Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Law checked the time on his phone as he stepped onto the church grounds: 4:06 p.m. That gave him just under an hour before he had to pick up Damian from daycare. The group meeting would end at 4:45, if the group leader didn’t go off on another tangent about the “beauty of shared journeys.”

He exhaled slowly through his nose and adjusted the strap of his backpack. Still in his school uniform, his shirt was untucked, and he’d popped the top button as soon as he left class. There was a beer can nestled inside his bag—drunk, courtesy of Shachi in the school parking lot.

“Trust me,” Shachi had said with the sincerity of a conman, “this’ll help you survive another round of Diaper Drama Diaries.”

Law had accepted it with a grunt and now regretted not demanding six more.

The church hall loomed ahead. It looked like a place hope went to die. Beige walls. Folding chairs in a half-circle. Faded posters about "Positive Parenting" and "Teen Resilience." A snack table in the back with a suspiciously full plate of sugar-free cookies and juice boxes that, somehow, tasted like regret.

Law pushed open the door and gave a tight nod to the group leader, Miss Otohime, a woman with a permanently pinched smile and an alarming number of pastel cardigans. She clapped her hands together like she was herding toddlers.

“Welcome back, Law. We’re just getting started.”

Lucky him.

Law dropped into his usual seat—third from the end, closest to the snacks but not close enough to be volunteered first for icebreakers. He slouched low, arms crossed, face unreadable. Someone was mid-sob about their baby’s sleep schedule. The usual.

Then he saw him.

New face. Slouched across from him in a hoodie three sizes too big, sleeves half-covered in crumbs. Omega, probably. The baby bump made that obvious, even under the baggy layers. He had messy black hair, a wide scar under his eye, and was currently chewing on a sugar cookie like it had personally offended him.

Miss Otohime smiled too brightly. “Since we have a new friend with us today, why don’t we go around and introduce ourselves again? Just your name and how old your little one is—or how far along you are!”

Law resisted the urge to slide down his chair and vanish into the carpet.

The circle began. One by one, teens introduced themselves, awkward and quiet, some holding babies, others bouncing them in carriers or holding on for dear life to sippy cups.

Then it was the new kid’s turn.

He swallowed the rest of his cookie. “I’m Luffy. Seventeen. Five months along. It sucks.” Pause. “Also, the cookies suck.”

Miss Otohime blinked. “Thank you for your honesty… Luffy. It’s very brave to—”

“Do I have to come every week?”

She faltered. “It’s strongly encouraged—”

“Because Gramps said I did. But if this is just people crying and eating sad snacks, I could do that at home.”

Across the circle, Law let out a short, involuntary snort.

Luffy turned to him immediately. “What, am I wrong?”

Law shook his head, faintly amused despite himself. “You’re not.”

Miss Otohime visibly recalibrated, clasping her hands again. “Why don’t we split into small groups for some sharing activities?”

As everyone started shuffling chairs and forming awkward trios, Law found a pair of big brown eyes looking at him.

Luffy jerked his head toward the empty chair beside Law. “You look like you hate this as much as I do.”

“Probably more.”

“Cool.” Luffy dropped into the seat with zero hesitation and grabbed another cookie. “Let’s suffer together.”

Law raised an eyebrow. “You always this charming?”

“I’m cutting back,” Luffy said through a mouthful of crumbs. “I only insulted two things today.”

Law huffed a quiet laugh, shook his head, and leaned back in his chair. Maybe this meeting wouldn’t suck as much as usual.

Maybe.

Luffy swung his legs under the chair like he was bored in detention, one hand lazily resting over the curve of his stomach.

"What's your name?"

"Trafalgar Law."

“So. You got a kid or are you just here for the stale snacks?”

“Kid,” Law said, dragging his gaze away from the cheery poster about “bonding through bath time.” “Two years old. Damian.”

“Two?” Luffy blinked. “Whoa. So you started early, huh?”

Law gave him a flat look. “You’re five months in and already acting like a veteran?”

Luffy grinned, unapologetic. “I mean, I’ve read one parenting book. Didn’t finish it. But still.” He leaned closer. “Was it planned?”

Law tilted his head. “No. You?”

“Hell no.” Luffy made a face. “My boyfriend panicked and dumped me. Said he wasn’t ‘ready to be a dad’ like that’s not something you should figure out before getting someone pregnant.”

Law’s mouth twitched at the corners. “Sounds like a winner.”

“He’s dumb anyway,” Luffy said, waving a hand. “Didn’t even know how to change a tire. What about your... person?”

Law’s face closed off slightly. “Gone.”

“Gone like...?”

“Gone like left.”

Luffy didn’t press. Just nodded like he understood, then leaned back with a sigh.

“Sucks, huh.”

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Around them, the small groups buzzed with half-hearted conversations and the occasional baby wail.

Luffy stretched, his hoodie riding up slightly.

“God, I hate these chairs. They’re made of plywood and shame.”

Law looked over at him. “You always talk this much?”

Luffy shrugged. “You always answer like you’re in a police interrogation?”

Law paused. Then: “Sometimes.”

Luffy snorted. “You’re weird.”

“You’re loud.”

Luffy grinned again. “We’re a perfect match.”

Law rolled his eyes, but there was no bite to it.

“You get cravings yet?”

“Oh man, yeah. Pickles and jam. Together. I had three sandwiches last night and cried when I dropped one on the floor.”

Law stared at him. “That’s disgusting.”

Luffy looked smug. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

Law considered that. “I won’t be trying it.”

They lapsed into silence again, the easy kind that settles between people who don’t feel the need to force words.

Eventually, Luffy shifted. “Hey. You come here every week?”

“Yeah.”

