I'm terribly sorry this took so long. I admit I didn't expect to update too soon after the last chapter, as this one has been difficult to write (the last part, mostly), but I wasn't expecting to take almost five months, either. I'm sorry, really, I'll try that this doesn't happen again.

This was beta-read by the lovely Aerle :)

Chapter 5

There are times when Ace feels like an idiot as he tries to explain something to Marco. This is one of those occasions. To be more precise, this is probably the most notorious one of those occasions. Last night he managed to make the man understand the words 'star' and 'moon', and today he has added 'sun'. That's easy enough, but explaining the concepts of 'day' and 'night' isn't so easy. Especially when 'day' means both the part of the twenty-four hour cycle when it's bright and the entire twenty four hours cycle of day and night. Ace had never considered the complications of the language up until this point.

He has resorted to crude drawings —done with a stick— of the sun, moon and some stars on the forest soil, and is currently encircling them —first the sun, saying 'day', and then the moon and stars, saying 'night'; after that he encircles the whole thing and repeats 'day'.

Marco is concentrating on it, but he looks somewhat confused, and Ace thinks they will be here for a while.

It's because of things like this that Sabo is the one to tutor Luffy in everything related to school: Ace is terrible at coming up with explanations, and it seems he is even worse when he can't use words for them.

He is kind of glad that Sabo isn't here, or he would be laughing his ass off at Ace's attempts at teaching. His brother would probably be much better at it, though.

Ace thinks he managed to get the day/night lesson across, but by the time Marco nodded in the way the boy has come to translate into 'I got it' Ace was so frustrated that he launched himself at Marco, desperately needed a fight to get rid of his frustration.

Unsurprisingly, he lost and is currently pinned against a tree. He would complain, really, the bark isn't exactly the most comfortable surface to rest against and —as he isn't wearing a shirt— it's scraping his back whenever he moves the slightest bit, but it isn't exactly easy to speak with someone else's tongue in your mouth. Not that Ace feels like pushing Marco off, really; he doesn't know how he could explain 'just in a different position' —there would probably be a misunderstanding if he pushed Marco off using his feet, and Ace doesn't feel like going through any drama— so instead he settles for trying to free his hands, trapped during the fight, and then he will be able to move them without the drama risk.

"Luffy, for the thousandth time, I don't get internet out here," Ace sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose in sheer exasperation.

His little brother likes to send funny things to other people —and pictures of food— and Ace usually doesn't mind: they're too many, Luffy doesn't know the meaning of the word 'restraint', but most are either funny or drool worthy. The problem is that Luffy has been asking for the last couple of days why Ace isn't answering the messages, and then, when Ace manages to make him understand that he can't, tries to explain them. Luffy's vocabulary isn't great, nor are his communication skills, and it has ended, every single time so far, in Sabo taking the phone away from Luffy whenever things get too weird —there was something about an octopus that wasn't really an octopus and a giant girl that Ace does not need to think about. Unfortunately, by the time Sabo intervenes Ace feels like pulling his hair off. He is sure Sabo does it on purpose.

Marco, as usual, is doing his phone watching thing, which doesn't help at all with Ace's frayed patience.

Ace has known Marco is smart for what seems like a long time now —in truth, it has been less than two weeks— but sometimes he forgets. He can't really be blamed: some of their lessons are incredibly exasperating, and Marco has trouble with so many basic things that sometimes Ace forgets just how smart the man has to be to be able to learn at the rate he does.

There are other times when the knowledge of Marco's intelligence smacks him right in the face. Like now.

Ace likes to cook, though he doesn't do it very often. Both he and Sabo had to learn after gramps started to spend less and less time home as the boys grew —they don't see the man much now, not that any of the three brothers mind— and Ace discovered he liked it. He even pestered Luffy's cuisine student friend, Sanji, to teach him some recipes.

He hasn't been doing much cooking lately —a student residence isn't a place where food lasts long, and Ace grew tired of people stealing his food fast— but today he has decided he wants to eat something other than roasted meat and stuff directly from a can or a package.

It's nighttime, one of the less warm nights so far —most people would have put on a light jacket, but both Marco and Ace are fine— and, after some deliberation, Ace decided to make a stew.

said stew is already cooked and noth men are eating it: directly from the pot, because Ace didn't bring any bowls.

"This is good."

Ace stops, spoon halfway to his mouth, and stares at the other, who simply goes back to eat as if nothing.

But this isn't nothing, because there is only one word in that sentence that Ace has taught Marco. Of the other two, 'good' he can accept with little trouble, because he has used it in a variety of ways around the man. 'Is', however... Ace has been fretting over the thought of teaching Marco how to use verbs, and that is one of the verbs he has been worrying about the most, but the man has learned to use it —at least in one of its forms— just by listening to Ace whenever the boy forgets sentences are too complicated. Though, obviously, they aren't. At least not short ones.

He wonders how many other words Marco has learned this way, and decides to try to use short sentences from now on to see if that helps the man learn faster.

"Thank you," he says, because Makino taught him manners are important and it can't hurt to try to pass them on to Marco.

