13


At school Monday morning, Law's fingers were clenched into fists. He sat at his desk as the first bell rang, and students piled in. He'd replaced his uniform over the weekend, discomforted in the maroon collared shirt and sweater, thrift store slacks rolled over his sneakers, wanting the security of his black hoodie. He felt like hot breath had steadily gathered over the rest of the weekend to build over his chest, and he recognized it was only anxiety, having been given strength to a very difficult situation.

Doflamingo had been pissed after that incident at the Cracker Barrel; his extra money from overtime to treat them after such a rough week had been ruined by the Vinsmoke patriarch, and he just ended up more pissed at the man's haughty approach than the actual subject.

'Who the fuck does he think he is, coming at me like that?' Doflamingo had complained over his wine, after they'd been seated and served at a smaller establishment. His bad mood made everyone around them nervous, discomforted over the tall man with a vicious expression and a deep, angry voice. It only made matters worse that Law had slouched and refused to make eye contact, in a mode of defense because he couldn't seem to process properly what had happened. Rosinante was silently watching his brother, his face occasionally wiped by Doflamingo's vein-popping hand when it was needed. To everyone else, the pair of them looked defeated and vulnerable, but nobody could bring themselves to come forward.

Not that they had any reason, to.

'Telling me that my kid's a bad influence? Doesn't he see his own fucking prick of a brat, harassing us constantly, breaking shit at my place? If I didn't enjoy my job, I would have knocked him flat on the fucking floor. Telling me to 'control my kid'…'

Judge had approached them and warned Doflamingo that Law's harassment of Sanji had to stop; the 'proper authorities' would be alerted to the bullying of his son, and he was tired of hearing that Law was the main instigator to his own children's school woes. Doflamingo had been incredulous, and had immediately stuck up for Law, because he could not imagine the boy being any type of 'instigator'. Doflamingo had ranted and raved about Judge's approach and the way the boys wore such smug expressions while watching, but Law had noticed the way Sanji carried himself at that table. It was incredulous to see such a normally loud and pushy kid without any power to speak up, when Sanji was usually so unrestrained; it was like Law was seeing someone new for the first time.

But then to be approached by Sanji in that fashion, after, only further shamed Doflamingo into insulted silence. Law had thought Doflamingo would somehow attack Judge once he had the chance, but the man's impressive restraint over his impulses had won out in the end. Law hadn't been in any danger in any way; he was just shocked that such a scene happened. But Law had been shaken to the core by Sanji's actions. He truly thought he'd caused Law harm because of his father's confrontation. So it only made Law that much more confused by Sanji's motivations.

Where did that sudden change of heart come from?

He couldn't quite let it go; whether it was because of their inability to avoid each other because of their surrounding circumstances, or if it was something otherworldly, he thought about Sanji's actions a lot over the weekend. The cooking, the terrorizing, the fights, the unusual way they kept getting drawn to each other…all of it.

Clearly, as 'runt of the family', Sanji had to fight every step of the way to get attention, acknowledgement, and that part was clear, now. So it made sense that he applied this method to every other part of his life. Why he forced his way into Law's house, demanded answers, asked personal questions with recognizable weight that made Law identify with him; but it didn't make sense why Sanji would attach himself to Law.

Why was he defending Law against his own family? Trying to stop Doflamingo from doing any harm? Where did he even get that idea? True, Doflamingo did react out of frustration, but Law feared him because it was conditioned of him; anybody would feel that way because of how Doflamingo carried himself, how he spoke and reacted.

It did not make any sense. It was conditioned of a human to demand answers, to want to approach and demand 'why' – but Law couldn't do that. He was not Sanji; he could not bring himself to get the words out properly, because his impediment held him back. He could not relax into thinking that this going to be 'okay', because his world did not allow that sort of thing. There was always something behind an event that twisted around to remind him of his place. It did not bode well to step outside of the boundaries he'd made of himself, after years of survival amongst those with ulterior motives. Foster families came and went, friends turned out to be dangerous, and blood families often turned on each other in emotional fits of reaction and temper – so it didn't make sense to relax when something was offered in covered hands.

