Written for Lunarshores and an anon on Tumblr. The theme was fugitive and Mafia
Sirens were wailing and he knew he was found out. It had been only a matter of time, really, before the guards of the maximum security prison Impel Down had discovered one of their inmates missing. The escape had not been easy and Ace still wondered how he had managed to pull it off. He couldn't have done it without the prison's most eccentric inmates, though he preferred not to recall what he had done to get their help. No matter what they said, he had not looked lovely in that dress.
Never slowing down, Ace cast a brief glance over his shoulder. In the distance, several guards, armed with tasers, guns and dogs, were coming closer. Police cars with wailing sirens approached and he knew he could no longer outrun them. He needed a place to hide, but where? They would comb every alley until they found him. Impel Down had a flawless record of no escapes and they would do anything to keep it that way. No matter what.
Trying to shake the guards off, he zigzagged through a few alleys, but he was out of breath. He needed to hide, now. His eye fell on an obscure looking café. 'Marco's Tavern' was written on the window. Swallowing, he tried the doorknob, prepared to smash the window if necessary. Fortunately, luck was on his side and the door opened.
At first glance, the bar was empty and Ace sighed in relief. He could hide out here, maybe steal a drink and no one needed to know about it.
"We're closed, yoi."
Ace jumped when a deep, almost husky voice suddenly spoke and brusquely, he turned around. Behind the bar, drying a glass with a bored look on his face, stood a blond man. He hardly seemed impressed with Ace less than elegant entrance and merely continued what he was doing.
Swallowing and taking a few deep breaths to get his breathing under control, the freckled man walked over to the bar, trying to radiate confidence. "You better let me stay here."
"Or what?"
Ace was a little taken off guard by that question, but soon recovered. "Or I'll make you." He raised his fist to punch the guy in the face, but suddenly the world started spinning and before he knew it, he was pinned against the floor. The glass the man had been drying stood on the bar, clean and dry.
Ace tried to get up, but the blond kept him pinned down. "Or what, yoi?" he asked again, a hint of amusement in his voice. This was no ordinary bartender.
Struggling, but failing to get out of the blond's grip, Ace spat: "Who the hell are you?!"
"Me, yoi? I'm the owner of this bar." The hold never slacked.
"So you're Marco?"
"Very sharp. Now would you please tell me what an inmate is doing here?"
Ace looked at him confused. A few lonely women had visited him in prison and they all had said he didn't look like he should be in there. Even before he was incarcerated, people had said he looked innocent. It were probably those damn freckles.
"You're still wearing your prison suit, yoi." Finally, the grip loosened and Marco held out his hand. Stubbornly, Ace rose by himself and looked at the other wearily as the blond's eyes observed him. "Though you're one of the few people who can pull off bright orange."
Ace scowled at him. What the hell did this guy think he was doing? "So are you going to let me stay or are you going to rat me out to the cops?" he snapped.
Marco went back behind the bar and poured two glasses of what appeared to be rum. Sliding one of them over to Ace, he took a sip from his own as the wailing of police cars approached. "I'm sure we can come to some kind of arrangement."
Warily, Ace stared at the glass in front of him, but as the content had come from the same bottle as the one the bartender was drinking from, so he carefully took a sip. The rum burned nicely in his throat after going so long without any alcohol and the most exciting beverage being tea, and he couldn't hold back a sigh. Still, he realised in what kind of situation he was in and the man in front of him had already proven he was no ordinary bartender by pinning an inmate from the most secure prison against the ground like it was nothing. So he squinted and asked: "What kind of arrangement?"
Marco tossed down his drink and beckoned him over. "Come with me, yoi."
Ace followed his example and after having put the glass down with more force than strictly necessary, he got up from the barstool and did as he was asked. As they passed the bar, the fugitive saw something shining from the corner of his eye and he grabbed it in the hope it would be a knife. He hid it behind his back, but curiosity got the better of him, for now at least.
They went through the door behind the bar, which revealed a staircase. Ace looked around, taking in his environment. There was not much to see, the stairs they descended were old, made from wood and several steps creaked. The staircase was narrow, the walls a dark green colour and paint flaking off. At the bottom of the stairs was a small hallway where several doors came out on. Without hesitation, Marco opened the door right across from the stairs, which to Ace looked exactly the same as the others, and motioned him to follow.
The room was not what he had thought it would be. He had expected a storage room he had to clean out or something, not what appeared to be a second bar beneath the real one, albeit smaller, filled with cigar smoke and a group of people playing poker.
"Took you long enough to clean up," one of the men said jovially.
"If you had helped out, I would have been done sooner, Thatch," Marco said with a snort.
"Who's your friend?" the person of whom Ace had been certain it was an Asian woman said in a surprisingly male voice.
"This is…" Marco turned around. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name, yoi."
"It's Ace." Behind his back, the former inmate clenched his hand around the handle of his knife. With this many people, it would be hard to take them all out, but he wouldn't go down without a fight.
"This is Ace. He's going to help us in exchange for shelter." Marco smirked at him. "Aren't you?"
"You never said what kind of help," Ace answered through clenched teeth.