It hasn't rained since the day Ace found Marco, but now the string of days with good weather seems to be over. The two men are inside the cave, the pot Ace had been heating some tomato soup in left to the corner to dry. The rain came so suddenly that they couldn't protect the food in time, and Ace is sulking because he doesn't like to waste food. Besides, he really wanted that soup, today, but the contents of the pot had overflowed before Ace could reach it and nothing but water with a faint pinkish color had been left. He has been forced to open another can. There is only one more left.

He doesn't have bowls or soup plates, so they can either pour the soup into their two only cups or eat it directly from the pot. It is a good thing Marco doesn't seem to care about manners, because they are something that has never mattered, at all, in Ace's house. Not even Makino was optimistic enough to try to teach them to the brothers after her first disastrous attempt at it.

Marco has long since stopped looking strangely at some of the food Ace brought with him, but it is still easy to guess when he hasn't had something before. He has eaten preserved tomatoes before –and, as strange as it sounds, Ace thinks it might have been the first time he ate them— and the way the man mulls over the first spoonful tells the student this is the first time he has the soup.

Something curious about Marco, as this is a characteristic Ace has only seen in his own family so far, is that he doesn't seem to dislike any food. Not liking some kind of food is a very common trait, a norm even, but one it was hard for Ace to understand at first. It has taken some time, and it would have gone unnoticed if Ace hadn't been paying such close attention to the man, but it is a nice thing, and it only makes Ace like the man more.

Though, who knows, maybe Marco won't like fish. That is a very common type of food to dislike. Ace will have to check.

It has been hours, and the rain hasn't stopped.

After pacing restlessly for a while, Ace has decided to turn the situation into an impromptu lesson. He has motioned Marco over to the entrance of the cave, just outside of the reach of the water –there is some wind, and the rain reaches a good half a foot inside.

"That is rain," he says, pointing at the falling water.

Marco tilts his head, looking outside, then he reaches out and cups his hands, collecting some water in them. He brings them back in, soaked as they have become in mere seconds, and stares down at the transparent liquid that is already slipping through his fingers. He looks thoughtful, mouth set in a straight line, and Ace decides to stay silent and wait to see what the man will do.

It is almost a while minute before Marco speaks.

"This water is rain?"

Ace gapes. Marco has not only understood the concept, but he has managed to voice the relation between the two terms. It may be simple, one of the simplest grammatical constructions, but the man has figured it out all on his own.

Ace could hug him right now, but he restrains himself and instead nods enthusiastically.

"Yes, rain is water falling."

"Falling?" Marco asks, head tilted to the side again. There is no water left in his hands, and he wipes them on his pant legs.

For the following hour, Ace proceeds to explain the verb fall, using as many examples as he can think of to get the meaning across. From there he moves on to the verb drop, and the differences between them occupy their entire afternoon.

Ace is kneeling at the stream's shore, scrubbing the soaped fabric between his hands. Next to him, Marco is doing the same, and they are passing the time with Ace doing his best to get across the meaning of the verb clean.

By the time it stopped raining —past lunch time the next day— they were both restless, and it took barely a challenging look from Ace for the two of them to dart out of the cave and engage in a very satisfying sparring session. Unfortunately, with the ground still damp and full of puddles, all the rolling around and being slammed into the ground resulted in the clothes they were wearing being covered in mud, and now —naked because they would have got the only two other changes of clothes dirty otherwise— they have to wash them.

This is the first time he has dragged Marco with him to help, and he wonders why he hasn't done it before. They may not be able to maintain a proper conversation, but it is far more entertaining to work with the man than doing it alone.

Once the clothes are clean, Ace makes Marco hold them —it doesn't take much, though it's mostly pointing and Ace doesn't believe the verb hold has gotten across to the man yet, but he will work on that later— and he ties the rope he has brought with him to two trees. Hanging the clothes is a matter of moments and then he steps back, looking sideways at the blond man. It is not an entirely lascivious gesture on his part —he is not claiming he isn't ogling the man, either—because he does so to check that, yes, they both need to clean up.

Marco is still standing by the stream and, deciding that it would be a waste to go back to camp and take a shower, Ace grins and leaps towards him, tackling Marco into the stream and barely rolling off of him in time to avoid the man's hand.

It takes a long time before they get around to actually bathing.

The realization comes out of nowhere, and Ace feels like an idiot afterwards because, of course, this is something he should have thought about days ago.

He is idling about, really just doodling on one of his notebooks while enjoying the calm for a little while. Marco, meanwhile, is asleep on the sleeping bag, taking a nap in the middle of the afternoon. This is the first time Ace sees him take a nap, really, which is surprising because, judging by the man's usually half-lidded eyes, the boy would have taken him by the sort of guy who takes any opportunity to get some time to sleep.