This is what it was – Sanji was giving him something he'd yet to uncover, and Law wasn't sure if he wanted it. Law wasn't even sure if Sanji knew for himself what he was attempting to give.

So when Sanji finally stalked into the classroom with a biting scowl, his brothers suspiciously quiet themselves, Law watched them apprehensively. He could feel his entire form tensing up – his back, his ribs, his shoulders, his fingers – and it was difficult to breathe. Nearly an expert at reading others' expressions for his own safety, he watched Sanji because Sanji was closest. But Sanji clearly avoided looking at him. He threw his bag on the floor and settled into his desk, and Mr Hansen looked puzzled because the others followed in the same manner. Apparently, quiet Vinsmokes made everyone nervous, because the entire class looked around with unsettled expressions. The two boys to Law's right looked apprehensive, faces drawn with worry as they openly looked from Sanji to Law, then at the younger Vinsmoke that sprawled in his chair with languid action, crossing his arms over his chest.

Mr Hansen looked at a loss for words, looking at them with nervous action before clearing his throat and launching into the lecture. Law's heart pounded nervously. He was quite aware of Sanji's every movement behind him – a heavy sigh, the scratch of pen on paper, the shift of weight in his seat. Niji cleared his throat noisily, but he sat rigidly in his chair and glared ahead of him. Not once did they speak to each other, or to anyone around them, and the heavy silence, something that should have been welcomed, only served as another form of torment.

Law could feel himself start to sweat, despite the unforgiving power of the AC. There was a trap, he knew, and because of their past experiences, he knew he'd be the target. Whatever had happened at the restaurant and afterward was the incentive to something. As the minutes passed, he could feel his anxiety and adrenaline start to build; he could feel the pressure of eyes on the back of his head. His mouth became dry. He couldn't imagine what could happen, but it knew something would. He couldn't focus on what Mr Hansen was saying, all words leaving him becoming gibberish. Only when he directed something to happen, free study, did students slowly came alive. Everyone opened up their books and Law only stared at his, unable to unclench his fists to do so.

"Fuck," Sanji muttered, Law rigid as he waited for action to accompany it. Kids' voices lifted to a comfortable ambiance by that point, Mr Hansen frowning at his water bottle as he sat behind his desk, fiddling with the computer. Niji wanted to be excused, and he left without fanfare. Yonji was leaning over an unwilling student's desk to look at their book, so Law did feel parts of himself unfreeze.

"Hey, bring my sweater, next time," Law heard Sanji order very low, his voice coming from another direction. Unsure if he were even talking to him, Law just sat rigidly, vaguely remembering that Sanji had used it on him that one day. "Did you hear me?"

It was still balled up and stuffed in a box in the kitchen, Law remembered. He'd forgotten all about it. He thought of the blood stain left behind on it. Did Sanji still want it back?

Yonji turned in his chair to look back at his brother, then looked at Law. After a few moments, he turned back around, resuming his conversation with the hapless boy next to him. Blood rushed to Law's head, running Sanji's request back through his thoughts.

"It's fucking freezing in here, just give it back to me," Sanji muttered. "Or, did you throw it away?"

It took a few moments for Law to remember how to speak. "It's stained."

"Just throw some baking soda on it, throw it in the wash."

Law had trouble processing why Sanji's voice was so low and directed in another direction. It suddenly occurred to him that he was only speaking when he was sure he wasn't being seen doing so. Which could have explained Yonji's earlier look. He exhaled shallowly.

"I can't go over there, anymore," Sanji then said. "So just bring it to school. Drop it off by the Dumpsters."

There was relief hearing that; but at the same time, there was curiosity into it. Did Judge finally forbid Sanji from harassing him?

"Just get another one," Law finally answered, speaking in the same tone.

"Then I'll have to give up the reason why I need another one!" Sanji hissed at him. "Just bring that one! Who cares if it has your DNA on it? I'll have an excuse to replace it!"

The idea was repulsive to Law, causing him to furrow his brow. He was uncomfortable with the idea of Sanji wearing his sweater with his blood remnants on it.

"I'll just give you mine, and I'll have yours," he said stiffly.

"Don't make this even worse! Just give me mine back!"

