A/N: Did any of you notice you-know-who in the manga had an X drawn on their chest to mimic Luffy? Anime beat them to it, though, with that Dugong.

Shanks grinned to himself and took another long drought of wine. He was sitting against the wall next to the door, still playing the waiting game with this Ace. Why the younger man didn't simply call the police eluded him.

Why the neighbours didn't call the police, well, that was a mystery for the ages, what with Ace blasting Queen and Shanks being as obnoxious as humanly possible.

"She's a killer queen~!" Shanks yelled along with the current song, purposefully out of sync and tone. "Gunpowder, gelatine! Dynamite with a laser beam!"

He stopped as the music suddenly cut off. He watched as the door opened, only by a tiny crack, and Ace slipped out of it, shutting it firmly behind him.

"So…?" Shanks asked leadingly, grinning with all the cheek he could muster. "Do I get to see Luffy-kun?"

Ace gave him a plain look. "Do you think you get to see Luffy-k— Luffy. Fuck it all."

"Guess not, huh." Shanks took another sip of wine. Despite his words he did not stop grinning, and in fact made himself more comfortable against the wall. "S'okay. If he's not home, I don't mind waiting."

"He's not coming home, you sunova—" Ace stopped himself, growling lowly in the back of his throat. "Not until you leave, anyway."

"That's not fair at all!"

"Did I say it was fair?"

"No, you didn't," Shanks said, plopping his bottle down on the carpet beside him. "Man, you are pissed at me, aren't you? You didn't even let me see that guest of yours, whoever it was. Now you're keeping Luffy-kun and me separated? Come on! The kid loves me!"

Ace crossed his arms. "How well do you even know him, really? You were around… how many years ago, exactly? So you've sent him letters. Has he ever written back?"

"Well, no." Shanks frowned. "But I know him better than you do, anyhow. I knew him before he was born!"

"You knew him… How does that work?"

"I brought him to the centre myself all those years ago!" Shanks said proudly.

Ace gaped. "You… You're not his… his father, are you?" What crummy luck their family had in the paternal string, if that were true. Did Rouge just have a thing for bad boys?

"No, of course not." Ace let out a very obvious sigh of relief at this, which Shanks pouted at. "But I knew his mother. She came to me when she was pregnant, disappeared right after she gave birth — before she even named him! I had to find a place for the kid myself, and I couldn't really take him with me, so—"

"So the orphanage he goes?" a voice asked. "Irresponsible motherfucker."

Shanks turned, grinning as he saw a certain blond, and hopped to his feet. He flung out his arms — no, his arm; how did Ace not notice that? — He flung out his singular arm in the universal gesture for a hug. "Li'l Curlicue! Heya! C'mere…"

Sanji pointedly backed away from Shanks' attempted embrace. "Not happening."

"Oh right." Shanks chuckled. "Because you don't hug anyone but Luffy-kun and pretty girls, right, Curlicue?"

"You have no right to be affectionate with either of us, you shitty bastard," snapped Sanji. He glanced at his watch.

Shanks held his hands up. "Whoa, what's with the sudden hostility?"

"Oh, it's anything but sudden." Sanji reached into his inside jacket pocket, pulling out a small cardboard box and a lighter. He produced something from the box and lit it, before the two objects, short one cigarette, disappeared back into the pocket. "I've had years to be angry with you."

Shanks gaped, looking positively scandalised. "You smoke?" he asked. "God. That is a horrible habit to have. Why would you do that to yourself?"

"Why would I do that to myself?!" Sanji yelled with such force it compelled Ace to flatten himself against the wall. "Why would you do what you do to anyone, you absolute piece of shit? Well?"

Shanks look utterly dumbfounded. "What I do…? Sanji, what are you asking?"

"Give it a rest. You think I don't know what you do?" Sanji reached up to take his cigarette, inadvertently crushing it in his grip. "I. Know. Everything. Everything, Shanks. What made you think I would just accept it, knowing what you've done? What you probably still do?"

"I think you don't know as much as you think you do," Shanks said with a frown.

"Oh, right," said Sanji. "Because I absolutely must know the details of your human trafficking."

Silence reigned.

Ace's face turned white, looking at Shanks with a new perspective. Everything he'd heard about the man…

"I just know that if Luffy had been adopted by Shanks, he would have been… he would have wound up in a bad place."

Shanks' mouth gaped open, and then shut itself. "…Does Luffy—"

"—Know?" Sanji finished. "Of course that's what you'd ask… Ace, do me a favour and check the time, would you?"

