#//greetings from marine luffy and hollow Luffy!

[sweetscentences]

Small Changes: Chapter 3

On AO3 here. Thanks for being patient with me formatting this for tumblr <3

The sun set, and Rosinante was getting worried. Law hadn’t come back yet. Rosinante knew that Law could handle himself, knew he told him to take as long as he needed. But an old paranoia was creeping up on Rosinante. It didn’t help that this was the longest he’d been separated from Law in over half a year. 

Garp dragged him down to the docks to watch the sunset when Rosinante’s anxiety started to grate on him. But the sun finished sinking below the horizon, and there wasn’t any sign of Law. Rosinante gnawed, absentmindedly, on one of his nails. 

Garp smacked his hand from his mouth and hauled him to his feet. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Rosinante asked, but followed after Garp. 

“My grandsons stay with me when I visit. We’re going to go grab them.” There was an uncharacteristically soft smile on Garp’s face. “Besides, they know those woods better than anyone. Maybe they’ve seen your brat.” 

Rosinante wasn’t sure if he would describe Law as any sort of brat, let alone his. He mellowed out while they traveled together- partly because he was dying, partly because he had someone to care about. But even when he first joined the Donquixote Pirates Rosinante would have described him as a homicidal little shit before he called him a brat. 

He didn’t bother nitpicking though. Garp considered anyone younger than him a brat, and Rosinante… 

Lying was his livelihood. Sometimes, it came easier than breathing. But calling Law his son was the easiest lie he ever told.

The best lies were the ones a person desperately wanted to be true.

Garp lead them through the forest confidently, even though they quickly deviated from the path. Before too long, they arrived at the base of a massive tree. A treehouse the size of a small cottage was braced in its branches, and the sound of young voices floated down from it. 

Young voices cursing. In Northern. Garp shot Rosinante a look. 

“What are they saying?” he asked, just as Law’s voice reached them. He was slowly working through the pronunciation of a particularly graphic threat involving ice picks and vital organs. 

Rosinante heard it many times after he dragged Law away from the Donquixote Pirates. Back then, Law actually following through wasn’t out of the question.

Rosinante thought it best not to share that much. “Nothing good,” he said simply. 

Garp looked like he might press for more information, when loud laughter from above them distracted him. Garp’s soft smile turned into something sharp. 

“You brats!” he bellowed. Silence fell immediately, and three boys poked their heads out of the treehouse’s window. There was a mix of horror and excitement on their young faces. 

“Hi Gramps!” the smallest one, with a straw hat balanced on his head, called cheerfully. Rosinante had seen that hat before, on wanted posters. Which meant this must be Luffy- Garp’s grandson who had been charmed by Red-Haired Shanks.

“Hey Gramps,” the only blonde of the group said with a wave. Garp regaled Rosinante with enough stories about his boys that evening for him to know this was Sabo- a street rat from the other side of the island who often served as a ringleader in the boys’ schemes. 

Which meant the last boy, grinning sharply down at them, had to be Portgas D. Ace. Rosinante wasn’t sure how Garp handled two boys who inherited the will of D. He barely managed with one. 

Then Rosinante remembered Garp was a D. himself. No wonder he wore Sengoku out so easily.

“Hey. Gramps.” Ace’s voice was more a challenge than a greeting. “Go fuck yourself.” 

Rosinante fought the urge to choke on his own tongue. Garp’s face went red. Even if he couldn’t understand the words, Ace’s tone and smug grin were painfully clear. 

Rosinante was distracted from Garp starting a tirade by a figure making their way down the treehouse’s ladder. 

It seemed Luffy noticed the same thing. “Be careful, Torao!”

Rosinante’s hands twitched with the effort of keeping them by his sides. Law wouldn’t appreciate Rosinante stepping up to help him. Wouldn’t appreciate being coddled, even if Rosinante could see his legs shaking. But he wasn’t going to grab Law, not when he didn’t know if his touch would be welcome. 

When he didn’t know if his presence would be welcome.

A few agonizing minutes later, Law was on solid ground and staring up at Rosinante. He scratched a faded pale patch on one of his arms- the only nervous tic Rosinante ever saw from him. 

Neither of them knew what to say. 

Law settled on saying nothing at all, instead taking a deep breath and opening his arms to Rosinante. He didn’t hesitate before dropping to his knees and pulling Law into a fierce hug. Law’s arms wound around his neck, and his head tucked against the hollow of Rosinante’s throat. 