Law wiped his forehead. His anxiety increased at the thought of Sanji wearing his sweater. He could go without it. But he would feel worse if the kid was wearing his blood on his. The thought was comparable to wearing someone else's underwear.

"No," he said.

Before Sanji could say anything, Niji strolled back in, waving the hall pass around with flippant action. He looked right in his brother's direction as he headed back to his seat, leering at all the girls he passed. When he sank into his chair, Sanji gave another heaving sigh.

"It's fucking cold in here!" he complained.

"He did it!" Yonji exclaimed, whirling around in his cheer with obvious excitement.

"We've reached a new record!" Niji hollered, and it was as if a dam had broken, their unnatural quiet breaking with a sense of relief. While it didn't calm everyone, giving an opposite effect, at least when they were talking everyone was aware of them. Their silence just made things much too hazardous. "Three hours and eight minutes of Sanji shutting the fuck up!"

Yonji clapped noisily for Sanji, turning in his chair to do so, Sanji heaving a huge growl.

"Mr Hansen, transfer me out of here!" Sanji complained.

"We're overcrowded as it is," Mr Hansen murmured, looking entirely miserable.

"I'm telling dad what a good job you did," Niji told his brother, showing him his phone. "He's going to be so proud of you. You do know how to keep your loudmouth shut."

"Fuck off!"

Mr Hansen took a drink from his water bottle, looking at the time. Noticing the clock as well, Law felt himself start to relax. Just a little. But he thought of the exchange just minutes earlier, and looked down at his sweater. When the bell rang, he took it off as everyone gathered their stuff. He turned to give it to Sanji, but Sanji snarled at him; not wanting to continue this any further, Law stuffed it into his opened messenger bag and quickly strode off so nothing could be said. He did hear Sanji cursing furiously, Niji demanding to know what was wrong.

Out in the hall, Law couldn't help but look over his shoulder, just to make sure none of them were following him. Maybe he was overreacting, but he couldn't be too careful with that group. Instead of going to his locker to exchange texts, he veered straight into a stairwell and took that down to the gym. He just needed some space; he didn't know what they were doing, what they were planning, but he didn't want to be caught up in the middle of it.

He didn't see Sanji for the rest of that day. It didn't feel like a relief to recognize that he was being ignored. He knew he was being ignored, because he did hear that Monkey kid yell furiously in the hall after lunch, so Sanji was around. But it kept Law on edge, waiting for something to happen the moment he relaxed.

When he got home later, Rosinante needed a bath, so while he sat in the tub, Law went and found the sweater. Sure enough, his blood had caused a brownish stain up in the left shoulder, down to the middle of the back. They had baking soda, so he rubbed that in, scrubbing a little. Then he washed it right after waking up, getting into an argument with Doflamingo over doing laundry so early in the morning. After it had dried, he saw that the stain was nearly all gone. Sanji was smaller than him, but he wore his in a size larger than necessary, so Law had no trouble pulling it on over his shirt. He didn't feel weird wearing it, but he was relieved that the problem was solved. Sanji could easily wash his and make it his, so there should be no more debt in that department.

During gym, he stood amongst the others as Garp gave a full lecture about the merits of running laps, the outside air nice and cool for the morning. Most of the group launched into complaints, Law frowning at the thought of being forced to run for a grade. He wasn't going to put that much effort into it. He considered a slow jog, for half a lap, girls already meandering into their groups while athletic boys crowded the line for a head start. But once he saw that there was a majority of kids that weren't going to bother with running, he walked his pace without siding with anyone, taking the outside track. He thought about Smoker's offer to see his parents, about Rosinante refusing his medication, about his eighteenth birthday. Birds chirped noisily from foliage near the track, and traffic coasted cooperatively from the highway in the distance.

Garp shouted with irritation at those that weren't making an effort, then shouted at the boys that were trying to jostle each other for first place.

Nearing the baseball field on the opposite end of the track, Law was just admiring a rabbit munching on the grass when he heard his name hissed from the closed concession stand that sat between fields. Startled, he looked over, seeing Sanji waving at him to come over. All that good feeling drifted away from him in an instant, but then he noticed that Sanji had hidden himself from view of the main building, as well. He hesitated, but Sanji's gestures turned insistent, and experience told him that if he continued to ignore the blond, then Sanji would find another way to bother him. So after a cautious look back at Garp, who had fallen asleep standing up near the finish line, Law walked over. He had to walk through the metal gate to do so, as the track field was separated from the open path by a short concrete wall that had the school logo and mascot emblazoned upon it.

