There were few things that could launch your social status into the stratosphere like your older brother picking you up from school on a motorcycle.
Luffy had expected the glamor to wear off after a while. Once things became routine, he'd pull on his helmet with the same enthusiasm he tied his sneakers with. Just not today.
Every conversation in the pickup line stopped at the sound of Ace's motorcycle. The deep roar of Striker's engine was loud enough to stick to your bones. Nami covered her ears while she followed Luffy off the grass where they'd been sitting, over to the curb.
Ace owned a Breakout 117 Harley Davidson with a cherry red oil tank that looked orange when the sun hit it just right. There wasn't a bike in the entire city sporting that same chromatic red because Ace mixed the color himself.
"How fast does it go?" Nami asked as soon as Ace cut the engine.
"How fast?" It was a genuine question, it'd always take an extra second before he got the thrumming of the engine out of his ears. Ace flipped up his visor, "Ma'am, this bike can reach a top speed of about a hundred and twenty miles per hour."
"Next time Luffy comes over, I'm getting a ride, right?"
"Your mom's already threatened me, Nami." Ace retrieved Luffy's helmet from the rack of the bike and traded it for his brother's backpack. "I prefer to live, thanks."
Her pouting was interrupted by Zoro, who'd marched in front of her to get a better look. He knew better than to try and touch the hot chrome this time and kept his arms crossed tightly across his chest to prove it. "I need Luffy to sleep over my house on Saturday." He stated.
"Yeah?"
"Super Smash Brothers tournament." Zoro explained, "He's the anchor."
Luffy was the smallest of his friend group by a pretty significant margin. He had little hands and needed them both to pull his helmet over his head. When he flipped up his visor, his wide round eyes were the only part of his face visible. They were the exact same deep black that Ace's were and one of the first reasons no one would ever guess they weren't blood-related. A mistake Luffy never minded people making.
"I'm not just the anchor." Luffy slapped his helmet with both hands, "I'm the glue. I'm the core. Zoro absolutely cannot win without my silly goofy attitude— it's crucial to his psyche."
"That sounds pretty crucial." Ace secured Luffy's backpack with a cord wrapped so tightly, you'd think they were about to drive through a hurricane. "This is for Saturday?"
Luffy looked to Zoro for confirmation and Zoro nodded.
"If you can find your anchor a ride, he's all yours. I work all day on Saturday."
"I told you he'd say that." Luffy snapped little finger guns at his best friends, "Don't panic yet, I'll see what I can do."
Nami propped a hand up on her hip, "Figure it out, Luffy, we've got a month's worth of lunch money on this."
"Wait, you're gambling?"
"Oh— what? No, it's not like that at all." Nami gave him the sweetest smile she had in her repertoire. "I'm just joking—"
Luffy snapped the visor of his helmet down, "Nami has an underground gambling empire that controls the entire school. It's pretty awesome, she's like the mafia or something—"
"Luffy!" He was lucky he was wearing that helmet. Nami swung her plastic water bottle against Luffy's head and it absorbed the shock like he was hit with a pillow. "Cmon!"
Luffy's chronic honesty when it came to his brother, was something his friends couldn't wrap their heads around. Ace could have easily made some phone calls and gotten every little Straw Hat grounded for an entire summer with the information he had. What they simply couldn't appreciate, was the fact that Ace was two decades younger than their more rigid parents.
"Luffy, if you tell me you've been gambling away the lunch money I give you." Ace grabbed his brothers helmet and flipped his visor back up to drive his point home with menacing eye contact, "I will have a mental break right here in this parking lot."
"No, no no! Lunch money?" Luffy patted his arms reassuringly, "Lunch is too important to gamble on— you know that about me." It was a good answer, Ace released him for it. "Nami takes other people's lunch money."
"I'm the debt collector," Zoro added from the back.
Luckily for Nami, Ace laughed. "That checks out." He threw his leg over his bike and held it steady for Luffy to climb up into the passenger seat. "Good luck with your empire, Nami."
She sighed, "Thanks."