“You gonna be here next time?”

Law glanced over, expression unreadable. “Maybe.”

Luffy nodded, like that was enough. “Cool. I’ll sit next to you again. You make this less awful.”

Law looked away, but the corner of his mouth curved up.

“Likewise.”

Law leaned back in his chair, eyes flicking toward the dusty clock on the far wall.

4:22 p.m.

God. Twenty-three more minutes of this.

Miss Otohime was talking again, something about positive parenting language and setting “healthy expectations.” Law tuned it out like white noise. He’d heard it before. Over and over again.

He glanced around the circle, out of habit. There were fifteen people in today’s meeting. Eleven omegas, mostly in various stages of pregnancy. A handful of betas, girls balancing diaper bags and half-asleep babies. And him. One of the three alphas technically on the roster.

Only one other alpha had shown up that day, and he left ten minutes in when his phone rang and he muttered something about “court-mandated hours.” Law didn’t know his name. Didn’t care.

He’d stopped expecting anything useful from this place after the third meeting.

Law scratched his jaw, resisting the urge to sigh. He didn’t even hate the group. It was just… predictable. Same stories. Same advice. Same half-pitying, half-awkward glances from the counselors when they realized he wasn’t a terrified omega who needed hand-holding or a struggling beta drowning in sleep deprivation.

He was just Law. Tired. Efficient. Quiet. There because he had to be, not because he needed it.

He didn’t like group hugs. He didn’t like group anything.

What he liked was going home, dropping his backpack by the door, changing out of his uniform, and cooking something quick. Doing homework while Damian watched cartoons. Letting the kid nap on his chest while he annoyed Rosinante from the couch with sarcastic commentary on whatever drama was playing on TV.

Law’s fingers drummed against his thigh. Was that really too much to ask for? An evening of normal? No fake smiles. No posters telling him he was “brave.” Just him, his kid, and a blanket that smelled like laundry detergent and toddler shampoo.

Across the circle, Luffy shifted in his seat again and shot him a look. His hoodie had ridden up again, and he was chewing on another cookie like it was made of cardboard.

“This is dragging,” Luffy whispered loudly.

Law smirked. “Told you.”

“Feels like we’ve been here for years.”

“You’ve only been here for twenty minutes.”

“Exactly.”

Law snorted under his breath, then went back to counting down. 4:24. He could survive twenty more minutes.

“You know,” Luffy said, “you’re the least annoying person here.”

Law raised an eyebrow. “You’ve barely talked to anyone else.”

“Exactly.”

He fought a smile.

Behind them, Miss Otohime’s voice rose in a hopeful chirp. “Okay, everyone! Let’s share something positive that happened this week!”

Luffy groaned under his breath and leaned closer to Law. “If I say ‘I didn’t puke today,’ does that count?”

Law murmured, “It’s more than most people here.”

“Exactly. I’m winning already.”

Law huffed a quiet laugh. He wasn’t sure when the meeting would end. But for the first time, he didn’t really mind staying a little longer.

Miss Otohime looked their way and gave a bright little clap.

“Law? Do you want to share your positive moment of the week?”

“No,” he said automatically.

There was a pause. She let out a brittle laugh like he was joking.

“Would you like to try?”

Law exhaled slowly. “My son learned to say ’dinosaur’ this morning. Sort of. It came out ‘dino-sore.’ He was very proud.”

A few scattered “awws” went around the circle.

Luffy grinned. “That is cute.”

Law shrugged. “He says it for everything now. Pancakes? Dinosaur. Shoes? Dinosaur. My homework? Big dinosaur.”

“Smart kid.”

Law nodded once. “Too smart.”

Miss Otohime beamed, as if that somehow proved the program was working.

“Thank you, Law. That was lovely.”

He didn’t respond. Just went back to counting minutes and wondering if Damian had fallen asleep in daycare again and if Rosinante had remembered to pick up milk.

He glanced at Luffy again. Still chewing. Still slouched. Still entirely too comfortable for someone so new.

The seventeen minutes dragged by with the slow, aching pace of a dentist’s waiting room. Law had never been particularly fond of school—between the noise, the tests, and the people who didn’t know how to shut up—but this? This was worse.

At least in school he could pretend to pay attention while secretly solving equations in the margins or texting Shachi and Penguin under the desk. Here, there was no escape. Just the cloying smell of Lysol, folding chairs with mysterious stains, and a whiteboard that said “YOU ARE DOING GREAT!” in multicolored dry-erase marker, as if shouting it made it true.

Miss Otohime had started passing out little pamphlets titled Positive Affirmations for Young Parents. Law stared at the one in his lap like it might self-destruct.
The first affirmation read: “I am calm, I am confident, I am capable.”
He muttered under his breath, “I am two seconds from walking out.”

Luffy leaned over again, eyes half-lidded and clearly bored out of his skull. “What does yours say?”

Law held it up with two fingers. “Some crap about being calm and confident.”

Luffy read it, snorted, and flipped his own pamphlet upside down. “Mine says ‘I trust myself to make good choices.’ Too late for that, huh?”

Law’s mouth twitched. “Definitely too late.”

Miss Otohime, oblivious or just choosing peace over confrontation, continued cheerfully, “Let’s close today’s meeting by going around and saying one thing we’re grateful for.”

Law resisted the overwhelming urge to groan.

One girl said she was grateful her baby slept through the night. Another said her partner had finally helped with laundry. A third cried while saying she was grateful for the group.

Law counted backwards from ten.

Finally, it was Luffy’s turn.

“I’m grateful for the juice boxes,” he said flatly, holding one up like a toast. “And for the guy next to me, who didn’t make me feel like a freak.”

