11


Law was on edge by the time he heard the banging on the door, and he did consider ignoring it. Sugar's excited barking did nothing to hide the fact that Sanji was there at their doorstep, and while Doflamingo wasn't home yet, Law didn't want to open that door. There was a strange situation happening, and he wasn't sure what to make of it. He could not sort it out to understand it.

Did they somehow come to a truce? Or was this a lull to an upcoming storm? Why was it so easy to talk to him, even if to express dissatisfaction and talk shit, this Vinsmoke terrorist?

Law exhaled heavily, wincing at the sound of repeated banging on the door. Next to him, Rosinante blinked, but he was in one of his spacey moods, and while the sound did nothing to gain his attention, he did glance to Law before focusing on nothing. Law stood up from the kitchen table and reluctantly went to the door, Sugar barking noisily. Looking out the peephole, he watched as the dog leapt and nipped at Sanji excitedly, darting between his legs and around him as he complained. Sanji moved to kick the door when Law unlocked it with a heavy expression, setting himself up for yet another cumbersome confrontation.

"Finally! I told you I was coming over!" Sanji snapped at him, barging in without hesitation or doubt. Law looked after him incredulously, then at Sugar, cursing her for living up to her name as she chewed happily on what looked like turkey bacon strips. He shut and locked the door, tense throughout his neck and shoulders as he heard Sanji greet Rosinante loudly. There was a clatter of sound, and Law shuffled back to the kitchen, lips held tightly as apprehension curled in his gut. He walked in to see Sanji dumping various items onto the counter, muttering about the time. Law froze in the doorway, unsure of what he was seeing.

"Where the hell are all your pans? Don't tell me you're too fucking poor to have any!" Sanji snapped, rummaging through all the cupboards. He did hesitate at the sight of them; either flummoxed at the emptiness he found, or thoughtful – Law could not see his face. His shoulders tightened, and he glanced over at Rosinante, but Rosinante was staring down at the table, blinking occasionally.

Sanji found what he needed, and threw everything onto the stovetop, muttering about the cleanliness. Law stared at him in silence, unsure of what to say. His eyes touched over the sight of packaged meat, random condiments, spices, vegetables.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he asked tightly.

"My dad is a fucking asshole, I told you this. I intended on coming over here to get you to look at my fucking history essay, but he was throwing a fit over stupid Niji. So he took it out on the refrigerator. Why let it go to waste? I'm so fucking tired of restaurant food," Sanji added in a bitter mutter, slicing through the skin of the potatoes with somewhat manageable skill. "Why throw this in the trash? Bullshit. Besides, he won't let me cook at home, and I'm just…I need something, okay? Fuck off."

Law stared at him. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to articulate the words that whirled and meshed in a vibrant mixture of anger and insult and incredulity. He knew of bullying and violence and most forms of abuse, but he'd never heard of a bully ever forcing his way into a house to cook. This form of harassment was…new.

"Why isn't Rosinante talking?" Sanji grumbled, throwing potatoes into a strainer he'd found, before dumping chicken stock into a large pot. When he had that burner on, he rinsed the potatoes, then glared at Law when Law hadn't yet answered.

Law just stared at him.

"Are we speaking the same language? Or did you forget how to talk?" Sanji asked, frowning at him.

"What…are you…doing?" Law asked slowly, eyes running over the recyclable bag, the clutter of packaged meats and vegetables.

"I am relieving stress! What the fuck do you think I am doing?"

"You can't just…come into people's houses and start - cooking!"

"Who said? Fuck you, I'm doing this. This isn't really for you. This is more for me. Dad won't let me do this at home," Sanji snarled, but Law had never seen someone get so worked up over this concept, to turning red in the face and hitting his own chest to punctuate the point made. "This is not for you!"

"Is this another – shitty way of – harassment?" Law asked, barely able to get the words out as Sanji dumped oil into a frying pan, turning on the burner.

"Yes. This is all total harassment. Barging into people's dumpy houses so I can relieve my stress by cooking. Most people require a drink, a cigarette, or sex to relieve stress! Mine is cooking! And dad won't let me do it at home! He was throwing all this shit out to make way for more, and it was – like, he won't even give it to the maids, he just tosses perfectly good food out, like it's nothing!"

"So, you thought to bring it over here, and- and- relieve stress by cooking in my home? Like, Doffy – Doflamingo won't like it, either. How dare you?"

"Where is he anyway?" Sanji then asked, looking uncharacteristically timid at that moment as he turned away from the stove. He had some wax paper in hand. "Will he be home, soon?"