"Ah, okay." Ace glanced down at his watch. "It's nearly midnight…"

"How nearly?"

"Very nearly?"

"How very nearly?"

"Well," Ace looked again at the watch; specifically, the second hand. "Hm. About thirty seconds?"

Sanji nodded. "Well, Shanks," he said, turning to the man, "you have about thirty seconds to make your shitty self scarce before you're arrested."

"Huh?" Ace and Shanks asked in unison.

"At exactly midnight, Smoker and his officers are going to seal off this entire building. You'll be trapped — if you can't make it out in thirty seconds."

"Make that ten," Ace said, gazing at his watch.

"AKAGAMI," another voice boomed through a megaphone. "YOU ARE SURROUNDED. COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP."

"Oh. They're early," Sanji noted.

Shanks rushed past them, to a window a bit further down the hall. He took in the sight of the police barricade, all panda cars and red and blue light, then turned back to Sanji and Ace. When he did, he was smiling.

"Clever, Curlicue," he said. "Very clever."

Law awoke to the sound of a camera snapping a picture. He opened his eyes blearily, and when his sight adjusted, he saw that it was not a camera but a camera phone.

"Don't the two of you look sweet," said Nojiko, snapping the phone shut and slipping it into her pocket.

Law furrowed his brow, going to sit up — only to realise there was a weight holding him down. He looked down to see Luffy lying on his chest, the younger's jacket thrown over them both like a blanket.

He kicked him off. Luffy tumbled harshly from the couch to the floor, waking him up.

"Owwie," he groaned. "Law! That hurt!"

"Did Ace call?" Law directed at Nojiko, ignoring Luffy with practised expertise. "Is it safe to go home now?"

Nojiko frowned regretfully. "No word from him yet. Sorry."

Luffy, who had perked to attention at Ace's name, sighed at this. He rolled over onto his back, arms splayed out at his sides. "I want to go home… I want to see my Nii-chan…"

"Sorry, kiddo, but—" She stopped as her eyes landed on him. "Huh. Wow. You must not have noticed that under your jacket, huh?"

Law and Luffy both looked down at Luffy's shirt. What was once a sunny yellow tee with an odd smiley face printed on it was now stained, flecks of light pink dotted all down the front.

Luffy brought a hand up to lay it over his chest. "I guess it happened when I dropped my ice cream…"

"I can wash it for you, while you're waiting," Nojiko offered. When he looked up at her questioningly, she smiled. "It's fine. I have a pile to launder anyway."

Luffy looked at Law, who shrugged, and, with a shrug of his own, pulled off his shirt, handing it to her. She took it without glancing at him and began to walk off in the direction of the laundry room.

When she was nearly out of sight, she called over her shoulder, "You can ask Nami if she has anything you can wear in the meantime. Careful, though, she'll charge you!"

Nami lifted her head out of her book when she heard three resounding knocks on her bedroom door.

"Nami?" Luffy called in. "Your sister said you might have something for me to wear."

"Of course she did," Nami muttered, standing to go open the door. When she did, she blinked in surprise as she saw Luffy standing there shirtless, arms crossed over himself almost shyly. What he had said before just then sank in. "Er, why exactly do you need something to wear?"

"My shirt was dirty," he said. "Nojiko put it in the laundry."

"I see." She looked him over, briefly pausing when she thought she saw something on his chest, but dismissed it. She couldn't really tell anything either way, with his arms hiding it as they were. "Right, put your arms out at your sides. I need to see what size you are."

His arms began to lift, then hesitated, then lifted fully. Nami looked him over, her brows raising when she found that what she'd thought she had saw wasn't nothing after all. There, in the middle of his chest, was a large X shaped patch of discoloured skin.

Nami gulped at the sight of it, angry and deep wine-red. She found that she had to suppress the urge to reach out and touch it as she looked back at his face and asked, "What happened?"

Luffy blinked at her. "What happened to what?"

"That," she said, gesturing at the X.

"What, that?" He looked down at himself in surprise. "It's just a birthmark."

"A birthmark? It doesn't look much like a birthmark. It looks more like an open wound."

"I guess," said Luffy. He shifted uncomfortably, avoiding her eyes, and suddenly she felt bad for bringing it up. "Law told me it's red like that because of something about a fast cooler."

"Vascular," Law corrected. Luffy and Nami turned to him, startled by his sudden appearance. "It's a vascular birthmark. It's red because it's caused by irregularities in his blood, rather than skin pigments — to put it in simple terms."