Ace flicked his wrist around the throttle, flooding the parking lot with the sound of thunder.
There were teachers at Luffy's school who couldn't stand the disturbance. They were only made angrier when their phone calls home were answered by the same motorcycle-junkie-twenty-year-old they wanted to complain about. Others just smiled and gave his older brother twinkly little waves instead. What created such a varied pool of reactions, Luffy did not understand.
They peeled out of the middle school parking lot and rocketed down the boulevard. The heatwave was at a peak today but unless they were sitting at a red light— which Ace rarely was— the wind pounding on their chests kept them cool.
Sabo never liked the way Ace drove, it might be the only thing he criticized when it came to Ace's parenting style— if you could call it that.
Problem was, Luffy loved the bike just as much as Ace did. He had a list of roads and highways memorized that he knew Ace would consider popping wheelies. So, as they accelerated onto the emptier and wider road that brought them home every day, Ace knew what Luffy wanted when he wildly tapped his arm. Luffy wrapped his arms around Ace's midsection. Ace snapped back the throttle and the burst of speed sent the bike's front wheel off the ground. Luffy howled.
Marco had learned to be cautious of the city's police department ever since he started working for Whitebeard. While the police never found hard evidence that Edward Newgate and his boys got up to some sketchy shit, they were certainly convinced of it.
Gol D. Rodger's known rivalry with Newgate didn't help. Even dead, the infamous drug lord's reputation kept a steady target on Whitebeard's back.
So, when a decorated police captain showed up in his hospital, looking for painkillers, it definitely piqued Marco's interest.
"I just can't understand how it hasn't healed by now."
"It was a complicated injury."
"You wanna talk about 'complicated'? I've taken shots to the stomach before. That shit was complicated."
"Your chart describes your first surgery as a near-total reconstruction. It's impressive you can move your fingers at all." Marco held the officer's much larger, calloused hand in his under a lamp. There were scars from both the injury and the many surgeries afterwards that had attempted and failed to return his full range of motion. "How's physical therapy been?"
"A waste of fucking time, Doc. I sat in that office for weeks squeezing stress balls and look at the state I'm in— I can hardly hold a damn pencil… All the good it did." He scoffed.
"Physically therapy is a long, arduous process."
"Yeah, I've heard that about a million times."
Marco sighed, "I'll refill your prescription to manage the pain but it's not going to do anything for you in the long term."
"Sure, sure." The Captain pulled his hand back and stood. He was a staggering height, nearly as tall as Whitebeard, with broad shoulders that looked like they could haul a semi-trailer. "Let's just see that prescription, hm?"
Marco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He slid his stool back a few feet to the computer at the counter. His fingers flew across the keyboard to green-light his refill. All the while, the officer studied him from below the rim of a police department branded cap.
"Why do you look familiar?"
"I was an EMT in pre-med." Marco answered simply, "I used to interact with the police department all the time."
"That's not it."
Marco's eyes slid from the computer screen to the officer watching him. The corners of his mouth sharpened into the subtlest smirk. "I used to work for Whitebeard. Is that what you're looking for?"
The officer's name was written as Police Captain Sakazuki at the top of his medical chart. His nostrils flared and his eyebrows knitted together into a deep scowl as his memories filled in the blanks. "Oh, yeah. The scrawny blond at the front desk. I remember you."
"I'm flattered." Marco snapped a sheet of paper free from his notebook. He scribbled down the frequency the pills should be taken and a number for a physical therapist he knew Sakazuki would ignore. "You should be able to pick up your prescription in a few hours."
Sakazuki took the note from him but hesitated to leave the small examination room. Marco crossed his ankle over his knee and watched the officer in what was seemingly a standoff. When Sakazuki failed to say something bad about Whitebeard, when he failed to give him any rude remark at all, Marco decided he'd be the one to dismiss him. He smiled and chimed, "Please feel better, Captain."
The officer thought about it. Then, he left.
