October 01 - Partners

Their collected crews were still inland - some staying, some leaving. Four gangs trying to figure out what the landscape of Kutsukku was moving forward. The former bosses agreed to stay clear while discussions went on. They meant what they said - they no longer held any interest in the island and were content to stay out of negotiations. The only sway they had was if they could come together to accomplish something - the gangs could to.

The bosses came together to tear down the last hierarchy. It was the survivors who would need to build a new one.

Until then, the four had moved into their bare bones ship. Work still needed to be done before they were to set sail, modifying the ship to their needs - waiting for custom sails to be made - getting quality of life items and furniture and stocking with supplies. Figuring out how four strangers were going to run a ship together.

Heat & Wire had been butting heads with each other for years and their rivalry had turned to a strange begrudging respect long ago. And Kidd and Killer had known each other almost all of Kidd's life before their own parting of ways a few years back. Now it was just a matter of figuring out how they all fit together.

They'd spend the day mapping out where they wanted things lain out on their new Home. They spend the night camped out on the wood floors of what was meant to be captain quarters. The following days would be more planning and logistics but for the night they snacked and smoked and drank and eventually watched as Kidd - high off his ass - started trying to divide up the room into some grand future workshop that lived in his head.

Finally at one point, Heat pointed out that he'd left himself no room for his own personal space, asking where he planned on sleeping. Kidd - straight faced - just stated, "I'm not gonna sleep - it's fine." Which prompted Killer to get up and coerce Kidd into siting back down with them. He was passed out and drooling on Killer within 20 minutes.

Which lead to Wire, delicate eyebrow raised provocatively, to suggest maybe their new captain planned on sleeping with Killer every night.

"It's not like that - never was," Killer deflected, trying to hide the soft smile the thought left him by taking a drink from the mug of beer that had been making it's way around the circle of three and was being handed off from Heat to him.

They'd all end up passed out in a pile that night, the most relaxed and unguarded they'd ever been in their adult lives. Which was ironic considering they'd essentially put a 17 year old in charge.

When the sun finally peaked through the unshaded windows the next morning, Wire spent a long time staring up at the wood planked ceiling, warm under a pile of sleeping colleagues. Eventually, Boss Heat's upside down head appeared in his field of vision, amused smile beaming down at him. Wire wasn't sure how he felt about the rough stitch work on the man's face, but it certainly gave him a memorable smile, and the smell of coffee wafting from the cup he was teasing Wire with was enough to warm anyone's heart.

Captain and Boss Killer were still asleep, and one of them left a drool spot on Wire's arm that he discovered once he'd wiggled out from under them. He picked at it irritatingly, made to comment on it to Heat to find the man with a strange soft look on his face. Wire followed his gaze back to the sleeping pair.

They were completely wrapped up in each other, Boss Killer's face buried into Captain's collar, tucked up under his head as in turn Kidd's hands were buried somewhere under wild blond hair. One of Killer's hands was gripping the front of Kidd's shirt, the other wrapped behind him with his fingers brushing the small of Captain's back where his shirt had ridden up. Their legs were a tangle of limbs, twisted into each other.

"Do you think they know?" Heat asked.

Wire reflected on the last few days, "No... Not yet. But I don't think it's gonna take 'em too long to figure it out."

October 02. Back to Back

"Well, this a fine mess you've gotten us into."

Killer groaned, head pounding as the world slowly came back into focus. Kidd's bitching was like a nail repeatedly being hammered into his skull. Killer made to shove him away only to stop short when his arm refused to move. "wha...?"

Kidd stopped his squirming, listening quietly, "Kil? Are you back?"

Killer blinked rabidly but his vision remained hazy.

"Killer?"

"Kidd? Whazzit gon' on? Why can'i move?"

He could at least feel Kidd moving behind him now, the boy's voice gentle in way that made Killer nervous. "We got ambushed, remember? Breaking in to the warehouses on the west side? I think you took a bat to the head..."

Killer did not remember any of that, but he trusted Kidd wouldn't bullshit him on something like this. There was a weight against the back of his head, the rough band of Kidd's goggles catching his hair as Kidd leaned back against him for a moment with a sigh.

"It's not an ambush if you break into our place." a voice drawled, and Kidd twisted around to try and see who was talking. Killer's head fell back against his shoulder once Kidd's head wasn't there to support it, and Kidd glared at the man strolling out of the shadows, a little pathetic entourage flanking him.

The small time gang boss lorded over them, looking less pleased at captured the two of them and more just annoyed that his day had been interrupted by a couple snot nose punk kids. He grabbed a fist full of Killer's hair and jerked the teen upright, but looked to Kidd when the younger boy snarled at him for his audacity in touching his partner.

That made the man laugh, sneering down at the red head as he let go of Killer's head roughly, chucking darkly as the sounds of their skulls bouncing off each other thudded dimly in the damp warehouse air. Killer blinked the stars from the corners of his vision as Kidd started yelling and cursing the man in outrage.

Killer then became aware of Kidd's small hands pressing into his palms, and he held them back only to notice the rough ends of rope being passed to him ... the ends of the rope that had been used on his own wrists. Killer tested the restraints; sure enough they'd only just been tied down once at the wrists.

Amateurs. It was almost embarrassing to have been captured like so, but at least Kidd had seen to that. Now Killer just bid his time.

His head was still swimming, the voices sounding more like what he figured bagpipes must sound like underwater, but he recognized Kidd's voice, antagonistic as always. Killer couldn't help but smirk. One of Kidd's best qualities, he mussed. The ability to annoy anyone stupid given enough time.

The dark outline of this little group's head boss got larger, moving to tower over them once more. Killer hung his head, letting himself go lax and unassuming, the unknotted rope sliding away. He pressed his hand one last time to Kidd's for good luck.

And then he was lurching forward, fists flying, launching himself at the man. There was yelling, and the man had Killer's fists in his own, grinning like he thought he'd won something. Killer only grinned back, feral look to him that wiped the man's grin away in a flash as the man realized he may have made a mistake.

Then Killer went for the jugular. Literally; teeth clamping around the man's unguarded throat. The man was screaming, his minors were screaming, Kidd was free and using his chair as a club to keep them off Killer's back.

Killer was snarling around a mouthful of blood, every attempt to dislodge him just doing more damage. The gang boss finally let go of his left hand, punching wildly at Killer's side and head, grasping at his hair again. Killer breathed heavily though his nose, refusing to stop biting and begun hitting back with short jabs aiming for the kidneys.

Behind him, Kidd eyed the last few stragglers warily as they stuck well out of his swinging range. He wasn't willing to turn his back on them just yet, no matter how much he wanted to check on Killer. The little gang boss had stopped screaming, but they was still grappling behind him. And then there was a heavy wet thump of a body falling.

"Killer?"

The teen staggered over to stand next to him, panting wetly. Kidd glanced over to see Killer drenched in blood, wiping it haphazardly from his mouth. The red was splattered across his cheeks, his arms, running down his throat and his shirt. Dripping from his bangs and chin.

With a grin, Kidd turned back to the lackeys who were looking between the two boys and weighing their options. Kidd was almost sad to see them turn tail and flee. He tossed the chair aside with a clattering echoing thunk, looking sheepishly back at Killer when the noise had him wincing.

"How's your head?" Kidd asked, picking at the wet frayed edges of Killer's shirt. It was probably ruined now. Kidd wasn't sure they'd be getting all that blood out. Though, it was pretty gnarly looking - maybe they should keep it just for that. Killer did look great in red, Kidd thought idly as the teen answered his question with a shrug.

Kidd -pulled- Killer's discharged chair back over with a bit of concentration. He still wasn't great about using his devil fruit effectively in a fight, the chances of hitting himself or Killer with stray scraps not worth the risk. But this part was easy enough, even if the chair slide a bit rougher than Kidd meant into the back of Killer's knees, effectively sweeping him off his feet. Still, the results where what Kidd wanted, and Killer slumped down in the seat with a sigh.

Kidd would wander off to pillage the newly abandoned warehouse while Killer took a moment and

October 03. Coat

"It's itchy"

"It's warm. Shut up"

"It's ugly."

"So are you. Now shut up."

"It smells funny."

Killer snarled at him, "Then fucking freeze for all I care!" He jerked away, crawling out of the cubby they'd nested down in for the night before stalking off, leaving Kidd shivering in the ugly monstrosity that he was pretty sure had been thrown out for good reason. He knew beggars couldn't be choosers, but this thing couldn't possibly be a real coat. He was pretty sure it was some animal's actual skin and the body had just rotted out and left it's fur behind.

Kidd sulked in the dark hole, nose wrinkled at the weird wet small of the coat. It was far smaller than their last place, but Killer had insisted they move once the weather changed. And then he'd packed it with all the cloth and paper trash he could find until the two of them barely fit anymore.

A month ago it had been unbearable. Last week it had been a claustrophobic nightmare. Half an hour ago, it had been a warm safe - if not smell, itchy - place to sleep. Kidd pulled the coat to his chin, watching the open space warily.  Eventually, everyone left and never came back again. He wondered if this would be the time Killer didn't come back.

Little frozen flakes of snow were starting to cling to the cold metal scrap at the mouth of their shelter. Still no Killer.

Well good riddance. At least this time Kidd would know why. He'd leave his ungrateful ass behind too if he could.

Still.. Still, there was a hurt that Kidd didn't like at all, a painful knot in his chest that just got worse when he sniffed back the hot angry tears that threatened. He threaded his arms through the coat sleeves and hugged himself just so he didn't feel so alone, staring at the dark shadows of insulation.

"Killer?" he wasn't begging. He didn't Beg, not anymore. But..

"What?" came a dull reply and Kidd scrambled out from the shelter, looking frantically around to see Killer sitting in the snow above the crawl-way, knees pulled up to his chin, hunched in on himself.

He looked as miserable as Kidd felt.

Kidd looked away, scrubbing at his own face, before sniffing disdainfully. "What are you doing, sitting out here like that. You stupid or something?"

Killer just shrugged, talking to his knees, "The way you where bitching, didn't seem like you wanted me around right now." His hair had curled a bit when it was still warm enough to melt the snow, and now the flakes clung to the wild edges like a white halo, making it look twice as thick as normal.

It was going to be a whole ordeal to try and get it dried now. Kidd scowled. "So you are stupid."

Killer chuckled, his stupid little fwa fwa laugh that had Kidd rolling his eyes.

"Would you get back inside before you turn into Am Fear Liath Mòror or some shit?"

"I dunno. Being that tall might be cool."

"Tch. Good luck with that," Kidd snickered, pulling the coat up higher and staring at Killer until the teen got the hint and got up. It took some negotiating, but they crawled back inside, Kidd frowning at the wet cold chill that had ensnared Killer and followed them into the dark.

Killer's face was pale, a hint of blue at his lips and fingers, and Kidd did not like at all how Killer refused to nestle back under the coat with him, like he was suddenly afraid to touch him. Which was really stupid because they'd never had that problem before.

"You can stop being dumb now," Kidd told him matter-of-fact, kicking at him a little to get Killer to stop trying to cuddle him from outside the coat. "Seriously, you're practically a Grayman already, get under the coat."

It was hard to see Killer's expression like this, but Kidd could picture it in his mind, that pout he did where his nose scrunched up and the lips went flat and he looked completely unamused with what ever shit Kidd was caught up in at the time. Only this time, it was trying to get Killer warmed back up and Kidd was starting to worry just a little bit.

"I'm... You'll get cold."

"And I'll warm you back up - world balances itself out. Now come one, we don't have all night!"

One day... one day he'd be Boss, Kidd decided, he'd be Boss and he'd have all the nicest clothes and him and Killer would have those pretty fur coats that didn't smell funny. They'd have clothes that wouldn't itch and and would belong to just them. Killer wouldn't have to dig clothes out of the trash anymore or beg Victoria for old things that she'd outgrown. And he wouldn't have to worry about making them last or trying to patch them up for Kidd to wear next. No more wrappings around shoes because the soles came off, or Killer trying to fold old newspapers up in a way to replace them entirely when Kidd accidentally lost one in the Heaps running away from the dogs.

Kidd looked away from the piling snow, burying his face in the crook of Killer's neck, coat pulled up high to fight the chill.

One day.

October 04. Mask

"What the fuck, Kidd?" Killer snarls, the mask only amplifying the angry tone as he stand in the doorway, Kidd looking back at him through the bathroom mirror, before turning to his partner sheepishly.

Unfortunately for Kidd, Killer is pissed, grabbing the concealer from him in one hand and the small bag of make up in the other, and Kidd raises his own in surrender. He's not completely sure of his misstep but he can count the times Killer's gotten truly upset with him on one hand and even without seeing his face, Kidd knows this is about to make the list if he doesn't fix it quickly.

"I ran out of lipstick so I was just gonna borrow some from you -"

"That doesn't fucking look like lipstick, Kidd!"

"air son Muir {air son Dhe | for the sea | for god's sake}..."

"This shit is expensive, Kidd! you can't just waste is on a whim playing... I don't know! What ever the hell this is!"

"Expensive? Killer - we're as rich as gods right now - I'll buy you more!"

Killer growls little, and Kidd aborts his half-hearted attempt to reassure Killer with a hand to the shoulder. He redirects, scratching the back of his neck like that had been the plan the whole time.

"Killer - I'll buy you more. I'm sorry. Okay." Kidd smart enough to know they're fighting about something else right now - but damn him if he knows what.  "Tha mi duilich. I shouldn't have touched your make up without asking."

Killer is still hunkered a little defensively over his bag, tucked behind arms crossed low over his gut.

"It's... I.." Kidd frowns, usually he just says what he means, but right now he's not sure /how/ to iterate it. "You've never cared about me using your stuff before. Half the time, I'm not actually sure which clothes are mine and which are yours to begin with."

"Mine are the ones that still have sleeves and buttons." Killer muttered. He's annoyed, but the strange mood that had him has loosened its hold.

Kidd makes a gesture of 'well there you go' before resting his hands on the bathroom counter behind him. He gives Killer his best puppy eyes, face molded into the perfect, 'I'm baby' look and he bats his eyes innocently. Killer's mask should prevent him from making sure the look sticks, but he's had enough practice that he knows immediately when Killer locks eyes with him, and he deepens the pouts just a little more.

"You look stupid." Killer says finally, and Kidd smirks - "I was under the impression that was my default?"

The tension eases out of Killer with a sharp bark of laughter, the rare kind where he tosses his head back and cackles. The effect is lost a little with his helmet, but it's a laugh reserved just for Kidd and he takes the win for what it is.

"You can't..." Killer pauses, chuckling, "You can't wear it like foundation - it's just a concealer. You put it across your whole face like that and you just look flat and weird. It's just for spot treatment. Like a zit or under eye bags and shit."

Kidd tried to school his face, but he knew it didn't catch the sulk in time, because Killer cocked his head the way his did when zeroing in on a weakness on the battlefield.

"Also - my skin tone is the completely wrong colour for you." He said, setting the bag down and Kidd could just feel his gaze flickering over Kidd's face.

Demanding an answer.

"My freckles make me look like a fucking kid. People still don't take me serious."

"But I thought you were Kidd?"

Kidd glared, but Killer was long immune to the look. Killer tilted Kidd chin up, 'tutting' over the thick layer of cream. Well - it had done that job at least. Not a hint of freckle was visible across his forehead, nose or cheeks. But it had also covered the natural differences in Kidd's skin tone, flattening to one solid shade. "I dunno shit about contouring, but if we can figure that out, I bet you won't look so stupid."

Kidd just grinned, "I dunno. Kinda digging the look. It's certainly striking."

"It's something." The problem was Killer only vaguely knew that contouring was a thing, not how it worked. But what he did know...

"Hold on a sec." Killer dug through his bag, and Kidd lounged against the countertop, watching him rummage. Killer didn't have the largest supply, and everything was pretty well used. Kidd had made a mental note when he'd been looking through it earlier of what stuff was almost gone. Those were clearly Killer's favorite, and Kidd had stayed clear. But he also knew what to look for in the next port they docked at as well.

Killer brought out a a few items, lipsticks mostly, to set on the counter out of his way but the prize in hand was a little black marker with a delicate brush at the end. Killer fiddled with it for a moment, before gesturing for Kidd to lean closer. "Look Up" was all he said.

Kidd sat still, looking up at the ceiling as Killer carefully painted black lines around his lashes, pulling the brush across the delicate skin around his eyes.

After Killer finished his first eye, he stepped back, turning Kidd's face this way and that, before gesturing to the mirror. Kidd judged his reflection, the sharp lines around his eyes against the flat of his face a bold look, and he grinned.

"Yeah?" Killer asked.

"Yeah, I like it. Do the other one?"

"Sure," and Kidd turned back to Killer. This time, he stared back, catching the flash of blue though the mask; It was hard to miss this close. Killer paused, just a moment, before Kidd caught the twinkle, knowing Killer was smiling back. Then he was looking at the brush strokes, carefully painting on the beginnings of Kidd's own mask.

October 05. Laugh

"Why aren't you laughing anymore? Here I was under the impression you thought our vice captain was funny?"

Wire was already a towering man, and his face was perpetually set to an expression of not giving any fucks. He was still wearing that bored look as he knelt down next to one of the horrified men that was pinned down by a trident prong through his leg.

Out of the four of them, Wire was never really sure why Boss Killer seemed to generate the most whispers and mockery when they went out on the town. He was almost normal looking compared to the rest of them, even if he was a little on the shorter side, and personally Wire thought he was still too skinny. And yet...

He hadn't even taken his helmet off this time when the captain of the man now pinned under his weapon had made a wisecrack about it when the barmaid had arrived with the first round of their food. Captain Kidd had heard it, teeth grinding when he turned to glare, but remained where he was when the woman made a frightened sound next to him and nearly dropped one of the plates. Heat had caught it, no harm no foul, and she'd run back out of miasma of brewing tension that was filling the tavern.

However, Boss Killer just pushed his untouched plate of fettuccine at Captain with a shrug, muttering something about not being hungry. Which was not necessarily unusual, as both he and Heat had noticed that Boss Killer tended to order extra food specifically for Captain in some weird dynamic they had where Heat was pretty sure he was trying to trick Captain to a more balanced diet. In general, the Kidd Pirates had all dealt with some from of food scarcity and still had the habits of never wasting it, even if it wasn't something they particularly liked to eat. Captain Kidd was still the best reflection of that - he would eat anything put in front of him, even if he bitched about it the whole time.

"Don't know why them even bother bringing a plate out for the toy solider," one of the men at the other table had remarked, followed by ruckus laughter.

Captain had nearly snapped the fork in half, but Boss Killer calmly rose first. The two of them shared a look, before Captain relaxed, sitting back in his chair. He calmly looked around the room, and caught the barmaid's attention. She looked like coming over to see what he wanted was the last thing she wanted to do; and instead of beckoning her over, Captain Kidd held up a hand to shoo her away.

She grabbed the bartender and the two of them disappeared to the back of the house with the cook.

Smart woman.

One of the men laughing had gotten up to make like he was stiffly marching in place, and Wire admitted, he did look like those little trinkets some of the winter islands like to sell than was dressed up like a rank and file solider. He didn't really understand why they thought that a good insult for Boss Killer unless they though his mask implied he was some kind of animatron.

Boss Killer strode over, not pausing for a second in his forced casual saunter, and grabbed the back of the man's head and slamming it down amongst the half empty plates of his laughing crew.

The whole tavern was so quiet a pin drop could be heard. Boss Killer said absolutely nothing in his own defense, turning pointedly to turn to the crew's supposed captain. The man's face was twisted red and furious, spurting as he failed to form words.

"Laugh," Captain demanded, "My toy solider did something funny, after all."

Heat chuckled at least, stretching out his neck and shoulders, preparing for the fight to come. Wire causally finished eating the last bit of his diner.

Boss Killer let go of the twitching man on the table, standing up straight over the table's leader, daring him to retaliate.

The man took the bait, pulling a pistol from his hip; Captain narrowed his eyes, but Boss Killer was faster, twisting around so the bullet passed harmlessly by and smashing his knee into the man's temple.

And the fight was truly on, Captain flinging the metal silverware out as impromptu shrapnel as he casually got up to cover Boss Killer's back, Heat bouncing up on their own table to kick a plate across the way and into one of them who'd been laughing's face. Wire grabbed his trident from where it had been resting out of the way by the wall, and used the pole to bat one of the angry men away with a blow to the face.

And then the tavern devolved into blood-lust and chaos. Apparently it wasn't just the two of their groups that had beef with each other and fights between other groups started immediately.