Miss Otohime smiled, a bit tight around the edges now.

“That’s... wonderful, Luffy.”

Luffy added, “Also, the church wifi password is JesusLovesBabies123 in case anyone was wondering. You’re welcome.”

Law almost choked.

The girl next to them started typing it into her phone immediately.

And then—finally—the miracle: the clock hit 4:45 p.m. Law was on his feet before Miss Otohime could say the word “reflection.”

He grabbed his bag and slung it over one shoulder. Luffy was up just as fast, somehow already shoving two more cookies into his hoodie pocket. Law grabbed a couple of juice boxes and stuffed them into his backpack.

“See you next week, Law?” Miss Otohime asked with a hopeful voice.

Law gave her a look that could mean yes or please stop breathing in my direction. He turned toward the door.

Luffy caught up to him in two steps. “Wanna walk me out? I don’t feel like getting cornered by cookie mom again. She asked if I knew who the father was. Again.”

Law arched an eyebrow. “You told her no?”

“I said he was eaten by wolves.”

Law snorted. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re still here. So what does that say about you?”

They stepped out into the cool air, the fading sun casting long shadows over the church lawn. For the first time all day, Law felt like he could breathe properly.

He glanced sideways. “You walking or getting picked up?”

Luffy shrugged. “Walking. It’s just a few blocks. Gramps wanted to come get me, but if I have to hear one more ‘when I was your age’ story, I might actually collapse. And you?

Law grunted. “I’ve got to get Damian.”

“Hey,” Luffy said, voice low again, “next time you bring your kid. I wanna meet the dinosaur genius.”

Law looked at him. “You’re serious?”

“I’m always serious.” Luffy turned to him, grin softening just slightly. “You doing okay? You know… in general.”

Law blinked at the question. Then gave a quiet shrug.

“As good as I can be.”

Luffy nodded. “Cool. ‘Cause you seem like one of the only sane people in there. Next week, we sit in the back and pretend to be invisible.”

Law raised an eyebrow. “We weren’t doing that already?”

Luffy laughed. “Next week, we do it better.”

They reached the sidewalk. Luffy turned one way, Law the other.

“Later, Torao." Luffy called, already halfway down the block.

Law watched him go, then muttered under his breath with a hint of a smirk, “Loud idiot.”

But somehow, he didn’t mind next Wednesday so much.

The walk to daycare was quiet, and that was just how Law liked it—cool air, city noise low and steady in the background, the slap of his shoes against pavement. His shoulders eased a little the farther he got from the church.

By the time he reached the squat brick building with peeling yellow paint and finger-paint masterpieces taped proudly to the windows, he was almost relaxed.

The door squeaked when he pushed it open, the scent of crayons and apple juice rushing out to meet him.

“Hi, Law" said the receptionist, barely glancing up from her crossword. “He’s in the back, play corner.”

Law nodded in thanks and made his way through the halls, his shoes squeaking slightly on the linoleum. He heard him before he saw him—tiny feet running, a burst of giggles, and a triumphant yell of “RAWR!” followed by the unmistakable sound of toys crashing.

Law stopped at the doorway and leaned on the frame.

There he was. Damian. Curled up like a lion in a pile of plastic dinosaurs, one sock halfway off, his curls an absolute mess, and his shirt covered in mysterious stains that Law didn’t even want to guess at.

The moment the kid looked up and spotted him, his whole face lit up.

“Papa!!” Damian bolted toward him, arms open wide, a sticky dinosaur in one hand.

Law crouched just in time to catch him, steadying both backpack and toddler with a practiced ease.

“Hey, little bear,” he said, voice softer now. “You cause trouble today?”

Damian nodded proudly. “I ate two crackers and then I bit the big block.”

“Yeah?” Law ruffled his hair. “That block probably deserved it.”

Damian nodded like a tiny philosopher. “It did.”

Law pulled a juice box out of his backpack and handed it to Damian. Law hoisted him up onto his hip and grabbed his art folder with the other hand. A masterpiece of scribbles in purple marker peeked out the top, labeled “Mr. Bear” in a teacher’s neat handwriting.

They headed out the door, Damian babbling about a show he’d watched that involved singing vegetables and “the mean onion who stole the car.” Law responded with quiet hums and occasional commentary, but mostly he just listened.

It was funny, in a way. How exhausting everything was—school, group meetings, daycare pick-ups—and yet… this part? This small, sticky hand on his shoulder and the babble of nonsense in his ear?

It grounded him.

At the crosswalk, he glanced down and caught Damian staring up at him.

“What?” Law asked.

“You smell weird.” Damian informed him, scrunching his nose.

“Yeah, that’s what happens when you spend an hour with sad pregnant teenagers and a table full of off-brand cookies.”

Damian blinked slowly. “Okay.”

They crossed the street, and Law adjusted his grip.

Once they got home, he'd cook—maybe something simple, rice and miso soup, maybe throw in some frozen dumplings. Damian would demand three dumplings, eat one and a half, then beg for fruit snacks. Rosinante would wander in and steal bites of food while dramatically declaring his bones were brittle and malnourished. Law would throw a pillow at him.

Then homework, maybe a bath, and cartoons before bedtime.

He could already see it. That routine. That safe, familiar rhythm that made it possible to endure the chaos.

Damian leaned his head against his shoulder, getting drowsy.

Law pressed a kiss to his hair. “Tired, little bear?”

A slow nod.

“Me too.”

They walked the rest of the way home under the pale gold of a setting sun, their shadows stretching long behind them.

The front door creaked as Law nudged it open with his shoulder, Damian half-asleep in his arms, arms draped over his shoulder like a floppy scarf.