Law trembled slightly, but Rosinante didn’t acknowledge it. His hands were shaking too, after all.

There were so many ways he could have lost Law. To Doflamingo. To the Amber Lead. To the fact that he was a Marine. 

(There were so many ways he could still lose Law.)

“I knew for awhile,” Law admitted, his voice muffled by Rosinante’s shirt and the rounded shape of Northern. Garp somehow made his way into the treehouse to give them space, but Rosinante taught Law to be wary of prying ears. “I knew back on Minion. But I wanted to pretend I didn’t.” 

“I wanted to pretend too,” Rosinante said, holding Law a bit tighter. The fact that Law allowed it, that he squeezed Rosinante back, told Rosinante more than words could. 

“There are things I need to tell you,” he said. “About how I grew up. About being a Marine.” He hoped, desperately, that his birth as a noble wouldn’t be what drove Law away from him. He felt Law tense in his arms, and ran a careful hand up and down his back. 

“Nothing like that,” he promised. “Never anything like that.” 

For all that Rosinante had done for the Navy, lying and killing alike, there was never anything comparable to Flevance. He would die before aiding a genocide. Would die before killing children.

Law relaxed again with a shaky exhale. Nodded. His arms loosened a bit, and Rosinante took that as his cue to let go. Law stepped out of his arms, but didn’t go far.

“I meant to come back sooner,” he said. “I got distracted.” 

Rosinante shook his head. “I told you to take as long as you needed.” He smiled at the treehouse, where Garp was herding his grandsons down the ladder, keeping a tight grip on Luffy. “It looks like you made some friends.” 

Law shrugged and scratched his arm again. “They’re weird, but funny. Luffy ate a Devil Fruit too.” 

“Oh.” Rosinante sat back and watched Garp try to corral his other two grandsons as Luffy wrapped strangely long arms around his neck. That explained some of Garp’s worry over the boys, as well as his resentment of Shanks. A Devil Fruit wasn’t likely to end up in a village as small as Foosha without a pirate’s involvement. 

Garp successfully caught Ace and Sabo in something that looked half like a hug and half like a wrestling move. He straightened out and marched towards Rosinante as the boys resigned themselves to their fates and slouched against his chest. 

“Let’s head back into town. Something tells me the boys haven’t eaten yet.” 

Apparently food was the magic word with Garp’s grandsons, who burst into an intimidating round of cheers. Law shot Rosinante a helplessly confused look. Rosinante couldn’t help but throw his head back and laugh. 

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Law took hearing about Rosinante’s past better than he hoped. He half expected his childhood as a noble to be the final straw for Law. Instead, Law told him he couldn’t help where he was born, and that he didn’t act like a ‘complete bastard,’ so it didn’t matter. 

They both knew it mattered. 

Law traced the scars on Rosinante’s hands and arms with careful fingers and burning eyes. Rosinante wouldn’t be able to tell him they hadn’t hurt. Law understood the body far too well to believe that. Rosinante resolved, then, to never tell Law about his knees. Law would worry over them, over him, far too much. But there wouldn’t be anything he could do. Every doctor Sengoku took Rosinante to said the same thing: they healed wrong when he was too young, and his body developed around the mangled parts. Any surgery would be more risk than it was worth. 

It wasn’t so bad, in the temperate East Blue. They didn’t ache or lock up the way they did in the Northern cold.

After a few minutes of cataloguing the wounds on Rosinante’s arms and grinding his teeth, Law softened. 

“That language you whisper in sometimes,” he said. “What is it?”

Rosinante was surprised Law noticed. He either had incredibly sharp ears, or he wasn’t asleep half the times Rosinante thought he was. 

Sadly, Rosinante was certain it was the latter. 

“It’s the language of Marie Geoise,” Rosinante sighed. “The language of my family.” 

All his family but Senoku, that was. Sengoku and now Law. 

“Even Doflamingo?”

Rosinante tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. “Even Doffy.” 

Law stared down at his lap. His hands squeezed Rosinante’s.

“Will you teach it to me?”

Rosinante’s eyes widened. An old taboo stole the breath from his lungs. 

To the Celestial Dragons, teaching a commoner the Holy Tongue would have been the greatest sacrilege. A betrayal like no other. One so severe that even Rosinante’s parents never did it. 

But Rosinante hadn’t been a Celestial Dragon in a very long time. 