So long as they didn't get involved with theirs, Wire thought dryly.

And with little overlap they had not. Those who'd laughed at the mocking found themselves being turned around and shoved right back at the foursome when they tried to use the havoc to sneak away; The Kidd pirates had clearly called dibs and no one was too interested in meddling in that.

It was a great brawl. But, like all fights, a man's stamina only lasted so long, and the price of laughter had finally been paid.

Now the fighting had continued out into the streets, but that was someone else's business at the point, The Kidd Pirates having proven their point and dealt with those who'd harassed them; the rest was all the other parties, and Wire hoped they enjoyed their night as sounds of the brawl faded into the night.

The hall was in shambles, a massacre with abandoned corpses scattered about, and Captain Kidd frowned, dropping a few more gold coins on the abandoned bar counter as he helped himself to another bottle or four of whiskey, plopping them down at their original table and kicking his chair back upright.

Wire absently-mindedly tapped his weapon on the ground to try knock some of the blood and gore off the ends, before retaking his seat, Heat back at his side, legs crossed under him, looking content.

However, once Boss Killer sat back down, Captain dropped a bare palm to the top of the helmet. The two said nothing for a moment, Heat coughing as he found anything else to look at for the time being, and Wire glanced around to confirm they were really alone.

"fwa.. Fine." Boss Killer chuckled, "Whatever Captain wants," and let Captain pull the metal off, ducking his head down and messing with his bangs once it was free, trying to tame them back from the sweaty mess they'd clumped up in.

"Eat your fucking pasta." Captain said as he set the helmet on the table, fishing through the assorted tableware until he found a fork that was probably clean - or at least hadn't been one used to murder anyone in the last hour, and stabbing into Boss Killer's discarded fettuccine with it.

October 06. Lipstick

Victoria had been a mill girl since she was 10, a doffer for the older women in the textile mill, and earning herself a bed at the Women's Boarding House, tucked away on the city side of the mill complex, blocking the city's view of the textile manufacturing building and the waste it dumped freely out into the Heaps. She was well aware of the good fortune she'd fallen into, having seen the conditions other girls and boys her age outside of the walls lived in. She was almost 16 now, and still sleeping in the same bed night after night.

The years of being underpaid and overworked left her with a roof over hear head, three square meals a day, and never having to worry about the things that go bump in the night.

Never had to worry about the unwanted attention of the older boys as not a one of them yet able to sneak past the Widow Matron of her building.

 That wasn't to say Victoria had not been sneaking a certain younger boy in for a couple of years now.

Three years actually - right under the nose of the adults - with the exception of one of the nurses who'd taught Victoria herself the tricks on a night the young woman preferred not to remember. It was a good thing Killer made a convincing girl, prettier hair than her own, and a wore her dresses and heels as naturally as she did. She just had to make sure he was out by curfew or someone was bound to notice the extra girl at head count.

Once, on one of her free weekends, her dress had torn along the back when it got caught on a nail or something. Instead of going home - and possibly be misunderstood as forfeiting her remaining free time - she'd convinced Killer (and Kidd because she'd forgotten to lock the door) to follow her into a shop's bathroom and put her dress on so she could sew it back up as properly as one could on the fly.

While using him as a dress form - she wasn't particular well devolved and he was about as wide chested as she was and it fit him well enough for the task - Kidd had asked the two if that meant Killer was a girl.

Killer had looked upset, it was too close to the ugly things the other boys called him and while she knew Kidd didn't know any better, it was still bordering on hurtful.

"What's wrong with being a girl?" she had demanded of him. Kidd looked surprised, before slouching against the main door, looking properly told off, muttering "Nuthin'."

With a frown, she'd turned back to her stitching, when Killer spoke up, his voice timid in a way she wasn't used to, "Victoria wears pants most of the time, does that make her a boy?" he asked Kidd.

"...no?"

"You're wearing one of her old shirts right now - does that made you a girl?"

The boy shook his head no.

"It's just clothes and stuff."

"Okay." Kidd agreed, sounding like right now he just want the conversation to end.

But Victoria had looked at Killer in her favorite yellow dress - it was the wrong colour for him, but made a cute silhouette.

She'd brought him an older blue one of hers a few weeks later. They'd snuck into the bathroom again, and she'd dressed him up and it looked so much better than the yellow one had.

And then they'd waltzed right in though the front doors of her boarding house, only barely keeping composed long enough to shut them away in her currently empty door room before they were laughing wildly, clutching at each other to keep form falling over.

"I can't believe that worked!" Killer was cackling, and neither could Victoria, but the thrill off getting such a big one over on the Widow Matron was a high she'd not been expecting.

Most of the time, Victoria was more than happy to hang out with both of the boys, but there was something exhilarating in sneaking Killer away from both his child moocher and past the women of the boarding house. She was pretty sure some of the other girls had suspected something was up seeing as Killer - who had the audacity to introduce himself as Killer still - could never be found at meals or at bed check.

So far though, the only thing anyone had actually said was when Nicolette had still been in the room getting ready when Victoria and Killer slipped in one afternoon. Killer had quickly looked away from the half-dressed woman, blushing, and Victoria had felt a little offended he'd never reacted to /her/ that way. Nicolette had frowned at the interruption but otherwise ignored them, at least until she was putting her things away. She held a little tube up thoughtfully, before tossing it to Victoria. Even surprised, she'd caught it with ease, looking confused.

"Killer'd look good in purple, I think." was all Nicolette said, before heading out for her own night on the town.

It was a tube of lipstick. Victoria and Killer looked at it thoughtfully.

Nicolette was right. Killer did look good in purple. It was a soft lilac colour that worked well with his straw yellow hair and ice blue eyes. Victoria found she liked painting him up in it, some times adding a touch of purple powder that she'd later pick up to the creases of his eyelids.

Sometimes, after he was all dolled up, they'd hit the town together. Other days they spend in her dorm room. "Just don't mess up your lipstick" was her only rule.

And then he'd either escort her back to the doors just before 10, or would be sneaking out the back, headed back to the Heaps. He had a small collection of makeup that was just his that he hid in one of this caches, along with the dress. The other clothes he would bring back to Kidd, who was more than happy to wear even the ugliest prints if not for anything more than the fact they'd never belonged to anyone else before him.

Kidd would watch him those nights, carefully washing the makeup off under the flickering of lamp light.

"You don't have to wash it off..." Kidd had said finally, "If you don't want to. I don't care if you like to look pretty."

Killer had smiled at him, head tilted so his bangs fell away from his face for once, and he studied his younger friend, "You think I look pretty?"

October 07. Hair

"You got taller."

"You grew your hair out." Its hard to tell for sure what Killer really thinks about things these days; a lifetime living in each other's pockets can't be erased in just two years, but besides just hiding his expression behind ragged bangs, Killer's added a cloth tied around his lower face. But he tilts his head the same way, right ear up, left shoulder - his weaker shoulder - hunching up and in and Kidd can feel him judging him through his lashes. Can picture it so clearly in him mind, and he smirks. "It looks good."

And he means that; Growing up they way they did often mean cutting mattes out of Killer's hair, never getting a chance to grow too long no matter what they tried. Hell, Kidd had cried that last time he'd had to take a knife to Killer's hair. A fight with other Heaps' folk had Killer landing in a tar spill and even though they'd walked away the victor, Killer's hair was a complete loss. They'd gotten in a brawl with Victoria only a few days before that, and then Kidd had to cut Killer's hair to the scalp in a few places, and it was too much at once for his 13 year old self.

Killer had the world's worst haircut but Kidd was the one who had to be coddled.

Well, Joke was on them both because Killer would abandon him too the next year anyway.

"I guess ditching me for running water worked out well for you."

"And I'm leaving" Killer growled, and Kidd wanted to let him leave. Wanted Killer to be the one who walked away from the meeting, to reject him again. He was still angry and he -flung- a handful of bolts at the back of Killer's head. Unfortunately for him, Killer ducked in time, grabbed a brick from off the ground, and hurtled it back at him.

Kidd did manage to avoid getting hit but it was nothing as graceful as Killer's maneuver.

"The hell are you thinking!? What if someone saw you!" Killer hissed, marching back, head swiveling  nervously like he was looking around to make sure none of his little gaggle of groupies had seen anything.

It was infuriating, and Kidd felt his temper getting the better of him, "What if someone... are you serious! Are you trying to mom me NOW?"

Killer stopped up short like Kidd had smacked him. Good.

"Nono. No. Do you hear yourself? You fucking left me," Kidd -flung- another handful of scraps and trash at Killer who avoided it as easily as the first round, "You left and fucking now you're trying to come in and order me around like you have any say in my life anymore!"

He -threw- another round, this time it felt like it was mostly screws, at Killer. The man's fists were clenched, but instead of letting Kidd goad him into a real fight, he shoved them in the pockets of the almost-not-holey jeans he was wearing.

"So you can fuck off and I will use my fucking devil fruit however the fuck I want, when ever the fuck I feel like!" He -threw- another handful of screws and scrap. This time Killer didn't dodge it, and Kidd winced when the scattershot slammed into his former friend's side. Kidd dropped his hand down, metal falling quiet around them. "Kil...Killer, I didn't..."

"You're right. You can do whatever you want now. Big bad boss of your own."

It was Kidd's turn to stick his hands in his pockets.

"Keep the Heaps. It's yours. My people'll clear out by tonight." Kidd had nearly forgotten the whole reason they'd met up - supposedly to hash out turf lines. Killer'd only just been named Boss after all, and had to prove he was up to the task. Instead Killer just ceded the whole dispute to him.

"Just like that? And if they don't?"

"If they got a problem with it, I'm sure they come running to join you."

"Unless they stab you in the back over it first." - Do you have someone now.. watching your back?

Killer just shrugs, turning away.

Kidd will go back to his crew, Killer'll go back to his own new shiny family, and they'd glare at each other over turf lines when they bothered to pretend the other existed at all, and go back to hating each other again.

Killer really did look nice with his hair grown out like that. It was as pretty as Kidd could have ever imagined, and he bet it was a soft as it looked.

...

Ceithir Gormaichean, Kidd still missed him.

October 08. Care

There were a handful of older kids that had all beefed with him and Killer at one point or another before. Today had been a monster of a teen with dingy blue hair that had come at Kidd with a pipe, waving it around like a sword instead of a club. In contrast, as thick as he was, his buddy was skinny, stringy orange hair falling around his ears and ugly sunglasses with half smashed lenses came at them with an actual knife. A few other ugly ass-hats that had been loitering around the last few hours rushed in with the charge.

They liked the spot Kidd and Killer had set up in this spring and thought that it would serve their gaggle of delinquents better than the two loners. They changed their minds pretty quick when Killer showed them exactly why he was named what he was, and it would take more then the six of them to take on the one of him, especially with Kidd watching his back.

Blue and Orange had run off like beaten dogs, leaving Killer and Kidd to deal with the four dead bodies before their camp got stunk up. The down side to a good brawl was having fucking chores to do afterward, Kidd thought moodily. They lived in a literal dump - cleaning house should be the one thing they never had to bother with.

He was kicking the last of the bodies over one of the ledges when he felt the creak before he heard it, a sharp itch building under his skin and he'd frozen in place; Killer's head shot up a few yards away, and Kidd knew something bad was going to happen. Killer's always kinda had a sixth sense about this kinda thing, and if Kidd was noticing something was off too...

The scrap under his feet was whispering for him to -do- something, before the sounds of shifting garbage thundered out. Something at the base of the Heaps had shifted, and Killer was running towards him, but only getting further away.

Kidd lost his footing, the ground dropped out from under him and he was falling. He tucked in tight on himself, the shifting debris -sticking- to him as he tumbled, feeling like a katamari ball the farther he rolled.

The rapid flickering of trash covered earth and smog ridden sky gave way to complete darkness as the metal scraps closed in around him, the unforgiving ground rushing up unseen to meet him.

***

"shi- ... -idd! Kidd!"

Kidd blinked up at the hazy afternoon sky, trying to figure out why he was sleeping outside.. and.."What hit me?"

Killer's voice was far away, but that was absolutely him calling.

"I'm here!' he called out, pushing himself up right with only a little difficulty, "I'm okay!"

Killer was scrambling over the lip of the little hollow Kidd had come to a rest in, pulling back some of the larger pieces that had following him in and left him loosely cocooned in at he bottom

"Hi," he waved, still a little disorientated, Killer did not 'Hi' back so much as fling himself at kidd and starting patting him down for injuries.

"I'm fine!" he insisted, but Killer wasn't listening, carefully checking him over, particular attention paid to his back and neck and head. And Kidd let him because Killer looked scared.

"I'm okay." he tried again as Killer watched his pupils for a reaction, hands pushing Kidd's headband away to run fingers over the back of his skull. Kidd was never goign to get his hair to sit right now, but the panic in Killer's eyes kept him from bitching at the moment.

"Kil! I'm okay!" he repeated, mirroring Killer by pressing his hands over Killer's ears and making him stop and really look at him.

"You're okay?"

"I'm okay.... Are /you/ okay?"

Killer scoffed, a wet chuckle that seemed to stick in his chest,"You're the one who fell, dumb-ass."

***

Kidd could already tell Killer was going to be insufferable for the time being, a proper worry wart. They should be celebrating. they'd defended their home, kicked ass, and Kidd had beaten a mountain. Instead, he already knew Killer was going to mollycoddle him the next few days.

And dammit. He was going to let him. Killer had always been real good about not talking down to him and treating more like a partner in crime than a literal child, at least more than anyone else would. And the worse part was, Kidd was pretty sure this be his friends reaction no matter how old Kidd got, and he was just going to have to suffer with the mothering for the next while.

The things you did for friends, he mussed, hours later, tucked safely in Killer's arms as the chill of the night failed to creep past Killer's hold. Killer was unstoppable - bullies or nature herself. And if anyone tried to call Killer soft or pathetic for it, Kidd was going to kick their teeth in.

Somehow in the last year - Kidd's gotten himself an entourage.

A half dozen were older kids that he and Killer had kicked the asses of at some point over the years. There was the not!sisters that went everywhere together, and Kidd welcomed them with a heavy heart, feeling his own former partner's betrayal even time he saw the duo. Wasn't their fault though, and Kidd was getting better about not holding that against people as of late. Throw in a handful who were just sycophants that he'd fallen in with, and then one or two city folks that ran out of luck and had headed to the Heaps to hide.

They'd been under the impression the Heaps where no man's land - they didn't know the it was Kidd's now. He'd nearly turned them away, sent them back to the city, but they'd prostrated before him and he'd never seen anyone do that before. Curiously had kept them around, nothing more.

And then Boogie had brought him another outsider, a large monster of a woman that had nothing but disdain for Kidd and clearly wanted to be anywhere but the Heaps. She had, like the others from the city, had run afoul of one of the bosses. Unlike the others, she knew immediately who he was.

"Solider Boy talks about you."

Kidd froze in place, his people turning to look at him curiosity. "Sorry," Kidd decides finally, "Don't know any solider boys."

She shrugs.

"What did you think the name drop was going to get you?"

"One more night still breathing."

"Hmm... Fine. Granted."

***

Being a teen and the boss did mean people thought he was an easy target. Unfortunately, sometimes it was people he'd given a second chance to. There weren't a lot of guns on Kutsukku - smuggling weapons past the Marines out in open waters carried too high of a risk, and few on Kutsukku had the funds for the payment demanded for them.

But just because there were not a lot of something did not mean none were on the island. Kidd just learned the hard way what a bullet felt like, hot and sharp in his side. It had completely blindsided him, not even an option in his mind, and he had stood there dumbly as his brain attempted a reboot.

A second shot never came - not because Kidd or any of his crew reacted, but instead the woman, the one from the gang Killer ran with now, stood over his crumpling assailant, rusting pipe in hand. She looked about as shocked as he did, stepping back uneasy as he was rushed by his own people.

The bullet responded to his -pull- gracefully at least, and he held the small ball of metal in his palm as someone else saw to the blood pouring out of his gut. It -sang- harmlessly in his hand now, the treacherous little thing, and Kidd -rolled- it over and over, committing its weight and song to memory so as to not ever fall victim to it or its kind again.

His man named only Sunglasses watched the little bullet -dance- in his hand uneasily, before Kidd closed his fist around it, face daring the other to make a comment.

None came.

***

"What was your name again?"

She shrugged, rubbing at the bracelets on her thick wrist. Kidd could understand that.

"Why'd you save me?"

"I told you, Solider Boy talks about you."

"You mean Killer, don't you?"

"Boss Athair doesn't think he's earn a name like that yet, took it away."

"Fuck him." Kidd growled. She smirked. "How.... how is he?"

She looked contemplative, "Quiet. He follows order, doesn't complain, and personally, I think he's damn proven himself. Ceannard, Boss Athair's second, has taken a shine to him, thinks he's got promise. Honestly, I think more of us like the two of them than Boss Athair these days."

Kidd picked at his bandages. "That's why you're here. Because you picked Killer over your boss."

"Solider Boy convinced me to leave before I ended up.. well," she gestured to the man whose skull she'd bashed in, "not unlike him."

Kidd looked at the corpse.

"He had a gun."

She nodded. "City Boss - one of the big ones. He's got god money, and delusions of grandeur. Buys up all kinda of shit, all kinds of people. Kinda man you don't tell no too."

Kidd scowled. "Well, fuck him too. That trick won't work a second time."

"Hope not." She said, so quiet Kidd almost missed it.

"Well..." he hedged, "at least while your own boss has a stick up his ass, as long as you don't mind the smell and the toxic waste, you're welcome to run with us."

October 10. Grief

Killer's passed out on his bed - hair loosely braided back, mask and shoes off, but otherwise fully dressed. He's on his side, arms crossed awkwardly, left hand curled over his right shoulder, left hand tucked under his cheek like it was meant to do the same but didn't quite make it, face wedged into the v of his wrists, bangs brushing his knuckles.

Kidd dimmed the room lamp before stripping off his own coat and boots, tossing his googles on the desk next to Killer's helmet. A shower would probably be a better idea, he thought, stripping off his vest and unbelting his kilt, looking over his partner. Killer slumbered on, clearly exhausted. Kidd crawled into bed behind him, shushing the sleepy mumble voiced by Killer.

He reached around the man, fingers slotting in to Killer's on his left hand, pulling it away from where he'd shoved it into his own face. Killer whined a disagreement, but calmed when Kidd pressed his forehead into the exposed crook of his neck, pillowing his head up on his left stump. Their entwined hand was tucked up next to Killer's right, and Kidd sighed into Killer's shoulder, wedging his knee between Killer's until he shifted finally and Kidd slid his leg in, pulling his partner back into him.

Kidd could feel the exact moment Killer's subconscious caught up to it being him and all the tension in Killer eased out, the man going slack and boneless in his embrace. His breathing deepened not too long after and Killer slid into dreamland.

It had taken Kidd years to finally be strong enough to be the 'big spoon.' Years before he was powerful enough to keep them both safe from the things that went bump in the night. Until then, they'd depended on Killer to keep them safe.

Kidd still had nightmares about one night when he was small - maybe 9 at the oldest - the house they'd been squatting in during the rainy season had been broken into by a group of older boys. Killer had set them up to sleep in the kitchen; had always kept them in back rooms on the first floor, away from doors but close to windows. Killer'd woken that night first but realized that by the time he was hoisting Kidd up on the counter and opening the window, they wouldn't have enough time to get away.

He'd only had enough precious moments to get Kidd crawling into cabinets next to the sink to hide instead before the group of teen boys had stumbled in.

There'd been no time for Killer to hide too, and while he had fought back, in the end, he'd been too small and weak against the group. Kidd had watched from a gap in the cabinets, had watched them beat and torture his friend for hours, kept sequestered away only by Killer's pleading silent look, begging him to stay hidden when he thought it safe to look in Kidd's direction.

He'd nearly been discovered when one of their tormentors had made a cruel joke about how filthy Killer was, still pinned under them on the broken tile floor. One of the boys started rooting through the cabinets for something afterwards, Kidd frozen in terror as they searched closer and closer to his spot. Killer - exhausted and brutalized - redoubled his efforts to get free.

They'd found a collection of discarded cleaning items under the sink - just one tiny cabinet wall away from Kidd. They'd dumped the jug of chemicals on Killer; who'd screamed when it hit his face, getting one arm free to try and protect himself, only for the rest of the bottle to be upended on him anyway.