The house smelled like strong coffee, takeout, and fabric softener. Shoes cluttered the entryway, a pair of pink glittery sneakers belonging to Lami parked haphazardly next to Rosinante’s massive boots, and Doflamingo’s obnoxiously expensive loafers sitting neatly just out of everyone’s way, like they thought they were better than the rest of them.

Law shut the door with a quiet kick and set Damian down, who blinked up at him with bleary eyes.

“Go find Uncle Rosi, yeah?” Law said, pulling off his shoes. “Tell him to stop hogging the remote.”

Damian nodded solemnly and trudged off down the hall in search of his favorite victim.

Law let out a long breath and leaned against the wall for a second, eyes closed. It had been a day. The kind that made his spine ache and his brain hum with exhaustion.

“Don’t leave your shoes in the middle of the hallway, Law” came a voice sharp as a knife from the kitchen.

Law cracked one eye open. “Hi, Mom.”

Dulcinea stood with her back to him, drying a dish with mechanical precision. She was tall, graceful, and always looked like she belonged in a high-rise office instead of a cluttered two-story house in the suburbs. Her hair was swept into a tight bun, her earrings matched her sweater, and her whole presence radiated judgment—even when she wasn’t saying a word.

“You’re late,” she said without turning.

“I had the group,” he replied. He kept his voice level, neutral. Not cold. Just… flat.

“Again?” Her tone sharpened. “You shouldn’t be relying on that place for—”

“I’m not,” he cut in, already heading for the fridge. “Just going. Doesn’t mean I like it.”

She didn’t answer. The silence that followed was familiar. Heavy. Pressurized.

He grabbed a cold bottle of tea and twisted the cap off with his teeth, not bothering with a glass. He could feel her watching, but he didn’t look back.

“You still haven’t given me Damian’s latest health forms,” she said.

“I put them in your inbox.”

“You know I don’t use that thing.”

“Then why do you keep asking me to send stuff there?” he muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” he said louder, then stepped out of the kitchen before she could press further.

Lami nearly barreled into him in the hallway, a blur of pink hoodie, earbuds, and dramatic teenage energy.

“Hey!” she chirped. “Damian said you smell weird.”

“That’s because your mom raised a sad teenagee.” Law grumbled, dodging her.

“I heard that!” Dulcinea called.

“I meant for you to!” Law shouted back.

Lami cackled as she disappeared in the hallway.

Law followed the faint sound of cartoon explosions and Damian’s delighted giggles into the living room. Rosinante was sprawled on the couch like he’d melted there sometime during the afternoon, a bowl of popcorn balanced on his chest and his socked feet hanging off the armrest.

“Cora-san,” Law said tiredly, “are you seriously letting him eat popcorn before dinner?”

Rosinante blinked at him with zero shame. “Technically, I’m sharing.”

Law glared.

Rosinante patted the couch. “Sit. Rest. You look like someone ran you over with a stroller full of bad decisions.”

“I was at group,” Law muttered, but he collapsed into the other end of the couch anyway, sighing heavily.

Damian climbed into his lap without ceremony, sticky fingers and all, and curled up like he belonged there—which he did.

“What’s new at group?” Rosinante asked, handing Damian a sippy cup.

“Luffy.”

Rosinante raised a brow. “...Who?”

“New omega. Five months along. No chill. Said his ex got eaten by wolves.”

Rosinante made a noise that was half-choke, half-laugh. “Instant classic.”

“He also figured out the church’s wifi password.”

“Oh, he’s dangerous.”

Law looked down at Damian, who was busy smashing two action figures together while humming to himself. He ran a hand through his son’s curls, more to ground himself than anything.

“You like him?” Rosinante asked, voice gentler now.

Law didn’t answer right away. Then: “He’s funny.”

Rosinante gave a knowing hum, but said nothing else.

In the kitchen, Dulcinea’s voice rose again, this time directing Lami to pick up her socks from the dining room chairs. Somewhere upstairs, Doflamingo’s door slammed with all the subtlety of a thunderstorm. A dog barked outside. The microwave beeped. Damian roared like a dinosaur.

And still, with all that noise, Law felt himself finally exhale.

Home was chaos. Complicated, imperfect, loud—and yeah, sometimes suffocating.

But Damian was warm in his lap, and Rosinante was next to him, and Wednesday didn’t seem so unbearable now that he knew Luffy would be there.

Even if the group sucked, at least someone would sit in the back row with him and make fun of cookies flavors. That was something.

Chapter Text

Luffy leaned further back in his chair, the cheap wheels squeaking under the tilt of his weight, one hand holding his half-full glass of soda, the other cradling the underside of his stomach like it was a tray. He squinted down with intense concentration.

“Okay... steady…”

The glass wobbled.

Balanced.

He grinned like he’d just discovered fire.

In the background, his computer speakers droned on with the voice of his teacher, who might as well have been reciting ancient scripture.

“…and if we consider the migratory patterns over the last century, you’ll see a direct correlation between climate change and—”

“Blah blah blah,” Luffy muttered, tilting his head and sticking out his tongue as he tried to sip from the soda without moving his hands.

The glass slid off.

“Ah—!”

He caught it just in time, sloshing a little onto his shirt, which was already stretched comically over his bump and decorated with a faded print of a banana wearing sunglasses.

“Dammit,” he hissed, wiping the stain with the hem. “You traitor.”

He shoved the glass into the cupholder of his desk chair and sat up straighter, only to wince. The baby, clearly unimpressed with his antics, gave him a swift jab to the ribs.

“Okay, okay, you’re the boss,” Luffy groaned, rubbing at the spot. “Geez, I’m already letting you live rent-free.”