Law just stared at him, absolutely incredulous. Rosinante turned his head to look at Sanji, blinking with surprise, Sanji looking at him once he caught sight of the movement. Pointing at him with paper in hand, Sanji asked Law, "Can he eat steak?"

Before Law could answer, drifting over to Rosinante to calm him as the man looked at Sanji with confusion, growing tense as he didn't recognize him, Sanji turned and pulled a mallet from the bag. He had the steak set out, and he laid the wax paper over the steak, and began beating the meat with it. Law set his hands on Rosinante's shoulders once they began to tense, and he leaned over him, to force him to focus on him. He didn't know whether to comfort him or remove him from the kitchen, Rosinante pulling his head away to glare in Sanji's direction.

"Who are you?" Rosinante demanded of Sanji.

"I am Number Three, at your service, sir."

"You're upsetting him, you need to leave," Law told Sanji, straightening away from the older man to grab some tissues, to wipe Rosinante's face.

"You're upsetting me, but you don't see me bitching about it," he heard Sanji mutter.

"Goddamn it, leave!"

"Don't you curse at me!" Sanji shouted over his shoulder, holding the mallet in one hand.

"Is he the waiter?" Rosinante asked Law with confusion.

"Yes!" Sanji answered for Law, returning to the meat. "Order up!"

"You need to leave," Law insisted, fingers curling over Rosinante's shoulders as the man shifted in his seat, shaking hands laying over the table.

"Not while I'm beating my meat. I need to finish, first." Sanji then paused in mid-motion, feeling his face, neck and ears flame with a flustered color.

"Can we smoke, here?" Rosinante whispered to Law, tapping his hand softly. Law glanced at him, looking over the sandwich he'd made for him, the cup of milk that Rosinante had yet to touch. Then he looked back at Sanji, seeing that the teen looked completely mortified, muttering to himself about his choice of words as he resumed action with the mallet.

The situation was so odd. So unlike anything that had happened, and Law didn't know how to handle it. Rosinante pushed his sandwich away, looking over at Sanji with expectation, looking delighted with something new and fragrant.

"This restaurant is nice. Service could be better," he whispered to Law, indicating the mess on the table.

Sanji started cooking the steak, then dumped the potatoes into the chicken stock, before looking at his watch. He cursed, then hastily began dicing up some vegetables. Once he had those cooking with the steak, the kitchen filling up with smells that made Law's stomach growl noisily, he then started throwing cans and condiments into the cupboards.

Then he started on the dishes, and Rosinante asked for a cigarette. Law just continued to stand there, glaring at Sanji venomously, unsure of what to do. He didn't want to relax and think that this was 'okay', that they were 'okay' when the pair of them weren't. Sanji was still a little shit, and Rosinante was just too vulnerable, and Doflamingo would come home and be enraged that someone took 'pity' on them to cook for them. He did not want to relax – this was not 'okay'.

"Get out," he said tightly, fingers curling anxiously on Rosinante's shoulder. "Get the fuck out of here."

"Not until this is done."

"No. I didn't ask for this. This is not something anybody should be doing - !"

"I don't give a shit! This is more for me than it is for either of you two!"

"You can't just barge into people's homes and start cooking!"

"I can, and I just did." Sanji turned to glare at him, then noticed his expression. For a few stiff moments, he just stood there, then he abandoned the sink. Without saying anything, he grabbed his recyclable bag and stalked off, Rosinante looking after him with shock before looking up at Law with an upset expression. The door slammed shut moments later, Sugar barking noisily.

"Where did he go? Should we speak to the manager?" Rosinante asked, looking outraged.

At the sound of the steak and vegetable frying in the pan, the bubble of potatoes on the stove, Law looked over at the area. He felt incredibly upset. His nose itched, and his eyes felt misty. Rosinante reached up with his shaking hands and pulled his head and shoulders down to hug him, whispering words of comfort.

Minutes later, Sanji just sat in the driver's seat of the Buick, upset. He wiped his eyes before gripping the steering wheel. "What the fuck am I doing?" he asked himself, watch pinging with a message from Ichiji.

: :

Smoker showed up at the school before lunch, pulling Law out of the last few minutes of his class. Once he saw the boy walking over with reluctant action, Ichiji watching him with an unnervingly blank expression, Smoker's face turned into a heavy scowl.

"What the fuck is wrong with your face, now?" he demanded, quite aware of Ichiji's presence behind the desk.

