniquet. Law lifted himself to his knees and took advantage of Kidd's attempt to speak with an open mouthed kiss.
The taste of blood and chocolate**.
*This is not how sexual preference works. Rape victims aren't always asexual and certainly don't link an aversion to sex with asexuality (speaking as a well-informed sex-repulsed asexual). Of course your sexual preference can change afterwards, aversion to sex stems from trauma and fear of bodily contact. Research for further information with the knowledge that I am not a complete expert on the subject and can have facts wrong. I am human.
**This is an expression for being 'bittersweet', which I believed was fitting for the situation. Law wants to express his thanks to Kidd's patience the only way he knows how, but is doing so without clarity or judgment. He wants skinship like anyone who craves contact, but must drug himself to the point of delusion to do so. His past exposed, Law seeks the comfort he found in Cora, and does so with the person who mimicked his actions, in other words, using Kidd as a crutch for his sorrow.