But that is not important. Ace may have stared for a little while, he has developed this thing for checking the man out sometimes, and it is not like he gets all that many chances to see him asleep —Marco has this thing for waking up before Ace does— but now his eyes are on the page where he is drawing one of those childish depictions of food, the ones with a bone and an almost round chunk of meat that doesn't fit any real animal he can think of. That is when the first thought comes. It has been a long time —three weeks since he arrived here, around two since he met Marco— and they are running low on canned food. Ace has known from the start that he wouldn't have enough provisions to last until the end of his vacation without having to make a trip into town at some point. Now, with two people, they are bound to run out of goods even sooner. It is true they have the meat Marco finds, but Ace knows Sabo would murder him if his brother learned he had spent weeks eating only meat —Luffy would be jealous as hell, but that is beside the point.

With that in mind, Ace closes the notebook and throws it to the side, pencil on top. He moves to the food bag. It is way lighter than it was when he first arrived here, and opening the zipper shows it is because there are barely a dozen cans left, of which only half are either fruit or vegetables. Ace may have neglected keeping track of their provisions more than he should, sticking to the estimation he had made with Sabo before leaving home.

It is the thought that a trip into town is in order what brings to mind another important fact. Food is not the only thing he needs to buy.

He looks to the side, where Marco is still fast asleep, on his left side on the sleeping bag and with an arm folded under his head.

Marco is alone, he doesn't speak the language and lacks a good deal of general knowledge about the world. Those are things Ace has long since accepted, and yet the implications of it hadn't even crossed his mind up to this point. The man is alone, and basically defenseless –sure, the guy could beat the shit out of anybody who tried to attack him, but that is about it. Ace can't just leave him here once his vacation is over. What would the man do then? Live on the streets? Be sent to some weird institution if someone decides he's not right or is dangerous? Ace couldn't live with himself if he abandoned him to an unknown future. And that means, he is left with only one option.

Ace is responsible for Marco.

And, if he is responsible for Marco, that means he will have to get the guy some things, too. Like shoes, for a start. The man seems perfectly comfortable walking around barefoot, that is for sure, but he can't just go around barefoot in a city, that would be just too weird and attract too much attention. On the same note, he will probably need some clothes of his own. Ace's clothes don't fit that badly, but that is because they are summer ones —both Marco's arms and legs are somewhat longer than Ace's, so a coat or other things wouldn't fit so well.

The thought of taking Marco to a city brings up a whole new problem to board. He remembers well how the man reacted the first time Ace's phone sounded and the boy lunged for it, and wonders how he would react in a city, with all the noise and people there. He also wonders how much he knows of what can be found on a city. It is hard to predict what Marco does and doesn't know: he is puzzled by the simplest things, like his fascination with the Swiss Army Knife —the man still takes it sometimes and fiddles with it— but then there are the things he does know or understand quickly, some of which many people wouldn't know even how to begin with –to say something, Marco is much better than Ace at starting a fire.

Ace decides it would probably be a good idea to step up the lessons. Impromptu lessons of whatever comes up at the moment are a good thing, of course, but Ace should draw a plan, something to prepare for the inevitable moment when he will have to take Marco to the city.

When the thought that this will mean he will have to explain things to his brothers follows, Ace firmly pushes it away. That is something that will take a lot of thought and preparation to explain, and he will work on it, but he still has some time. Better to center on one thing at a time —and maybe he really doesn't want to think about how the conversation will go, what with having to explain he let a stranger he can't even communicate with properly stay with him and now is sort of making out with and jerking off on a regular basis.

Shaking his head, Ace heads back for the notebook and opens it on a blank page. He has three things to do right now: a shopping list for provisions, another one with everything Marco will need, and a lesson plan to explain 'wait here until I come back' to the man.

There is no way he can take him along in this trip. That is a catastrophe begging to happen.

Sometimes, Ace knows, his patience runs out too soon.

Marco has been staring at the can opener for the past couple of minutes, the unopened can of olives held loosely in the man's other hand —the can Ace opened as an example is almost out of olives by now.

As a general rule, Marco grasps physical actions easily enough, and Ace hadn't expected it to be any different this time, not when the man has understood so well the theoretical part of their current lesson: though of course Marco already knows the word 'can' and they have eaten enough times from one for him to understand the meaning of 'food inside can' —Ace is thinking he should move on to words like 'outside' or 'up' next.

When Marco finally decides to try his hand with the can opener, Ace doesn't have time to tell him he shouldn't lean so close to it before Marco makes his attempt. And yes, the can opens, but Marco has put too much strength behind the movement —and isn't that kind of complicated?— and the thin metal lid breaks off. It goes up in the air and hits Marco right in the left eye.

Ace is moving before he can think. The can he was eating from hits the ground as he jumps off of the rock he was sitting on, and then blue flames sprout out of Marco's skin. They lick over the man's eye and when they disappear the metal piece falls to the grass, the blood covering part of it the only proof that the accident ever happened. There isn't any blood left on Marco's unharmed face.

Ace is staring, because that was blue fire and blue fire wasn't supposed to be there.

When Marco looks up his blue eyes are blown open —some part of Ace's brain that is still working points out how wrong that expression looks on the man— and, before Ace can even think of saying anything, the blond leaves. He doesn't run off, no: he blurs in place and disappears.

Ace can only stare at the now empty patch of grass, because there was blue fire and blue fire means it was real.

To be continued

Well, there you go :D If you have any ideas of things Ace could teach or buy Marco, I'd love to hear them :)