From the hallway, Garp's booming voice echoed: “Are you actually paying attention in there or should I bring the mop again?”

“I am! And that was ONE time!” Luffy yelled back, scowling at the closed door. “How was I supposed to know soda and biology don’t mix?”

He glanced back at the screen where the teacher was now sharing a blurry chart.

Luffy sighed and slumped forward dramatically, resting his cheek on his desk and blowing a puff of air toward the spinning loading icon on the slide.

Online school sucked. He didn’t understand how anyone could focus when they weren’t being threatened by a pop quiz in person or bribed by cafeteria desserts. Garp had gone full overprotective-grandpa-mode the moment he found out about the pregnancy, and no amount of begging had changed his mind.

“You’re gonna sit at home, get your degree, and have that baby in peace,” Garp had declared, slapping a packet of enrollment forms down on the kitchen table like he was announcing war.

And well... here he was. Peaceful. Bored out of his mind. Wearing pajama pants and arguing with a soda.

He poked his belly. “Can’t wait for you to get out so I can at least lie on my stomach again.”

The baby responded with a lazy swirl of movement that made Luffy twitch.

He giggled. “That’s fair.”

With a dramatic sigh, he straightened again, squinting at the screen.

“…And if we examine the secondary data provided on page twelve…”

Luffy clicked aimlessly, opened the file, and promptly minimized it again to open a meme someone had just posted in the class chat.

It was a picture of a crying cat in a graduation cap.

Luffy typed: me rn

Under the desk, his feet tapped a mindless rhythm, energy buzzing just beneath his skin. He had no idea how he was going to survive another two hours of this.

He opened a new tab.

And typed in: funny cat videos.

Luffy barely made it through the rest of class. The second the screen faded to black and his teacher’s voice finally stopped echoing in his soul, he practically launched himself out of the chair with a groan. His back popped. His stomach protested. The glass of soda was long forgotten.

He waddled—yes, waddled, and he hated that it was now his default speed—into the closet, grabbing a half-eaten bag of shrimp chips along the way. He flopped onto the chair like a dying fish and opened the editing program.

A folder on his desktop blinked with Hancock’s signature heart-filled logo.

“Alright, alright, time to make you look even hotter than you already think you are,” he muttered, stuffing a chip into his mouth.

Hancock, the goddess of the streaming world, sent him her clips weekly. He trimmed the footage, added subtitles, made the lighting pop, threw in the occasional sparkle filter because Hancock demanded ✨“aesthetic”✨—and got paid surprisingly well for it.

Well enough that Luffy didn’t ask too many questions when she casually called him “my adorable little assistant” or texted him things like “Don’t stress your pretty head, sweetie, Auntie Hancock will handle it <3”.

He was sure it bordered on HR violations, but since there was no HR, and she paid on time with bonuses every time he used a cat meme, he figured it was fine.

He opened the footage. Hancock was absolutely destroying someone in a game and trash-talking in three languages. He clicked and dragged the audio track down.

“Okay, cut the awkward scream here… highlight the part where she tells that guy to ‘cry into his mother’s skincare products’... crop out the nose-pick—oops.”

Editing went fast when you got used to it, and Luffy was surprisingly good at it. He didn’t love the job, but it kept him at home, and it made him feel useful.

He cracked his neck, saved his progress, and grabbed his phone opening his group chat.

Zoro: yo u alive?

Usopp: barely. Chem test murdered me.

Nami: We’re going out Friday. You’re coming. No excuses.

Luffy: CAN I EAT A WHOLE BURGER OR WILL I CRY? FIND OUT THIS FRIDAY.

Chopper: Wait are you allowed to eat burgers?

Luffy: Allowed by WHO? The fetus?

Franky: I got you a baby onesie that says “Made With Beef”

Luffy: PUT IT ON ME RIGHT NOW.

He grinned at his phone, warm with the comfort of all-caps yelling and terrible jokes. He missed them. He missed sitting in class with them, getting in trouble with Zoro for passing notes, whispering to Nami during tests, sneaking snacks to Chopper when the teacher wasn’t looking.

Even if no one had judged him to his face after he started showing, Luffy had still felt like something shifted. Like he didn’t quite fit into the group of “normal kids” anymore.

But at least the chat stayed the same. It was like a little portal back to his old life, the one that hadn’t yet involved prenatal vitamins and sore ankles.

Luffy: I miss y’all. For real.

Nami: Then show up. We’re getting burgers and sitting by the canal. Very dramatic. Very aesthetic. Bring that belly.

Zoro: u can throw fries at seagulls for therapy

Luffy: sold.

He leaned back with a soft grin and rubbed his belly absently. The baby didn’t kick this time, just rolled gently, like they were settling in for a nap.

“Guess we’re going out Friday,” he murmured. “You better behave, okay?”

A small kick in response.

“I’ll take that as a ‘we’ll see.’”

Luffy he got up from the chair, shoulders slumped like he was heading into battle instead of just grabbing a hoodie. The air was a little stale—he’d forgotten to open the window again—but it still smelled like the peach air freshener Robin had given him as a “keep your room from smelling like feet and despair” gift.

He rifled through the mess of clothes on his bed, belly leading the way like a stubborn shopping cart, until he found his old, worn hoodie: black, oversized, and covered in faded patches of anime characters. It didn’t zip anymore, but it was comforting. Like armor. And then changed his pajama pants into jeans.

His phone buzzed just as he yanked it over his head.

Ace: Still can’t believe you’re really going to those meetings. Total waste of time.

Luffy frowned, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Another buzz followed right after.

Sabo: Just don’t let anyone guilt you into anything, okay? You don’t have to explain yourself to strangers.