"Give me my sweater," Sanji insisted once Law reached him, turning red as he gestured at himself. Law finally realized what he was gesturing at, seeing that his sweater was much too long on him, obviously oversized. "As much as I aspire to be this size, I'm not! It's fairly obvious it's not mine!"

"Your method didn't work," Law told him. "It's still stained."

"I don't care! I can make up an excuse!"

"I'd feel weird if you walked around in a sweater that has my blood on it," Law said uncomfortably.

"It feels weird walking around in another dude's sweater!" Sanji claimed, making to remove it.

"Garp will ask where I got it from when I'm supposed to be walking."

Sanji paused in the middle of pulling an arm out. Then he patted it back into place. "Then where do you want to exchange these?" he growled out.

Stubbornly, Law set himself. "I'm not giving the other one back."

Frustrated, Sanji's hands lifted to his hair. He then gestured wildly. "Don't you realize how weird this looks?"

Law shrugged a shoulder, self-consciously pulling at his gym shirt. "I'm sure you can hire a seamstress to fix it."

Sanji stared up at him with exasperation. "Let me dumb this down for you. I'm wearing your sweater. You're wearing my sweater. In high school language, it looks like we have a much closer relationship than people think."

It had never occurred to Law that this was so; he did not pay attention to social cues or situations, and, frankly, he did not care what people thought of him. He stared back at him, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn't feel the faintest bit of shame or guilt in the situation; as far as he was concerned, they were both with sweaters, and that should have been the end of things.

"No one pays that close attention to things," he finally said. "Besides, no one saw me give it to you."

"Thank god! You did it right in front of them! I can't talk to you if they're around! Dad got pissed at me, and took away my phone and my driving privileges for this weekend's stupid thing, and this is why I'm sneaking around, right now!"

Law vaguely thought that was an unfair punishment for someone that was supposedly being 'bullied' by him. But he was starting to understand the way Judge worked, and why Sanji did the things he did. Despite his earlier feelings, he felt his shoulders relax just a little.

"No one will care if I have a stain on mine, when, if you're wearing it, it'll be noticed right away. Besides, wouldn't someone ask you what happened and search for injury? If it were on me, then no one would care. Because I live in a dumpy house, and I'm poor."

Sanji reddened. "You love throwing that shit back on me, don't you?"

"Your words, not mine."

"I don't want this situation coming back to me! The one you created when you stole my phone!"

"I don't regret it in the least, you little fuck."

"Oh, shut up." Sanji wiped his nose with his sleeve, prompting a look of disgust from Law. Looking up at him bitterly, he muttered, "Did you get beat up?"

"No," Law answered, a touch of amusement in his answer.

Sanji looked at him suspiciously, eyes coursing over his bared arms and legs, and Law felt self-conscious about it. Then Sanji looked vaguely relieved, exhaling shortly before adding, "I can't come over, anymore."

"Honestly, I'm not that mad."

"Oh, fuck off…"

"Doflamingo hates you and your family."

"Everyone hates my family, even me."

"There's ways to change it, though."

"I'm not pulling a 'you' and running from it. You don't see me running from anything, right?"

Law had to admit that he was a little jealous of the way Sanji stood his ground; there were times when he wished he had the same sort of vindictiveness to do so. But now, as the conversation seemed to flow easier, all those things from last weekend, this morning, came back to Law. And, as they usually did, they piled heavily over his tongue. He had a hard time sorting through them to find the appropriate thing to say.

"You?" he ended up asking gruffly, frustrated with himself.

Sanji frowned up at him, trying to understand what he meant by that. He added a gesture when Law took too long to articulate a simple question.

"Your father…that much…mad?"

"Oh, I didn't hear the end of it," Sanji said in response, giving a scowl to his white shoes. "All weekend long, I heard nothing but shit. But that's all it is, really. Words, words, words, and none of them – they're so stupid, all of them! Lecturing me about having 'family loyalty' when none of them even – no one listens to me! They don't let me talk or even go by what I want, it's what they want! So…yeah, he was mad, but he had no right to be! My brothers are so fucking retarded, they go and make things up and he listens to them, but every time I have something to say, they won't hear it, or they make up their own shit! That's how the entire thing started!"