“I’d be happy to,” he breathed. 

Law released his hand, only to shuffle closer and lean against his side. He even let Rosinante wrap an arm around him.

After that, Law took the news of Sengoku’s visit significantly worse.

He shut down, briefly, his breath catching and his hands curling into fists. He didn’t look up at Rosinante when he told him he needed to leave. Told him that Luffy and his brothers invited him to go fishing, and that he would be back after sundown. 

It seemed he was trying to handle his anger, his grief, without lashing out. Rosinante wouldn’t stop him. Instead, he did his best to stay busy around Makino’s bar on the off chance that Law came back early and needed him.

It was a bit before midnight when Law returned, creeping into their room and pressing himself wordlessly against Rosinante’s side. 

For awhile, the only sounds were the rumbling chatter of the bar below and the cricket song from outside.

After a few minutes, Law spoke. “He’s the Fleet Admiral.”

“He didn’t know.” 

“How?” Law snarled, an old, familiar anger sharpening his voice. “How could the Fleet Admiral not know?” 

“Because the government is corrupt and cruel,” Rosinante said. It wouldn’t be good to lie to Law here. Not again. Not about this. “There are people in power who know what Sengoku would never approve of, so they do it behind his back. They do it, and they burn records, and send bribes so he doesn’t find out.” 

Few people knew how little Sengoku actually controlled. So much of what he did was standing as a figure-head. 

Law made a pained sound. Covered his face with his hands and ducked his head to his chest. Rosinante pressed on anyway.

“I spoke to Garp about it. Sengoku tried to run an internal investigation, but with the ruling family dead there was no one to fund it. Not that they ever would have.”

He took a shaking breath. Reminded himself that not knowing would only hurt Law more.

“There were only a few, vague records left. As far as Sengoku could tell, all the others were burned.” 

That, it seemed, was too much for Law. He started sobbing, curling in on himself and Rosinante’s side as Rosinante dragged him into his lap and against his chest. 

“So that’s all it took?” Law hiccuped, one of his hands twisting to grab Rosinante’s shirt. Anchoring himself against Rosinante. “A few burnt papers and it- it never happened?! We never happened?!” 

He made a sound like a dying animal, pressing his face against Rosinante’s chest and quickly soaking his shirt with tears.

Rosinante didn’t try to hush him, didn’t offer any meaningless platitudes. Law would never accept them, in the same way he would never accept pity. 

“It happened. Nothing can change that,” Rosinante growled, fighting to keep his voice steady. He was angry, so soul-burningly angry about what Law was forced to endure.

It was the same anger he wielded as a weapon, when he wasn’t much older than Law. The same anger that drove him to burn the hospitals that turned Law away, that made Law cry. 

The anger he wished he didn’t have. The anger he shared with Doflamingo. 

“The people who did it will be punished. In this life or the next.” 

Rosinante didn’t believe in fate as an unknowable, intangible force. He believed in fate as something that was made, something resting in a person’s hands. Something that depended on the strength of a person’s will. 

Law was the most strong-willed person he’d ever met. 

“What if I don’t believe in another life?” Law asked, breathless and horrible.

This was dangerous territory, Rosinante knew. But he promised himself he wouldn’t lie to Law again. 

“Then we work to see them punished in this one.” 

Law stilled for a moment. Took a deep, shuddering breath.

“I won’t ever be a Marine,” he said. 

Rosinante ran a hand through Law’s wild hair. He didn’t take his hat when he left that morning. 

“I wouldn’t ever ask you to be one,” Rosinante told him. He meant it too. 

He knew Sengoku would want Law to join the Marines. Rosinante would make sure he never brought it up in front of Law. 

Sengoku wouldn’t like it. He would think Rosinante was encouraging Law to be a pirate through inaction. But Rosinante didn’t think he was being that passive. Law would be whatever he wanted to be. Rosinante would watch over him as long as he wanted it. 

Sengoku would just have to make peace with his grandson being a pirate. 

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Rosinante sent Law off to Ace, Sabo, and Luffy’s treehouse the moment he spotted Sengoku’s ship on the horizon. (Apparently Law had been sparring with the boys. They showed their bruises off to Rosinante and Garp proudly. Law was a far gentler teacher than his were.) Law didn’t hesitate or complain, he only grabbed his hat, gave Rosinante a quick hug, and waved to Makino as he swept out of the bar. He wasn’t comfortable being around Navy ships. Wasn’t even comfortable seeing them. 