"Considering you were incarcerated at Impel Down, I'd say you aren't picky about what kind of job you do, yoi." Marco sat down on a vacant chair and placed his ankle on his other knee.
"You're a prisoner?" a girl from around Ace's age, only a head shorter than him, asked curiously. "What did you do?"
"If it's Impel Down, he has to be a bad boy." The man with dreadlocks and a moustache shuffled the cards and grinned at Ace. "Am I right?"
Ace clenched his jaw. He needed to get out of here. The sirens had faded away anyway, so he could sneak out and hide somewhere else. He drew the knife from behind his back, pulling the girl towards him and placing the blade against her throat. Only, much to his horror, it wasn't a knife he had pulled. It was a whisk.
For a moment, it stayed silent in the room, until the largest man at the table, bald with an impressive white moustache, burst into laughter and soon the others followed. Realising that this meant he had no way of escaping, Ace stood frozen, the girl still pulled against him. That was, until she stomped on his foot and as soon as he released her, kicked him in the groin. The useless whisk fell from his hands as he fell to the floor, groaning in agony as he took on the foetus position.
"That was a little uncalled for, Haruta," the man Marco had identified as Thatch said, sympathy in his voice. "The poor guy threatened you with a whisk."
The girl snorted. "You sure this guy is of any use for us?"
"I can guarantee you that no guy is of any use for anyone after being kicked in the groin, yoi." Marco rose from his chair and helped Ace up. "Come on, we'll get you some ice for that." He sat the freckled man down on a chair and caught the bag of ice that was thrown his way from the small bar in the corner by a man with curly black hair and a moustache as well.
Ace pressed the bag of ice against his groin and looked at the table with watery eyes. Apparently, he had taken someone's place, as a small mountain of chips was lying in front of him.
"You play?" Thatch asked.
Ace played with some of the chips, the bag of ice still pressed between his legs. "I do."
"Then how about we play? That is, unless you want to threaten any of us with a whisk again." Thatch started laughing and the others in the room followed his example.
Ace grit his teeth. "Why would I want to play with any of you?"
"Because," the cross dresser – or so Ace assumed – rose, "if you win, you can go without helping us and we won't go to the police. Hell, we'll even help you lay low."
Ace stayed silent for a moment. That did sound interesting. "What if I lose?"
The cross dresser looked at his nails. "Then we have some 'jobs' that need to be taken care off."
Ace thought for a moment. He was putting a lot on the line here, but it could also be his ticket to freedom. Still, he couldn't beat all of them. "It's not really fair if I have to play against you all."
"You won't. The cross dresser placed his hands on the bartender's shoulders. "You'll only play Marco."
Ace looked the blond up and down. The man seemed as impressed as when the freckled man stormed into the bar, which was to say not very. "Fine."
Haruta got a new and sealed pack of cards and shuffled them like a professional. She handed them each two cards and opened three in the middle. Ace carefully studied his cards and then Marco's face, but the man gave nothing away. A little annoyed, the fugitive focused on his own cards again. He was only one card short from a straight, he could win this. Placing his bet in the form of chips, he waited for Marco's move. The man called and another card was flipped.
Ace cursed inwardly. He had no use for a king, but bluffing was his only option. Although… Marco had showed some interest in him upstairs in the bar. Perhaps he could use that. Toeing off one of his boots, Ace let his leg slide up Marco's under the table as the blond was thinking, slipping it dangerously close to his crotch.
It seemed to be working as the bartender's blue eyes flicked up to him, but then his foot was caught in an iron grip. He tried to pull back, only managing to bump his knee against the top and making the table wobble.
"You might want to take a shower first, before you try to seduce me," Marco said amused as he threw some extra chips on the table.
Ace's face turned bright red at the blond's words, especially when they were followed by laughter from the other people present. He tried to pull back his foot again, but Marco's death grip didn't let go and he only bumped against the table once more. His face brightened, however, when the final card was turned around. An ace, exactly what he needed for his straight.
He tried to keep his face neutral, matching Marco's impassive expression, but he couldn't help the smug smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth. He was so out of here.
Throwing his cards on the table with an expression that said just that, he watched Marco's reaction. Much to his joy, the blond sighed, but when he slowly looked up, a smirk had appeared.
"Flush."
"What?!" Disbelievingly, Ace stared at the cards, when his temper took over. Yanking his foot back, he jumped up, throwing over the table. "Fucking cheater!" He was ready to fly at the bartender, but two pairs of strong arms held him back.
Marco calmly lit a cigarette and took a long drag. "It was a new pack of cards."
"Then one of these bastards helped you! Let me the fuck go!" He struggled in the grip the two men held on him. One of the guys was blond, his hair cut in a bob, and the other had hands big enough to crush his skull.
"Why don't you calm down first, yoi?" Cigarette in his mouth, Marco helped putting the table upright again.
"Oh, you wish I'd calm down! I'll tear your fucking throat out!"
He continued to spew insults for a while, but the iron grip was not slacking so eventually he ran out of things to say and just hang limply in the hold.
Marco nodded at the two men and Ace was released, put down on a chair. He didn't care anymore. "Fine, I'll do your fucking chores."