Law managed a limp shrug as the lunch bell rang. Smoker stared at him, noting the bruises, the swelling, then taking in the rest of him. Ichiji left a few moments later, Smoker shaking his head with disgust as he led the way out. Once out in the bright afternoon light, the sounds of kids' voices echoing from around the school, Smoker led his way to his government issued car waiting at the curb.

"Surprise check up," Smoker muttered, indicating the bag of fast food. "I was out at lunch, and conveniently had some left over."

"Don't you have other kids to harass?" Law muttered bitterly, unable to staunch the rumble of his stomach at the smell of food from the bag he was forced to remove from the passenger side seat as he climbed in.

"You're my favorite. Don't tell anyone. What happened to your fucking face? Don't give me a shitty story, either."

"I fainted."

"Give me another excuse."

"That's the only one I have."

"This is bullshit, and I swear on all that's holy - !"

"Ask Rosinante. He was there."

Smoker glared out the windshield, working his jaw. Law did dig in to eat, hands shaking as he did so. He separated the bun from the cheeseburger, wrapping it with the extra lettuce crammed between cheese and bun, which told him that this was not 'left over'. While the greasy food hit the spot, it wasn't nearly as satisfying as the dinner he and Rosinante had shared last night. All day long, he felt enormously unidentifiable feelings inside of him, and he couldn't help but feel sensitive over it. He still didn't know how to separate his feelings to settle them.

"How are your grades?" Smoker then asked.

"Better."

"Getting to school on time?"

"Yes."

"Doflamingo sure is a grumpy piece of shit."

"Yep."

"If I find out later that he's the one laying his hands on you – "

"You won't."

Smoker exhaled heavily. "These kids at school settle down, some?"

"Yes."

"Your parents do want to talk to you. You know, our intentions at the agency are to unite families, not separate them."

"I don't want to talk to them."

"I understand that, but in a controlled setting, this might be something you'd need as closure."

"I had the closure I needed when I left. I don't want to talk to them."

"Give me a good reason besides 'I don't want to'."

Heaving a sigh, Law lowered the cheeseburger.

"Stop picking at your food. Just eat the goddamned bread."

"I don't like it. Those little seeds creep me out."

"Like you can afford to be picky! Now, that reason?"

"…They won't like me."

"Bullshit. I'm saying that right now!"

"I'm not that little boy, Smoker. They didn't like me then, they won't like me, now."

"If I can like you, they can, too."

"You're creepy, too."

"They're very remorseful, they're good people. They've completed extensive counseling, they fall under the approval we don't normally hand out when we're screening people. They're very willing to work with us when it comes to a potential reunification – "

"No."

"Look, it's okay to be scared – "

"I'm not scared, I just don't want to! If I have a choice in the matter, then I choose 'no'!"

"Then what if you didn't have a choice? Part of my job is reuniting kids with their families, and this is something I want to do. In fact, my boss demands that I do. Hey, at least you tried. Even if you still feel the same, at least I can eliminate that step from my reports. One time won't kill you."

"I will run away again. And there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"And leave Rosinante behind? I doubt it." Smoker glared out the windshield once more, waiting for Law to stop cramming food into his mouth. "He'd want you to do this."

"He'd want me to be comfortable, and he doesn't want me to do anything that makes me feel like running away," Law said stubbornly. "You're so old, you don't get it."

"I'm not that old! I'm in my mid-twenties!"

Law looked at him with shock, Smoker wearing an insulted expression at this.

"I am," he growled, digging out his wallet, showing Law his driver's license. Law nearly lost what was in his mouth as he examined Smoker's birthdate, looking once more at him with shock. The man wasn't that much older than him, but it had never occurred to Law that they were that close in age. Smoker snatched his ID away from him, angrily stuffing that back into his wallet and throwing that atop of the dash. "Goddamn you."

"Then why is your hair so white - ?"

"Because this job stresses me out! Look, one meeting at the center, with me, Tashigi, and Hina. And if you get too uncomfortable, we can cut it, but you at least have to try. Like I said earlier, we're supposed to reunite families, keep them together, not apart. My boss is on my ass for giving you a choice. He doesn't like it. I can force this, but I don't want to."

Law glared out the windshield, chewing slowly. The thought of being faced with his parents caused anxiety like no other to rip through him, making his lungs tight. He thought of the last night he'd had with them – his father hitting him after an outburst, his mother crying in the kitchen. When Law fought back, his father overwhelmed him, pushing and shoving and shouting fiercely, furniture being overturned as his mother screamed. Because he didn't carry any injuries from that incident, the charges had been minimal, but then again, Law had ran away, and had given the authorities no help in the matter, which was why he was thrown into the system.