Nami nodded, shooting another concerned glance at the birthmark. Law didn't miss it.

"Don't worry about it. It's benign enough, on its own. Just find him something to wear."

"Um, right," she stuttered. She went to her dresser and began looking through the cupboards, one after the other. When she reached the fourth one down, she pulled out a handful of white and blue fabric, which she offered to Luffy.

"Try this," she said, smiling proudly as he pulled it over his head and it seemed to fit. "I wore that back when I was only a year or two older than you."

Law raised one eyebrow as he looked Luffy over. The shirt was white, striped with blue around the seams, and fit him well enough, except…

Luffy stared down at his neckline, a v-neck low enough to show off the angry birthmark, where a good portion of the fabric around his pectorals was sagging. "Um, Nami?"

"Sorry about that," Nami said, frowning. "I was never exactly flat."

"It's alright," said Luffy. He tried pulling the shirt down, which only succeeded in showing more of the X. "Hm…"

"That thing really is attention grabbing," Nami noted. "How do you deal with that?"

"Hide it, mostly," Luffy muttered. "…Oh! But I bet I could make use of it, huh?"

Law felt suddenly suspicious. "How, exactly?"

"If I got my tattoo right in the middle of the cross, then everyone would look at it, wouldn't they?" Luffy grinned, clearly imagining this scenario as he gazed off into the distance.

"You're getting a tattoo?" Nami asked curiously.

"He wants a tattoo," Law corrected.

"I'm getting a tattoo!" Luffy said, ignoring Law.

"He's not getting a tattoo," said Law.

"It's gonna be right in the middle of my birthmark!"

"It's never gonna leave the drawing board."

"And it's gonna be really cool!"

"It's gonna be nonexistent."

"Law's gonna give it to me—"

"No one's going to give it to him."

"—and I will love him forever!"

Law sighed but said nothing.

Click.

"Hello, Shanks. I was expecting your call."

Shanks leaned back in the uncomfortable metal chair, phone held against his ear, with a childish sigh. "Of course you were. How, exactly, did you predict that I'd call you from prison?"

He took another look around the bleak room; it wasn't the cell they meant for him to stay in, but it was certainly just what he'd expected from watching too many crime shows: no furniture but the chair and the table, a double-mirror taking up half of one wall, and his only company his lawyer.

"You went to see Mister Portgas, correct?"

"That's what I called to tell you," Shanks said, sitting up straighter in his seat. "How did you know I was visiting Freckles the grumpy Queen fan?"

"As was I."

"You were… you were there?" Shanks stood up completely, knocking the chair over. His lawyer stooped to pick it up dutifully. "You mean you were his guest, Robin?! Why didn't you help?!"

"I have to admit, your situation… amused me. Though I am not certain why you were there."

He sat back down in the righted chair. "Care to explain your reasons, first?"

"It was nothing of great pertinence. I was hired to tutor Mister Portgas' younger brother… He's the one you were there for, is he not?"

"…Wait, don't you know about him?"

"Nothing more than what Mister Portgas told me. Why? Is he important?"

Shanks was silent for a moment. "You know what? You're the one who's gonna be in close quarters with him on a regular basis. I'll let you figure this one out yourself."

With that, he hung up.

"You know," said the lawyer, "I had thought you would have called someone who might help get you out of here."

"I thought it'd be a good use of my one call when I started dialling." Shanks grinned up at the standing man. "Though, I'm not sure why they gave me, of all people, a phone call in the first place, considering my status. I have you to thank for that, I guess."

"I'm just a very good lawyer."

"That you are!" Shanks threw his head back and laughed. "You make a great lawyer, don't you, Benn?"

Benn smirked back.

The door was thrown open, drawing their attention. A petite brunette in red glasses stood there, glaring at Shanks with great determination.

Shanks grinned just looking at her. She was one of those types, he could tell.

"You have a visitor," she said in a carefully schooled tone. "You'll be escorted to the visiting area now. Men," she said with a quick nod, which compelled a couple of the officers to enter the room, restrain Shanks, and lead him behind the brunette.

The walk to the visiting area wasn't long, and though Shanks' 'lawyer' wasn't following, he felt confident. They forced him into a not-much-less uncomfortable chair than the metal one he had before, and, since his wrists were shackled, one of the men wedged the phone between his shoulder and his ear.

Shanks grinned as he saw his visitor. "Heya, Freckles," he greeted.

There, on the other side of the glass, sat Portgas D Ace.

A/N: You might be able to tell, but we're really getting into the plot now. Questions? Predictions?