Kidd internalized every cruelty inflicted on Killer that night, as those boys burned, tortured and raped his friend in front of him for hours. Kidd would grow up to be a cruel man with little mercy to those in his way. But he would have hard set limits on the violence he begot onto others, and the things he watched Killer suffer from that night all means he could not bring himself to inflict back.

While Killer slept easy in his arms, Kidd felt his thoughts continue to drift to that night, his thumb rubbing Killer's jaw, running along the line of bone, soft skin meeting the softer strands of goatee. Once they were done, one of the boys had taken his belt, and tied it around Killer's thin neck, tightening it until the little metal prong caught in its smallest setting, leaving Killer jerking and spasming under him as the others had laughed. The one with the belt had sat on Killer's chest as he'd strangled the pre-teen, watching his eyes bulge and face darken and purple. Kidd watched as they waited for Killer to stop moving, watched him die under them.

Then they left him laying there in a puddle of filth and bleach on the kitchen floor of some backstreet dilapidated home as they wandered off to pillage the rest of the house, to barricade themselves in some room upstairs to shoot up or whatever had drawn them to the building in the first place. Leaving Kidd to sit in the dark with a corpse.

He's still there, some nights, waking up in the dark, the walls of the cabinets closing in around him, blood and cleaning solution filling his nose, Killer's small child body left abandoned. He'd find Victoria in a similar manner years later. The men who'd killed her actually tried to hide her body. They'd just left Killer discarded out in the open.

 There'd been nothing he could do to save Victoria. In his dreams, he can't save Killer either. That night, once Kidd was sure the boys were done with this room, he'd quietly crawled back out of the hidey-hole Killer had stuffed him in. The window over the sink lead to the back ally, and he'd drug Killer's body out that window, hauling him on his back, and dragging, carrying him down the dark crumbling cobblestone, blinded by his own snot and tears and the heavy summer rain. 

Kidd had run until his legs gave out, leaving him sitting in the downpour sobbing, Killer's body still draped over him. He'd finally pulled Killer into his lap, blood on his face and thighs washed away under the unending rain. Kidd believed his world had ended and he wept. The rain had nearly drowned out the single clue to Killer's fate; Kidd's dreams are haunted by what would have been if he missed that soft struggling wheeze. That desperate gasping of air as Killer tried still to draw air past the belt.

Kidd had lain him out quickly on the soaked ground, ear pressed to Killer's lips in hopes he hadn't imagined the noise, only to hear it again. His tiny hands had scrambled at the belt; he'd have to tighten it to unwedge the little metal pin in the belt hole, and he listened carefully for the moment Killer attempted another breath. As soon as the horrid wheezing noise was heard, Killer's lungs filling with what little air he could get, Kidd pulled the belt tight, desperately fumbling with the thin pin to release it.

He was so sure he'd kill Killer fiddling with it in the rain, unable to get to free when finally it -twisted- under his hands, and Kidd was pulling the leather away. Killer would wear the thick wide bruising for weeks after and a lifetime of trauma with anything closed around his neck or even the leather that became the trademark of Kidd's crew in later years. He lay hiccuping gasping gulps of air under Kidd in the rain, colour in his face almost immediately fading, eyes fluttering open for just the briefest moment before drifting close. Before drifting still and limp once again.

Kidd sat over him, belt in hand, rain beating down on them both. Killer lay panting in his lap for a long moment, before he clutched at Kidd's shaking hand with his own broken one. Pulled it close to him like Kidd held him now, years later, across the world.

Killer slept soundly in his arms tonight, decade and some change removed from the night Kidd had dragged Killer and himself under an outcropping of trash to try and stay dry. At some point, Killer had lost one of his shoes, his pants tangled in his remaining one. Kidd had redressed him, clothes brittle and spotty from the bleach, using the belt meant to take his life to put him into rights when the ripped seams prevented his pants from staying on correctly. It would be the first night Kidd would stay wake to greet the sun, protectively curled around his only friend, teeth bared at every creak in the dark.

He'd drift tonight, but never fully sleep. Never did when he was alone, and certainly never did when Killer was in his arms. Before Kaido and Wano, as long as he knew either Wire or Heat were on watch, he would have slept soundly on the Punk since they'd hit the Grand Line. Not anymore. He inhaled sharply though his nose, the smell of his partner soothing his nerves as the memories of the night as a child overlayed with the day he followed the haunting distressed cackles across cold fields to find his partner bound and bleeding and dragged and stumbling behind a horse drawn cart. Pawns of Orachi and Kaido tormenting Killer, the faces of the boys of Kutsukku overlapping their features.

Kidd glanced at the heavy door of his quarters, picturing the ship that lay on the other side. Picturing the crew sleeping below deck in gently swaying hammocks, the night owls in the galley quietly idling away the hours. Of Heat setting in for his turn at watch, Wire resting for a few more hours before he would replace him. Kidd tightened around Killer, heels hooking around Killer's calves and pulling closer, causing the man to left out a sleepy chuckle and a soft sigh. Killer slept on. Kidd kept watch all the same.

October 11. Meeting

Kidd sat on the throne of blood, opulence and wealth around him, the other three bosses before him.

The whole island was at his fingertips - everything Kutsukku had to offer his for the taking. The thick plush carpets and heavy tapestries on the walls. Glistening hardwood and marble floors. Paintings framed in gold.

His whole life - he couldn't fathom such affluence. The trash cans of this new world he had conquered held more wealth than his name once did.

This is what killed Victoria. The hand that stuck her down might have belonged to the corpse he's left smeared across the floor down stairs - but this place is what killed her in the end. The drive to take ever penny from the island, just to decorate rooms like this.

He could live the rest of his life in luxury here. Haunted by Victoria but never wanting another day in his life. Only...

"Do what you want." he said finally, pushing himself up out of the plush chair. "I'm taking my cut and I'm out of here."

Bosses Heat & Wire just nodded; this was a temporary alliance at best. They'd had their own reasons for joining, but Victoria had never been one of them. If there was a way to end this amicably, then all the better.

Killer however...

"Out of here?"

They used to be friends. Hell, Killer was the closest to a parent Kidd had. The last couple of years had pushed them apart but once...

Once they'd crawled around the Heaps together - playing pretend. Imagined the trash yard as any place but here. Of the ocean and the blue blue horizon and of adventure and escape.

Of Roger and his treasures.

Oh, better far to live and die

Of that stupid little ditty that he'd heard as a child. Little him clinging to the words of drunken fools filling his head with fantastic nonsense.

Under the brave black flag I fly,

"Yeah... Out of here..." He looked at the wealth around the room. "Certainly enough here for a ship of my own."

Than play a sanctimonious part,

"A ship?" Boss Wire asked; he and Heat both looking at him curiously.

With a pirate head and a pirate heart

It wasn't like being a pirate was a step down from a crime boss. He'd still be his own man, but without this awful island holding him down.

Away to the cheating world go you,

"Yeah... Buy a ship. Sail out of here. Never look back" he grinned, a little manic, looking a the other three as the idea took hold for the first time with any real roots. It's a child fantasy. But now...

Where pirates all are well to do,

"Come with me. Fuck this plate. We'll take what we want; burn this place down and just go."

But I'll be true to the song I sing,

"That's a big ask, kid boss. What are we gonna do with a boat? Fish?"

And live and die ~!

"I'm gonna be the Pirate King."

Killer face was unreadable as ever, hidden behind bangs and a blood splattered cloth mask. But Kidd knew he was staring him down. Judging his resolve.

It was a child's declaration. Shouted back in the days when Victoria didn't hate them yet and Killer still curled around him in the dark to chase away both chills and the things that went bump in the night.

If wire or heat thought to mock him, the intensity of the look between Kidd and Killer held their tongues.

Finally Killer looked away, "You don't know shit about sailing."

"I'll learn. I'll get people who do, to teach me."

"You hate being told what to do. Who'd you actually bother to listen to long enough to learn?"

"You."

Killer looked up sharply at that, this time his hair fell in a way to pierce Kidd with a ice blue glare.

"Boss Killer - you sail?" Heat asked softly.

"That was along time ago. I was a child." He never looked away from Kidd, voice chipped and cold.

"Yet you had /such/ a stick in your ass about it when we played pretend." Kidd goaded, "Used to hit me when I called the imaginary ropes the wrong thing."

"I have a few men who've sailed," Wire offered as a way to ease the tension building in the room, "Self included. Small boats only, but I do know a little."

"So Killer & Wire sail with me." Kidd looked at the last man standing, "You wanna stay here and be King Boss, or come with us, Heat?"

Wire raised a delicate eyebrow at Kidd's assumption he was gong along with him just like that, but... "You coming with us Heat?" he teased his long-time rival.

Heat scowled, "And what, the kid Boss will be Pirate King? What does that make the rest of us?"

"Free." Killer murmured solemnly.

Wire, Heat & Kiss looked at him sharply.

Kidd nodded slowly.

Yeah.

Free.

<><><>

She's not a home yet, but Kidd feels like it's the closest he's ever had to just a place. Home was the people - places can be taken from you too easily. He'd learned that very early in life. And recently, he learned people could be taken away too, at any time with even less warning. But he'd not going to let that happen again. This will be Home - and he could afford to have one built just for him. But She called...

"I want Her." was all he said.

"Okay Captain," was all Wire & Heat said. Killer nodded in approval.

In turn, Kidd had turned to look at the trio - stunned by the name. Heat just smirked back, Wire shrugged, and Killer walked right on past him to flag down one of the ship masters.

October 12. Love Language

The charm Killer had as a small child - the one that set adults at ease and gave him sympathy candies or coins - hadn't followed him into the reign of the newest City Boss. The men and woman who'd fed him if he gave them sad looks and batted his eye lashes were rotting in the bottom of the bay, and the ones who did give him a second glance these days had hands that lingered too long. Worse - those men seemed to want him to bring the kid around too and Killer would do a lot for a hot meal, but not at the kid's expense.

Killer had tried to do right by the kid - tried to take him to the adults for care, but no one wanted another little boy - another mouth to feed and still to small to do work in compensation. Killer knew that rejection intimately, tried not to let Eustass' sunshine boy see him crying hot bitter tears at the unfairness of the whole ordeal. The factories would scoop up the little girls, tuck them away in their brick boarding houses... but no one wanted the boys. Not until they where big enough and old enough to fight and bleed for them.

Killer had finally gotten big enough to belong to that, but with his last Boss and his men slaughtered, no he had to keep his head down and stay quiet unless someone realized he was missed in the coup. This last turf war had him starting back over a square one again, only this time with the responsibility of someone else. And Killer couldn't bring himself to leave the boy behind; he'd been apart of the wooden post side as long as he could remember. The dock men his only family, the innkeepers for the transients the only parental care he'd known. Eustass had been a hard-ass, but his old lady and the cook had regularly welcomed him in on cold and stormy nights, even when he didn't have a coin to his name. Even before he had a name!

Last winter, 10 days after First-Foot, Eustass himself had cornered Killer at the docks handed him a soft ball wrapped in shiny paper, and told him under no uncertain terms was he to open it, and instead bring it to the Tavern right at sundown. At that point, Killer had been delivering all sorts of things he wasn't allowed to look at to all sorts of people he wasn't allow to talk to, and had held his free hand out demanding coin for the job. Eustass had smacked him upside the head and told him not to be greedy.

Well - Killer knew where to find the miserable old man if he didn't pay up in the end at least.

10 days into the new year, Killer entered Eustass' Tavern & Inn through the front door for the first time. Payday was 4 nights ago (9 more until the next one) and the Tavern was quiet, a sign posted on the door that he couldn't actually read - he wasn't a strong reader to start with, and it was far too long for him to puzzle out, but he did know that one of the words meant closed - which just confused him further. But Eustass had given him clear instructions, and the door had not been locked, so Killer let himself in.

He was expecting some kind of nefarious Boss meeting - he'd delivered to those quite a few times, Killer just didn't know Eustass was involved in that scene. Instead, he found the lights mostly dimmed, voices chatting away towards the kitchen.

Before he could call out, Mòr Mhàthair, the Matron of the business herself, peaked around the corner. He didn't think he'd ever seen someone brighten so much at seeing him of all people, and he turned to make sure someone else hadn't followed him in. No.. No the woman was smiling at him. She must have been waiting for the delivery.

"Wee barra!" she beckoned him over, and he dutifully held out the package once he reached her side. Instead, she'd gently corralled him in to where the staff and their children set up at a little table in the kitchen, "Chan eil, thoir dha a bhobain e."

Sunshine boy was sat at the place of honour, happily munching on black bun, a small stack of 6 shiny coins next to his plate. Killer looked back to the adults to make sure he was fulfilling the request correctly, surprised to see Eustass smirking at him from the back corner next to the oven. The old man nodded for him to go on, and Killer held out the wrapped package to the boy.

"Là breith sona dhuit!" Everyone chorused as the child tore into the paper, revealing small little stuffed toy of a boar. Killer froze, caught off guard as the words sunk in.

"Did Killer get you a little friend?" the cook asked, and the child held it up for all to see, a smile as bright as the sun across his face.

"Innis do Killer 'tapadh leibh.'" Eustass said, and the birthday boy turned to Killer with that thousand watt smile.

"Thank you Killer!"

Then they'd sat Killer down with the other children at the table of the birthday boy, fed him rich fruit cake and lamb cabbage rolls and when it had gotten late and time for all good boys to be in bed, the cook had tucked him already half asleep into one of the booths closest to the kitchen where the oven kept everything warm. He'd woken the next morning to fresh bread and a few coins for his trouble.

How could he ever abandon the kid after that, the only piece left to any of the good people who had the misfortune of being remembered by him alone.

First-Foot this year was more muted than Killer could ever remember; he'd always spend that night in the Heaps - he knew better than to risk someone's whole year on the likes of him - but there's always been such grandeur leading up to it. Festivals of fire and music and foot. Winter's were harsh, and everyone revealed in a chance to find some warmth and joy. But this last winter had been cold and grey and bitter. And no fanfare to banish the old in favor of new.

Still, dutifully, he counted the days - he'd always been very good at keeping track of things like that, and once the kid was set up on his little corner for begging, Killer slipped away. Usually, he stuck nearby, pilfering pockets. But he had a plan today that involved something else. He'd been skimping on the food he'd been buying for himself, trying to save up a few more coins for today especially.

Fruit might be expensive in the winter, but meat was in steady supply even if a lot was imported these days. Killer also knew for a fact that at least one tavern had gotten in some winter cabbage and he could easily get there and back before the kid missed him.

Days where short this time of year, and Killer got back just as the sun slipped behind the buildings and the temperatures started to drop. Little coin could be made this late - most people rushing to get home while any warmth remained, and Killer and the kid where no different. They picked their way quickly back to the hovel they had built for themselves in the Heaps this winter.

Once Killer - the larger of the two - crawled in, they drug the large scrap of sheet metal over the entrance until there was just enough room for the smaller boy to slip in. There was no one in the Heaps smaller than him and no one knew just how big the shelter was once inside, so they where left unbothered.

Killer moved a second smaller sheet over the gap from the inside as the kid carefully lit the little lamp they had. The piece would block the light and would help block the wind even if it was still quite drafty. "So where's you disappear to today?" the boy asked him, looking a little accusatory.

"Got a surprise for ya, Sunshine!" Killer help up the two packages he'd produced over the day. The first one was set out on their 'table,' freshly made and still hot cabbage rolls, stuffed with beef. More than enough to fill the stomach of any child.

The second was a little bag he tossed at his friend.

"I hate that name," the boy grumbled, even as he opened the little drawstring bag with a crudely stitched skull and crossbones on the outside. Seven coins spilled out on his palm, one for each year and another for luck. Killer had saved the cleanest newest coins he could find, and then buffed them to a brilliant shine - they'd be spent quickly, but in the mean time they shined like new.

"Sorry, Sorry" Killer had grinned through his apology, "Happy Birthday, kid."

October 13. Dine

"Hyunk it up, you sound like a fucking hyena choking on his own dick!" which only set Kidd off harder, falling back off his stool laughing as he looked up at Victoria's curry soaked dress. It had been her nicest yellow one, one of Killer's favourites, and now it was streaked like someone had shit down her chest.

the visual and her description of Kidd's laugh finally broke the dam on Killer's own chuckles, and he buried his forehead in in his crossed arms at the counter, laughing.

"Like you have any room to laugh," Victoria clearly found none of this amusing, "you fucking bray like donkey, you two pump chump!"

Killer reddened, swallowing uneasy, "Come on, Victoria. Don't be like that." He tried to take her hand and she jerked away, shoving him back into the counter. Kidd was wiping away tears of mirth from his spot on the floor, and a few patrons were starting to edge away uneasy. The owner was approaching, looked angry at the whole ordeal.

"Get out.." he growled.

Victoria sneered at the two boys before storming away. Killer glanced once down at Kidd before chasing after her. Kidd, still tangled in his fallen chair on the ground, smiled sweetly up at the owner. He did not smile back. "OUT!"

Kidd grumbled, following his two friends out to where they were arguing in the side alley, Killer /apologizing/ for laughing, much to Kidd's annoyance. "Come on Doruyanaika," he jeered, her turning away from Killer to glare at him, "You match your name! it's like...destiny!"

Killer cachinnated so hard he was shaking, and Victoria whirled back on him, her fist smashing into the side of his face and Killer went down, blindsided by the hit.

Something about seeing Victoria turn on Killer, that apparently all it had taken was some split curry, was endlessly funny to Kidd and he laughed at Killer's misfortune. Unfortunately, Victoria didn't care he wasn't laughing at her anymore, and she was hitting him next, a fury of fists and Kidd curled into a ball to try and avoid real damage. Killer came to his senses at some point, and tried to calm Victoria down just for her to turn on him again.

The two boys lay battered at her feet, Killer finally biting the bullet and called for mercy for her to stop. Victoria still looked at them in rage, and Kidd had never seen her so mad before. Her face so red he'd of thought she was crying if she hadn't just handed both of them their own asses.

Killer was still talking, trying to smooth things over only for Victoria to shove him away and he stumbled back against the wall, "I hope you drop dead. Don't you ever talk to me again." Before storming off and leaving them to lick their wounds.

Kidd's nose had been broken it turned out, and Killer had a concussion so bad he'd end up puking twice on the way home. Once they'd crawled back to the little shack that passed for home in those days, Kidd watched over his friend, forcing him to say awake at least until the world stopped spinning on him. "Why'd she call you two pump chump?"

"Its.... It's a sex thing; when a guy cums too quick. She was being mean."

"Oh..." Kidd was quiet, before laughing, "it sounds like you were trying to fuck her!"

Killer chuckled back, but it was forced and strained. Kidd turned to study him. "So, did you? Fuck her?"

"Never even kissed her."

<><><>

Years later, Kidd glanced at Killer in the mirror as he diligently wrung bath water out of his loose braid, pleated back for bed. Kidd pulled the toothbrush form his mouth, looking contemplative.

"...what?"

"Just was thinking about when we were kids."

"Oh?"

"When Vicky called you 2 Pump."

Killer scowled, "Figures you remember that."

"First time I caught you lying to me, blame it on that." he shrugged, returning to brushing his teeth.

Killer looked annoyed. "I have never lied to you."

"I do believe I asked if the two of you were screwing around, and you turned so red you looked like a pimple about to pop."

"That's fucking gross."

Kidd just shrugged. "With that fucking mullet you used to have, all red faced and embarrassed...."

"Can't believed you just called me a fucking pimple...."

"Lots worse I could of called you," he spit out toothpaste and rinsed his brush off, "You lied to my face."

"Nope." Killer popping on the 'P' as he rubbed lotion over his nose and across his cheek bones, before looking back at Kidd in the mirror, waiting for his rebuttal.

"Bullshit - I caught you two fucking in the bathroom of the curry joint multiple times. You were not as sneaky as you thought you were."

Killer froze, looking small for a moment, "You did?"

"Saw your white ass way more times than I wanted because you were terrible about locking the door. Had to stand there and keep anyone else from walking in on you two morons several times."

Kidd gargled some mouth wash, spitting it into the sink as Killer looked thoughtful.

"Ready to admit you lied?"

"No..." Killer said finally, very soft. "I didn't said we never fucked, I said we never kissed."

October 15. Modern

Killer had paused in the door way of the workshop, head cocked to the side and watching Kidd frantically clearing space off of his desk, dropping a roll of onionskin paper on the wood with a thud.

"You good there, Kidd?"

"The bastard has a fucking submarine."

It took Killer a moment, lips pursed together in a tight line. "Okay. Aaand?"