Law tried not to look assaulted by the anger that gushed out of Sanji, but it was hard not to when all that frustration spilled out of him.

"This is so messed up, I don't know what I'm doing, anymore," Sanji then muttered, wiping his face. "I'm just feeling so…I don't know what to do. All this stuff is just so…"

"It is crazy," Law said, letting Sanji say it for them, because it sounded like they were on a similar page. Sanji shrugged moments later, unable to add anything else, because Law didn't seem to be attacking him for it.

"You smell," Sanji then complained, sniffing his sleeve near his armpit. Law gave him a look of disgust.

"You didn't wash it?"

"I didn't have a large enough load to do so!" Sanji snarled at him, red-faced once again.

Law just made a face, unsure of what to say other than to express his disgust with his expression.

"Don't look at me that way! YOU'RE THE WEIRD ONE THAT WON'T GIVE ME MY SWEATER BACK!"

"TRAFALGAR!" Garp shouted, his voice horrifyingly closer than expected, causing Sanji to duck and scramble out of sight, Law to whirl around with startled action. Seeing the old man marching towards him, Law automatically froze. But from the corner of his eye, he saw Sanji slam up against the short concrete wall that separated the track field from the open area around the concession stand in an effort to hide himself. "What the hell are you doing?"

Mortified that he was caught, kids looking over with interest from the track, Law was wordless. So he just stared back at Garp with his tongue pressed up against his teeth, to stop any stutters that might come out on reaction.

"Looking at bunnies," Garp muttered with disdain, catching sight of a rabbit milling near the concession stand. "If you're done talking to them, then get back over here! There's nothing for you, here! There's no escape from my class! I will hunt you down the moment I notice you're gone!"

Law walked back through the gate, Garp walking alongside him, then launching into grandiose tales about the rabbits he used to hunt for as a kid. Sanji exhaled heavily, pale faced and utterly relieved that he hadn't been caught. Crouched low against the wall, he slouched his shoulders, listening to the sound of Garp's voice fading as they crossed the track.

"Shit, that was a close one!"

Sanji froze with horror as Ace popped his head out from the open concession stand window, looking away from him with a grimace. "I thought he found me!"

Ace then looked down at Sanji, remaining low inside, so that only his head and hands showed. "That was a really friendly conversation you two were having. So that kid can talk. Weirdly, but he can."

"You heard nothing!" Sanji hissed at him, reddening from the neck up. Ace looked at his sweater with speculative action, and that color shifted to purple.

"It's noticeable, now," he stated with a smirk. "So, that's how kids are flirting with each other, lately. Kinky."

"Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up! Shut up!" Sanji nearly screeched at him, but he lowered his voice, then pushed away from the wall to run back to the school, Ace frowning. He pulled himself out from the window, face screwed up with thought. He was very sure he'd heard most of it – the moment he'd heard voices outside of the stand, he'd woken right up from his nap, and had caught the conversation. He had so many questions.

"ACE! IS THAT YOU?"

Ace quickly scrambled out from the concession stand and raced to the main building before Garp could give chase.

: :

Later that day, while Mihawk allowed free study – all the teachers must be messaging with each other to follow the same schedules - Law picked at the wrists of his sweater, lost in thought. Now that Sanji had brought up the subject, being aware of it was a different thing. While the material was loose enough for him to be comfortable with it, it was shorter on him than he liked. He had weird feelings about the entire situation. Could people look at it that way? Wasn't that just some weird speculation kids tossed on each other, following society's way of mocking each other using homophobic expressions?

Or was this just Sanji's way of thinking?

Not that Law fell into Sanji's type, considering the pictures he'd found. Sanji liked men in three piece suits and pretty boys with bright smiles. Law was nobody's type; he was well enough aware of what he looked like, so he doubted Sanji harbored any sort of physical appreciation of him. Sanji was always telling him to 'put effort into himself'.