"Oh, honey." The cross dresser in the kimono folded out a fan with one hand. "You have no idea who you have in front of you, do you?"
Confused, Ace looked around. "Should I?" As far as he knew, he stumbled into a bar which was holding a private party. None of the faces of the people present rang a bell – and a lot of them he would have remembered had he seen them before. His eyes rested on the eldest man in the room. He looked a little familiar, but Ace had no idea where to place him.
Thatch said down next to him and amicably wrapped his arm around the freckled man's shoulder. "That man over there, that's Edward Newgate."
Now that sounded familiar. Where had he heard that before?
"Better known as Whitebeard."
At that, Ace froze. Fuck. Of all places he could have ended up, of all buildings he could have snuck into, he just had to choose one frequented by the infamous Whitebeard family. "You're the fucking mob?!"
He had to get out of here. Jumping from his chair, he ran towards the door, but it was blocked. Not by the two enormous guys that just held him, just by the girl Haruta. But anyone affiliated with Whitebeard was ridiculously strong, so he wisely decided not to underestimate her. What he should do, however, was a mystery.
In his confusion, Thatch had taken this time to walk up to him and guided him back to his chair. "No reason to be scared."
"I am not scared!" Ace spat back, pulled from his trance. "But working for the Mafia?"
"You did agree, honey." The man in the kimono leisurely fanned himself. "We would have kept our word if you had won. So should you."
"Besides, you've obviously heard of us, so then you should know better than to try and run." One of the men that had hold him back earlier cracked his knuckles grinning. Only now Ace noticed the many diamond rings around his finger.
"Come on, Jozu, don't make the poor kid wet himself," Thatch said soothingly.
"Fuck off! Like hell I will." Ace jumped to his feet and stood in front of Whitebeard himself. "Just tell me what I need to do to get out of here, old man!"
Much to his surprise, Edward Newgate didn't get mad, but instead started to laugh loudly. The bottles on the shelves chinked together. "You've got a feisty one here, Marco!" He slapped the blond on the back with what appeared to be a lot of force, but the bartender didn't even flinch. Instead, he smirked as well.
Ace looked around suspiciously, breath still ragged from his outburst, but no one made an attempt to attack him. They all sat quietly – and annoyingly amused – until Marco rose. "I think that's enough for tonight, yoi." He killed the remains of his cigarette in an ashtray and walked up to Ace, pulling gently on his arm. "I wasn't kidding about that shower."
Defeated, the fugitive followed the blond back upstairs, where they much to his surprise climbed another staircase. Running was no use. No one ran from the Whitebeard family and lived to tell it, or so the rumours went. At the very least, they would call the cops on him, the worst… Well, he preferred not to think about that.
When they arrived on top of the second staircase, Ace looked around surprised. Apparently, the bartender lived upstairs from his bar. "Why are we here? Shouldn't you lock me in the basement or something?"
"That won't do your smell any good," Marco replied dryly. "Go take a shower, yoi." He pushed Ace in the direction of the bathroom.
As much as he didn't want to listen to a mobster, a shower sounded very tempting. In prison, they were allowed two showers a week – if you were lucky – and his wasn't scheduled before the day after tomorrow. All the running had made him sweaty and mud and things he couldn't or didn't want to identify, clung to him. So he entered the bathroom, making sure to lock it behind him. Maybe he could escape from the window? At least that would buy him time to run before the cops were called or Whitebeard used his own methods to track him down.
He turned on the shower and peered out of the window. It was too dark to see anything. Would it be worth the risk? Before he could open the window, however, the door to the bathroom opened and Marco walked in.
Brusquely, Ace turned around. "What the hell?! You always walk in when people are showering? And I fucking locked the door!"
Marco turned around as if that hadn't occurred to him. "That lock hasn't worked in years, yoi. And I only came to bring you a towel. I wouldn't try jumping from here, though."
Stubbornly, Ace opened the window anyway and peered down. Below him was nothing but concrete and the wall had no ridges or anything to hold onto. He was trapped.
"Enjoy your shower, yoi."
Annoyed, Ace pulled the towel from the blond's hands and waited until the man had left the bathroom before he started to take off his prison suit. Then he sighed. A shower it was then.
When the water hit his body, he realised how sore his muscles were. His escape hadn't been easy, even with the help of the cross dressers in prison. He had run for his life, evading cops, guards and dogs. No wonder he was tired.
He grabbed the shampoo bottle and started to soap up his hair. It was nice to finally shower alone again, not fearing to drop the soap every time you washed yourself. As soon as he found a way to escape, he would go to the house of his brothers, his house. He closed his eyes as he rinsed the shampoo from his hair. Yes, that would be nice. Luffy would call for a feast, though he didn't need much reason for that in the first place. Still, the only thing he wanted now was to see his brothers again. His escape couldn't be held a secret for long and soon it would be all over the news. His brothers would be worried. Well, Sabo would be, Luffy had the tendency not to worry about anything.