Once his morning shift had ended, Marco drove straight from the hospital to the auto shop. Thatch had promised to lend Marco his pick up truck for furniture shopping. So, while he waited for Thatch's shift to end, the new resident set up camp in the break room.
Izou sat with him during his lunch break. After that, Marco transcribed his new work schedule onto paper. The sound of a motorcycle eventually pulled his attention.
When Marco looked up, he saw a sleek, beautiful Harley roll into the parking lot carrying two passengers. When the driver cut the engine, Marco could hear the smaller one whining about something having to do with a sleepover.
"Can you relax?"
It was Ace— of course Ace drove a motorcycle, what else would he drive? The young mechanic pulled the matt black helmet off his head to reveal his sun-kissed face and the absolute rats nest the helmet made of his hair. "I'm not saying no, I'm saying you'd need to find a ride there."
"Why can't you just drop me off? It'll take two seconds."
The kid was small. He needed two hands to pull off his helmet and was thrown off balance when it finally popped off. Ace promptly took the helmet from him and hung it on the back seat of his bike. "I'm the only one working past three—"
"Can't you just leave and come back?"
"Uh, no?" Ace nudged the kid hard enough to send him back a half step. "I'm sure you can find someone else to drive you. You ask Thatch?"
The kid's arms bounced around wildly as he followed Ace, skipping into the garage. He was either made out of rubber or twelve year olds simply didn't have control of their limbs yet— Marcos wasn't sure.
"Not yet." he replied, "His car smells so weird though."
"True."
"Like, Taco Bell and skunk." Luffy's wide eyes locked in on Marco as they rounded the corner into the break room. There was something about eye contact with that kid that made it feel like Marco's soul was being flipped through like a book. Luffy raised a pointed finger at the blond and announced with a full chest of air, "I don't know you."
"Ah!" Ace smilied, "It's Mr. Subaru Outback." He dropped his hands on Luffy's shoulders and Marco could have sworn the little squeeze he gave them was code for 'be polite'. "He's friends with Pops and he used to live in our apartment before we did. Marco, this is my kid brother, Luffy."
"Nice to meet you, Luffy." Marco's outreached hand was promptly rejected by the twelve year old, who slipped from his brother's grasp to study the thick notebook Marco had on the break table.
"Hi Mr. Subaru Outback." He said and picked up the sharpest number two pencil he could find out of Marco's pencil case. "You have pretty handwriting."
"Thanks." Marco waved off Ace's concerned face over the stolen pencil. "You can ride a motorcycle? That's cool."
"Yeah, it's pretty cool. I'll have my own bike when I'm older though, it'll be a lot cooler than his."
"Doubt it." Ace stood in front of his locker while he pulled his shirt off over his head. Marco caught a glimpse of his beautifully sculpted bronze shoulders before Ace exchanged his old shirt for a clean one with Pop's skull and crossbones logo printed across the back. "Marco, what are you doing here? Miss me?"
"I'm waiting for Thatch to finish his shift. Then, I'll be dragging him to Ikea."
"So it's unconfirmed if you missed me."
Marco couldn't help the corners of his mouth curling into a smirk, "You know what? My alignment feels kinda off. You sure you didn't rush the job on my car?"
Ace spun on his heels so fast, eyes wide, nose twisted up in disgust. He took a few menacing steps forward, "You're fucking full of shit you mother fucker— "
"You're right—" Marco chuckled, raising his arm up like he was prepared to keep a dog from biting him, "It's great— my tires are perfect—Oh my god."
"Yeah, I know they're perfect." Ace swiveled his hips around Marco's arm as he passed him as if he just spared him from an attack.
Ace crossed the break room to the kitchenette and pulled little plastic red tubs of deli turkey and cheese out of the fridge. Luffy, with the stolen pencil still in hand, ran to watch Ace assemble a sandwich. Ace covered the insides of the bread with a clearly rehearsed amount of mustard and mayonnaise. He cut the crust off first, then the entire thing into quarters.
"I could easily believe you both eat your sandwiches like that." Marco chirped from his place at the table.