But what if Law found time to take regular showers, fix his hair, fret over the extra grease of his face, attended to pimples when they showed up? What if he had the ability to wear nice clothes and new shoes? What then? What would it feel like to be noticed?

Now that he was aware of it, he glanced around himself surreptitiously, to look over other students around him. Mostly everyone was self-conscious over themselves, doing things to make themselves noticed and not-noticed. Kids complained about pimples, lack of facial hair, hair that wouldn't cooperate even with hair gel and blow dryers. Boys sniffed themselves with caution, girls fretted over their uniforms' fit. There were kids that pushed themselves to the front for attention, with looks they'd created to capture focus; there were others that didn't have to try that hard and they knew it. He didn't fit into any of that; he just wanted to go unnoticed and he didn't care because he didn't feel valuable. But what would it feel like if he did?

Would he carry himself differently? Could he be noticed then? What sort of people would he attract?

In his experience, years of foster care had him falling into the hands of brightly smiling predators, friendly 'sisters', other teenagers in juvie that were comfortable 'being gay' behind bars because of explosive hormones and opportunities. The only type he'd had back then was convenience - but with how his life was, now, too depressed and miserable and busy with Rosinante, his hormones felt like they had been beaten down and buried under the weight of stress, so he didn't feel interest. It was hard feeling something when there was nothing to feel. If life was different for him, he was sure he'd be more aware of these things.

He looked at his nails, then closed his fingers, feeling them press into his palms. He would have to remember to cut them later on – chewing was off-limits, considering his personal hygiene. He was aware that he smelled – he hadn't had a chance to take a shower since Sunday, and he hadn't even bothered with purchasing any underarm deodorant in months because it never occurred to him to do so. His teeth felt grimy and thick with plaque, and he couldn't even remember when he'd last seen the dentist. None of them hurt, though. He ran his tongue over them, tasting the filth there, and frowned, hunching self-consciously.

Sanji always smelled like cologne, smoke and fabric softener. He was just like his peers, washing himself in it in an attempt to drown out the scent of cigarettes, and there had been times where Law had to fight the urge to sneeze because of it. But at least he tried; he was disliked, but he tried. Law wondered if Sanji worried about these sorts of things actively, or if this just another anal habit of his. He had good skin, though. It seemed like none of the Vinsmokes had acne of any kind, wearing clean faces and groomed hair, so maybe it was just all part of the presentation. Law reached up to touch the absurd length of his sideburns, remembering that Vergo had given him a haircut a few months back, Doflamingo complaining about the black mass that crept over his eyes. He was in need of another one, but he didn't mind the strands falling over his face, because it made him feel better, like having a portable face shield.

None of the men in Sanji's Pinterest photos looked like him at all, so maybe Law was safe.

Was that the right word? Like he would want that sort of attention from the kid, anyway. Sanji was probably the type that forced unwilling participants into his space by getting their attention somehow, though forceful action -

He thought of the way Sanji barged into his house to cook. Forced himself to Law's place. Picked and prodded at him, coming to him with intrusive hassle to read over his things, to declare Law his 'academic motivations'. Purposefully searching him out between classes with outrageous demands. Sneaking behind the backs of his own family just to get to Law. Inserting himself whenever it wasn't necessary, much to the chagrin of those around them. Always complaining that he needed to go through outrageous means just to be 'noticed'.

He froze in mid-comb with horror. There was a thought at the edge of his considerations, but it refused to materialize.

There was no way.

Not him.

There was no way that it could be him.

Law told himself he was only scaring himself after everything that had happened. He was getting things mixed up, misreading things. He swallowed tightly. He looked down at his sweater, reaching down to stretch the material at the hem. He should give it back – it made sense, now, what Sanji was saying.

Nothing good could happen with this. Surely, Sanji wouldn't push things any further than harassment and occasional tantrums. Law was only imagining things. Then why couldn't he picture Sanji any differently when it came to courtship?

There were things both of them shared, similarities that stood out, identification with issues that were familiar, but it couldn't be this. He wasn't blind or indifferent to this, though. Law was quite aware of the games people played with each other to get what they wanted, and he hadn't been a virgin since he was thirteen, thanks to a foster parent that introduced him.