He sighed. The difference between his brothers was always night and day. Ace reacted like a wildfire—hot, messy, and loud. Sabo, on the other hand, sent concern wrapped up in logic and careful wording.

Luffy flopped back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling.

They’d both had a lot to say when he told them. Neither had taken it particularly well. Ace stormed out of the house and didn’t talk to him for a week. Sabo just went really quiet and offered to help him make a “responsibility chart,” which Luffy ignored entirely.

He didn’t blame them. Really. But still…

He texted back.

Luffy: I don’t go because I wanna. Gramps is forcing me. I’d rather wrestle a wild ostrich.

Sabo: I think you’re doing great, by the way. Just ignore Ace, you know how he gets.

Ace: Tell Sabo I can SEE the group chat and I stand by what I said.

Luffy: Love you both even though you suck.

Ace: We love you too, dumbass. Don’t let some random omega-hating alpha talk down to you.

Luffy smiled despite himself. For all their grumbling, they still showed up for him in their own weird ways.

He sat up again and grabbed his sneakers from under the bed with a grunt.

“Okay, fetus,” he muttered, tying the laces in slow motion, “let’s go sit in a circle and talk about feelings.”

The baby kicked like it agreed with Ace.

Luffy made a face. “Don’t take his side.”

The sound of an old pickup horn blaring in the driveway made Luffy jolt upright. He peeked out his bedroom window and groaned at the sight of Garp’s beat-up truck sitting proudly by the curb, crooked as always. There was a dent on the left side from that one time Garp “nudged” a lamppost and refused to fix it because “it gave the truck character.”

Luffy zipped his half-buttoned pants over his belly with practiced skill and waddled down the hall.

“GRANDPA!” he shouted, even though the man was already honking the horn as if to alert the entire neighborhood.

“COME ON, BRAT! I’M NOT GONNA SIT HERE ALL AFTERNOON!” Garp’s voice thundered through the house like a marching band.

Luffy yanked the door open, hoodie sleeves too long and half a slice of peach in his mouth.

“I’m coming! Geez, you act like I’ve been asleep for a hundred years!”

“You move like you’ve been asleep for a hundred years,” Garp snorted, eyeing his grandson’s slow shuffle down the front steps. “Get in. It's best to arrive early, so you get the best seat.”

“There are no good seats,” Luffy grumbled, climbing into the passenger side like he was scaling a small mountain.

“That’s ‘cause you always sit in the corner like a sulking possum.”

“I am a sulking possum,” Luffy shot back, crossing his arms over his belly as Garp started the engine. It coughed, sputtered, and finally roared to life like it was held together by spite and duct tape.

They drove in silence for a while, Luffy chewing on the rest of his peach and Garp humming to himself like he was in a musical. Eventually, Luffy glanced sideways.

“Why are you so into this group thing anyway?”

“‘Cause you need to talk to other people who get it, that’s why,” Garp replied without missing a beat. “You can’t just hide out at home editing videos and yelling at anime. That baby’s gonna be born thinking its only friends are internet memes.”

“That’s not true,” Luffy muttered. “The baby also knows Hancock’s voice.”

Garp let out a bark of laughter. “Well, she is very motivational.”

Luffy tried to hide his grin. “She told me, my stretch marks were sexy.”

They pulled up in front of the church, the parking lot mostly empty except for a few scattered cars. The building loomed like a beige beast, the front sign proudly displaying this week’s sermon title: “LOVE IS PATIENT, LOVE IS KIND, EVEN TO SCREAMING TODDLERS.”

Garp parked with a dramatic jerk and looked at Luffy.

“Try not to scare the newbies, alright?”

“I am the newbie.”

“You’re someone else’s problem now.” Garp winked, already getting out.

Luffy slumped back in his seat with a sigh.

“Here we go again,” he muttered to the baby. “Time to pretend we’re very emotionally open and stable individuals.”

The baby responded with a single kick to the bladder.

“Rude,” Luffy mumbled, and waddled toward the door.

The church hall smelled like floor polish and vague despair. Luffy walked in with the enthusiasm of a slug in gym class, hoodie sleeves flopping as he half-heartedly waved at a few familiar faces.

“Hey,” he muttered to a teen omega with twins in a stroller.

“Hi, Luffy,” she said, her voice already tired. One of the babies sneezed, startling the other into tears.

He gave a small, crooked smile and kept moving. A beta boy sitting on a beanbag with a spit-up stain on his hoodie nodded at him. Luffy nodded back. Mutual recognition of suffering.

The group host, Miss Otohime—a woman whose enthusiasm seemed to be as unquenchable as the sun—beamed way too brightly when she spotted him.

“Luffy! Glad you made it back!”

He grunted something that might’ve been a “hello” and immediately veered toward the back row of folding chairs, far away from the circle she was trying to form. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like judgmental bees.

He dropped into a chair with a dramatic sigh, stomach bouncing slightly.

“I’m already tired and I’ve only been here thirty seconds.”

Miss Otohime started rambling about this week’s “sharing theme,” something about gratitude and the blessings of parenthood. Luffy barely heard her. He was too busy watching the door.

Any second now…

The bell above the church’s front entrance gave a half-hearted jingle, and Luffy’s head snapped up.

But it wasn’t Torao.

Just some omega guy whose hair looked like it hadn’t met shampoo in three days.

Luffy slumped further in his chair, arms folded under his belly.

“Where is he,” he muttered.

It had only been a week, but he’d already started calling Torao in his head. It sounded cooler. Mysterious. Broody. Like a comic book vigilante who also made bento lunches. The name just… fit. And also because Law's last name was worse than a tongue twister and he only managed to get Torao out of the whole pronunciation.