Turning off the shower, Ace started to dry himself off before he pulled on his boxers. It was no use putting on his prison suit again, for one, it was dirty and torn and would undo the effects of the shower and secondly, he was rather obvious in it. Maybe Marco would be kind enough to lend him some clothes.
Exiting the bathroom, Ace looked around if he saw a sign of the bartender. He didn't, however, and the bedroom door that had been ajar before was now shut. Was this guy serious? He could just walk out of here with some valuables and Marco wouldn't know until morning!
His eye fell on the couch. It had been made as an improvised bed, with a pillow and blanket, folded open invitingly. Ace hesitated. This was his chance to escape, but would he really come far if he was as tired as he was now? A quick nap would give him new energy. He only had to wake up before the blond did and he was fine.
Lying down, he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.
The delicious scent of fried eggs and bacon hit his nostrils and tiredly, he opened his eyes. In prison it was unusual for the food to even have a smell – much less, taste. Was he imagining things?
His environment proved he was nowhere near prison and slowly his brain caught up with the events of the previous night. Right, he was in debt to the most infamous Mafia boss in town. What a great way to start his morning.
Still, his stomach growled. Maybe he could stuff his face and then make a run for it – no matter he was only wearing boxers. Suddenly, his eye fell on a pile of clothes that was lying on the chair next to the couch. Even better. He put on the pants, ignoring the shirt and ran to the table where the food was dished out. As fast as he could, he stuffed in as much food as he possibly could. If he hurried, he might be able to…
"Good morning."
Ace almost choked on the mix of toast, eggs and bacon that he was currently chewing. Marco was standing behind him with the newspaper in his hand. "Please, go ahead, yoi," he said sarcastically.
Manners, beaten into him when he was a kid, kicked in and he bowed for the blond. "Thanks for the food."
The bartender raised his eyebrow at the suddenly display of politeness, but didn't comment on it. "Just sit down and eat like were not raised by wolves, yoi. And I did give you a shirt, you know."
"I don't like shirts," Ace shrugged, but did what he was asked. After all, he wouldn't be able to outrun the blond when he was watching, even if the man was reading the newspaper. This was the Whitebeard family he was dealing with and seeing how Marco called the shots the previous night, he wasn't just bartending the family. He was one of them, one of the higher ups even, and Ace wouldn't be surprised if he had a concealed weapon somewhere. No, his chance to sneak away had gone by. He should have woken up earlier, dammit! But then he wouldn't have had this delicious food – though he assumed any food was better than what they were served in prison. He would just have to be patient. Marco hadn't treated him badly yet, after all, so maybe this ordeal wasn't too bad. But the first chance he had, he would run.
"So what kind of job will I be doing?" he asked after he had eaten his fill. "Do I need to make someone sleep with the fishes?"
Marco looked up from his paper, looking over the rim of his reading glasses. "We don't talk like that, yoi. And you really think we would let a rookie deal with things like that?"
"I'm not a rookie!" Ace spat. "I escaped the most secured prison in the land. You think they kept me there for laughs and giggles?"
Marco raised an eyebrow, looking utterly unimpressed. "You're going to help me in the bar." He picked up his paper again.
"Working in the bar? Are you serious?" Ace gaped at him – or rather the newspaper that hid the blond's face.
Sighing, the bartender looked at him again. "You think we only deal drugs and shoot people? My bar is a legitimate business. It covers for a less legitimate business, true, but I make good money off it. And I can use a waiter."
When he had imagined escaping from prison, he had not imagined himself to be working at a bar owned by the Mafia. Yet here he was, handing out beers like it was candy. Marco hadn't lied, the bar was very popular and the fugitive had not yet had a chance to sit down all night. The blond had been equally busy, though he did have the time to chat with some regulars. He hadn't interacted with Ace more than to pass on orders or hand drinks to him.
So the freckled man was fairly surprised when the bartender suddenly beckoned him over. "You see those people there, yoi?" he asked as he dried the glass in his hands. He motioned with his head to a table were a man and a woman were sitting at. The man had greyish hair with a scowling face and smoking two cigars at the same time, while the woman had pink hair and took a drag from her cigarette. When Ace nodded, Marco continued: "You might want to stay clear of them. They're cops."
The freckled man's eyes widened and he looked at the bartender helplessly.
"Don't worry, alright? Why don't you get some new bottles of whiskey from the basement, yoi? The storage is the room next to the one you were in yesterday."
Ace nodded and snuck from the bar, his heart beating fast. Why on earth were there cops in a bar owned by the Mafia? And how did Marco even know that they were? In the basement, he grabbed the bottles the bartender had asked for and cautiously made his way back upstairs. There, much to his surprise, he saw the two cops standing at the bar, chatting with Marco. Silently – though it was quite noisy in the bar so no one paid attention to him anyway – he placed the bottles down and crept close enough he could overhear what they were saying without being seen.
"So, I saw you got a new waiter. I thought this was a family business," the man with the two cigars remarked.
"I could use some extra hands," Marco said, looking bored as always.
"Where did you get him from?" the woman asked.
The bartender shrugged. "Let's say he applied for the job, yoi."
The man with the cigars scrolled through something on his phone and then placed the device on the bar, facing Marco. "Did you know he is an escaped prisoner from Impel Down?"