He stretched his arms out atop of his desk, staring at his hands. He was rattled. He was aware of giving off a victim vibe, but there was no way he'd allow himself to be Sanji's plaything. The idea was insulting. The last person to try anything on him was a foster parent that thought threatening him with a return to the streets if he didn't suck his dick would scare him into cooperating; but Law knew how to handle himself, and Smoker had his back. Law had experienced enough of that side of foster care to know what he was doing, and what he didn't want.

But things like that wasn't something a rich kid like Sanji would understand. There was absolutely no sex appeal to that kid, so even thinking of this made Law feel dirty. It made him feel disgusting for even recognizing it in the first place, thinking it was only his own experience that made him think this way.

'Every experience you've had won't shape you into the person you think are because of it,' Smoker had once told him, after removing him from a home that Law had reported to him. He'd been distressed after that experience, and had told Smoker impulsively that this would always make him feel like anyone could either take advantage of him, or even him using that experience to get whatever he felt like because he knew how. 'Your experience will always be different, but that does not mean you're like those pieces of scum. Adults taking advantage of a teenager's hormones does not make you a bad person or a filthy one. You're still a kid, and it's okay to be a kid. You have a right to say 'no', and you have every right to say 'yes' if you feel safe and okay with a person your age.'

Still, it just added to the burden Law felt he carried as being an unwanted person. For even thinking of it in this matter, coming to that conclusion, was his own experience. Maybe it wasn't Sanji's intentions at all.

But now that Law was aware of it, he was going to pay more attention to it. He would have to do everything he could to discourage it, from giving the wrong idea.

When the bell rang, he headed to his locker to exchange a couple of texts, anxious to get home. He had just shoved his History book in when an arm appeared from over his left shoulder to stuff material into his locker. The action was so unexpected that Law jumped and shifted away, not expecting to seeing Ichiji standing there, glaring at him.

He had his hand out at Law, waiting, and it took Law a few moments to understand what was happening. Ichiji had stuffed the sweater Sanji had been wearing into his locker, and was indicating for him to hand over Sanji's. Law's lungs felt tight as he faced off with the eldest Vinsmoke, blood rushing to his ears upon the knowledge that Ichiji knew what was going on. His arms and shoulders felt heavy with tension, and even if he were being prompted to return the garment, Law could feel refusal rising up inside of him.

Not looking away from him, Law pulled his sweater out from his locker, dropped it on the floor, shut the door, and walked away. He counted on Ichiji not saying anything to draw attention to the matter, but Law was standing firm on his reasoning not to take the sweater back. Not with that stain still there.

"You know what this looks like, don't you?" Ichiji called after him, his voice surprisingly strong amidst the sounds of kids moving through the hall.

Law didn't care. He continued walking, breathing shallowly as he headed for the closest door, expecting those damn Vinsmokes to crawl out of the woodworks to accompany their older brother. But he knew – somewhere inside of him he knew – Sanji was not involved, this time.

He made it outside, hands shaking, taking the quickest route towards the direction of his house. He wouldn't take the road, again. The long route would have to do. It was unnerving how that kid seemed to notice the smallest things. No wonder Sanji did things sneakily just to get some respite from his family.

Law did not know that Ichiji had been stopped in mid-pursuit.

"What are you so angry, for?" Ace asked him, long arm posted across the length of Ichiji's face, hand settled on a closed locker. He looked relaxed and comfortable facing off with the red-haired Vinsmoke, who only looked at him crossly. "It looks like those two worked out a problem between them, so why are you butting into it?"

"Consider your own words," Ichiji retorted, looking away only because Sabo had picked up the sweater and held it up for Ichiji to take. Both of those boys looked smug, and other kids had noticed the confrontation, so they were lingering in the halls to watch. "That's not my brother's. I am only trying to retrieve what is his."

"If he wanted his back so bad, I'm sure he'd have no problem getting it himself," Sabo said, still holding it aloft. "They seem to be getting along fine, Ichiji. Why don't you butt out of it?"

"This is nobody's business."

"Yet, here you are," Ace said, gesturing at him.