"How'd he do it? Did he buy it? Did he steal it?" Kidd had finally shoved enough of his crap around to unroll the stack, and leafed through it for a clear page with a frantic energy that had been rare lately. "Who'd he steal it from? Can't be the marines?"

"Doubt it was the Marines or we'd be hearing more of missing ships on open ocean." Killer crossed his arms and leaned against the door, watching his Captain.

"Somebody's prototype then. Are there more? What iteration is it? How long has he had it?" And Kidd was off, scribbling half processed ideas before rejecting them and sketching something else, "How does it work. It can't be /his/ fruit; does he have another fruit user on his crew?"

Killer let Kidd frantically draw for a little bit, mulling it over, "I've not heard anything that would confirm that.  However, Trafalgar's crew is mostly unknown." he conceded.

"So if not a fruit, how does he deal with the air issue? Some kind of oxygen converter? What about carbon dioxide gas build up? Hell, how does he deal with condensation? How long can she actually stay submerged."

Killer couldn't even hedge a guess on those; they where drifting out of the realm of knowledge Killer had stored up and firmly into the Captain's mad-genius realm.

"How deep can she dive and how does she deal with the increased pressure? What about sea-king deterrents?"

Killer chuckled, shaking his head and watched his partner get /consumed/ with a new idea. Wire wondered by at one point and doubled back to tower over Killer, watching their captain talk to himself, sketching out plans only he would be able to make heads or tails of at the end of the day, and then flip to a new blank sheet.

"Dare I ask?"

"Our captain here just found out one of the other supernovas has a submarine, and now he's gonna hyper-fixate on that for the next 10 hours."

"Only 10?"

"That's all I'm giving him before I drag his ass down to the galley and-" Killer's voice started to rise as he spoke, until it was clear he was also talking directly to Kidd, "- force him to focus on something father away than twelve inches from his face!"

"Yeah, sounds good. I trust your judgement," Kidd mumbled back, clearly not having actually registered a word Killer just said.

In turn, the vice captain looked up at wire and gestured at Kidd in a pointed 'See?' motion.

"Glad Captain trusts your judgement," Wire snarked, before strolling away, highly amused.

Killer just shook his head.

October 16. HighSchool

It's impossible to ignore that things are changing between the two of them. Life is change, but Kidd didn't remember a time not living in Killer's pockets and now he's got more him time then he knows what to do with. Where Killer used to be, Kidd is either alone or bullying the other Heaps punks that think he's easy pickings since he's solo. They don't make that mistake twice, and Kidd has to admit, the occasional throw down is exhilarating. He might start pulling his punches and hoping someone will come back for a round two.

Admittingly, Killer used to ditch him often enough to go hook up with Victoria, sneaking back in at the eleventh hour and Kidd would roll his eyes and pretend he hadn't been sitting up waiting for him to come crawling into bed. When she'd kicked the both of them to the curb last year, Kidd thought that would the end of that. Except Killer still was disappearing on him during the day now.

Killer'd been an early riser their whole lives, so Kidd was used to waking up alone. The older boy - man now, Kidd supposed - wasn't a deep sleeper to start with and had always had trouble sleeping past sunrise. But he rarely went far before Kidd was also up for the day. Lately, the moment Kidd picked his head off the pillow, Killer was heading out.

He'd maybe see him for lunch, but unless Kidd asked him in advance to stick around, Killer was a ghost until evening.

Which was whatever. Kidd didn't care. Hell - it was maybe a little nice in the morning, ever since Kidd had come to the mortifying revelation that the only time he didn't wake up rock hard these days was because he'd creamed his pants at some point in his sleep. Which could have been awkward as hell considering that most places they squatted were too small or too drafty to sleep in any configuration other then curled up together, including the dingy shack they were holed up in now.

Still lazying in their little shared 'bed' now - a broken singles' mattress filled with paper trash - Kidd had to think very hard about not imagining what it was like to sleep next to Killer every night, to imagine Killer still in bed with him in the morning. With a whine, he drug his fingers down his face, pulling his head out of those thoughts, and forced himself up and to his feet. He either needed to deal with this or clear his head, and then get on with his morning.

Killer had left him a filled canteen of clean water, a couple hard boiled eggs, fresh baked bread and a new book.

Another part of their new normal; breakfast and a gift. Killer had fell in good favour with one of the bosses back when they still ran with Victoria, and without her taking up his free time, Killer had been taking on more errands for the gangs. Kidd wasn't real sure how he felt about all that yet. He was vaguely aware Killer had been involved with the gangs before they'd become a duo, but an island wide coup d'etat left him on the loosing side. He'd been pretty paranoid about the bosses since then, but Victoria had to go and change his mind about them all being vicious warmongers. Boss Athair didn't ask for Killer's loyalty and paid more coin for a single errand then the both of them usually scrapped together in a fortnight.

Enough for three fresh meals a day. Enough to pay someone to actually wash their clothes instead of rinsing them in seawater and beating them on the rocks until they were 'clean' or fell apart. Every one of Killer's safe-caches had a full coin purse, and now even Kidd's did too. 

If it kept up, they might even be able to rent a real room next winter, in a real building.

With blankets or even a fireplace.

An actual bed, without bugs and weird smelling mold spots.

A bookshelf for the text books Killer kept finding somewhere.

School books belonging to some Cailean MacCeannard according to the front end page. Killer had several of the guys books by this point, a few clearly ancient primers, but then some more advanced stuff that was way more interesting, like one on that claimed to be the 7th edition of Heat and Thermodynamics, or the Fundamentals of the Theory of Electricity. Granted, Kidd only probably understood a quarter of what the books were talking about, Killer reading out large passages to him some nights since Kidd's reading skills were pretty lacking. Killer didn't understand most of what he said, but Kidd urged him on regardless, Killer's steady voice bringing the author's ideas to life for Kidd.

Today's book was Nonlinear Magnetohydrodynamics and Kidd had not the foggiest what that was suppose to mean, but he flipped through it, studying the diagrams with little context, but still fascinated as he munched on one of the eggs. This one lacked Cailean's name, but did have a some Marine Base Library Stamp on it and it filled him with glee to read the "Library Copy. Do not Remove from Premises" embossed on the title page.

"Mine now," he cackled to himself.

October 17. Sacrifice

Kidd had slept though breakfast - which was not unusual for him - and had wandered down to the galley to pilfer a snack as Pomp & UK cleaned up after the meal. And if Killer was not to busy prepping for lunch, to get the man to make him something personally.

And he planned it perfectly it seemed, because Killer was indeed standing causally at the kitchen counter. He had his notebook out; Killer had his own means of how his thought a kitchen should be run, but so far there's been no real complaints and everyone been well fed. Killer's seasoning work was hit or miss, seeing as he wanted to try every mix or herb or spice with very little experience to back it up.

But it /had/ flavour, and the flavour wasn't penicillin.

at the moment, Killer was repeatedly tapping the pen against the counter in his right, studying something in his left.

"What's up?"

"Its gone bad..."

Kidd paused, looking at his first mate in confusion. He thought Killer was doing meal planning, or inventory or something. That 'gone bad' was a problem, but Killer's voice was distant and almost a little lost.

"How bad?"

Killer's head turned slightly, and he lifted his hand up enough for Kidd to see he was holding a jar of something. He was unreadable behind the mask for most, but Kidd could tell it was worse then the normal stoicism he like to pretend he had once it was on... This was a different quiet - like he was stuck.

Kidd came over to peer into the jar, Killer tilted it to him to see. It was a jar of fruit preserves, still about a third full. The jam itself looked fine, but the sides had begun to grow over with soft wispy mold.

"Do we have more?"

"Different fruit, but yeah."

"The other one still good?"

"Still sealed, so it should be fine."

Kidd made an executive decision then, and took the jar and table knife from Killer.

Killer handed both other with no hesitation.

Kidd left the galley.

Every part of him was trying to get him to turn back around - they could spoon out the bottom still, that was at least four more sandwiches at the bottom. Six if they were for some of the smaller members of the crew. And they had a big crew right now - nearly thirty strong and almost all of them having run with at least one of the four commanders back on the island.

Thirty mouths, at least three times a day. Figuring in the night squad, Killer was feeding a platoon of people four times a day, a meal of some kind on the table every 6 hours. UK had been stepping up and assisting him so the man didn't burn out, familiar enough with Killer to navigate his idiosyncrasies without stepping on any toes. And House, Mosh, Pomp, and Disc J had stepped up from the other gangs to form the Punks' mess hall squad. But it was still thirty people.

And it didn't matter how well stocked they were, there was always that fear that the next time you turn around, the pantry would be empty. They'd all grown up with it, all of them living though days of not being sure where the next meal was coming from. years of getting their hands on just enough food to make it to the next day but never enough to stop feeling hungry.

Kidd contemplated the jar again once he stepped out on deck, an uncertain shadow named Killer trailing behind him. They'd all made themselves to sick in those early days, dropping obscene amounts of money at taverns in those first few ports. They had no idea what shit was worth once off the island, nor had they cared, eating themselves well past the point of healthy. It had taken them all the way to Reverse Mountain to finally start to get a handle on things and Heat had worked with Killer, the two making remarkable progress getting everyone on responsible eating habitats.

Still didn't mean there wasn't severe hang ups lurking under the surface.

Wire had been make his way to bed after his shift, and paused to watch the two of them. Watched the jittery way Killer followed. Watched the jar in Captain's hand.

Kidd stood at the railing, touching the 'good' jam at the bottom with the table knife. /6 people!/ his head was screaming, and he was surprised how hard to was to finally stir it up, loosening the jam and mold both, mixing them. Inseparable. Before he could think about it, he upended the glass, shaking it until the jam fell loose and into the sea.

He could feel Killer tensing up even without looking at him. He did met Wire's gaze though, the man doing his best to looking bored to hind his surprise.

He continued to hold Wire's gaze as he handed the empty jar back to Killer. "We don't do that no more. As long as I'm Captain, we will /never/ go back to that."

He looked at Killer then, "If in doubt, throw it out. You don't serve rotten food to my crew," His voice softened, "and you don't eat anything that's gone off ever again. You hear me?"

"Aye Captain." Killer murmured, taking the jar, shoulder's slumping as he lost tension; The responsibility of the choice taken from him.

October 18. Trust

Kidd was getting better at the smaller things, easily convincing the deadbolt to open for him in the grey afternoon, clouds overhead repeating another day of cold autumn rain. 'Talking to locks' as Killer called it, and there was no way Kidd was going to tell him it was more like singing.

His devil fruit was absurdly loud, all of the time, and everything demanding his attention like ostentatious exotic birds; their songs fighting for his attention at all hours. Most of the time his usage of his abilities was just going, 'Okay sure,' and just -attracting- or -repelling- everything in mass. Which was a great offense/defense kind of move, but didn't work for shit if Killer was standing next to him; his poor friend caught in friendly fire more than hurt by their pursuers these days.

It made Killer extremely paranoid when ever he did, and Kidd's not so sure it has anything to do with any sense of self preservation in the teenager. If Kidd uses his ability, Killer does not leave witnesses.

There had been a boy recently, one that had been nice to them, and while Kidd hasn't really felt any which way about him, he knew Killer liked him. A lot. Caught them making out once after Killer thought he'd gone to sleep.

...

Caught Killer crying over him when a group of thugs hadn't liked them squatting in their turf, and a fight broke out. Kidd had ended up killing a few of them by -repelling- an entire dumpster at them; and it was pretty obvious he'd done it, because he'd yelled it when he'd done so.

It had made it so much easier, calling it out like that. The exhale of sound and breath, and then the metal had moved like an afterthought, no convincing required.

Any joy in him figuring out such a trick was lost though when he turned to his two companions.

Killer looked at him heartbroken.

Kidd thought the other boy might be uneasy, scared... but no. No one had ever looked at Kidd like that before. Hungry. Greedy. And then with a blink his face was casual, forced jovial before nothing at all as Killer stabbed him in the back, once, twice, three times, aiming up under his ribs for the lungs.

Half a life time ago, Killer had told him not to let anyone know he'd eaten a devil fruit. At 12, Kidd is haunted by The Boy's face - and he's just The Boy, Kidd refuses to remember the name of anyone who looked at him like that - and vows that one day, he'd get to so powerful with his abilities that people look at him in fear instead. No one will even look at Eustass Kidd like he's an easy payday. And he's going to be strong enough that Killer doesn't have to kill his boyfriends to protect Kidd.

If the dead bolt is in place, then Killer is already home. While the other boy is crafty enough to jimmy open most locks given time, he's certainly not skilled or patient enough to try and get them locked back up when he leaves. Kidd does because it's easy enough for him, and lowers the chances of an opportunist slipping in and running off with their stuff.

It's not a lot of stuff; and never anything worth much. Killer thinks its bad luck to keep that nearby, like it's inviting danger, and Kidd likes to joke Killer was a pirate in a past life, the way he buries his treasures all over the place.

"Jokes on you then," Killer would tease back, "because I don't leave maps with 'x's' on them for you to find."

A very long time ago, faces Kidd can't remember used to sing songs about Roger and Pirates and he has vague memories of someone trying to explain log posts to him. "The pirate king uses a log post, not maps," Kidd had teased Killer back, and he'd let the island sing to him until he'd lead Killer right to one of his hidden caches.

And then to another one

And another one

"Good thing i trust you not to rob me blind," Killer had joked, but his voice was coloured in a kind of awed pride in Kidd.

Killer doesn't trust many people these days; he certainly hasn't brought another boy around Kidd since. He won't even show Victoria where they live right now; Killer rarely brought girls over to start with - most girls don't want to hang out with the two of them in whatever place they've shacked up in at any given time. But Victoria was at least judgemental in away that feels teasing instead of cruel. Not of the ruthless criticisms that barbed other girls' tongues.

Kidd adores Victoria, he loves hanging out with her, but even he's afraid now that he might slip up and show her. He's terrified one day she'll look at him they way that boy had, ready to turn on him for a coin.

...

He's afraid one day, Killer will have to choose between Victoria or Kidd.

And he's afraid of what either answer would mean.

October 19. Pirate King

One thing that could be counted on was the crowds of men every two weeks that his the port side taverns in mass. And without fail, every 14 nights, Killer would wait until the sun was firmly down before crawling in the back windows of Eustass' Tavern & Inn and sneak his way into the front of the house.

Eustass himself would have long thrown him out had he tried the front door, but Mòr Mhàthair was a soft touch, and as long as he waited until the dock workers where in their cups, she let him roam from table to table, polishing off plates of forgotten diners. Sometimes other street kids would show up but most of them didn't know the tricks to staying and would get kicked out the next week or never make it in the doorway to start with. But there where lots of other pickings on these nights, and Killer never once felt bad watching one of them get tossed out as he hid in the shadow of a chatty drunk and ate him out of his hard earned coin.

Away to the cheating world go you,

He had to listen to their terrible ditties, week after week, so he thought the meal was really only fair. By the time Killer usually arrived, the singing had already started and he just hoped they were fun ones instead of the sadder ones about loosing loves and such.

They were already well into it this night, the change up only being the other boy that seemed to be around more often theses days, a chubby little red head that Killer suspected might be Mòr Mhàthair's boy or nephew or something, or otherwise maybe the cook's son.

He was in the thick of it tonight, tiny little form standing on the table in the middle of the room with a crowd of drunkards, all bellowing the words out together. He had to be 4 or 5 at the most, probably looking forward to starting school like all the other good kids that belongs to people, Killer mused.

A bright shock of short red hair, unruly and ruffled from the hands of many a dock worker, thinking him some kind of good luck charm. By the end of the night it be sticking out at every angle, like the rays of the sun on a children's drawing. Killer would watch him ever few weeks as he soaked in the attention of those not fortunate enough to have families of their own. He was magnet for the downtrodden it seemed, a little mascot the laborers rallied behind every paycheck night.

Where pirates all are well to do,

Some weeks, the kid would even turn to him as the hours drew late, when sleep started to override the joy of being somewhere warm and well feed. Killer was always careful to leave before last call, never giving the matron a reason to turn him away next time. The kid never had this restriction, and would watch him quietly as he snuck out of whatever booth he'd camped in for the night, slipping out of the back.

The one time Killer had looked back, the boy had waved at him, a sad little bye. Killer didn't return the gesture. Not that night.

But after a few months, the kid would see him and grin, and he'd find himself smiling shyly back across the noisy tavern.

And as the spring turned to summer, Killer finally waved goodbye back.

But I'll be true to the song I sing,

Sometimes, the kid would try to include him in the group's singing, especially the nights when they sang his favorite song: the Pirate King anthem. Killer was mortified to be the center of the room's attention, and had hid under the table until one of the dock workers took pity on him and picked him back up to sit on the bench next to him, hidden from the room in general with an arm thrown over his shoulder and just tucked in close.

Most city people didn't want Killer anywhere near them - said he smelled funny and suspected he'd try to pickpocket them. Which was true for both cases more often that not. But the dock workers didn't particularly smell great either, and the dock master often gave him little jobs to do so he'd quickly become a familiar face to many of the men. And this one was pushing his half finished dinner in front of Killer so Killer really didn't have much motivation to steal from him. And week by week, he'd find himself shyly hiding from the boy at Eustass' behind one laborer or another, and it seemed to be a great source of entertainment for the blue-collar workers.

And live and die the Pirate King!

For a little pocket of time, every fourteen days, Killer felt like this must be what a family felt like. Sitting next to some man too rough and tumble to be a father to any real child; warm and dry, belly full of delicious properly cooked food. He'd listen to them spin fantastical yarns, then the sunshine boy would come sit next to him and demand songs from the men, and every time, someone would break out into one, and a cacophony of out of tune drunks would rattle the windows and Sunshine Boy himself would turn and beam at him like it was the neatest trick he'd ever learn to do. And maybe it was.

Killer would smile back, listening to the men warble on about Pirate Kings and Bink's Brew and in the days to follow would day dream about letting those silly ballads take him away from Kutsukku for good. Maybe he'd take Eustass' Sunshine Boy with him.

October 20. Metal trinkets

Kidd had a cute chubby face that meant people didn't feel guilty giving him things, and he had been slow to grow and was still very small looking for seven. He was also quick tongue and lacked any of Killer's hesitancy when it came to demanding attention. Everything about him was loud, and he just could stand in crowded streets and adults would stop to see what he needed help with.

He'd pretend to be lost, or spin them some other fantastic story, and Killer would lift items from their bags or coin purses from pockets. And then later they'd awe at their spoils and feast like Kings. Sometimes the items could get pawned for coin; sometimes they kept them, if they were small enough. A neat watch that Kidd would break almost immediately because he tried to take it apart, a box of luxury chocolates that they gorged themselves on - too sweet and rich for them in the end - and once they even pilfered a doll that ended up being far more trouble then it was worth.

Children's toys were a complete unknown to Killer; Children's games in general were a mystery to Killer, and Kidd long declared him the absolute worst at playing pirates when he'd spend most of their game correcting Kidd on the names of the parts of their non-existent boat. "No, that would be the backstay."

"It doesn't matter!"

"... but it does?" Poor Killer just could not wrap his head around Kidd's point of view, and if Kidd had anyone else to play with he'd probably have left to do so.

But, Killer was also his best friend, and Kidd thought it important that someone teach Killer how to play. So when the doll had appeared in one of the packages they'd lifted, Kidd had wanted to keep it. The problem was, playing with just the one doll between the two of them was difficult, and trying to teach Killer how to play dolls with just the one was proving to be impossible. He'd intently watch Kidd demonstrate, but when it was his turn, Killer would freeze up, and just cradled the dainty little doll like he was afraid to break it.

Stealing a second doll had so far not worked out for them - Kidd was starting to suspect Killer wasn't trying to find them another one - so Kidd took it upon himself to make one. He'd already been making little abstract things with the scrap during slow spells or when he couldn't sleep but he didn't want to wake Killer up. Killer didn't sleep though the night very often as it was, so when he did pass out during the day, Kidd was more than happy to keep watch and let him rest. Granted, making a doll was a little harder since it needed to look like something when he was done, but Kidd was pretty proud of how it was coming along.

He'd been out looking for new pieces when he'd spotted a dozen City Men in the Heaps. They'd come by from time to time to dump their trash, but normally the only ones coming this deep were ditching a body or looking for someone. You learned to avoid them; you pretend you don't see them, they pretend they don't see you.

These men didn't seem to want to follow the script, because one pointed directly at Kidd, "That red yokel, that's one of them!"