Ace held his breath.
"Well, what do you know." The blond's voice sounded utterly unimpressed.
The cop took the cigars out of his mouth. "I'll take that as a yes. Where are you hiding him?"
Ace tried to make himself even smaller than he already was. Fuck, he only made it one day? Marco didn't have a reason to lie to the cops, he probably thought the fugitive was more trouble than he was worth. That was how people usually thought about him, anyway.
"I think you misunderstand something, yoi," Marco said, pouring two more drinks for the cops. "That brat is working for me and Pops has already taking a liking to him. We wouldn't want to cause a war now, would we?"
The male cop grit his teeth around his cigars. "Are you threatening me?"
"I wouldn't dream of it. But you like it here and I would hate to lose two of my regular customers, yoi. How about you forget what you saw and I'll clear your tabs."
"That sounds an awful lot like a bribe," the male cop grunted.
Marco sighed. "Impel Down is a place where the heaviest of criminals are put. Ace is just a kid. He doesn't belong there and you know it, yoi."
The female cop placed her hand on her colleague's arm. "Hina thinks we shouldn't pick a fight with the family. If this boy is under their protection, there is nothing we can do for now."
The male cop snorted. "Fine. But I'm keeping my eye on him." He turned around and started to walk to the door.
"Please do!" Marco called after him. "I sure don't mind doing that myself."
Once the door had fallen shut behind the two cops, the bartender looked in Ace's direction. "You can come out now, yoi."
The freckled man scrambled to his feet. "You didn't have to do that, you know."
The bartender shrugged. "I didn't do anything, yoi. You're under Pop's protection now."
"I don't need protection!"
Marco looked at him for a moment and then took a step closer. Instinctively, Ace wanted to step back, but his back hit the bar and he was trapped. The blond leaned in and whispered in his ear: "You should always use protection."
It had been over a week that he had been stuck working at the bar and Ace was starting to get restless. The news about his escape was out, the authorities hadn't been able to hide it any longer. His story and name had been in the newspaper, on TV, everywhere, and included a not so flattering wanted poster. Marco had assured him he was safe working in the bar. Most of the guests were regulars who didn't want to be on the bad side of Marco or the family, even if there was a reward in store. They rather kept their heads.
But the fact that he might be exposed wasn't the reason the freckled man knew he needed to get out of there. It was because Sabo no doubt had seen his picture in the paper. He knew that Ace was out, but didn't know where he was. The fugitive needed a way to get out of here, so he could make contact. He couldn't just call them, the police knew they lived together, so the house was no doubt under surveillance and the phones tapped. He needed to send a message another way, something only his brothers would understand. The problem was that he couldn't leave that to anyone else. He trusted the Whitebeard family as far as he could throw them. They would probably find a way to reel in Sabo and Luffy into their debt as well. No, he didn't want his brothers to have anything to do with the Mafia.
It wasn't that the family wasn't nice. They were likable people and over the course of the week, Ace had learned all their names. Most of them owned a small legitimate businesses like Marco, but they came over to hang out in the basement of the bar often. But that they hadn't shot him yet didn't mean they wouldn't in the future. He needed to get out of here and he needed to do it now.
He served out drinks to the family in the basement. Half of them were drunk already, though Marco's eyes were still sharp, as always. Ace had been living with him for a week now, but escape seemed futile with the blond around. The freckled man had made a few attempts to sneak out of the house in the middle of the night, but somehow the bartender always caught him.
Ace was never one for subtlety, anyways.
When no one was paying attention to him – they were too busy drinking and laughing anyway – Ace pulled a gun out of the drunk Blamenco's holster he carried at his side and pointed the weapon at Whitebeard. The room immediately fell silent.
"Alright, so here is what we're going to do. Y'all are going to sit down and don't move while I leave. No one follows me and I'll consider not blowing the old man's brain out." The freckled man tightened his grip around the pistol to prevent his hand from shaking. No one said anything and the fugitive swallowed. "Alright. Glad I made myself clear. I'll just–"
Before he could finish his sentence, the gun was kicked out of his hand and a sandaled foot connected with his stomach, sending him backwards. His head slammed against the wall, leaving him dizzy.
"You might have overdone it, Marco," Thatch's voice sounded from far away. "He doesn't look too good."
Just to prove him wrong, Ace scrambled to his feet. "Didn't feel a thing." He staggered and needed to grab onto the nearest table to keep himself from falling.
Marco walked up to him and stopped only inches away from his face, his piercing look trying to penetrate his soul. The freckled man tried to match his glare, but he doubted he looked intimidating. It didn't help that he had no idea what the blond was going to do to him. Something painful no doubt, after all, he had just pointed a gun at the head of the family. Maybe he should have taken a different hostage, but after a week of being here, he had yet to discover a weak link. All of Whitebeard's children, as he called them, were people to watch out for.
Finally, Marco sighed and turned around. "Come on, yoi."
Confused, Ace looked at the other man. "Wait, you're not going to kill me?"
"For what? Being stupid? If I started killing people for that, it would never end, yoi. Besides," he smirked at Ace, "no way a rookie like you could ever kill Pops."