Rosinante watched the ship approach from his window over Makino’s bar. When it docked in the harbor, he slipped out of the bar’s back door and into the woods, silencing himself as he went. 

He trusted Sengoku, and he trusted Garp, but he didn’t trust the men Sengoku would be bringing. Not implicitly. 

Not again. 

He settled himself down on a fallen log and braced his head in his hands. His Observation Haki was good enough to cover the village and the nearby coast. He could recognize Law, a bright spot a few miles away, moving with Garp’s boys. Sengoku and Garp were forceful presences, making their way through the town to the woods. Closer and closer to Rosinante. 

It was only a few minutes before Rosinante heard their voices. 

“If this were anyone but you, I would be suspicious, Garp,” Sengoku said, his voice tense. The sound of it made a pit grow in Rosinante’s stomach. 

“Is that a compliment or an insult?” Garp laughed. 

“It’s simply a fact. You don’t have a scheming bone in your body,” Sengoku told him. “It’s a wonder where your son came from.” 

With that they walked into a clearing, and Rosinante’s line of sight. 

Sengoku looked tired. He had clearly lost weight, and there were bruise-dark shadows under his steely eyes. Rosinante never thought of him as an aging man. He held himself too proudly for that. But now his features were haggard and worn- grief etched into every line of his face Rosinante never noticed before. Garp held up a hand to stop him, and he nearly stumbled. 

Rosinante ignored the way his hands shook. Ignored the way his stomach rolled. Ignored the horrible, choking lump in his throat. He let his bubble of silence grow to cover the clearing. 

“Garp, what are you-“ 

Sengoku’s eyes landed on Rosinante. 

His mouth dropped open. 

Rosinante was up and crossing the clearing before either of them could blink, dragging Sengoku into a smothering hug. 

“I’m sorry,” Rosinante said, and Sengoku’s arms snapped around him like a vice.

Sengoku held him bruisingly tight. It sent twinges of pain through Rosinante’s still healing wounds, made his ribs ache. He didn’t care. Sengoku had thought he was dead, and now he was crying against Rosinante’s shoulder. 

Rosinante had never seen him cry before. 

“How?” Sengoku asked, his voice shaking as much as his body. 

“I don’t know,” Rosinante told him, just shy of hysterical. “I thought- I knew I was…” he took a deep, heaving breath. Pushed the thought of dying out of his mind. “Law saved me. I don’t know how.”

He knew, generally, that Law saved his life using his Devil Fruit, but he still refused to share any details. Just like he refused to tell Rosinante how he healed himself. 

Law told him about Flevance. He wouldn’t say anything about this. 

Rosinante wasn’t sure he wanted to know. If it was bad enough for Law to keep it from him, he didn’t know if he could stomach it.

“Doffy has spies in the Marines,” Rosinante said, before Sengoku could press about Law. There would be time for that later. He pulled back just enough to look Sengoku in the eye, but didn’t let go of him. “I don’t know how many, but at least one is a Lieutenant called Vergo.”

Sengoku’s teary eyes hardened. “Vergo? You’re certain?”

Rosinante wasn’t going to tell Sengoku any details. Wasn’t going to tell him how he was beaten. How many times he was shot. Wasn’t going to tell him how certain he was of his own death. 

Instead he said, “he’s Doffy’s man through and through.” 

“He’s been following me around lately, insisting on ‘supporting me through my grief’,” Sengoku snarled. Rosinante’s blood ran cold. 

Sengoku saw the fear in his eyes and softened. One of his hands came up to cradle the back of Rosinante’s neck- a familiar gesture from a time that Sengoku’s hands dwarfed his. 

 “I haven’t let him anywhere near me,” Sengoku promised, and Rosinante could breathe again. 

“He’s probably waiting to see if I’ll get in contact with you,” he said. “...Which means Doffy isn’t sure I’m dead.”

That was a terrifying thought. 

Rosinante knew it would happen sooner or later. Knew that Doflamingo wouldn’t be able to write off his disappearing corpse as the work of wild animals for long. He was too paranoid for that. 

But still, imagining Doflamingo tearing through North Blue looking for him, looking for Law, leaving his dog to follow at Sengoku’s heels… 

“I’m glad you’re safe,” Rosinante said.

Sengoku laughed- a sharp, waterlogged sound. He cradled Rosinante’s face in his shaking, calloused hands. “You? I’m the one whose son has come back from the dead.” 