They’d only talked a little last time—grumpy sarcasm on Law’s part, nervous laughter on Luffy’s—but it had been the highlight of Luffy’s week. Not because Law had smiled (he hadn’t), or complimented him (he absolutely hadn’t), but because it had been real. Not pitying. Not judgmental. Just two exhausted teenage dads-to-be talking about juice boxes and wanting to crawl under a blanket and sleep until 2030.

The door creaked again.

This time, was him.

Law stepped inside, dark hair a little windswept, a neutral expression hiding what Luffy had already decided was deep internal suffering. His backpack hung low on one shoulder, and his eyes scanned the room with the intensity of someone planning an escape route.

Luffy perked up immediately, one hand shooting up in a lazy wave.

Law’s eyes flicked over, met his—and stayed for a second too long.

He made his way over without a word, dropping into the chair beside Luffy like it was the last safe spot on a sinking ship.

“Hey, Torao,” Luffy said, grinning.

Law raised an eyebrow. “Are we doing nicknames now?”

“Yup. Your last name is simply unpronounceable. And I think it suits you, you look like a Torao.”

Law looked down at himself, unimpressed. “I look like someone who needs coffee and a nap.”

“Exactly,” Luffy said, pleased. “You get it.”

Miss Otohime clapped her hands. “Let’s all share something we’re grateful for today!”

Law leaned closer and muttered, “I’m grateful for chairs with backs.”

Luffy laughed so loud the twins in the stroller sneezed again.

Yeah. This group still sucked.

But at least Torao was here.

Luffy leaned in, still grinning. “She’s gonna ask us to go around in a circle again, isn’t she?”

“She always does,” Law muttered, voice low, eyes scanning the room like a cornered animal. “It’s a circle of emotional purging. With juice boxes.”

Luffy stifled a laugh. “You ever drink the juice?”

“No,” Law said flatly. “But my son hoards them like currency.”

"Dinosaur's got the right idea.”

Law blinked and glanced over, just a flick of surprise. Luffy shrugged, smug.

“You mentioned that last week.Your child just learned to say dinosaur. I remember stuff.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Oh, I should. It’s cute. Makes you seem human.”

Law gave him a long look, somewhere between suspicious and reluctantly entertained.

“I’m not sure if that’s an insult or a compliment.”

Luffy slouched dramatically, resting both hands on his belly.

“It’s both. Like a burrito that burns your mouth but still tastes good.”

“What kind of metaphor is that?”

“The pregnancy kind.”

Miss Otohime was still talking, now pulling out a pile of laminated cards like she was about to summon something from the depths of group therapy hell. Luffy watched her like someone watching a pot boil—and then turn into a volcano.

“What are the odds she makes us do partner sharing again?” Luffy whispered.

Law grimaced. “She always makes us do partner sharing.”

“Okay but—if she does, we’re partners again.”

Law didn’t answer immediately. Then he gave a small, tired nod.

“Fine. But if she pulls out that ‘name three emotions you’ve felt this week’ card, I’m leaving.”

“Deal. I’ll fake a cramp, you bolt for the door.”

“Teamwork.”

Miss Otohime finally looked in their direction.

“Law? Luffy? Since you two seem so engaged, why don’t you start us off today?”

Law’s eyes narrowed with the focused rage of a teenager who hadn’t had enough sleep in two years. Luffy smiled like a gremlin caught mid-prank.

“We’re very grateful for chairs,” Luffy offered cheerfully.

Law followed up without missing a beat, voice deadpan. “And juice boxes.”

Someone near the front snorted. Miss Otohime gave a tight-lipped smile and gestured for them to go on.

Luffy glanced at Law again. “I’m also grateful for naps. And not peeing every five minutes, which is not my current reality.”

“I’m grateful that my kid sleeps through the night now. Mostly,” Law said and looked at Luffy as if something had occurred to him. “Also grateful I didn’t forget to bring diapers this morning, unlike a certain someone last week—”

“I said I thought they were in the bag!”

Law looked sideways. “You used a towel.”

“It was clean! And soft! Very absorbent!”

Miss Otohime sighed, clearly rethinking her life choices.

"Let’s move on.”

Luffy elbowed Law gently. “She loves us.”

“She prays we drop out.”

They both sat back, shoulders relaxed, snickering under their breath while the rest of the group took turns describing heartfelt things and occasionally crying. Law leaned slightly toward Luffy without realizing it. Luffy noticed—but didn’t say anything. He just grinned, resting a hand over his belly, feeling the baby shift.

Yeah. This support group still sucked.

But Torao made it bearable.

Maybe even… kind of fun.

The meeting finally wrapped up with Miss Otohime’s signature breathy, “See you next week!” and the desperate shuffle of chairs scraping against tile.

Law stood up slowly, stretching out the kink in his neck, and made a straight line toward the snack table. Without even pretending to be casual, he grabbed three juice boxes and shoved them into his backpack.

“You’re really committed to the cause,” Luffy said, following behind, amused.

“He likes the grape ones,” Law muttered. “And they’re free.”

“Honestly? Respect.”

They headed out into the cool evening, the faint hum of traffic mixing with the crickets and the distant clang of the church’s maintenance staff packing up folding chairs. The sidewalk stretched ahead, bathed in yellow streetlamp glow, and neither of them seemed in a rush to leave.

They walked in comfortable silence for a while, Law with his hands in his pockets, Luffy tugging his hoodie down over his bump every few steps.

“You always walk home?” Luffy asked.

“Yeah. Daycare’s close, school’s even closer. It works.”

Luffy nodded. “I like walking. Gives me something to do with my limbs.”

“Very specific.”

“I contain a lot of energy. I’m like… if a soda can had legs.”