Despite his little setback, Ace didn't give up on trying to kill the head of the family. If he killed the leader, that would mean he would be it, right? He would own the best criminals in the city. And he could just hand them over to the police, in exchange for immunity, of course. He would be a free man without having to worry about his brothers. He could go back home.
He had gotten creative at it too, not only trying guns, but also smuggling knives – real knives, not whisks – from the bar, or really using anything he could get his hands on. It never ended well for him, however, always being kicked or punched out of the way, without Whitebeard ever lifting a finger. Marco always took him up to his apartment, sighing and taking care of his wounds if necessary. The first night he had asked what had gotten into him, but stubbornly, Ace had kept his mouth shut. Marco was the last of all people he wanted up in his business, because he knew the man was sharp and smart. Whatever he said, the blond would figure out it was either a lie or a way to lead him to Ace's brothers and the freckled man would be damned if he let anything happen to them. So he just kept his mouth shut.
To his surprise, the blond didn't press and didn't bother to ask again after the other attempts.
When he was working for Marco for a month and for the umpteenth time – he had lost count – he got lucky. After the first time, when he had the element of surprise on his side, he had never gotten close enough to even touch the head of the family, but right now, here he was, pressing the barrel of his gun against the soft flesh of Whitebeard's throat. He smirked, despite the fact that Edward Newgate wasn't impressed at all and didn't even seemed to notice his life was on the line. He just continued eating.
"Come on, Ace, we're trying to have a nice family dinner here," Thatch tried to reason with him. He was the only one to bother and try to make friends with Ace. The man had a cheerful personality that was hard to dislike, but the freckled man managed.
So, he shook his head. "There are two things we can do. Either I kill your dad and hand you guys all over to the cops," he ignored some indignant snorts, "or you hand me a lot of money so I can get out of the country. It's your choice."
It was at that point that he felt something heavy hit the back of his head and he slumped to the ground.
When he woke up, he noticed he was tied up on a bed, his hands with duct tape fastened against the headboard. He wasn't in the basement anymore and taking another look he realised he was in Marco's bedroom. Tied to Marco's bed.
Said man was leaning on the window sill, looking rather tired. He didn't acknowledge the man tied to his bed in the least, merely staring to the wall across from him.
Annoyed, Ace tried to rip himself loose, but the person who had applied the duct tape was very handy with it. The freckled man could squirm all he wanted, he wasn't getting loose. Not that that discouraged him from trying, after all, if Ace was something, he was stubborn. Rolling over on his stomach, he tried to wiggle loose.
"Your murder attempts are getting annoying, yoi," Marco's voice suddenly cut through the silence.
"Fuck you," Ace spat back. "I've escaped one prison, I can escape another. If I need to kill for that, so be it."
Before he could blink, Marco, who had been at the other side of the room, was suddenly on his knees on the bed next to the freckled man. "You are tied up and at my mercy. What are you going to do about that, yoi?" He moved closer, his hands ghosting over Ace's naked back – as he still refused to wear shirts.
The fugitive wanted to retort, but his mouth suddenly felt very dry. Flipping himself over again in an attempt to gain more control, he was met by the blond's face, which was very, very close by. "You look equally tempting either way."
Ace's cheeks turned red and he tried to kick the bartender, but Marco pinned down his legs with his own and placed his hands on either side of the raven haired man's head, hovering over him. "There is really nothing you can do, yoi. I can do with you whatever I want."
The freckled man swallowed, breathing heavily through his nose. He needed to get out of here, and fast. A small part of him was a bit disappointed that it turned out he couldn't trust Marco after all, but he pushed that nagging voice away. The blond had been the enemy since the beginning, only protecting him so he could pay off his debt.
A familiar feeling crept up on him and his eyes widened. Not now. He thought he had his narcolepsy under control, but the stress of the past days had probably reawaken it. If he fell asleep now, he couldn't even fight back anymore! In prison he had gotten medication for it, after an unfortunate incident during dinner, but he hadn't told the Whitebeard family his weakness, staying awake with sheer willpower. Or so he had thought.
He tried to keep his eyes open, but it was only a matter of seconds before his head lulled to the side.
When he woke up, he was still on Marco's bed, but his hands weren't tied together anymore and his clothes were intact. The blond was nowhere to be seen either.
Cautiously, Ace got off the bed and peered around the bedroom door, expecting it to be a trap. Marco was sitting on the couch, reading a book. The freckled man considered to take the bat that was standing in the room, but dismissed that thought. He wouldn't be able to beat the blond anyway, even if the bartender didn't have a gun – he had told Ace a long time ago he didn't like guns and never carried one.
"Why did you untie me?" he demanded when he entered the living room.
Marco looked up from his book. "You didn't seem like a threat anymore. And you look cute when you sleep, yoi," he added with a grin.
Ace scowled at him, but sat down on the couch anyway, pouting a little. Like hell he was cute!
"Why are you so desperate to kill Pops, yoi?" Marco placed his book on the arm of the couch and turned in his seat to face the other man.
Ace shrugged. "Seemed like the best way to get out of here."