Rosinante made a noise embarrassingly close to a sob. “I never meant for you to think I was dead,” he promised. “But it wasn’t safe to contact you. I needed-“

“You were looking out for more than just yourself,” Sengoku cut him off, idly brushing a tear from Rosinante’s cheek. “You were looking out for that boy. The one with the Amber Lead.” 

“He doesn’t have it anymore,” Rosinante said, finally stepping out of Sengoku’s hold. 

“The Devil Fruit?” Sengoku asked, his expression serious. 

Rosinante nodded, trying not to tense too much. This would be the moment that decided if he would go back to the Marines, or be forced to run from two powers. 

He didn’t want to lose a father again. But he would do it, he would walk away, if it meant saving Law’s life.

Sengoku sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He ground his teeth. Rosinante held his breath. 

“We could spin it in Rosinante’s favor.”

Garp’s voice was an unexpected shock. Rosinante had half-forgotten he was there. Sengoku had too, if his widening eyes were any indication. 

“What do you mean?” Sengoku asked, unexpectedly eager. The fact that he was entertaining the idea at all...

“The Donquixote Pirates stole the Devil Fruit,” Garp said, spreading his hands. “How could we know which member did it? Commander Rosinante had reason to believe he was compromised, so he escaped and took the kid and the Devil Fruit with him.” 

None of it was even really a lie- Garp simply moved some things out of order. It could work, Rosinante realized, if people didn’t dig too deeply. There was only one problem.

“How do we explain the boy eating the Devil Fruit?” Sengoku asked, frowning the way he always did when he was deep in thought. 

Garp grinned. “An accident!” he laughed. “The brat was too sick to realize what he was eating.” 

Rosinante’s eye twitched. 

Sengoku glowered at Garp. “Who would believe someone ate a Devil Fruit by accident?” 

“My grandson did it,” Garp said with a shrug. 

“Is your grandson an idiot?” Sengoku snapped. Rosinante burst out laughing as Garp’s face reddened. 

“It could work,” he said, before Garp could start a fight. He didn’t think Foosha Village could survive one of Sengoku and Garp’s brawls. “Late stage Amber Lead poisoning can cause hallucinations. Who could know that it didn’t for Law?”

It was hard to mention that fact so casually. There was more than one time Law tugged at Rosinante, asking him to describe the world around them so he could be sure the poisoning hadn’t reached his brain. His mind was all he had, towards the end. He was so afraid of losing it. 

Garp grinned, triumphantly spreading his hands. “There we go! An easy solution.” 

Sengoku closed his eyes in a lightly pained expression. Rosinante chewed on his lower lip. 

“I wonder if we even need to say that much,” he said. 

“What do you mean?” Sengoku asked, his voice stern. 

He was speaking as the Fleet Admiral, then. Not as Rosinante’s father. 

Rosinante straightened up. “I took a sick child and a Devil Fruit away from the Donquixote Pirates. I was caught, and in that confrontation the Devil Fruit was lost. What more do I need to say?” 

He didn’t want the Navy focused on Law. He didn’t want anyone in power focused on Law. It wouldn’t lead to anything good.  

If it came out that Law was a survivor of Flevance… 

(A memory came to Rosinante’s mind of the Ohara incident. Of a little girl’s face on wanted posters.)

“Does anyone but you know that Law had Amber Lead specifically?” he asked Sengoku. 

Sengoku’s shoulders slouched. “I doubt it,” he said, dropping the authority in his voice. “Piecing together the boy’s origin was… difficult, to say the least. It’s unlikely anyone will investigate him to the degree I did.” 

“Why?”

“Because I thought he might be the answer to what happened to you.” 

Rosinante’s mouth went dry. His heart stuttered. 

Sengoku smiled thinly. “If nothing else, it seems I was right about that,” he said. “I never recorded anything I found about the boy. You don’t need to worry about that.”

Sengoku closed his eyes and took a deep breath, grounding himself the way he taught Rosinante to. 

“Could he keep up a lie you told him under scrutiny?” Sengoku asked. 

Rosinante’s mind came to a screeching halt. He could barely believe Sengoku was considering this. That he was planning for it. Rosinante did his best to gather himself, and focus on the matter at hand.

“Easily,” he told Sengoku.

He decided to leave out the fact that Law would take any opportunity he could to spit in the government’s face. Lying would be nothing for him. 