All the tension, anger, shock and horror that he remembered of that night felt old and faded, but they were still there. He thought of all the things that had happened between then and now, and knew that they would not want him after it all. He'd helped kill an elderly man; he'd developed survival techniques that would have never happened if he hadn't been separated from his parents. He was angry, he was tired, and he felt worthless. His education was lacking, he had poor grades, poor hygiene, a poor outlook at life. Compared to them, he was not a product of two successful doctors that did everything they could to save their little girl, but failed.

He thought of Lamie in her last moments, wasted away to nothing but bones and pale skin; her loss of hair, her deep eye bruises, her shuddering last breaths. He couldn't help but wonder what she would've been like if she were allowed to live; would she still have been perfect?

"Think about it," Smoker insisted gently. "But I'd like this to happen in the next couple of weeks. You can decide for yourself during the meeting if you'd like this to continue. What's going to happen when you're of age? Think Doflamingo will keep you? You won't be providing him with income. Your parents want you home. They want to give you everything. They want to make up for happened, and it can happen. Things can turn around for everyone if they just try."

Sullenly, Law crumbled the discarded buns within its paper and shoved that into the bag. The fry bag followed.

"You're into way too many Disney movies," Law muttered bitterly.

"Where's your uniform?" Smoker then asked, finally noticing that he wasn't wearing the school colors.

Law didn't answer, but he pushed out of the car. "Thanks for lunch. I'll think about it."

"Two weeks!" Smoker shouted after him before Law shut the door and stalked off, searching his sweater for his cigarettes. He walked around the school as Smoker watched him with a scowl.

Law's hands were shaking as he lit up, uncaring if the teachers caught him. he made to go through the parking lot when he remembered that the Vinsmokes were back there, and he instead leaned against the corner of the wall, where Sabo and Ace had confronted him. it made him sick how his conflicting feelings pummeled each other within him. But he hated the way he felt, hearing Smoker tell him that 'it was okay to be scared'.

He was scared, overall. After experiencing so many disappointments, how could one think he could relax and think that things were going to be 'okay'? People were expecting too much of the concept, and it just wasn't right. He was starting to feel unraveled, again, that creeping feeling of restlessness and unsteady control over his emotions and actions moving through his veins.

He wanted to go home, but he knew if he did, Smoker and Doflamingo would be notified of his unexplained absence. He couldn't cause that sort of trouble, now; he wasn't ready to be on his own, just yet.

: :

The Vinsmokes had a reputation for being stubborn, relentless and shitty, and Law knew this. So when Niji kept mouthing off in their last period class to those that would listen about his fight with Sabo the day earlier, Law expected someone in the class to snap. Mihawk was a firm teacher with good control, establishing his authority enough that the Vinsmoke often followed his direction with grand reluctance, but Niji was only trying to save face.

"It's easy to knock a guy out when they aren't looking, and that pussy made sure I wasn't looking!" Niji was saying to a kid named Vito, who nodded eagerly, listening to his story with utter fascination. "Of course he'd hit me when my back was turned! That's the only way to take us down! When we least expect it!"

"Of course, your bro was looking right at Luffy when Luffy attacked, so what do you have to say to that?" a kid named Pedro asked, long, wavy hair over his face as he gave Niji a skeptical look.

"We don't acknowledge Sanji," Niji scoffed. "Fag."

"Is that your only comeback to anything any of us say?"

"Talking about women like that will get anyone knocked out," Perona tittered. "Sabo's so nice and manly – it's a wonder he didn't get to you any sooner than that."

"Shut up, lesbian. You're a double whammy of everything that's wrong with women."

"Do you talk to your sister with that mouth?" she complained.

"I said, shut up!"

"Make me! Unlike Koala, I don't give a fuck what you say about me! I handle my own self!" Perona challenged him, throwing her pencil at him.

"Knock it off, you two," Mihawk warned. "Vinsmoke. Take that corner seat, and one more word from you, and you'll be out of here. That's two warnings in a row, I doubt your father will have the right words to save you after that."

"She's allowed to attack me? That's what's wrong with the world, now, women are given way too much power over men! We can't even breathe in their direction without having the threat of sexual harassment being tossed at us!" Niji complained noisily, rising up from his chair after gathering his things.

"It is not 'attacking' when one is already being attacked. Shut it."

"I have to sit here?" Niji then asked with a whine, seating himself uncomfortably in front of Law, who had the unfortunate chair behind the Time-Out desk. "I don't want to sit in front of English! He and my brother are fags, he might mistake me for Sanji!"