"Yes, here I am, standing up for my brother, as he can't seem to conduct himself in a proper manner, and he did pursue the garment a couple of times. That creep won't return what's his to him, so therefore, here I am, stepping in without alerting the proper authorities," Ichiji snapped, shifting his footing to a wider stance. "As that loser is already in bad standing with his own guardian, I saw it fitting that I at least step in to prevent any more trouble coming to him for his continuing harassment of my younger brother."

"God, you are deluded!" Ace said, straightening up from the locker. "What planet do you come from?'

"'Harassment'?" Sabo repeated incredulously. "It's the other way around! Surely, you're not that stupid!"

"Make sure he returns my brother's sweater," Ichiji snapped at him, pushing forward, shoulder slamming off of Ace's as he walked away, leaving the garment behind.

Sabo dusted off the sweater, shaking his head disbelievingly. "Is that kid serious? Ace, are you sure you heard what you did…?"

"Bro, I was right there. I heard it. Every word. And Penguin and Shachi said in first period Law refuses to give the sweater back because it has his blood on it!"

"Why…?"

"I don't know that part. They said they were talking too quietly, but Law doesn't want to give the sweater back because it's stained with his DNA."

"Head wounds…do bleed a lot."

"Explains his nose, man."

"So it just confirms that Sanji did do it. He caused him that injury," Sabo decided heavily, folding the sweater over one arm.

"But why would Law protect him?' Ace asked, gesturing at him to get out of the way of several students coming down the hall, action resuming around them now that Ichiji was gone.

"Because of pricks like that! Retaliation!"

"When they spoke this morning, they were obviously friends," Ace reiterated. "They weren't threatening each other, they weren't insulting each other nastily – they basically asked if the other was okay over something that happened this weekend. That kid was not threatened, the other kid wasn't threatening him. It sounds like they've been sneaking around to see each other. It was…almost cute."

"Don't say that. Please. Don't."

Ace shrugged. "I'm just saying, it doesn't sound like the situation is as people think it is between them. But with those guys involved, it's different. It's those guys making it into a scene."

Sabo considered the sweater with a frown, then found himself digging in the pockets. He came away with gum wrappers, tobacco pieces, and a handwritten note about removing bloodstains from fabric. The meticulous print told him Sanji had copied this down from somewhere, intending on giving it to Law – but the paper was so crumbled and twisted that the option had been reconsidered. Many times.

He pursed his lips, stuffing it all back into the pockets. "Hmm."

"I don't know, man," Ace then said with a sigh, as they both turned and began walking. "It sounds like something we don't need to be involved with. It's a family thing."

"But that kid doesn't need to be involved in it."

"It doesn't sound like that kid minds."

"But other people do."

"Why is it anyone's business? He told everyone to 'fuck off', so we should 'fuck off'. Luffy backed out of it, but he's still got personal business with Sanji because Sanji keeps bothering him."

"We don't need to worry about Luffy. He's already proved his point once."

"This kid doesn't want our help."

"But this kid might," Sabo said reluctantly, refolding the sweater neatly.

Ace sighed heavily, shaking his head. "Stay out of it. We don't know what's going on unless something is said, and it's not really our business! We can only interfere as bystanders if something happens. If they're sneaking around just fine, just leave it to them."

Sabo made a face. "But I'd feel weird if I wasn't able to return a favor."

Ace rolled his eyes, but he let it go.


Guest (RR): Those two are now becoming aware of their feelings – reflection was given some thought, here. All because of That Sweater! Sanji is changing (slowly), and their confusion is starting to unravel for them to understand what's happening. As was stated, Law is starting to grasp what's happening based on his own experiences, but it's up to Sanji, now, to get what he's doing! Next chapter should show more of this.

Snowflake97: They definitely are! Slowly, but surely! This chapter showed what's to come, but it still won't be flowers and hearts (just yet). Judge does ruin everything, but it's up to Sanji to make the situation his. ; )

GPEG: He is, isn't he? Always pushing himself into places he shouldn't be. Once those guys smell blood, they're definitely attacking at the wound to their satisfaction. If you take him in, please give him a kitchen. Maybe he'll feel a lot better!

Naghi-tan: Work before fics! Very important! As for Law, it's going to take a lot of work, being that he hasn't really experienced that for himself.

Guest(2): (armpump) Whoo-hoo! Thanks!