“What��s the plan, then?” Garp asked, a rarely heard seriousness in his voice. 

“We’ll deal with Vergo first,” Sengoku said with a nod. “We’ll try to bring any other spies down with him. We can spin Rosinante not checking in as intentional rather than him going AWOL. The boy…” he trailed off with a sigh. “We’ll work the boy into it.” 

“Law won’t go into Marine custody.” Rosinante decided now was as good a time as ever to bring that up. 

“Why not?” Sengoku asked, his voice sharp. That commanding bark never intimidated Rosinante as much as it did Sengoku’s troops. 

(Maybe it was because none of them ever found Sengoku sprawled out on their living room floor, singing nonsense songs to his pet goat as he fed her treats. That kind of thing softened one’s image of a man.)

“Flevance,” Rosinante said simply. “It’s a minor miracle that Law forgave me for telling him I wasn’t a Marine. Another miracle that he agreed to be civil with you.” 

“Civil?” Sengoku asked. 

Garp cut in. “Means the kid won’t pull a knife on you.” 

Sengoku stared Garp down. “Did he pull one on you?”

“Nah,” Garp said. “Only ‘cause he didn’t have a knife to pull. But your kid gave him one the other day.” 

Sengoku shot Rosinante a look. He raised his hands in defense. “I’m not leaving him unarmed when Doffy’s after him.” 

“How many years has Doflamingo spent grooming him?” Sengoku asked, and Rosinante grit his teeth. “How sure are you that he won’t go back to him?” 

“I’m very sure,” Rosinante hissed, his voice hard as he rolled his shoulders back and straightened up. 

(Like a cobra rising to strike, Doflamingo laughed, once.) 

He might not have been certain a few months ago, but any good will, any tolerance Law had for Doflamingo died when he shot Rosinante. He was probably higher than the average Marine on Law’s shit list, at this point. 

Sengoku had never quite figured out how to deal with Rosinante when he was angry.

“I didn’t mean to… doubt either of you,” he said. The lie was so bad he flinched as he said it. 

But Rosinante recognized the intention, and forced himself to let it go. “Just… just don’t say anything like that around Law.” 

“I won’t.” 

Garp grinned. “This is going to be a disaster, isn’t it?”

Rosinante sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t want to admit out loud that Garp was certainly right. 

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Garp was mostly right. 

Predictably, Sengoku had no idea how to act around Law. 

Even more predictably, Law hated Sengoku on principle. 

Rosinante was sure the only reason he didn’t bolt or try to attack Sengoku was because he attached himself to Rosinante’s side. He was intent on keeping his promise to be civil. Rosinante wouldn’t admit it out loud, Law would smack him if he did, but it was painfully endearing.

To Rosinante, at least. Sengoku looked just as ready to run as Law did. 

The meeting was agonizingly awkward and stilted. Thankfully, Garp brought Luffy to ease some of the tension. He was currently chatting Sengoku’s ear off in barely passable Grand, telling him a story about almost being eaten by crocodiles. 

Rosinante hoped it was just a story, but considering the alarmingly proud look on Garp’s face, it wasn’t. 

Luffy was simultaneously providing a distraction for Law, having offered Law his hand when everyone settled in Makino’s closed bar. Law was carefully experimenting with seeing how far he could stretch Luffy’s fingers, and trying to feel the rubbery bones beneath the skin. He was clearly having a wonderful time with it, if the grin crawling across his face was any indication.

The light in his eyes visibly unsettled Garp and Sengoku. Rosinante knew Law noticed this, and was fairly sure he was playing it up. 

“Luffy-ya, do you bleed?” he asked. Sengoku looked at him sharply. Luffy barely paused in his storytelling. 

“Just if I get cut!” he chirped, before launching into another story of almost getting eaten- this time by a large wildcat. 

Law only hummed, stretching Luffy’s skin and holding it up to the light to see the veins running below the surface.

Rosinante leaned down and whispered to Law in Flevean, “don’t be creepy on purpose.” 

“It’s not on purpose. I’m just curious,” Law said, which was a weak defense, seeing as he stared Sengoku down every time he asked Luffy a strange question. 

Rosinante raised an eyebrow at him. Law caved, and heaved the most put-upon sigh Rosinante ever heard. 

“Hey, old man,” he called to Sengoku, which was hardly polite but definitely better than however Law was thinking of him. Sengoku’s eye twitched a bit at the disrespect, but thankfully he didn’t say anything about it. 