Ace handed the paper plate to Luffy, who bolted with it into the front office. "Fuck the crusts. Why should anyone have to taint their fluffy sandwich bread with crust? Now, give me nice bread— an Italian roll, maybe ciabatta and it's a different conversation we're having."
"Right." Marco nodded towards the door Luffy ran through. "The kids' cute."
"I know. He'll use it against you, be careful." Ace bit into a slice of cheese and looked over Marco's shoulder at the open notebook on the table. Marco wrote in a beautiful, small, script with thin, inky black pens. A hand drawn calendar, several lists, and an hourly schedule were composed beautifully across the two pages as if it'd been done on a computer. "Oh, wow." Ace whispered, "You must be insufferable at work, huh?
"I'm organized."
"What are you— a Virgo? You look like a Virgo."
"I honestly have no idea."
"You don't know?" Ace either didn't receive Marco's disinterest in astrology or simply didn't care. The mechanic leaned his hands on the table, "When's your birthday?"
"October fifth."
"Libra." Marco had to raise his pen off the table while Ace drummed against it triumphantly, "I was close. Fucking Libra. That's so you."
"How?" Marco fired back, "This is the second conversation we've ever had!"
"Hey, Ace!" Luffy had slapped the door back open. He bounced on the balls of his feet and as he spoke, Marco could hear a loud voice coming from around the corner. "Some old loser is yelling at Izou."
Marco and Ace exchanged a brief glance before they were both making their way for the door.
Izou stood behind the front desk, arms crossed and exhaustion weighing down his shoulders. A man with a wiry mustache and sunburn face stood on the other side of the counter, so angry it looked like he'd pop a blood vessel at any second.
"That's a load of crap!" The man spat, "Do you realize how much these parts actually cost?! Hm? You've got no right to charge me three thousand dollars!"
"You're not just paying for the part Sir." Izou repeated with the shred of patience he had left, "You're paying for a professional installation. If you believe you can get this work done for less, you're free to go somewhere else."
"That's the rudest fucking thing I heard all day. Are you kidding me?!" He took another step forward, jutting a short stubby finger in Izou's face. Marco and Ace filed into the front office just in time for the man to slam a closed fist on the counter top. "Can I speak to someone who knows a damn thing about cars?!"
There were few things Ace enjoyed more then telling a customer to go fuck themselves. It was a well known and long standing policy at Whitebeard's shop that no one's money was good enough to justify treating someone like shit.
"Perfect timing." Marco's stentorian voice demanded the attention of the office. "I've got a mechanic for you right here." He gestured unceremoniously towards Ace while he inserted all six foot seven of himself between the man and the front counter. "What's the gentleman need so badly that he's lost his composure, Izou?"
"He says it's his cylinder head."
"Is that right…" Marco nodded towards Ace who'd marched over to the windowpane to get a look at the car outside. "Ace?"
"Looks vintage." he scoffed, "If it's got an iron cylinder head, that'll fuck him over. Whatever Izou told him, he's about a thousand short."
"So, four thousand?" Marco supplied. "How much was your surcharge for assholes, again?"
"Oh, for assholes? It's steep, add another half a grand on top of that." Ace leaned his hip against the counter on the other side of the disgruntled man. "I have to disassemble your engine. It'll take three days— it's expensive. So get your meaty fucking fist off the counter, take half a step back so Izou doesn't have to smell your cigar breath, and stop fucking yelling infront of my little brother you crusty, rotting, piece of shit."
Luffy stood on the couch in the lobby, bouncing on his heels while he watched the little performance. No doubt his goofy grin made the man any less furious. "Oh crap…" Luffy chuckled, "Is his face gonna explode?"
"Is this shop run by children?!" The man snapped his keys off the countertop, "This is no way to treat your clients— this business is a joke! Whitebeard's hired a bunch of thugs!"
The man scrambled towards the door, throwing every threat he could think of from calling the Better Business Bureau to leaving a nasty Google review. Before the door shut behind him, the man shrieked over his shoulder, "Watch me call the fucking police!" And stomped across the parking lot, back to where his vintage car waited for him.