"Killer! Run!" he'd yelled back to their hovel, taking off in the opposite direction, hoping they'd follow him instead. Kidd knew the Heaps like the back of his hand, he could run this place blindfolded if he needed too. And as long as Killer wasn't nearby, Kidd was happy to -wreck- shit up without worrying his friend getting caught in his still sporadic control over his magnetism. He could -attract- things towards him without hurting himself anymore, but -repealing- was still like firing a scattershot and he hadn't figure out at all how to aim it.

Unfortunately, only about half the men took the bait, and all Kidd could do was pray Killer had enough warning. Frustratingly, the man who'd pointed at him had not been one to follow.

Kidd was small and fast, and he new all the best paths to run along, and which were filled with tripping hazards. And alone, he was free to -pull- and -push- piles to his whims to trip up or even bury his tag-alongs.

Once he was sure he'd lost his tail, he made his way back to the last place he'd seen Killer and started looking for the older boy - only to hear cursing and swearing becoming him toward their shelter.

"WHERE IS IT!"

Kidd stuck his head over one of the lips of trash. The leader of the group was screaming at Killer who was ignoring him completely to fight with the man who was trying to keep him in a head lock. The three of them were covering in blood splatter and the man looked like he had a child size shoe print across his face. The other four men that had stayed behind with him hadn't fared so well, bodies twitching and discarded in the rubble.

Kidd froze when he recognized the knife the man was threatening with was Killer's own blade, and its very sharp point was being waved far too close to Killer's own face.

"Where is the Duck House?!"

"I dun what that means!" Killer had gasped out when the man's free had grabs a fist full of his hair, and the other man finally got his forearm successfully under Killer's chin and against his neck.

"The Duck House!" The man screams again, and the knife is going for Killer's face, and Kidd -pulls- in a panic, the blade sinking in to the trash pile as he ducked back down to hide behind once more. The two men turned and looked in the opposite direction, reasonably believing someone shot something to disarm them. There are no devil fruit users on Kutsukku after all. Those are just Grand Line myths the Marines use to trick people.

Killer however, uses the distraction to mule kick the man holding him in the groin, and is running the moment his feet hit the ground. Kidd wants to send the knife back to him, but he's terrified to hit Killer with it by mistake.

The grunt is still huddled in on himself, and his leader screams and picks up some scrap to throw after Killer. Kidd -pushes- that off course but remains otherwise crouched and hidden. He knows that Killer knows he's nearby, and no doubt will double back, so he stays down, listening, waiting. Watching.

He watched the two men tear into their home, the makeshift walls light enough for children to put into place no match for adults as they are ripped away. He bitterly watched their meager things get tossed aside, just more trash in these men's way.

They tear apart blankets, rip open the 'pillow' Kidd and Killer share, throw clothes aside regardless of the mud. The parts to the watch Kidd was still trying to figure out get scattered, lost forever in the scrapyard.

Killer slid down next to him, panting softly, eyes a little manic from adrenaline but hands soft and steady has he checks Kidd over for injures he doesn't have. Kidd keeps watching the city men as they destroy everything.

Finally, they make a triumphant noise, and the leader is holding out the doll relevantly, her porcelain skin dirty from her time with Kidd but intact. The man is grumbling about the state of her dress, and Kidd and Killer shoot each other dumbfounded looks.

But this doll is apparently worth the lives of most of his crew, and they go to leave, their treasure reacquired. The leader can't help but twist his heel into one of their shirts as he walks by, grinning at the sound of ripping cloth.

All this for a doll. Killer looks pissed, and Kidd can't blame him. Two on two - they could still mess this man's day up. But Kidd is also frowning at the blood dripping from Killer's nose still and touching it seems to drain all the blood-lust out of Killer's body. He just looks forlorn.

The men are getting way, but...

Kidd climbs to the top of the heap, and holds his hands out in concentration. Everything crackles around him, but he's not -calling- for anything nearby. No... he wants something much farther away. It's hard to pick the -song- of any specific piece of metal, they all -sing- pretty close to the same frequency.

Kidd finds the right song and he -calls- for it, across the yard, a large shuttering network of pipes welded together as part of a crane at some distant point in its life. It vibrates as Kidd isolates its sound, "Attract..." he muttered, concentration on just it.

The beam starts towards them. But more importantly, it starts rolling to the men pi0kcing their way out of the Heaps, standing just below it. Killer jerks his arms down, and Kidd looses is focus on it, but it's already moving. Rolling down the hill as more clutter follows it down.

The men don't stand a chance.

Killer is draped around him, loosely pinning Kidd's arms to his sides, both boys watching and the Heaps buries those who dared cross into Her Realm uninvited.

They'll pick over their home and see if anything is salvageable, and then they'll find somewhere else and start over. Kidd never does find all the watch pieces, the tiny parts eaten by the endless yards of trash accumulated under their feet. The doll - a Duck House Doll, apparently, whatever that was supposed to mean - was destroyed along side the City men with the trash slide, leaving Kidd with just his mostly finished doll that was meant to go with her.

He had left the unfinished project behind with the rest of their unsalvageable belongings.

A lifetime later, after Killer left him to go be a yesman for one of the City Bosses, and it was clear he wasn't coming back, Kidd had raided ever cache Killer had left behind in a rage. He was angry and he just wanted to break things, and he had no more of a goal than to destroy anything the tied Killer to Kidd's turf.

Most of the caches were clothes, mostly warmer winter gear, knives, a full coin purse and usually a handful of little trinkets Kidd had made over the years. The last one Kidd would raid angry was more of the same, with one glaring exception. Inside the metal box to protect Killer's things from the elements was a well balanced dagger, it's hilt unlike the style mostly found on Kutsukku, and a flintlock pistol, polished and clean but without ammo. The two weapons framed the last item, a long forgotten metal robot doll smiled back at him, clunky arms wrapped purposely around the drawstring coin bag with it's crudely stitched skull and crossbones.

October 21. Battle

Boss Athair may not have time to form an opinion of the Heaps recruit that called himself Killer, but his right hand man certainly does. A man of few words, Ceannard is old enough to be retiring form this whole business, but his loyalty to his Boss means he won't do so without someone trust worthy to take his place.

He's got many a men who make good soldiers, very few that will make good leaders. And even fewer capable of advising a leader.

Solider Brathadair is none of these things, but he'd been at Athair's side longer than anyone, and Athair treats him like a son. Solider Killer is all of these things, but is nothing more then 'Boy' to the Boss. It's maddening to Ceannard  - seniority overshadowing all else. Athair claims to trust Ceannard in all things, but here is the impasse they have stalemated on.

Athair wants Ceannard to train up Brathadair to replace him. Ceannard has been working with Solider Boy for almost three years now and last fall even got him to swear fidelity to Athair and become a made-man. Ceannard knows who the better choice would be; Athair thinks Boy's ties to the new Heaps Boss is a liability, Ceannard sees it as proof that Killer has a good head on his shoulders, and could be a very good tool to have with negotiating, he just needs some refining.

The Heap's Boss is wild and impulsive, and the crew he's gathering have no restraint or etiquette. But he could be a strong ally, and Athair needs one after things fell apart with the young upstarts that have taken charge of the west and south parts of the city. Athair is the old man on the block, and the only one still pretending to respect him in the Big Boss in the City, and Ceannard knows it's only a matter of time before that becomes it's own fiasco.

<><><>

He just wasn't expecting it to happen so soon, a hail of bullets ripping though the hall. Not many are afforded the luxury of fire arms  - and Ceannard would very much like to know what finally caused their last ally to turn on them, and how they got this far with no alarm being raised.

"Soliders!" he's ordering them into position; his men armed with sword and daggers, against unknown numbers with guns and fire - if he had to guess based on the smoke starting to come in though the door. He and Brathadir will fall back to cover the Boss; The rest will likely die here, but hopefully give them time to move.

His next order never leaves his lungs, Ceannard gasping as the air is driven from his body by the blade driven through his back. Athair looks back at him stunned, horrified at the blood now falling to Ceannard's feet. Behind them the soldiers have engaged with the intruders, back to them, unable to see him falter. Athair falls forward on his own accord to catch his man before Ceannard hit the floor, the Boy was kneeling next to Athair and Ceannard, post forgotten as he tried to help Athair stem the bleeding.

It was a hollow endeavour. Ceannard knew it. Athair knew it. Solider Boy likely did too, but it didn't stop him from trying to keep his mentor from bleeding out.

"Brathadair!" Boss Athair summoned, looking for his senior soldier for backup in the unfolding chaos.

"Boss..." Solider Boy whispered, drawing his attention back. Athair watched his oldest friend slip away in his arms, numb. But that's not what the young man was drawing his attention to.

No, he was looking at the blade still sticking form Ceannard's back, a familiar hilt in the hazy light. Athair knows this blade to well - a gift from his own hand to Brathadair. His face is unguarded for a precious moment, disbelieving the man he called son would take the life of his dearest friend. He grabs a fistful of the mask Boy wears over his face - he'd mocked him for that Athair recalls, but it's working well for him in the thickening smoke - and pulls him close enough to glare into those ice blue eyes - "Solider - You find the man coward enough to stab my partner in the back, and you end him. You massacre everyone of those men if you have to, but the man who did this dies today."

"Yes Sir."

<><><>

When the dust does clear, there are clear losers. Ceannard is dead. Most of his men are dead. Brathadair is dead, along with the turncoats who allied with him.

Somewhere in the chaos, Athair took a bullet to the face. Killer's not sure why, the man never really liked him after all, but he still moves the corpse over to Ceannard.

Only one other Solider made it as far as Killer can tell, and even though he's a head taller than Killer, he still some how manages to look up at Killer for directions. He's as pale as Kidd, with a lost look to him, his dark blue frazzled hair sticking out erratically to complete the distressed nervous energy coming off him.

He stands there, looking over Killer, and then their fallen Boss, and their commander. "Now what do we do, Boss?"

October 22. Aftermath

He's too small for the good paying jobs, but he's a fast learning, and dexterous. And while mending nets and quality checking ropes doesn't make him a lot by way of coin, he's reliable and known and most of the dock masters will find /something/  for him to do. He's become a familiar face both on the docks and in the taverns and sometimes they even left him sleep where he falls and pay him all the same.

He also stated to be trusted for other tasks - a note from a sailor to the city boss, an envelope from the boss back to the docks, sitting watch at a door until just the right man came around. He'd make more in those nights than he'd make in weeks of rope mending.

He'd make a name for himself that way too - when the wrong man came sniffing around. He hadn't meant to kill anyone, but the man not only refused to go away, he'd gotten physical with the little boy, not expecting mush of a fight from an 6 year old. But an 6 year old with a nail studded board got the drop on him, and the man woke up tangled in rope and sinking in the bay.

He wouldn't wake back up again, even if his body was pulled up, picked over for clues, dead eyes staring back at he little blond boy that got the better of him.

"No body messes with our little killer," the dock master had said, ruffling the boy's hair as the dead man's identity and loyalties were sniffed out.

So Killer got his name, fell in deeper with the black markets of the docks, and sometimes even got to go on some of the ships on their shorter day voyages.

And when the inevitable happened, and some small time street Boss rose up to overthrow the City Boss, and throw down his sympathizers, 9 year old Killer was meant to be rounded up with them. But three years of running errands for mob bosses had taught Killer the signs to watch for - and all the best hidy holes in the city.

He just really failed to understand the scope of such a take over. He heard the fighting outside, listened in horror as fighting turned to guns turned to explosions. In the end he'd climbed down in the water itself as the buildings and the ships started to burn, clinging to the dock pilings. It was foul and so polluted he was afraid it might catch fire too. The heat got so intense at a few times he had to dive completely under, holding his breath until he could no more, only to risk surfacing for a new one and diving back under again.

The fires burned for hours.

The docks where unrecognizable when he could tread no longer and lay gasping and exhausted on the stone work at the shore. The ships where gone. The wharf and piers charred down to the sea. The taverns and markets and shops no more than rubble as far as he could see. Corpses littered the streets, burned and rotting.

He wandered the streets - everything changed so much he didn't know where he was anymore, even if his feet did, eventually taking him back to the long time safety of Eustass' Tavern & Inn.

It too had been caught up in the fires, the Inn part completely gone, and only a scattering of the tavern's shell still there.

"Mòr Mhàthair?" He was sure he heard something in the smoking remains. He glanced down the street - still empty and still. "Mr. Eustass? Are you still here?"

He climbed over the smoldering wood beans that might have been part of the roof; there was definitely someone here, he could tell, but he wasn't sure who or exactly where. Worried the tavern matriarch might be trapped somewhere, Killer made his way back to where he believed the kitchens had once stood.

Sure enough, she'd been trapped. Unfortunately, Killer was far too late to do anything about it. He didn't know how to feel as he stood over her - one of so many burned mangled bodies he'd found since he thought it finally safe enough to climb out of the bay's water.

She might have been on of the few he would cry about if he had any strength left for it.

But there was still someone here...

Killer respectfully crawled past her, moving some of the rubble that had fallen against the bricks of the fireplace. Hiding in the soot bricks, covering in grime himself, was sunshine boy. He didn't look too bright now, just terrified, the only clean part of him was where his tears had been streaming down his face.

"Hey kiddo...." Killer saith soothingly, pulling more rubble away so he could get closer, "You okay? Are you hurt?"

He shook his head no, but didn't move. Killer tired to move more of the debris but lacked the upper body strength, "Kid.. kiddo, you gotta come to me, okay? Can you move?"

The boy nodded, crawling forward until Killer could awkwardly pick him up. Killer started picking his way back out of the former building, whispering, 'close you eyes' as they passed auntie, 'keep them closed' he murmurer, when he spied Eustass' body on his way out. "It's okay... i gotcha..."

October 23. Morning

Besides counting the fourteen days between dock pays, Killer also carefully counted quarter days. He had no paper contracts - he wouldn't be able to read them anyway - but its when pay ledgers would be checked, and extra hands would be let go. Leases would be up and one either paid for the next few months or made sure to be out the door before the landlords caught on.

It was also a chance to get hired again and get steady work. And Killer put his best face forward every Martinmas; winter was the most important time to get work. Work meant pay, sure. But good work also meant being warm in the day, sometimes a meal at lunch, and if really lucky, a safe hidy-hole to sleep after dark.

Killer, who was good with numbers and likes sussing out the patterns they made, loved this time of year. Martinmas started on 11/11 and lasted 2 months and 22 days ending on 2/2 on Candlemas, and Killer had always felt that must mean it a lucky time of year. Last year had been hard - the docks were still recovering from the fire and the only people with extra coin for the season hadn't wanted two little boys on staff. 32 days after First-Foot and 23 days after he'd given the last of their coins to the kid, Killer had taken the tiny stub of their last candle and boldly joined the woman who marched to Februa. He's watch them march every year to get their candle's blessed, and Killer needed all the blessings he could get, even if it just meant a candle he'd hope would last a little longer.

The woman around him would point and whisper at him as he walked with them, but when his bravado started to fail him, he was saved by the kid who'd gotten bored begging at his assigned corner and left to find him. He was munching on an already partially eaten sandwich, before offering it to Killer. Killer - who was indeed hungry - took a bite before giving it back. The whispers started up again, and Killer wished he hadn't taken the bite, it knotting up in his gut. "Whose children are these?" One woman asked finally, addressing the others.

He just wanted his candle blessed. Now he was pretty sure he'd messed up somewhere. Thankfully, the kid didn't seem to notice the unease and stayed focused on his meal.

At least until the woman grabbed his arm, and he dropped the coveted food when she practically lifted the little boy off the ground - "Whose kid is this!"

Killer could have bitten her, and certainly would if she carried on like that, "Hey! Hey, he's mine, let him go!"

She frowned at him, expression unhappy still, "Excuse me?"

"He's mine!"

"Where's your mother?" one woman asked; Killer had no answer to that. "What do you mean he's yours?" asked another, and Killer wasn't sure how to answer that either.

"Is this your bother?" the woman ask the kid instead. He looked just as unsure how to answer as Killer.

"He's my kid! Give him back!" Killer declared, both boys starting to get upset.

One of the women took pity on them it seemed, and she stepped up to whisper something to get first woman to let go of the kid. Killer grabbed his hand and meant to run away, but the woman who's asked about their mothers knelt down to block their way.

"Hi, Kidd, I'm so sorry about your sandwich. But I saw you come over to share it with.. uh..."

"This is Killer." he said it without hesitation, clinging to Killer. He was more upset by Killer being upset at the moment, the whole ordeal making little sense to him.

"I saw you share it with Killer while he waited in line with us. That was very thoughtful of you."

He grinned, and Killer relaxed just a fraction.

She pulled out beri note, and put it into Kidd's free left hand, "Hey, Kidd, why don't you go and get you and Killer a new one?"

Both the boys face dropped in surprise at the paper bill. Kidd practically shoved it in Killer's face, with an awed 'look!'

Beri was off island money; it was worth a lot to the right people. Worth more then the numbers printed on it.

"It's too much..." he didn't mean to say it, but the words slipped out before Killer could stop them. Kidd looked at him curiously.

The woman's smile is still kind but incredibly sad. "Is it just the two of you then? Or are there others?"

"Just us," Kidd pipped up, the beri note having been folded up and put in the little drawstring bag his birthday coins has been in.

"Wh.." she pursed her lips, tilting her head and tried again, "Do you understand what the march to Februa is for?"

"Killer's getting our candle blessed."

Killer showed her their candle stub.

"It's just the two of you?" she asks again, and Kidd nods before Killer can tell him to stop, starting to feel nervous.

But she looks thoughtful, "Is this the first year it's just been the two of you then?"

"The kid's been mine since the coup."

"Okay," she smiles, and when she stands, she ushers Killer in front of her with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

A few of the women had hung back waiting for her as the rest had marched on. "This is Kidd," she says, touching Kidd's red hair first, "and this is Killer," she said, her hand going from his shoulder to his hair too. "This is the first year Killer has had Kidd, and he's going to get get their last candle blessed."

He was still doing it wrong, Killer realized, but the laughs were kind, their smiles no longer mocking but sweet. The woman's hand was warm and soothing where it lingered on his head. They looked at him like the looked at Kidd when he did something cute. The beri woman kept a hand on them the whole way, and no one asked again why they were there. When it was Killer's turn, words where exchanged in advanced, and a confuses man said a pray on his candle.

It would several year later before Kidd would sit up suddenly one night, hours after they should have both been sleeping. Killer bolted upright the moment he did - a light sleeper to the point to of detriment - but also something that had saved their asses many a times. "What it is?!" he whispered harshly when he couldn't figure out what woke Kidd up.

Kidd looked at him accusingly in the low light, "When is your fucking birthday?"

"Wha... what?"

"How do I not know this? How have we never celebrated your birthday?!"

Exhausted, Killer plopped back down, arm slung over his face. "Go the fuck back to sleep."

"No, seriously," Kidd shoved his shoulder, and when that didn't work, pulled Killer's arm down, "When the fuck is your birthday?"

"Who knows" killer answered, pulling his arm free and rolling away from Kidd to try and go back to sleep.

unfortunately for him, it was never goign to happen as long as Kidd was staring at him, some part of his brain refusing to let him ignore the fact someone was looking at him.

"Candlemas." he said finally, "last term day of winter."

Kidd was whispering under his breath, trying to remember if he knew anything relevant about the day.

"Second of February." Killer supplied, tired of listening to the gears grinding uselessly in Kidd's head.

"Oh..."

"Will you go back to sleep now?"

October 24. Evening

He wasn't expecting Kidd to have remembered - he barely remembered; he'd been so tired and would have said likely anything just to get  to go back to sleep.

Honestly, he picked the day at random, the first set of numbers that popped into his head.

Well... that wasn't quite true. It wasn't a random day. It was the last day of the winter quarter, which lasted 83 days. 43 days after the winter solace. 32 days after the new year. 28 days until the spring equinox. 23 days after Kidd's birthday. The first day he'd vocally claimed Kidd as his.

Getting Kidd up in the mornings was usually an ordeal and a half - especially on chilly mornings like today - so he should of been suspicious when there was absolutely no fighting him, and Kidd crawled out of their nest of blankets to get dressed with no fuss.

Instead, Killer carefully counted out their coins - they had enough to actually buy something warm this morning if they shared it - and still have enough for a smaller dinner if they couldn't scrap up much during the day. Winter was hard for lifting coins of passerbyers - few things got kept in outside pockets, everyone too bundled up trying to stay warm. But Killer had planned for that, and could usually keep them at least something once a day for about a week out.