Law frowned at him, fingers tightening on his pen as his temper rose.

"Don't look at me, fag," Niji hissed at him.

"Don't give him a reason," Mihawk warned, but neither boy was sure whom he was talking to, his back turned to them as he wrote several points on the whiteboard.

Niji did turn in his seat to scowl back at Law, who crossed his arms over his chest, slouching low, knuckles white as he clutched his pen. Below Mihawk's lecture, Niji whispered, "Heard Sanji went to your house, last night. Was he cooking for his precious? Dad was pissed he took his soup kitchen elsewhere."

Law didn't respond to that, but it was hard to ignore the way Niji chuckled as he straightened in his chair, saying low enough to be heard, "Lesbians. Both of you are fucking wimpy. Ichiji said you guys got into a fight because Sanji was boo-hooing all the way home, last night."

"Shut up, jerk," Shachi whispered from the row next to them, holding tightly onto his mechanical pencil. "Just shut up."

"You shut up! Stay out of my business, red!"

Law glanced at Shachi, who looked ready to say more, but then he noticed Law looking at him. Law shook his head ever so slightly, the boy frowning, but turning away with a heavy sigh. Law didn't understand why anyone would want to stick up for him without knowing his situation, but it made him feel sick.

He thought about what Niji had said about Sanji – 'boo hooing' probably meant bitching, considering the circumstances; Sanji was only complaining about being tossed out of the house without appreciation to his gesture. There was no way Sanji could ever be 'kind', to do something out of the kindness of his heart. But he did think about Sanji's surroundings, compared to his.

Stubbornly, Law refused to accept any sort of kind gesture from Sanji. Not with how tricky he was. But last night puzzled him, scorched at his nerves. What if, after he was finished, he threw away all that food? What if he'd said something to Rosinante besides the things that he had? What if…?

What would Sanji gain from that, anyway? What was he doing? Law couldn't think the same way as Sanji – he was sure – and couldn't picture the outcome Sanji had been going for. When Doflamingo had returned home, the kitchen fragrant with the smells, he'd accused Law of accepting food from the neighbors', again, pissed that they were crying for charity. Rosinante had stepped in and shouted at him that Sanji was a good waiter, to which Doflamingo had been puzzled by, stopped in mid-rant by the other boy's name.

Law couldn't explain Sanji's motives, so he stood there, mute, fiddling with his shirt while Doflamingo pondered that. Given nothing to go off of, Doflamingo had dropped it. Rosinante had been huffy after that, angry with Doflamingo for being so "fucking stubborn all the time", and Doflamingo was uncharacteristically quiet, after that. As much as he loved his brother, this thing upset him, and Law could tell a storm was brewing up inside the man.

Law doubted Sanji would repeat the gesture after that. it was odd to see him go quiet after looking at him; that moment made Law feel uncomfortable. He felt bad, but he didn't let the feeling fully in. Because he felt there was a trap, and he needed to be careful. He could not afford to relax.

After school, he headed home his usual route, but he swore he heard Sanji yell, "Seven o'clock, asshole!"

He turned around to see where the boy was, wearing an expression of displeasure, but he didn't see him. Reluctantly, he fisted his hands within his sweater pockets and continued on home, feeling anxious sweat build up.


Guest: Sanji is a mysterious boy; even he doesn't know what he's doing, sometimes, and there's a war inside of him. For both of them. With neither too jaded to consider outside what they know, they're basically fumbling with boundaries, unsure of what they're doing. Mr Hansen reminds me of an old high school teacher I had (eons ago), and I'd always suspected something funny about him. XD

GPEG: He did…; ) And I swear, it's not what you think lol! Big Bro is suspicious Big Bro, who knows what his little bro is capable of; he knows Sanji is sneaky AF and tries to keep up. But he's losing power, here, and Ichiji knows it. That's why he's floundering as Sanji rampages his way through life with his bitching and unexpected gestures that may or may not be all that mean.

Sarge1130: Thanks for reading and commenting on all the chapters! You are caught up :D It was totally unexpected that Judge forgave Sanji this, but admittedly, being blasted by four very loud boys all at the same time might've jumbled some of his senses, so he ended up relenting to shut most of the noise up. Ichiji knows what he's doing, and it's how he gets away with things (didn't we all have siblings like Ichiji XD) Sanji is trying to keep the peace, by causing chaos elsewhere; but he doesn't know why. Koala definitely got the worst of the attention, but Niji probably won't be doing that again. Those D boys are a little intimidating when they can be. : O