“You raised Cora, right?” Law asked.

If Sengoku was confused by the name, he didn’t show it. Instead, he nodded. “I took him in when he was young.” 

Law stared at him for an uncomfortably long minute. Even Luffy fell silent to watch. 

“Then thanks,” Law said. 

Rosinante wouldn’t have been able to stop his smile if he tried. 

“I should thank you as well,” Sengoku told him, his lips twitching. “It’s my understanding that you saved his life.” 

Law nodded, shifting in a way that made it clear he was uncomfortable. Not with the praise, Rosinante knew, but with the reminder. 

“I’m a doctor,” he said, simply, and went back to playing with Luffy’s hand. 

Rosinante shot Sengoku an approving look, both to thank him and to keep from pushing his luck. Luffy helped that as well, poking at Sengoku and asking him if he’d ever seen a Sea King. Garp took over answering that, tugging Luffy out of Sengoku’s personal space before he could start climbing on him. 

“Are you doing alright?” Rosinante asked Law. 

Law shrugged. “I don't like this. Or him. But I get to kill two birds with one stone.” 

Rosinante did not get a chance to ask what, exactly, Law meant by that.

“Luffy-ya,” he called, waiting till he had the other boy, and everyone else’s, attention. “Does this hurt?”

He brutally bent one of Luffy’s fingers until it touched the back of his hand. 

“No,” Luffy said, oblivious to the horrified adults around him. “Should it?”

“Yes.” Law smiled, all bared teeth. “Do your bones break?” 

“I don’t think so,” Luffy shrugged. Law lit up. 

Before anyone could stop him, Law braced Luffy’s arm and twisted his hand completely around. It was a clear, practiced movement that would break any other person’s wrist. Luffy laughed. 

“Can you move your fingers?” Law asked, briefly meeting Sengoku’s horrified stare. 

“Yup!” Luffy chirping, obligingly wiggling each one. 

“That’s fascinating,” Law muttered. Luffy grinned at him, as if he understood the compliment. It absolutely was a compliment, coming from Law. 

Law pinned Luffy’s wrist down and continued twisting it, like he was turning a corkscrew. Luffy went back to his conversation with Garp.

Rosinante looked at Sengoku. He was staring at Law, one eye twitching, with a concentration similar to when he was putting together a puzzle. 

A slightly disturbing puzzle, in this case. 

“Cora, do you have a notebook?” Law asked, finally letting Luffy go and watching his wrist spin back into place with an almost manic fascination. His fingers twitched lightly. 

Rosinante knew all about Law’s hobby of small animal dissection. If it were anyone else Rosinante would find it unpleasant, but Law got so excited when he talked about veins, and nerves, and the way tendons strung a body together. It was a good thing Law had enough manners not to ask if he could cut Luffy open. Rosinante wasn’t sure Luffy was sensible enough to refuse. 

There was a small notebook and a pen in Rosinante’s pocket. He pulled them out and handed them to Law, who started writing frantic notes. 

“Is this… normal? For him?” Sengoku asked, watching Law write. 

Rosinante wished he could tell him it wasn’t. 

“Pretty much.”

It was better not to tell Sengoku this display was tame by Law’s standards.

But Law’s curiosity was satisfied. Sengoku was deeply unnerved. Two birds with one stone indeed. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“The boy is certainly… unsettling,” Sengoku said, staring up at the windows over Makino’s bar. Law went to bed hours ago, and Garp left with Luffy not long after. After that, Rosinante and Sengoku settled behind the bar, passing a flask of rum back and forth. 

Rosinante looked at Sengoku, accepting the flask when he was offered it. He would wait to be offended. Sengoku might have a point beyond insulting Law. 

He could almost see why some people thought Law was unsettling, but he didn’t agree. Law was too easily flustered, too easily riled. Too fascinated by the most surprising things. Too genuine in his rage and his joy. Too small. Rosinante struggled to see him as anything other than endearing. 

“But he’s your son.”

Rosinante struggled to swallow the lump in his throat. “I don’t think he sees me as a father. I don’t think he could.” 

From what he told Rosinante, Law’s father was an incredible man. A man that Law loved and admired. A man he had, at one point, wanted to be like. It wasn’t Rosinante’s place to compare himself to him. 

“It’s obvious that he loves you,” Sengoku said. He snatched the flask from Rosinante before he could knock the rest of the rum back in an impressive display of self-pity. 