It was a little bit of a walk from where they lived right now, but there was a vender who sold morning burritos that would over stuff Kidd's and charged them far less then they should, and it was worth the biting chill that the sun never quite chased away on days like this.

Kidd was bottomless these days, and if Killer didn't keep on top of that, he'd be up all night listening to the boy's stomach bitching. Kidd was at least old enough now that he didn't often complain vocally about being hungry, and Killer was grateful for that; should Kidd say but a word, Killer would go get him food, day or night, and had done so often when they'd been smaller. It had been stressful and exhausting, and neither one of them had liked the person it was turning Killer into. But Killer would do it again if he needed, no regrets.

He'd would do, and had done, many a things for Kidd with no regrets. He would never regret Kidd. Kidd, who still held his hand when they ventured into the city. Who brought him cool looking bugs. Who made him a little metal butterfly when they'd had to move before the cocoon outside the house they'd been caught squatting in had opened. Who would give up an afternoon of prime panhandling to sit outside a backstreet club - with an owner who would let them loiter outside no matter how bad it was for business - all because Killer had stopped once when they'd passed by, transfixed by the heavy beat music played inside.

Who apparently had made plans with Victoria - as she was waiting for them at their usual morning spot.

"I had an outstanding favour that needed to be cashed in, so I thought I'd hang with you two losers instead." The thing is, with Victoria, loser never sounded like a jab, or worse - pity. She didn't say it like she thought she was better than them. It was just a matter of fact with a little fondness thrown in. She wouldn't help in the thieving part, but she was always game to be a distraction, or just keeping watch for both their backs.

They worked though the closest thing a lunch rush had when it was cold, and Killer fingered the coins in his pocket, counting them without looking. It was not great, but it could be worse. He tried not to let it show, but Kidd & Victoria shared a look so he knew he'd not hid it well enough.

"So -" she said, clapping cold hands together, "I have a surprise, if the two of you are up for some B&E?"

A 'Do Not Enter' sign was an open invitation as far as Kidd was concerned - and Killer could not fault him for that. Do Not Enter usually meant something worth stealing - just as much as it meant something worth defending, so be on guard - and it must be good if Victoria had picked a place.

A place that ended up being the factories Victoria lived and worked out, much to Killer's puzzlement. Sure - every time him or Kidd snuck in, that was technically Breaking & Entering, but she'd never dressed it up like that. And he was beginning to think she'd done so solely for his benefit, as Kidd was grinning like he already knew.

"What's... going on?"

Victoria lead them around to one of the rarely used back entrances - one that had been carefully propped open, "So - and I mean this the kindest way possible - the both of you reek to high hell. I think at this point, Kidd would probably smell better if he rolled around in a dead skunk carcass."

Kidd just shrugged, it was what it was after all, even if Killer felt himself dying of mortification inside. If she as bring it up, it must be bad.

"So - I have made some arrangements to get you two assholes a spa day."

"Wait - what?" The secretive little smile was gone from Kidd's face, "Both of us?"

"Oh absolutely. I'm not going though all this for you to just sit and twiddle your thumbs. You getten' a bath, sunshine."

"Hey! Only Killer gets to call me that!"

She blinked, "Call you what?"

"Nothing." He said, far to quickly. Killer just subtly shook his head 'no' at her when she recalled her last statement, and she let it go.

<><><>

Banaltram had been the head nurse here for a few decades now, and was well aware of the rules and in nearly all ways was a strict enforcer of them. But, she was also a soft heart and she also liked to think she was a good judge of character. And for better or worse, she trusted Shiruton and her boys to behave themselves if she turned a blind eye to their friendship from time to time.

She could explain to them how to stitch someone up and how to wrap injuries, but they could never stay, they had to leave before curfew, no matter the wound. She also could provide no more meds - she'd done so only once and nearly lost her position when she'd not been able to provide an adequate explanation for them being missing next audit.

Still, she didn't regret all the worrying and stress that had come of it, seeing Shiruton with real friends. She was never really sure if the older one remembered her, but she knew Kidd did by the shy smile he'd give her as a greeting, before his face would scrunch up into what was likely it's natural state - that boyish disdain for the world in general.

Her infirmary was empty today, and she'd planned to be across the hall catching up on paperwork for the afternoon. A pot of tea was brewing, matching set of cup and saucers at the ready should one of her lovely young ladies decide she was not interested in watching two boys shower, and would like to visit with her instead.

Shiruton and Kidd exchanged some more conspiratorial whispers at the hall door, and Banaltram handed the young man the box that had been locked away in her office for safe keeping in the mean time. Kidd then used the box to playfully push Killer toward the privacy room off to the side where they where going to do their best to run this place out of hot water for the day.

"Tea?" she offered Shiruton.

<><><>

Kidd would not show Killer what was in the box - at least not all at once. There was a paper bag on the top that Killer would get to see now, although Kidd held back as Killer grinned stupidly at him as the hot water started streaming up the little room.

"You gonna shower in your clothes, or?"  Kidd trailed off. While they'd seen each other in various states of undress over the years, it was still a bit strange to be completely naked. Most 'baths' they got were dunks in the bay, fully clothed, usually an accident on Kidd's part and rescuing him on Killer's part. The thing was, it wasn't usually safe enough to be fully naked, not for very long anyway. Kidd would not blame his friend at all if Killer stayed dressed to some extent.

Killer didn't see to give it much thought at first, just a casual shrug. He'd stepped under the spray, and Kidd watched Killer's face go from nonchalant to soft awe. Then he was scrambling to get his wet clothes off, bare under the shower, turned up into the warm water like a zealot in prayer.

Being able to count the number of hot showers he'd had in his life on one hand, Kidd turned to give Killer a moment. He rummaged through the bag, growing fragile in the humid air, and pulled out a bar of soap and rag, before stripping his own clothes off. Unlike Killer though, he left them folded up next to the box to stay somewhat dry.

He didn't often get to play the mommy or daddy in his friendship with Killer; Killer didn't need to play pretend to be both roles for Kidd and he was lousy at make-believe anyway. So there was an amused sort of novelty as Kidd lathered up the rag the way Victoria had taught him and threw it in Killer's silly upturned smile. "Wash your face, dumbass."

Killer sputtered, face blanching as he spit out some errant soap bubbles, and Kidd chortled at the bewildered look on his face as he processed what just happened. Killer wiped his face down, looked at the rag and then back at Kidd, who felt a chill run down his spin, before Killer threw it back at him, square in the face. Kidd squawked when the soap got in his eyes, but didn't hesitate to grab the rag and chuck it blindly back to where he could hear Killer trying not to giggle.

Kidd has no idea how much water they wasted that day, wresting with each other and the rag, a strange game of trying to forcibly wash the other one, with it devolving to the point of them both sitting back to back under the falling water laughing stupidly at the terrible job they'd both done.

Killer had a funny laugh - one the Kidd knew troubled him - and it led him to a weird stoic bravado that he was absolute rubbish at maintaining. But here in the privacy of the shower, just the two of them, Killer cackled with abandon - a stupid noise of pure delight that had Kidd grinning ear to ear propped up against him.

At some point, their combined laughter trickled off in the humid room, the need to breath outweighing the carefree mirth that had settled over them. Eventually Kidd got up, hand lingering on Killer's back, "Stay here a sec."

In the paper bag - ruined at this point - was a few more items. Kidd took one bottle out, and dropped the bag in Killer's lap as he turned the water off for a moment. Killer made to look in it, but Kidd 'ehh!'ed at him, "Just hold it for a sec. And uh... close your eyes"

It was a testament to their friendship that Killer did so before asking, "Why?"

Kidd turned the bottle over, dumping a good size gelatinous glob on the crown of Killer's head. "Because this shit stings way worse that the soap." He warned, before starting to scrub the shampoo into Killer's scalp. Kidd had only done this once himself, again under Victoria's guidance, but as awful as those days had been, it had felt nice. He remembered that much.

And Killer had been tempting fate recently, his hair the longest Kidd could ever remember it being, enough to actually be pulled back. Usually it had gotten caught on something or ripped out in a scuffle by this length, or matted to the point they had to cut around the knots. But Killer has been trying to comb out the knots at night with his hands instead of letting Kidd hack them out. "I'm turning the water back on for a sec, don't open your eyes yet."

Kidd kept Killer's head under the spray until the water stopped coming away dirty, before turning it off again. Even wet, Kidd was in awe of the colour change. "You're like... /really/ blond."

Killer had opened his eyes by that point, head titled up to look at Kidd in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Nope - head back down," Kidd ordered, reaching into the bag Killer was still holding for the second bottle. "But this time you don't have to close your eyes anymore."

When Victoria had helped him hunt down the contents of the paper bag, she'd told him he'd probably end up using most of the conditioner the first time; to let it soak and then try to comb the knots out while it was still in. So that what Kidd did, working it in until Killer's hair kinda felt a little slimey, but in a soft way. "Gimme the comb from the bag."

There was some shuffling, and Killer handed the comb to him. Just how Victoria told him, Kidd started at the bottom by Killer's shoulder blades and slowly worked his way up. Killer didn't make a single sound of protest when the comb would snag on a tangle but the condition worked like a miracle and soon Kidd was able to run the comb from roots to ends.

Killer's hair was still soft even after he rinsed out the conditioner, like spun gold under Kidd's fingers. He had no idea; he legit had never seen Killer's hair clean, he realized.

Later, after they were both squeaky clean and as they toweled down, Kidd climbed up on the counter to wipe the condensation off the mirror, starting back at the red haired boy in the reflection. Killer avoided looking at himself, but he did pluck at Kidd's own vibrant red hair.

"Oh!" Kidd said, "You still have a gift from Victoria."

"Wait, what?"

Kidd retrieved the box, plopping it down in front of Killer. He waited eagerly for Killer to look over before opening the flaps in a flourish. "Happy Birthday!"

"Its not... oh..."

"February Second - you said so. See, I remember things when it's important!" Kidd pulled out the soft plaid button up and brand new jeans Victoria had picked out for Killer, along with a package of clean underwear and socks that Banaltram had suggested when Kidd & Victoria had first approached the nurse about smuggling Killer in for a shower. There was also a pair of new shoes at the bottom, that Kidd had not known about.

Killer looked flabbergasted, frozen in awe. "Kidd.. I dont...."

"Did we do good? Where you surprised?"

Killer smiled, "Yeah. Yeah I was surprised."

???

He'll be five - we should throw him a party.

He'll be five - he wouldn't remember a party.

He will. Cook can bring her boys, and your niece can come.

I do not understand this need of yours to have hundreds of children underfoot.

....

Fine, fine. It's a Tuesday, it'll be slow anyway. We'll close the tavern and throw a party for a five year old.

Oh! I love you so.

You better.

....

What about that little blonde fucker?

Who?

The stabby kid, the dock boys' shadow.

Oh, Killer!

... I shouldn't have expected anything else.

I didn't think you liked him.

I guess I should be happy he bit me instead of stabbing me like he did Anndra.

You scared him!

I though the stevedore was getting handsy with him! I didn't know the bastard was just blackout drunk.

....

What?

I didn't know that you were upset about. It's just... very sweet of you.

I just don't want that shit going down in my home. They wanna turn tricks, they can go to the red light like everyone else. Stabby fuck knows that and that's why I let him stay.

My brave knight off to rescue damsels and urchins alike.

Stop.

... Do you think Killer would want to hang out with a bunch of preschoolers?

I think that boy would follow anyone who gave him a soft look into a back alley.

Eustass!

Sorry. I'm.. I'm sorry.

Ph! Don't make me think about such things - I'm never going to let him leave next time if you say things like that.

We can't afford that.

We could...

We already pay cook twice her worth to feed her boys.

Don't word it like that!

What?

Twice her worth - Twice her WORTH - gah. Its gross. Don't say it like that.

We do though. You figure in the free meals and board, she makes more than I do at the end of the day.

Maybe we could hire Killer to work with her.

We can't afford that.

.. I know....

....

...What do you have there?

My mom made it for me when I was little - I found it with her things last summer when...

.. Oh sweetheart...

Its supposed to be Moccus; He was mom's favouite old God. The fierce defender.

Wish we knew she had it a few years ago - it would have been a nice christening gift.

You knew what she was like....

Still.

... Maybe.

Hmm?

... It's bad luck to visit someone without a gift.

... I'm not following.

Stabby boy. Killer. He wont come without a gift. Especially a party. And I can't exactly demand a street kid buy my son a toy.

What if he takes it an runs?

Do you think he would?

...No.

If he did... if he did, I would be sad but... I don't think I'd be mad. He could probably use a fierce defender patron.

October 25. Night

While the Punk would be a wild party later for Hogmanay, most of his crew was off making last minute preparations or napping in advance for the long night. The unchanging standard daylight hours of the Grand Line forcing them to adjust some celebrations, seeing as it would have been long past sundown if they'd been back on Kutsukku by this time of the afternoon. Kidd been trying to find Killer, only to be soundly kicked out of the galley by Pomp, who'd warned him that only the cooking brigade was allowed in there until Killer said so.

"Well, bring him out, I wanna talk to him."

"Oh - no ones in here but me. The prep work is done, and I'm just keeping an eye on a few things that are in the ovens. And to discourage any raids." He climbed back up to his perch on the counter where he'd been messing with some new project. Kidd felt he should say something back, but was so bewildered by being dismissed so causally by one of his own men that he ended up just wandering back out the galley and started for the stairs up deck.

Only to stop, blink, and take two steps backwards, looking down the hall to the crews quarters.

Killer was dragging a little two step ladder around, swapping out light bulbs on the hallway wall. Two steps up, unscrew the light cover, take out the dead bulb. Two step down, dead bulb in one box, new bulb from the second, still in protective wrapping. Unwrap, trash the packaging, then two steps up. Replace bulb, screw cover closed, two steps down. Drag everything over three feet towards the galley and repeat.

"Why is our shortest commander the one replacing light bulbs?"

"I think the better question is why is the guy who wired our ship afraid to change out the bulbs himself?"

"I mean... we did kick him off the ship" And they'd done so every December 31 for 5 years now. As Mr. Tall Dark and Mysterious, Wire been unanimously named qualtagh. He didn't fight it to much, and he'd even had a song to go with it that his mother had taught him as a small child. Technically he just had to disembark the ship before midnight and then come back after the bell tolls. One year they'd been at sea for the new year and had dumped him a life raft for a few minutes before hauling on board again.

"I told him if he changed these out I'd talk to you and we could kick Disk J or Gig out instead. Make them qualtagh this year. He said no way, and took Heat with him before sunrise."

"... should I be worried about the Punk?"

Killer laughed before he caught himself, an easy sound when it was just the two of them. Wire had been a good sport about the whole life boat thing, but this year Wire had declared if he was to remain qualtagh, then no one was allowed to bother him or Heat until he returned on his own after midnight. "I think we're okay; Anyway, we put all of these in at the same time, it makes sense they all burned out at once." /Please be why they all went out at the same time.../ "New Lights for New Year - gotta be something in that."

"Y'all are a bunch of superstitious fools."

"You're just bummed we couldn't find Trafalgar in time for First-Foot."

"He's probably keeping himself submerged on purpose."

Killer made to step down but Kidd gently -pushed- the ladder over to the next fixture, dragging the boxes with him, and started unwrapping a new one. "Thanks," Killer murmured, opening the casing, "I.. I don't think Trafalgar celebrates First-Foot..."

Kidd took the burned out bulb from him and handed him a new one, "I ... may have made allusions to ruining his new year last time we ran into each other."

The bulb light up brightly once it was screwed in, and Killer closed up the casing. Kidd watched the way the light reflected off his helmet, the hint of a beard he'd stopped shaving off every morning at his chin, more noticeable from this lower angle.

"Only one that'd be funnier to crash in on would be Monkey, but the bastard's already had a shit year. He doesn't need my help." He -pushed- Killer over to the last bulb on the hall.

"That's almost thoughtful of you."

 "Hardly. It woulda just been a waste of my talents."

Killer shook his head in bemusement, last bulb bright. Kidd went to start putting things away when Killer dragged the step stool over to one ceiling light over the archway to the mess hall. It had been burned out so long Kidd had forgotten about it. It was also much higher than the rest, the entry way build so Wire & Mosh didn't have to duck to get in.

Climbing up, Killer was still a few feet too short to reach. Kidd watched in amusement as his partner stretched on tip toes but still only barely brushed the light casing. "Misjudged that one, shorty?"

"Oh don't you even start!"

Kidd could help but laugh, the image of killer stretched out just burned into his memory, and he fell across the hall so the wall could hold him up.

Killer growled at him - and Kidd just kept smirking. He could tell Killer hasn't playing anymore, but Kidd still had a plan, and he needed Killer to -

Killer stepped off the stool and grabbed his bandolier to jerk him forward, "Don-"

Killer might be faster, but Kidd was stronger. He hauled Killer up over his left shoulder, both hands clasped around his left thigh. He ignored the way Killer's heel tried to dig into his hip, and after some kicking, Killer got his right leg hooked around Kidd's neck, hanging awkwardly down Kidd's back, thighs pressing against both ears and trying to strangle him with his calves.

Pomp came running at the first sounds of a fight, and Killer had told him to get back in the kitchen.

/We have a strange kind of foreplay,/ Kidd though to himself, pointing not slamming Killer's face first into the wall behind them, but getting close enough that Killer could leverage himself up until he was sitting on Kidd's shoulder's; If Kidd was anyone else, that knife Killer only just didn't pull would have been in his neck. Instead Killer had a fist full of his hair, twisting his head around to force Kidd to look upward at him, knowing full well that even without seeing his face, Kidd knew how pissed he was.

Kidd just smiled out sweetly, patted apologetically the hand shaped bruises he probably left on Killer's left thigh and -pulled- the base of a new bulb over to himself, holding it up to Killer, face of pure innocence.

Killer looked at it in confusion, before glancing up quickly to find the light fixture now in reach. "You're a prick."

"A massive one," Kidd agreed with a wink; He could tell Killer rolled his eyes at that before he readjusted his weight so his was sitting snugger on Kidd's shoulders, no longer tying to strangle his captain between his legs, instead tucking his toes around Kidd's sides and behind his back for balance. Kidd kept his right hand on Killer's hip to steady him, head still twisted to the awkward angle their tussle had left him in, but it let him watch Killer unscrew the cover to open it, pillowed on Killer's thigh.

Killer removed the dead bulb, plucked the new one like picking a flower from someones' garden, and planted the dead one in it's place. Kidd knew he was getting a cocky smirk under strips of white and blue but patently bid his time while Killer's attention went back to the task at hand. In the mean time, he -tossed- the dead one into the box of trash

He rested his hand back on Killer's hip, the rough denim on his jeans and the soft silk of the sash. He wouldn't likely ever wear a leather belt, but had no problem pilferering Kidd's things and repurposing them for his own means. It was not lost on Kidd that his colours was the thing keeping other wandering hands off his partner, and his alone allowed to remove them.

"Any more chores left?" Kidd asked, his chin brushing the inseam of Killer's jeans. He felt the muscles of Killer's inner thigh flex and he smirked as his ran his hands down either side of the material's outseam until he was supporting Killer with a firm grip on the thickest parts of his thighs.

Killer squeezed his legs in warning, a light pressure around Kidd's head as a reminder that could actually probably kill him if Killer was so inclined.

"I'm just saying," Kidd pushed his luck, "that unless you have anything else on that needs seeing to, we've got some time until you'll be needed back in the galley, yea?"

There was a light pull on his hair, a shift of weight, and Killer had curled down to look at him, still balanced carefully on his shoulders but close enough Kidd could have kissed him if not for the helmet.

Kidd kissed him anyway.

October 26. Cold

"What's wrong with him?"

House gestured over to where they'd set up an impromptu infirmary; where Heat had apparently marched Killer off to once the heaviest of the fighting had died down. "Dunno. I think he tried to block a pipe with his face."

Kidd groaned; He didn't like to see Killer hurt - but he didn't like to hear Killer had gotten hurt in such a stupid way even more. He stalked over to the little shelter, throwing the door open to find just the two men thankfully.

Killer was seated on the ground, Heat squatting next to him, red stained cloth pressed against his forehead and their first aid supplies lain out next to them. The cloth mask Killer usually wore over his face had been pushed up as an impromptu headband by Heat to hold his bangs back as he picked through the supplies one handed. Heat waved for Kidd to keep his voice down, the Captain only just biting back a jab at Killer's bad luck.

"hmhmmka" He mumbled to Kidd.