The blond raised an eyebrow. "How is that the best way? You would have all of us on you within a second, yoi." When Ace didn't respond, he continued: "You were always free to leave."
"Yeah, right," Ace snorted. "The Mafia is just going to let me walk away. And besides, I either need money or immunity, which I could gain by handing you lot over to the cops."
Marco looked at him for a while and then moved a little closer. "Why are you so desperate to leave? You're safe here, yoi. The cops will never come after you if you're under our protection. For a fugitive, you've hit the jackpot, yoi."
But Ace shook his head. "I need to get out of here! I need…"
"You have someone waiting for you." Marco's voice was soft.
Ace swallowed and nodded. "My brothers."
"Why didn't you tell us, yoi?" When the freckled man didn't answer him, he pushed Ace's chin up. "If there is something we value, it's family."
"I don't want to drag them into the mess I made. I just want to let them know I'm safe. And see them, if possible." Ace had to fight back the tears and he didn't even try to resist when Marco wrapped his arms around him. He also didn't move when the blond sat back on the couch, pulling Ace along so that he was lying half on top of the bartender. "We can help you, yoi."
But Ace shook his head. "No one even helps without wanting something in return. I learned even before I went to prison."
Marco sighed. "You're right. I do want something."
The freckled man smiled humourlessly. "See?"
"I want you to be safe."
Confused, the fugitive looked up, leaning with his chin on Marco's stomach. The blond looked back at him, his blue eyes open and honest. He wasn't mocking Ace or lying. "Why?" he croaked out. "I've been nothing but a burden to you. Hell, I tried to kill your father!"
"You did what you thought you needed to do to survive." Marco started playing with his dark strands. Our family, all my brothers, we have been in that exact same position. Until Pops invited us to join his family. Whether you decide to join us or not, you deserve a second chance as well."
Ace shook his head. "You don't know what I did."
"You were convicted of attempt to murder of a CEO. It was all over the news, yoi."
Ace stayed silent.
"I followed the trial in the paper. It was never made clear why you did it, though."
"He threatened them," the freckled man whispered. "I couldn't let him hurt them. I snapped."
"You were protecting your family," Marco said slowly. He had never ceased to caress the raven head's hair.
Ace didn't say anything, but buried his face in the blond's shirt.
"Tell me about them."
The freckled man looked up again, but Marco smiled encouragingly at him. The black haired man turned onto his back and moved until he had found a comfortable place against Marco's chest. "Well, there's Luffy. He's the most thick headed and naïve person you'll ever meet, but he has a heart made of gold. And a black hole for a stomach…"
He talked about his brothers for hours. Marco listened patiently, every once in a while asking a question. When Ace was finally done, he felt a lot better. He still missed Luffy and Sabo, of course, but it was nice to talk about them at least. And when Marco pushed up his chin and promised he would make sure the fugitive would see his brothers again, Ace believed him.
How Marco pulled it off, Ace didn't know, but he didn't have to do anything to arrange the meeting, he only had to pick a date and a place. The blond had said he needed a few days to make everything in order, but the freckled man could hardly wait. He decided it would be wise not to ask questions as to how the family pulled it off, but now here he was, at the set date at Grey Terminal, the junkyard they used to play at.
He couldn't say he wasn't nervous, after all, it had been over a month since he had escaped from prison and even longer since he had seen his brothers, as Impel Down had very strict visitor hours. He knew he didn't have to worry about the police, as all the Whitebeard brothers had come to ensure his safety, but also his brothers'. They had kept a respectable distance between them and Ace, so he could talk in private. After what seemed like hours, he saw two familiar figures approaching.
"Ace!" Luffy called out and run towards, jumping his brother as soon as he was close enough. Sabo followed slower, but smiled fondly at the freckled man.
After he had peeled Luffy off of him, Ace turned at Sabo and hugged him as well.
"You had us worried," the blond said, but he smiled anyway. "Where have you been?"
"I found a hideout." Ace smiled sheepishly.
"Shishishi, I told you Ace would be okay!" Luffy exclaimed.
"So how are you?" Sabo asked.
"I'm okay. I missed you guys."
"We missed you too, Ace! Sabo is much stricter than you are. Though there is more food for me now that you're gone. Shishi– Ow!" Luffy stopped as soon as Sabo hit him on the head. Ace started to laugh and ruffled his younger brother's hair.
Sabo looked over Ace's shoulder at the Whitebeard family. "Those guys… Did they set up this meeting?"
The freckled man followed his gaze and nodded. "Yeah, you can trust them. They've given me food and a place to stay. And I'm safe with them."
They caught up on everything that had happened and that Ace had missed. Luffy had finally found a job and Sabo was busy graduating. The freckled man promised to attend the ceremony.
Suddenly, they heard gravel crunching when someone approached and Marco came standing next to Ace. The freckled man's face beamed. "Guys, this is Marco, the guy I told you about. We wouldn't be standing here if it weren't for him."
The elder blond smiled and shook Sabo's extended hand as he underwent a thorough investigation under Luffy's stare. He was obviously approved, as the black haired boy started to laugh and said: "You have weird hair. Can I call you Mr Pineapple?"