(He knew Rosinante’s habits well. Half the reason they ever drank together was so Sengoku could be sure he didn’t drink too much.)

“He does.” Rosinante meant to agree, but the fear crawling up his throat turned the words into a question.

Sengoku knew Rosinante well enough not to call it out. Instead he stood and grabbed Rosinante’s arms to haul him to his feet, and into a hug. Rosinante melted into the embrace. He clung to Sengoku like he did as a child. It was difficult, now that he was taller than Sengoku, but they managed.

“I have a week in Foosha,” Sengoku said, his voice rough and unsteady. 

Rosinante swallowed a sob. Nodded against Sengoku’s shoulder. 

“We can make a plan in that time.” Sengoku squeezed Rosinante sharply, then pulled back just enough to cup Rosinante’s face in his calloused hands. Tears ran tracks down his face, even as his lips curved up.

“You’re alive.” 

Rosinante hiccupped. He tried to bite down the feeling rushing up his throat before he remembered this was Sengoku. This was his father. Rosinante sobbed. He clung to Sengoku and wailed, breaking down in a way he hadn’t since he was a child. Since the first time Sengoku made him feel safe. 

It had been too much. 

Everything with Doflamingo. Living when he should have died. Law drifting every day between death and life. It was too much. 

It was all too much.

Sengoku was steady as ever, holding Rosinante upright. Running a hand over Rosinante’s back, a hand through his hair. Taking clear, long breaths that were easy to match. Easy to fall into rhythm with, even if Rosinante’s chest rattled as he did. 

Sengoku didn’t try to soothe him. To hush him, or promise everything would be well. It would only set Rosinante off again if he tried. Instead, he held Rosinante close for as long as it took his grief to run dry. For as long as it took him to gather the pieces of himself together. 

When he straightened up, his hands stayed- balled tightly in the fabric of Sengoku’s coat.

Sengoku was wearing a smile Rosinante had never seen- the smallest tilt to his lips, his eyes pained and warm all at once. Rosinante untangled his hands from Sengoku’s coat, squeezing his shoulders before letting his arms fall to his sides.

Sengoku reached up to wipe the last tears from Rosinante’s face.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he promised. Rosinante could only nod and watch him leave, too choked up to speak. 

Rosinante stood alone in the dark for a long time, breathing deeply and grounding himself as best as he could.

Once he felt he wasn’t about to start crying again, he slipped back inside. He made a bubble of silence around himself as he snuck into his and Law’s room. There was barely enough moonlight spilling in from the window for Rosinante to see where he was going. He used the small washbasin by his bedside to clean the makeup from his face.

He knew he should regret the tattoos. But instead he found, time and time again, that he didn’t. They were a reminder of something wonderful just as much as they were a reminder of something awful.

There was a rustling sound behind Rosinante. He turned to find Law sitting up in his bed. 

“Cora?” he asked, his voice thick with exhaustion. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Rosinante said, stepping forward to ruffle Law’s hair. 

He lazily slapped Rosinante’s hand away. “I was already awake. Mostly.” 

Rosinante hoped Law would sleep better once he was cured, but he didn’t really expect it. Amber Lead was far from the only thing that plagued him.

“Insomnia again?” 

Law didn’t answer. Instead he ducked his head, his clenched fists twisting the bedsheets. 

“Law?” Rosinante prodded, kneeling by his bedside. 

“You’re a fucking idiot, Cora,” Law snapped, so sharp that Rosinante flinched back. 

“Wh-”

“You’re an idiot.” His voice was a hiss- sharp and cold. “You’re an idiot who’s so used to his Devil Fruit he can’t tell how damn loud his voice is.”

Rosinante’s mouth went dry. He took a shuddering breath.

He almost didn’t notice Law start to cry; his shoulders shaking, his small chest heaving.

“I already said we’re family, didn’t I?” 

Rosinante’s body moved before his mind could catch up, opening his arms for Law to fall into. 

“I’m sorry,” Rosinante breathed, as Law’s arms wound around his neck. “I’m sorry for not listening.” 

“Just don’t do it again,” Law snarled, but the sound was softened by the way he clung to Rosinante. 

He let himself relax into the hug. Let himself trust that Law wasn’t going anywhere. Wouldn’t be lost to him in the night- to sickness or to Doflamingo. 

“I love you, Law.” 

Law’s hold tightened. 

Rosinante had a son.