He was definitely not okay; any jests dying on Kidd's lips as Killer tried to stand up to prove he was fine only for all the colour to drain from his face. He was blinking rapidly, and then Kidd and Heat were lowering him back to the ground before he fainted.

"Get the bucket," Heat warned urgently, dropping the bloody rag to pull Killer's hair back suddenly. Kidd handed it off just in time for Killer to hurl into it. It was not the first time, Kidd frowned, as the bucket already had sick in it. "I'm.. gonna go dump this." His nose wrinkled up at it once he took it back from Killer before he spilled it on himself.

"I wouldn't. I don't think he's done yet."

Kidd's frowned deepened; Heat began to stitching up the still bleeding cut along Killer's hair line. Kidd reached out to touch the end of Killer's nose, blood dripping onto his hand.

"This one is bad."

"/This/ one?" Heat looked nervous, "How many concussions has he had?"

Kidd made a /ehh/ noise, checking Killer's pupils, "I'm gonna have to start sending you out with a safety helmet, buddy."

Killer just looked confused. "Imnt 'uty"

"Oh Killer, you so are fucked up right now." Kidd said sympathetically.

"A'mo wel'day." He told Kidd as Heat finished trying off the thread, before giving a pathetic whine and shudder as Heat pulled away. Baffled by the noise, Heat looked over at Kidd who shrugged back.

Tentatively, Heat put his hand back on Killer's forehead and swore, before using both hands to cup his cheeks. Killer closed his eyes and shivered, leaning into his touch.

"he does feel a little chill," Heat warned, and Kidd pulled his jacket off to wrap Killer up in it.

In a show of gratitude, Killer puked on him.

<><><>

He can't help but have a laugh at Killer's expense when he hands the gag-gift over as they wait for permission to dock on the little backwater island; The Victoria Punk is almost bigger then the entire pier and someone on island wants to make sure she's actually going to fit. It's a reasonable enough request with no undertone of malicious intent, so Kidd is content to wait for once.

"You've had a real head for trouble lately," he cackles, as Killer opens the box to study the crudely made safety helmet.

It's just a basic hard hat that Kidd had shaped out of scrap steel, though he'd lowered the back a little more than was standard and didn't bother shaping the brim onto it.

"Shouldn't there be like... padding?" Killer asked, baffling Kidd in that he seemed to be taking it... seriously.

"Wait.. What?"

"I don't think it's going to be useful without some padding to absorb the blow. It's also going to fall right off."

"Are... Are you fucking with me?" Kidd asked; Killer was inspecting the item like he was actually considering wearing it.

He also looked confused by Kidd's comment. "What do you mean?"

"Because I'm fucking with you. This is a joke..." Kidd said slowly, waiting for Killer to drop the act, "Because after your last concussion? I made that joke about sending you out in a helmet?"

Killer looked down at the helmet in confusion, and then looked back up, still lost.

"Which I'm starting to realize... with your concussion, you don't remember any of that..."

".. I'm sorry?"

"Air son muir, don't be fucking sorry!" Kidd went to take the helmet back, feeling a fool, only to catch a look of uncertainty on Killer's face and pulled his hand back slowly. "I... Di.. Do you want me to make you a helmet? Like... an actual helmet?"

Killer floundered for a moment, "...Maybe?"

Kidd held his hand out, and Killer handed the piece to him this time. "So... Padding..." he prompted, turning the metal over.

"Maybe a face plate too?"

A knot tangled up in Kidd's gut. "Like, are you thinking down the center covering the nose or up over the cheeks?"

He almost didn't hear Killer's response, it was so quiet. It shouldn't have surprised him, not after a friendship as long as theirs.

"Anything you want."

If Killer wanted it full coverage, then that what Kidd would make for him.

October 27. Warm

"What's wrong with him?"

Kidd startled, and the mystery voice yelped as scrap metal flung itself at her haphazardly. Kidd armed himself with a pipe, planting himself firmly between the girl who'd dropped to the ground and Killer's still sleeping form.

Seeing as no other attack followed, the girl looked up tentatively, before glaring at him as she stood up, brushing the filth from her shorts. Kidd just adjusted his grip on the pipe.

"You're Kidd, right? I've seen you two around town."

"Yeah, so what?" Kidd hisses.

"So, what happen?"

"None of your business."

She blinks at that, looking honestly surprised. "oh.. okay. Fair, i guess." she shrugs, turning to leave.

"I can't get he fever to go down." Kidd admits. She stops, looking back at him. "We got .. we got ambushed. Killer got hurt and now he was a fever and no matter how many times I change the bandages, he doesn't get better."

"You can't... You gotta do more than just chance bandages," she muttered, cautiously approaching him. "Can i see?"

The blond boy under the rags is shivering and panting, blue eyes glazed over and unresponsive. His skin is warm and clammy, splotchy red where it's not paper white pale. She doesn't even need to see more to know this is way past her expertise.

"He needs a doctor."

"They don't see Heaps kids," Kidd said bitterly, and Victoria's heart broke - it sounded like the kid had already tried that only to be turned away.

She pulled the makeshift blanket away further, the dirty bandages wrapped to the best an eight year old could manage. She didn't dare try and unwrapped them again with nothing to wash the area. "Okay... okay, let me think..."

Kidd pulled the blanket back up, small face twisting in grief. At least she didn't have to explain to the boy the dangerous situation his friend was in. "Sure."

He looked at her, like he didn't dare to hope. "Help me get him up, I'll carry him." she said, kneeling down so Kidd could drag his friend up onto her back.

"What.. what's the plan?"

"The nurse at the boarding house."

Kidd paused, look at her like she was an idiot. "We're not allowed in the Mill's houses."

Victoria started walking without him.

"Wait! Wait! We're not allowed in!!"

"You're not allowed in." She corrected, "But I am, and if I go to the infirmary Ii should be able to avoid the Widow Matron. It's early enough in the day that the only ones in the house are working and they are too busy doing chores to bother with me."

She was right, even if Kidd was left at the gates to pace worriedly.

<><><>

It was starting to get dark and Kidd was staring infuriated at the large foreboding stone building, angry tears falling without his permission as he waited for any word on Killer or the girl who'd whisked him away. He felt a fool, sure that he' been swindled and now his only friend had been stolen away after everything they'd gone though to stay together.

Killer had worked so hard to keep them together and safe, and Kidd had just lost him.

One of the men at the gates was watching him suspiciously, whispering to on of the other men. Well, let them whisper. Kidd wasn't going anywhere. He wiped some of the snot and tears from his face, glaring back at them, daring them to try and run him off.

He wasn't expecting someone from inside to call his name, some older auntie asking for him to be let inside. The men at he gates seemed just as surprise.

"His sister fell ill today, the poor child's just waiting to hear she'd okay."

"Ma'am, no ones allowed in or out after curfew..." One of the men stated nervously, wilting immediately under her glare. Kidd wasted no time squeezing though the gate bars and running to the woman's side unprompted. The men grumbled, but seemed like chasing a kid down wasn't worth their time.

"You're Shiruton's friend, yes?" the woman asked him quietly, and Kidd nodded; He didn't know who Shiruton was, but he'd be whatever she claimed he was if it meant he got to see killer again. The older woman was waking across the yard carefully, faux-casually staying to the shadows and Kidd made sure to do exactly as she did. They slipped around the side of the larger building, entering in though a food prep area before navigating to the brink building's infirmary.

Victoria sat waiting for him, sitting in a wooden chair next to a bed at the end with the curtain drawn. She must be Shiruton then, Kidd assumed.

Kidd practically threw himself at Killer, even if his friend still slumbered on. He smelt funny - a sharp tangy smell that also filled the room in general. The woman hissed at him, and bodily drug him back off the bed. "You are filthy, get down!"

Kidd hissed at her, fulling intending to bite her back

"Stop it!" She warned him, "You will wash and if you don't have lice or fleas, then I will let you back on the bed."

Wash? Kidd started at her blankly, so thrown that he forgot he was upset. He wiped his hands on his shorts, and held them up for inspection. Her and Victoria both looked horrified. "I'll take him," Victoria volunteered, her face still pinched.

She lead him to a privacy room off to the side, and introduced him the joys of hot water and showers. And then the doldrum of soap and shampoo. She also took his clothes and informed him they should be thrown away, before lending him a nightshirt that was practically a nightgown on him. He stood once again for inspection by the nurse, right down to her checking his scalp with a comb.

"Clean enough for now - go on then." She dismissed him before talking quietly with Victoria for a moment before sending the girl away to her own room before she was noticed missing.

He was at Killer's side in a flash, gingerly climbing up on Killer's right side, avoiding the injuries he knew festered on Killer's left. The injury was unwrapped, and the nurse waited for him to settle before speaking.

"This is a third degree burn, and it's infected. You need to make sure it stays clean." No eight year old should be the one receiving these directions - a doctor should be caring for these children. but Victoria had sad all she needed to hear - Heap's Boys. No one was going to care about if they lived or died. Her Bosses certainly wouldn't either.

She showed the little redhead a jar of cream she'd prepared. "You want to gently use this on the whole area - every day." She demonstrated how to apply it, before then showing how how to correctly wrap the area. Next she showed him a little orange bottle she'd prepared. "He needs to take one of each color, every singe day, until they are gone. Kidd, this is very very important. He has to take all of them. Even if he starts to feel better, he has to take them all."

Once he nodded solemnly, she set it on the top of the burn creme jar. "Make sure he's drinking clean water, as much as he can stomach. After the pills are gone, he might still want some pain killers, just make sure he's taking only as much as he absolutely needs."

And... easy part done. now the hard part. She handed him the last packages she'd prepped. "I was able to stop the bleeping - it's healing up now, but over the next week or so it still needs to heal. You need to make sure he soaks in a warm bath of this, twice a day." He looked over the collection, pointing a the creme - "one a day", the pills "once a day until they're gone," and then hold up the little box of powder, "twice a day."

It may not be enough, but at least she tried. She'd have to kick them out before sun up, hoping the meds would have enough time to get the older boy somewhat lucid. He had already started to sweat, and his temperature was slowly coming back down. until then, she watched as the younger boy crawled under the thin little blanket to curl up on the narrow bed with his brother.

<><><>

once they're back on the streets, getting clean water proves to be a task too large for Kidd, try as he might. He's got enough for Killer to either drink it or wash in it, and Kidd kinds someone to trade the bath mix to. He brings back soups and painkillers and holds Killer tight when he cries in pain, scared of the limp daze that too many of the pills Kidd bought puts Killer in as they try to find the right dosage. The bleeding comes back from time to time, but it looks less and less each time, so Kidd just hopes and prays.

Slowly, Killer heals, and the infection clears up. Kidd can tell that walking hurts for a long time, and his arm is still messed up pretty bad. But Kutsukku doesn't care, and they both know Killer needs to suck it up or the Heaps will eat them both alive.

October 28. Kimono

He's starting to remember more and more of each day, the haze of pain and drugs slowly lifting as his body heals. What was once just vague feelings are starting to be actual lucid moments, a few minutes at a time.

<><><>

Killer's there at his side every time he comes around; even if he can't remember, he knows it's true.

Killer's on the chair facing him today, feet propped up on the nightstand, but careful not to disturb the bottles of meds or the canteen of water. He's fiddling with something in his lap, but Kidd's not sure he has the facilities to figure out what.

<><><>

When he drifts back again, he practically begs Killer to let him up; he's exhausted, he's hurting, but he also has to pee and he would like to take a piss like an adult for once.

Halfway there, and Kidd knows they aren't going to make it if Killer walks him there - and Kidd relents and lets himself be carried if only for the fact it means he won't piss on himself in the hallway.

He'd hate all of this more if he had the energy to even make it back to bed before he's passing out again.

<><><>

He wants to eat with the crew.

He wants to /see/ his crew.

Heat & Wire keep assuring him everyone if fine, but they're too quick to [assure] him and refuse anything more. Killer won't even entertain his questions, and Kidd nearly cries when he finally has the awareness to notice that Killer's hair is almost completely gone, shorn just past the helmet.

He can't bring himself to ask, and Killer offers nothing back.

Kidd /needs/ to /see/ his /crew./

<><><>

Finally Killer relents, but he has his own stipulations. The big one being Kidd needs to look presentable if he's doing this.

Kidd - who is tired of sponge baths and fever sweat sheets - allows him to be man handed into the bathroom again, this time letting Killer pamper him in the warm tub. He's too tired and heavy to appreciate it fully, but soaking in the warm water already has him feeling more like a person again, and he lets Killer scrub him down, wash his hair, tend to his still healing wounds.

Kidd see them for the first time, then. He'd been aware his left arm was gone, but it didn't sink in until he sat in the water, bandages off, healing stitched skin on display. It's not just his shoulder, but his reflection in the water, his neck and chest, his gut. His right arm bears more marks from where he tried to defend himself and if he crosses his forearm across his chest he can see the long injury drawn out across his entire body, from forehead to groin.

No wonder Killer's been so quiet. /Gormaichean./ He owns his partner big for this - the fright he must have caused the man.

Its a wake up call, as he watches Killer mother him in the water's reflection, combing his hair like the invalid he is. He can't even bring himself to bitch about it, instead just letting the continuous motion and the still water lull him into a doze, until the bath starts to cool and he's all prunie and wrinkled.

Then Killer's hauling him up and toweling him down, and Kidd says nothing about the zen-like focus his partner pays him, afraid to break whatever peace Killer has found in the actions. The absolute concentration Killer directs at him once he is clean and dry, and Killer starts to work the ointment into his stitches before wrapping them once again.

The stitches still pull at his left eye a bit, and it feels like Kidd is just endlessly crying. He's almost relieved when Killer wraps his face back up, the tears hidden in the gauze.

Killer gives him a moment to compose himself as he slips Kidd's legs into his pants, starts dressing him slowly and reverently. Slides his boots on for him and laces them like they're something precious.

The shirt Killer pulls out to dress him in is unfamiliar. Unlike Killer, who liked to hid behind long sleeves and higher collars, Kidd's ruined too many shirts with his devil fruit, the small sharp edges that came hand in hand with weapons and scraps tearing the sleeves to shreds after a single fight. But he doesn't have the range of motion right now to be pulling a tang top on and off. Kidd is too broad chested for it to be one of Killer's, the solid dark colour not in his partner's usual tastes either. It's short sleeved and very low necked, and it's a button up that Kidd realized was Wire's as Killer slide it up his right arm. It's a snug fit around his bicep but it's not unwelcome, and the hem stops just short of the thickest part of the wrapping on his left arm as Killer carefully works it over the healing stump.

While his face heals, Kidd's not surprised Killer doesn't offer him his googles, but at least the bandages have the side effect of covering his forehead and keeping his hair pushed back out of his eyes.

<><><>

He hadn't realized he'd drifted off again until he he wakes up to the feeling of anxiety. Not his own, but his partner's.

Killer's staring at their makeup bag on the bathroom counter - foundation in hand; It's going to rub off on the bandages all over Kidd's face. Kidd decides for him, pulling the bag closer and picking out the black eyeliner pen and his favorite shade of red eye-shadow. "You can at least fix up my good eye, yeah?"

It's the first thing either if them have spoken since entering the bath

Killer patiently paints his face back on, Kidd watching him intently, trying to get a read on him though the mask.

It's not usually this hard, but Kidd knows things have changed again.

Kidd lost.

It's been a very long time since that's happen. He'd forgotten the feeling.

He drops his jaw gently, parting his lips as Killer pulls out his favorite lipstick, Killer's thumb pressing against his chin. Kidd can see Killer's eyes this close, his attention completely on his task.

His hand is next, Killer matching the nail polish to Kidd's lipstick; Kidd realizing with a pang that it maybe a long time, if ever, before he's able to do things like this for himself now.

Its intolerable: this weakness. It is inexcusable, especially not from a Captain. Kidd can not loose again. He wont stand for it and neither should his crew.

Killer inspects Kidd's appearance, seeming hyper aware of the way every hair falls, and even with out gelling it up, spends a few moments carefully arranging the drying locks.

Kidd's hates every moment of it, hates that Killer is still so shaken that he's stressing about how Kidd's hair is styled.

/"You died." Heat will tell him later, just the two of them as Wire takes watch and Killer finally, FINALLY falls asleep. "And Boss Killer was more than willing to follow you. I thought he was going to turn on us when we tried to stop him."/

Hates that he was too weak to protect Killer from himself.

Satisfied, Killer steps back to look him over, a Captain's Return. Kidd understands why Killer believes they need this, the crew need to see Kidd as someone strong, even if Kidd doesn't feel that himself at the moment.

But Killer has one last touch, pulling a heavy weight across Kidd's shoulders. Physically, physically, it's not to much - Kidd thought his coat destroyed and gone, but Killer appears to have salvaged the red fur lining and it's been reworked into a presentable coat once again. it's also nearly a third of the weight of the original one, and his left arm can shoulder the weight with little strain. The weight on his heart, however is crushing.

Killer carefully balances it over his shoulder's draping it back like a King's cloak.

Kidd will earn that weight back. He won't fail them again.

October 29. Date

They were supposed to be going out on the town, the island they'd docked at having a wide selection of restaurants and concert halls and other amusements. They'd been loitering in the area past their departure as the days slowly ticked away in the second week of the new year, specifically for tonight. Instead, Kidd and Killer found themselves drinking in the quiet galley, sharing gossip and reminiscing about an island that never quite felt like home there at the end.

About the wild exploits of The Kid Boss of the Heaps - a teenager that had managed to unify the unmanageable, and how even Killer's Boss had sat up and took notice before their group had imploded.

Kidd had had a few times where the same had almost happen to him too, before he really came to understand the power he'd found himself responsible for - "People only fear you for so long before they hate you enough to do something about it." Which was terribly profound when you realize a 16 year old had come to understand this before the adults around him did.

"At least you had some charisma that got you a few people that had your back. Nobody followed me because they thought I was going to be a good Boss. I was just the poor bastard left standing with the dust cleared. As soon as they realized they had other options, it was an exodus. Most of them defected to you or Wire pretty fast."

"I did notice an uptick of sycophants after that one meeting we had."

"I believe I warned you about that."

Kidd nodded. "Yeah... yeah, you warned me about a few things. You were right - about using my fruit around people. It being a bad idea."

"... I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well. Live and learn."

"I hope you smeared the assholes to paste."

Kidd chuckled darkly, "I did indeed. They were worthless; be glad they ditched out on you."

"It was only a matter of time before they left. They all do." Killer conceded, sipping his beer though a straw Dive had found... somewhere. "Just sorry you had to deal with them."

"You left me." He hadn't meant it accusatorially, not really. Just a statement of fact. But once it was out, Kidd felt a little angry about the whole thing. Killer just going on about being left behind, oh woe is me, but he did the same damn thing.

Killer frozen in place, before slowly putting his mug on the table. Kidd could /feel/ him looking to the galley exit, calculating how to leave.

Fuck that.

"Was I that awful to be around?"

Killer rubbed his palms on his jeans, and Kidd swallowed thickly around the lump forming there.

"Oh."

"Look.. It..." Killer got up then, and Kidd watched him start to pace, feeling more and more uneasy with each anxious step Killer took. "It wasn't you, it was me... Well, it /was/ you but it wasn't /your fault/."

"I have no idea what that means."

Killer's head is tilted up like the ceiling holds the answers.

"Killer, what the fuck does that mean?"

Killer shook his head, and Kidd stood up abruptly, ready to block him from fleeing.

"Killer! What did I do?"

"It wasn't your fault." Killer reiterated, and that didn't make anything clearer, and they both knew it. "You were just... You were kind of a lot... at.... that age..."

"I was 14! What are you on about?" As soon as the words left his mouth, Kidd had a sickening feeling starting to form in his gut. It must have shown in his face, because Killer glanced at him once before quickly looking away.

"You... got a little.. handsy. At night."

"Handsy?"

"A lot handsy. And.. clingy?" His voice pitched like a question, like he was trying to find a way to word Kidd's apparent behavior while downplaying it at the same time.

Kidd slumped against the table they'd just been enjoying drinks at. "How bad was I?"

"Four Blues, Kidd - you were awful." Killer groaned, "Every fucking night, three times a night, minimum, you'd be all over me."

"I... I.."

"Every time I thought it safe to drift off, you start making these little noises and I was so sleep deprived, Kidd. So sleep deprived. I'd leave in the morning purely to go sleep in Ceannard's office for a couple hours."

"I was 14!"