The bell hanging over the front door rang on his way out.
"I thought he would never leave." Izou massaged his fingertips over his eyelids, "Thanks, boys."
Marco had intended to pick one of Ace's stupid insults to make fun of. Then, he realized how suddenly quiet the room was. The squeaking of the couch springs had stopped. When he looked over his shoulder, Luffy's bright, toothy grin was gone and the color had drained from his face. Anxiety made his eyes wide and his voice just barely above a whisper, "…Is he really gonna call the police?"
Ace's attention snapped to his brother, "No." He answered immediately, "He's just an asshole, no one's calling the police."
"I shouldn't have gotten you." Luffy's wide eyes watched the glass door without blinking, like he'd charge the cranky old man if he saw him reach for a cell phone.
"Luffy…" Izou looked between the two brothers, "I'm sorry sweetheart, I didn't mean to freak you out."
"What would happen if he filed some kind of complaint?"
"He's not going to." Ace reached out for Luffy's wrist and pulled him to step down from the couch, "That's called a bluff, little brother. Besides, what's anyone gonna do? Look at the size of Marco—" Ace nodded at the blond leaning on the front desk, "Marcos' like two of me. No one's fucking with us in the shop, okay?"
Luffy's eyes fell to the ground, "Okay."
It was an interesting angel Ace took to comfort him. Considering Marco assumed it was the legal system Luffy might be afraid of, why would it make a difference who they had to defend them in a fight? But, the perplexed look Marco gave Izou was either missed or ignored.
"C'mon, come hold a flashlight for me." Ace steered Luffy by the shoulders in the direction of the garage. His eyes just briefly caught Marco's before he was gone and the office was quiet again.
Izou spoke at half volume, "I shouldn't have put Luffy anywhere near that. Honestly, I shouldn't put Ace anywhere near bullshit like that either. Luffy's not even wrong." He tapped furiously at the keyboard, clearing out the would-be cylinder head replacement order.
"No, Ace and I had too much fun with that. That's not on you,"
"Yeah, I noticed." Izou cracked a smile, "Did you rehearse that with him?"
"Tsh." Marco shrugged. He waved a hand over his shoulder while he turned back towards the break room, "It was tame if you compare it to how I used to handle things."
"I'd say you're pretty equally vicious, Marky."
"Really?" Marco stopped at the door and looked back at him. Considering Marco worked at the shop through the major aftershocks of Rodger's death, it was a bold comparison to make. Marco's early twenties were a blur.
"Pre-arrest, yes. He's mellowed out since then."
"Oh sure, he's so mellow."
It was three o'clock twenty minutes later when Thatch clocked out. Marco met him in the garage with his backpack slung over one shoulder. They both called out quick goodbyes to the garage before heading out to the parking lot. Ace caught Marco's arm before he could make it.
"Hey— " His eyes had the same uncharacteristic seriousness about them as they did when he left the office with Luffy. "Can I ask you for a favor?"
"Ah— sure."
"Luffy's dying to see his friends on Saturday. I'm the only one scheduled during the afternoon, so I can't leave the shop." His voice fell half a step, "I can't be the reason, he doesn't see his friends. Can you cover me while I take him?" Marco hesitated for half a second so Ace continued, "I'll be fifteen minutes— all you'd have to do is watch the phone." Then he added, "I'll pay you."
"You're not paying me." Marco fired back. He hadn't had Ace nail him with eye contact that earnest before and it gave him whiplash to hear such little sarcasm in his voice. "It's not a big deal, I can watch the shop for fifteen minutes."
Ace's expression lit up, "Yeah? Can you be here at six?"
"That's fine."
"Marco," Ace held him there with just his eyes, the deepest shade of black Marco had ever seen. "Thanks. I owe you."
And he left. Ace released him and took all the intense energy with him, like a tornado just passing by.
"That was nice of you," Thatch said once they'd reached his pickup truck in the parking lot.
"Yeah," Marco shook his head, "I see where Luffy gets the puppy dog eyes from."