"I'd rather not," Marco began, but Ace shook his head.
"Don't bother, he'll do it anyway."
Luffy laughed again and slapped the bartender on his shoulder. "You're funny, Mr Pineapple!"
Smiling, Marco shook his head, but then turned to Ace. "We just intercepted a police message. They're on their way here, yoi. We have to go."
"I thought you said we were safe here," the fugitive protested.
"Someone must have tipped them off."
"It probably were those cops in front of our house," Sabo said frowning.
"No, we took care of them."
The two blond's exchanged a look for a moment. Then Marco turned around. "I'll leave you alone then, yoi."
"Marco."
The bartender turned to Sabo.
"Take good care of him."
Marco nodded and walked away.
"Bye, Mr Pineapple!" Luffy called after him.
The blond raised his hand and waved shortly.
Ace sighed. "I can't believe I can't go back home with you guys."
"You need to lay low for a while. I'm just glad to know that you're safe, even if it's with the Mafia. Just promise us to make contact as often as you can." Sabo gave him a piercing look.
"I promise."
As the sirens approached, Ace gave his brothers a quick hug before he ran after his new family.
It was a week after Ace had seen his brothers when he found himself alone in Marco's apartment. He had had no idea how much things needed to be arranged for him to officially become a member of the Whitebeard family. There was some boring paperwork and of course Whitebeard's mark that he now proudly wore on his back.
Izo had also taken him shopping that week, along with his friend Perona, who judged everything to be either cute or uncute. Since the time Marco took him in, he had been wearing the blond's clothes and old shorts from some of the other male members, as he didn't like shirts anyway. He had only had to buy socks and underwear, but now that he would stay permanently, he had to expand his wardrobe. He never really cared much about his clothes as long as they were comfortable and had as many pockets as possible, but of course Izo had not allowed that. It had taken them all day to find clothes they all approved of, instead of the half an hour Ace had calculated. Izo had even made him buy shirts. Not that he cared that much, as the family paid for him, and it might come in handy to have at least a few of them.
He was wearing one right now, actually. The bandages had just come off the tattoo on his back and though he was excited to show it to everyone, there was one person he wanted to surprise.
Ace was still living with Marco. The blond didn't complain, but the freckled man knew this arrangement couldn't be permanent. The family had offered him an apartment of his own and today he would tell the blond he was moving out. The bartender would probably only be relieved to have his house back.
"There you are, yoi. I haven't seen you in a while."
Ace turned around to Marco, who had just entered with a bag of groceries. The freckled man hastened to help him. The blond smiled at him. "So how do you like your new life here?"
"It's good." Ace bit his lip and evaded eye contact as he brought the groceries to the kitchen. Taking a deep breath, he turned around. "They've offered me my own apartment."
"Oh." Marco seemed to be a little taken aback. He obviously hadn't heard the news, but then again, he had been gone all week on business. "I see. That's great."
Surprised, Ace turned around. Marco didn't sound half as excited as he had expected. "I asked if they knew anything. I figured you'd like your space back."
"Yes. Yes, of course." This time he smiled, but it seemed a little forced. An awkward silence fell between them.
"Well, I'll go pack my stuff then," Ace finally said.
Before he could leave the kitchen however, Marco asked: "Can I see it?"
Without the need to ask what he was referring to, the freckled man slowly shrugged off the shirt he was wearing. He heard Marco walk up to him and he could almost feel his breath on the ink on his back.
"It's really beautiful, yoi."
"Thanks. Namur made it." He could feel Marco reaching out as his fingers ghosted over the tattoo, but not actually touching it. He closed his eyes and suppressed a shiver.
"Does it still hurt?"
He chuckled awkwardly. "Nah, it's not so bad. Not anymore anyway."
"You're officially family now." Marco's voice sounded a little hoarsely.
Ace turned around. "Does that mean–" He bit on his tongue to blurt out what he was about to say. They were family now. Things had changed.
"Have I ever showed you mine?" When Ace shook his head, the blond continued: "It's on my chest."
Before Ace could stop himself, his hands had reached out to the buttons of Marco's dress shirt and was slowly unbuttoning them. The bartender didn't stop him, only studied his face. The silence between them was intense and Ace couldn't tear his eyes away until the tattoo was fully revealed.
Marco's ink was simpler that Ace's, a cross with a crescent shaped curve through it, but no less beautiful. Gently, he caressed the ink, following the lines with his finger. When he reached the bottom of the cross, Marco suddenly grabbed his finger. Before he knew what was going on, the blond leaned in and kissed his lips.
When he let go, Ace was too confused to do anything for a moment. Marco chuckled. "Does this answer your question?"
Though he had long forgotten what he had asked in the first place, Ace nodded fervently and pulled the blond in another kiss. He didn't know exactly when he had fallen for the blond, but he had, and hard.
Wrapping his arms around Marco's waist, the bartender stumbled as he made his way to the bedroom without ever letting go of Ace. Only when their lungs demanded air, they separated for a moment, long enough for Marco to smirk. "So, you can lie on your back again?"