"When I was 14, I would get up and fucking take care of it - you just.." Killer voice had a panicky edge he'd never heard, before pointing wildly at him, "Every fucking morning, I wake up and had to deal with you getting off dry humping me. And you didn't even have the decency to be awake!"

"So you should of woken me and told me to knock it the fuck off!" Kidd paused, head cocking to the side as he studied how Killer had tensed up, bad shoulder touched in - "You didn't want me to wake up. You didn't... you didn't want me to know. Why?"

The mask hides a lot - Killer was always too expressive - his face an open book. But the mask didn't hide everything. Not from Kidd at least.

"You were into it."

Killer shook his head. Not a denial of Kidd's words, a denial that they were being spoken in the first place. He was coiled up so tight Kidd wasn't sure he was even breathing anymore.

"You liked me all rubbing up on you." Kidd almost wanted to preen at that, anyone else he would be puffed out proud. Instead a knot formed in his gut. /You got off on it/ He keeps himself from saying, the thought tangling in his throat, forcing him to swallow thickly. /Or you wanted to at least.../

Killer made to widen the gap, but Kidd wouldn't let him, crowding him up against the wall.

"Then why would you leave?" he cried, not understanding at all, "I was horny, you were horny, what was the problem? We coulda fucked around a little, so what?"

"Because Killer might be good for a quick fuck, but nobody sticks around long after!"

Kidd started at him quietly, stunned, step back like Killer's words had been a physical blow. Killer hunched in himself, slouching back, surprised by his own confession.

"Killer..."

"I thought... I thought if I left first it would hurt so bad. You were getting along with the other Heaps' and you had a reputation for being an tough asshole so I thought... I thought you'd be okay."

Kidd pressed his fingers up on the bottom lip of Killer's mask, a request not a demand, his brows pinched unhappily.

Killer relented, and pulled the helmet off. But Kidd surprised him by taking it from him, holding it in his hands thoughtfully. He studied the interconnected plating, planning on how he'd make the next one different - better ventilation and more internal padding around the ears.

"I really liked Vicky." He started solemnly, "The three of us. Hanging out together. And sure, I wasn't thrilled about the two of you ditching me all the time. I thought maybe I was jealous of you for a long time, getting to hang out with her alone. And maybe I was... But I think I was also jealous of her. But then she was gone." Kidd spoke to the helmet, easier to say this to the empty drill marks than the man in front of him. "But that was okay because I still had you. And .. And I really liked being with you. I always felt safe, and waking up every morning with you right there... and then.. and then you weren't anymore. Even before you left, you started to be distant, and I hoped maybe you just got a new girlfriend and after the novelty wore off things would go back to how they were."

Killer was quiet, watching his hands fiddling with the metal, before he gently took the mask back.

"But it was me. You left because of me."

The worst part was Killer couldn't even disagree. He turned away from Kidd to put the helmet aside. "I left because I didn't know how to tell you no. I left because I rolled over and let anyone fuck me for a kind word, and I knew that I'd let you too, if you wanted. But you were 14 and you're my kid, and it got all weird and complicated and I didn't know how to see you as someone who wanted sex yet and .. And I was scared if I gave in, if let you take what you wanted, you'd toss me aside too once you were satisfied... so I ran away before you could."

"And if Vicky hadn't died... would you have ever talked to me again?"

He watched Killer's hand caress the line of white and blue. "No." He said finally. "No. You were doing so well; I was so fucking proud of you. You turned into this great man: You united the Heaps, made them believe they were people again. You had all them following you because they saw you were someone /worth/ following. And I knew that I didn't have anything to do with that. That was all you. And I didn't deserve to talk to you anymore."

"Excuse me?" Kidd frowned, "What the fuck do you mean - you didn't have anything to do with that? You don't /deserve?/ to talk to me? What are you on about?"

When Killer didn't answer, Kidd grabbed his elbow and forced him to turn back, "Look me in the face and say that bullshit again!"

Killer stubbornly remain quiet.

"No!" Kidd growled, "I've gladly bashed the face in of anybody who talked shit about you. Don't think I'm gonna let you say it either."

Killer opened his mouth to start to say something but then stopped again.

"Killer!" frustrated, Kidd grabbed Killer's face in his hands, forcing him to look at him, "Say it to my face. If you're going to insult my friend, have the balls to say it to my face."

Killer met his eyes this time, blue to orange, complementary and contrasting in equal parts, and Kidd frowned at the pained pinch at the corners, the shame Killer wore in his features. He didn't understand, and no searching helped him find the reason. "Why would you ever say that you aren't the reason I got this far in life?"

Killer tried to escape his look by closing his eyes, but Kidd shook him softly; Killer's long lashes brushing his thumbs when he opened them again.

"Why did you leave me?" he tried again.

"You were 14...."

The light went on this time, Kidd breathing out a soft, "Oh" as Killer tried to look away again. Kidd rubbed his thumb against Killer's cheekbone, tipping his head back until their eyes met again. "I'm not anymore."

Killer was starting back at him, a fearful guarded look. But now, now Kidd thought he understood. He smiled back, tone soft, "Can I kiss you?"

The fear was still there, but Kidd would show him. He waited until Killer lowered his gaze, but nodded, a soft, "Okay" that was both defeated and begging.

Kidd smiled, hands sliding up Killer's cheeks to brush his bangs away and placed a soft kiss to Killer's forehead, smirking at the red painted lip marks left behind. Killer was looking up at him curiously though his lashes. Kidd rearranged Killer's bangs until the mark was hidden under wild hair.

"It's my birthday... come have dinner with me?"

"Okay."

Bonus: Smut

Kidd wasn't exactly a virgin - but all his limited sexual encounters had been quick tumblings in dark tavern corners or back alleys.

He'd cultivated a reputation early in life for being a rude jerk, and it had kept most people at arms length.

So it wasn't just the first time he'd be fucking Killer - but the first time he's be fucking someone on a bed - all laid out before him like a feast.

And Killer looked delicious. Kidd thrust into again, marveling at the way Killer moaned under him...

Yet...

Yet...

Kidd thrust in again and Killer moaned but it wasn't quite what Kidd had been picturing. It wasn't what he build up in his head...

Killer lay under him moaning, but no more passionately than any of the other fucks Kidd had witnessed as a younger man, back when it was just the two of them, hopping from abandoned homes to camping in the Heaps. Killer had a long string of short term boyfriends (and girlfriends, but he didn't usually bring them home) and one night stands. Some of them were because there was a mutual interest - but Kidd knew now, looking back, that most of them were transactional.

It meant they stayed at places with a study door and a working lock. They ate better in the following days. Their new clothes lasted longer. Shoes that actually fit.

Killer moaned under him like he moaned under those boys, whoring himself out to give him & Kidd a chance for a better tomorrow.

Kidd pulled out. Killer whined at the loss but said nothing. He hadn't actually said anything since Kidd had first shoved his dick up his ass.

Even now he was breathing heavy but the flush across his shoulders was gone. He was hard but he wasn't....

Killer wasn't a participant in this, and Kidd wanted to eviscerate anyone who'd ever touched Killer to make him this way.

Well, Kidd wasn't going to stand for that. He sat up straighter, forced Killer over on his back, pulled and positioned his leg until Kidd was seated between his thighs, hauled Killer's hips up into his lap. His own dick angry at the sudden lack of attention but Kidd's mind was elsewhere.

Killer's face was mostly obscured by bangs but smeared purple painted lips show where he was biting his lower one. Kidd stretched up, hands sliding under Killer's shoulders. He braced himself with his left, the fingers of his right tangling in blond locks at Killer's neck and gently pulling, forcing Killer's head back as the sharp line of his throat was displayed.

Kidd nipped at it lightly, kissing up along his jaw and cheek to where Killer's bangs fell. It was enough for the unruly locks to fall away and Kidd grinned down at the confused but curious look to Killer's eyes.

He placed a gentle kiss right at the creased corner, feeling Killer's lashes brush his lips. Left a gentle trail of kisses where fringe met skin until he reached the bridge of Killer's nose and kiss down to recapture killer's lips in his own. Kissing Killer was always a rush and he was very disappointed it had taken him so long to get to try it. But Kidd was also determined to be the last man Killer ever kissed, groaning as Killer kissed him back, devouring him like a famished man...

There was the Killer that was missing from their fucking. There was the Killer that Kidd loved.

Kidd would just have to start over.

Do this right.

He was going to worship Killer and his own dick was just going to have to deal with it.

His dick that was currently at attention next to Killer's own erection. Kidd rolled his hips to grind them together, trapped between their bodies.

Killer whimpered at the movement and Kidd gave his lips one more kiss before returning to his jaw. He pulled Killer's hair just a little more, Killer arching up under him and presented his sharp collar bones and defined chest for Kidd to devour.

Kidd's left hand started to roam, desperate to touch every part of Killer and Killer finally started to move under him. He was still pinned under Kidd mostly, but he was eagerly starting to roll his hips, desperate little noises as he sought friction, touch, anything.

Killer had nerve damage to his left arm - he was ashamed to have anyone see it - and Kidd moved his lips along his collar bone to where healthy skin met scar tissue, nibbling and biting along the edge.

Pulling on his hair like he was, Kidd prevented Killer from being able to see where he as going and Kidd sought out the right amount of pressure needed to bite down with for Killer to feel him, even a little bit. Heart swelling at the cut off little noises Killer made when he did.

Finally, Kidd let go of Killer's hair to sit up and hold Killer's wrist, pulling it up to his lips and kissing the delicate rough skin, locking eyes with Killer when he turned to watch. Others had made Killer feel ashamed of the burns. Kidd worshiped them. These were the payment of keeping Kidd safe, and Kidd would have worshiped them even if he didn't know.

Killer propped himself up with his free hand, pulling Kidd down to him with his left as a desperate, "Kidd" falling like a beg from his lips. Kidd leaned in for another kiss, Killer's mouth frantic and desperate. A man starved.

And wasn't he just. Killer might be quick to gut someone - no hesitancy in ending any life around him - but he was also desperate for any kindness and Kidd spent his whole life watching Killer get his heart broken because of that.

Kidd would not be another one of those men.

By the time Kidd had kissed his way down Killer's chest, his partner was panting and flush under him, soft little sounds falling easy from his lips and Kidd's name just as insistently.

Kidd's chin brushed Killer's erection and the man nearly bucked under him. With a wicked grin, Kidd licked Killer navel instead, where precum had started to smear between them. His hands were on Killer's thighs and he could feel the muscles tense and flex from both fingers and tongue.

He teased Killer, lavishing attention anywhere but the weeping dick, right down to spreading his legs to nip and kiss the straining muscles between groin and leg

Killer's ass was still slick and stretched from the start of the night, and Kidd tentatively licked that next. Killer clenching around him with a surprised shout.

Kidd fucked him with his tongue, Killer whining and begging under him, and Kidd half wondered if he could get Killer to cum from just that. Something he would have to explore again as be glanced up to see Killer with fist fulls of his own hair, back arched and chest heaving

Kidd pulled away and soothed the noise of compliant that followed with a soft "I know I know" as he sat up, reaching for Killer, "Gimme your hands."

They untangled his fingers from where he was pulling is own hair, and Kidd took a moment to hold them in his own, mischievous smile on his face and Killer watched back with wide eyes as Kidd started his slow march of kisses down Killer's body once again, starting at blue pained nails.

This time though, as he made his way down Killer's arm, he encouraged the man's fingers into his own hair, grinning smugly as Killer clutched at him as he kissed down, down, down.

Kissed his way down until he was swallowing Killer's erection, the hands fisting in his hair to the point of pain and the sound that caught in Killer's throat like lightning down Kidd's spine.

It spurred Kidd on, coaxing Killer into fucking his throat, hands caressing Killer's thighs and ass, trying to drag more of those gasps and cries from Killer's lips.

"Kidd," Killer was gasping, the pull on his hair more insistent, trying to get his attention, whining "Kidd, stop, Kidd..."

Kidd pulled away immediately, panting, looking up in concern, "What? Are you okay?"

Killer groaned, slumping back, shaking his head.

"Killer?"

Killer was shaking - no, Kidd realized, no, Killer was laughing. It was breathless, soundless, but he was grinning, tears in his eyes.

"... Killer?"

Killer covered his face once more with his hands, and Kidd let him, sitting worriedly, absentmindedly continuing to pet Killer's thigh, waiting for Killer to collect himself.

"I didn't mean..." Killer started only to sit up and pull Kidd into another searing kiss, before chucking, "You're okay, I'm okay." He assured Kidd, pressing their foreheads together. "I just meant I was /going/ to cum, you idiot."

"You said stop," Kidd defended himself, and Killer kissed him again.

"I was trying to warn you before I came in your mouth."

"Oh." Kidd looked thoughtful, "But otherwise, it was good?"

Killer gave an exasperated laugh, "Yeah, yeah, it was good."

Kidd kissed his lips one last time before moving to resume the blow job, pausing right before he closed his lips over Killer's dick once more. "You can cum in my mouth." he said with a wink.

And when Killer did, Kidd swallowed every drop.

October 30. Tears

He knows her.

Well.. he knew her.

Kidd stares at the body, still partially buried in garbage.

Hip and Hop are quiet behind him, solemn and still.

Its bad enough someone murdered this woman. Then they brought her out to his turf and threw her away.

Like trash.

Before Kidd took over, bodies got dumps in the Heaps all the time. He'd put a stop to that years ago.

But then someone decided that they could waltz in and do as they liked. Very few had the egos for it. Only one group on the island still  willing to openly disrespect him like this.

It wasn't just that it was a body. It wasn't just some poor soul that was discarded to prove a point.

But that was Victoria.

It had been four years. Last time he'd seen her she'd been so upset she'd left crying, and never looked back.

He'd never shed a tear for her leaving.

He's shedding them now.

Compo had gently taken his elbow, as if to lead him away. He jerks himself free, stumbling closer to the body.

They brutalized her, her face bloody, body broken. Her neck is broken, deep dark marks, a solid thick line left by a belt. Burned her and cut her and broke her. Stripped her bare and threw her away.

He's struggling out of his coat, tries to cover her, give her some dignity back.

"Boss," Boogie is murmuring at his side - no ... above him... as Kidd sinks to his knees. He doesn't know what to do; He can't do anything. She's already dead.

Kidd looks over the scrapyard, the Heaps, His Realm. His Domain. And none of that mattered, because Victoria is dead and nothing he's accomplished stopped it from happening. Nothing he's done will keep the next person from being thrown away by Kutsukku's undercity.

He looks to the city, taunting him, just as tall and imposing as it's been his whole life. Mocking him with things he's never allowed to have. Things it's gladly ripped away from even it own people - not because they've done something wrong - but that they've gotten in the way of the boss' games.

Kidd's going to burn it to the ground.

October 31. Free Space 磁気

Killer had learned long ago that public executions were one of the best times to steal things - not just from the shops, but lifting money right out of people pockets; adults to wrapped up in the brutal displays to care much about his tiny wandering fingers.

And while Kidd was great and begging, and a perfect distraction for Killer's thieving the rest of the time, big groups like today's had Killer feeling uneasy, and the boy was left to play in the Heaps alone.

With pockets stuffed and a bag of fresh fruit and bread sung over his shoulder, Killer was ready to skulk back to the safety of the junk yards when another cheer went up in the crowd. He heard someone making some kind of announcement, but couldn't really understand it. The crowd seemed to because the cheering was deafening.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Killer climbed up onto the low roofs of a shop patio and tried to understand what had everyone so wound up.

There was a man in a white uniform on the center stage, and some of the men Killer recognized from the City Guard dumping water on him. Everyone cheered when they did.

“Seanmhair” he called over to one of the women standing off on her own in a balcony above him, "Who is that man?"

She wore a large smile, beaming down at him with her round face, "Marines sent another of of their devil fruit men to bring us to heel. Poor bastard thought we'd be an easy mark with the Heaps - guess he forgot just how much lead they dump on us." She cackled.

Killer didn't really understand what she meant, but she clearly found it funny, so he laughed too.

"Why do they keep pouring water on him?" he'd watched people bigger than him die face down in a barrel of water, but to keep upended in on the Marine-man confused him.

"Seawater dear," the woman explained kindly, gesturing him to climb up and watch from her railing, "When you steal power from the sea, she never stops trying to take it back. Makes devil fruit eaters prostrate themselves before her no matter what form she takes."

They were fitting a noose over the man's head, the crowd seaming to hold their breath. Killer did too, clutching his bag in his lap as he leaned forward on his precarious perch on the old wood beam to watch.

There's more talking, the man trying to scream at that around the gag, and then someone waves their arm and the floor dropped out from under the marine man. He fell, the rope make a 'wrhiip' noise and the he was left thrashing at the end of the line.

The crowd went wild. The lady next to Killer just tutted, shaking her head. He looked up at her curiously.

"Didn't math it right." she told him, voice pitched like some kind of warning, "Really is best for everyone when the neck breaks - now he's gotta dangle. If he had any friends, they'd pull on him to hurry it up, but the Marines have no friends here."

Killer watched as it seemed to take forever. Sometimes, the joints of the buildings would whine, and a few people in the crowd would reach for their weapons, and then someone would dump more water on the man and the world goes still again.

In the end, someone either got bored or sympathetic, and a man climbs up on the stage and pulled his knife out.

The crowd cheered and the man made a grand display of strutting around with his knife overhead.

"Dear, you should look away now," the old lady said, hand reaching over to pat his head kindly, before stopping to consider what might be living in the dirty tangles. She tugged lightly on the lip of his bag where it peaked under his arms to get him to look at her.

"They gonna kill him finally?"

"Yeah, but it'll be messy."

Killer found himself looking back, enraptured. He'd seen men die before; beaten, drowned, burned. Never cut open though. The lady just tutted again, but let him be.

The man with the knife stepped forward to the dangling man. And then he draw the blade quickly across the exposed neck. And there was so. Much. Blood.

Killer found his mouth go dry, watching the red get everywhere. The man stopped jerking around under the rope very quickly after that.

All that time spend dangling, and so quick to die once the knife came out.

The crowds below started to break up, and Killer realized his window of getting out of town unnoticed with his pilfered goods was closing quickly.

"Bye Seanmhair!" he called to the lady as he started to lower himself over the railing, judging the drop to the street below as he dangled. She said something back, he wasn't sure what, and he was dropping down with a mostly controlled landing, falling on his ass at the end but unhurt. And then he was darting thought he streets, bag clutched close, pockets still stuffed, and today must have been a lucky day, because no one messed with him all the way home.

Later, as Killer emptied his pockets, he described - if somewhat abridged - the execution, though Kidd has a lot more questions about the hanging than Killer knows how to answer.

"Auntie said they didn't math it right. so the rope was wrong."

Kidd looked at his suspiciously. 'math?"

"I guess." Killer shrugged, not really sure himself, "Like... i guess the rope verses how heavy the guy is or something? you want his neck to snap, so it's quick."

"Math someone to death.." the kid muttered, looking in awe of the idea.

"Sure.." Killer chuckled. Kidd found Killer's laugh funny sounding, and it caused him to join in. But the kid's laugh was.. kind. not mocking like the other boys, and Killer liked to see him happy.

Killer counted through the money he's lifted that day, counting out some of it and handing it to Kidd. "Hold on to this for a little bit, I'm gonna go hide the rest of this." - It wasn't safe to keep this much money with them, even if hiding it didn't always guarantee it's still be there later. But Killer had a few good spots no one had found yet, and the only others who'd known about them long dead, and he slipped out to go distribute today's money.

Kidd stuck the coins he'd been handed into the bag Killer had left with him as to not loose it, before rummaging though the fresh perishables Killer had loaded up on. Bread and fruit were delicious, and hard to get a hold of, but also not worth stealing in large amounts because they went bad so quick. But Killer had though it worth the risk today, and they had a wonderful feast when he got back.

The problem was waiting for Killer to get beck. Kidd's stomach grumbled irritated as he  looked over one of the bread loaves, biting his lip. he set it aside, pulling some of the fruit free for inspection.

They weren't rotted or bruised at all, and the kid set them out in a line - some he'd never even seen before. A few had hard peels or something to them, and others were fuzzy. And then there was the one that looked like a bunch of grapes, its vine twisted up all around it still, crooked little spines on the fruit, but curiously not spiny or sharp.

Unfortunately, even if it didn't stab him when he plucked one and bit into it, it sure didn't taste very good. Kidd was glad this was the only one - he didn't want Killer to have had to go though all this work just to find out he stole gross fruit. Kidd would eat all of this one and hope Killer wouldn't try and steal more of them again in the future.

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