Law snorted quietly. “Explains the chaos.”

They crossed a quiet street, passing a closed hardware store and a convenience store with flickering signage. Luffy glanced at Law, a bit more serious now, chewing on the inside of his cheek before speaking.

“Hey… you wanna hang out sometime? Like, outside the hell circle?”

Law blinked. “Hang out?”

“Yeah. I know it might be hard with your kid—I’m not saying, like, late-night clubbing or anything. I just…” Luffy shrugged, a little sheepish. “I don’t have friends with whom I can talk about this stuff. And you’re cool. Sarcastic. Weird. You make meetings not suck.”

Law looked at him, long and quiet. Luffy didn’t fidget, but he did shift his weight a little, wondering if he’d just overstepped. Then Law reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and held it out.

Luffy blinked. “Oh! Right! Numbers. Yeah.”

They traded phones and quickly entered their contacts. Luffy added a tiny dinosaur emoji next to Law’s name for no reason at all.

“Thanks,” Luffy said, giving a small smile as he handed it back. “Even if you bail later, I’m still counting this as progress.”

Law pocketed the phone. “I don’t bail. I just… reschedule indefinitely when things suck.”

Luffy chuckled. “Okay, okay. I can work with that.”

They stood there for another second, not quite ready to part ways but not really knowing what else to say.

“I’ll text you,” Luffy said.

“Alright.”

Luffy took a step back, then paused. “Hey, Torao?”

“Yeah?”

“I meant what I said. If you ever wanna hang out—and your son comes along—I don’t mind. Really. He sounds like a cool dino.”

Law’s expression didn’t change much, but something in his shoulders eased.

“I’ll think about it.”

Luffy gave him a grin and a lazy salute, then started heading off in the opposite direction. Law watched him for a few seconds, then turned and started walking, the clink of stolen juice boxes soft in his backpack.

Weirdly… the air felt a little lighter.

The familiar smell of fried garlic, sizzling butter, and something slightly charred but still delicious hit Luffy before he even pushed open the glass door of the Baratie.

It was a weirdly classy restaurant for being tucked between a laundromat and a vape shop, but it had character—and more importantly, it had Sanji. And food. Free food.

The bell above the door jingled as Luffy stepped inside, pulling down his hoodie and shoving his hands into the front pocket. The dining area wasn’t too busy yet—midweek lull—so he didn’t have to wait for someone to greet him. Not that he ever did.

“Oi! Freeloader!” came a familiar voice from the open kitchen. “You here for your daily scam?”

Luffy’s grin stretched wide as he made his way over to the counter and slid onto a stool.

“If loving free food is a crime, throw me in jail, chef-boy.”

Sanji appeared behind the counter in a flourish of apron ties and cigarette smoke, setting down a plate of something that smelled like heaven and looked like pasta had won a wrestling match with cheese and won. His blond hair was carefully combed, and there was already a smear of flour on his cheek.

“Didn’t even ask what you wanted,” Sanji said, putting the plate in front of him. “I just knew you’d come crawling in around this time with that ‘feed me, I’m pregnant’ face.”

Luffy laughed and immediately dug in, scarfing down a forkful before answering.

“That’s because you love me.”

“No,” Sanji replied, lighting his cigarette and leaning on the counter. “I love your unborn child. You’re just the noisy delivery system.”

Luffy swallowed and smiled, a little softer now.

“Well, he appreciates it. Or she. I dunno. Haven’t decided if I want to find out yet.”

Sanji blew smoke upward, watching him for a moment.

“Rough day?”

“I went to group.”

“Ah.” Sanji nodded like a doctor hearing a symptom he’d seen a hundred times. “And how’s therapy hell?”

“Still therapy. Still hell,” Luffy mumbled around another bite. “Except there’s this guy.”

Sanji raised an eyebrow. “A guy?”

“Not like that.” Luffy paused. “Well. Not yet.”

Sanji narrowed his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Spill.”

Luffy chewed slowly, lips puffed out in a pouty mock-thought expression.

“His name’s Law. He’s an alpha. Got a kid. Two years old.”

Sanji blinked. “So… like, actually a dad. Not just a dumb seventeen-year-old trying to figure out where babies come from.”

“Exactly.” Luffy poked at a meatball. “He’s sarcastic and tired and kind of grumpy. I like him.”

“And he’s… nice to you?”

“Yeah,” Luffy said, voice a bit more quiet. “Doesn’t talk to a lot of people, but he talks to me. Doesn’t treat me like I’m stupid or broken or anything.”

Sanji sighed, grabbing a clean dish towel and tossing it over his shoulder.

“You do have a habit of collecting disaster men.”

Luffy pointed a fork at him. “You’re my friend, too.”

“Yes, and I’m emotionally functioning. You’re safe here.”

Luffy smiled, but this time, it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I just wanna feel normal again,” he mumbled. “Even for a little bit. Like I can laugh and not have it feel weird.”

Sanji didn’t say anything for a second. Then he reached over and gently ruffled Luffy’s hair, an act of affection as rare as it was comforting.

“You are normal, dumbass. Just… a little overloaded.”

Luffy sniffed and blinked up at him.

“You gonna cry with me now?”

“No,” Sanji said. “But I’ll make you dessert.”

Luffy’s smile came back, brighter now.

“Deal.”

As Sanji disappeared into the kitchen again, Luffy leaned back on the stool, absently rubbing a hand over his belly. He didn’t know what would happen with Law or how long it’d take before everything stopped feeling like it was in pieces.

But for now, he had pasta, a warm restaurant, and one of the only people in his life who let him just be Luffy.

It was enough.

Chapter Text

The room was dim, lit only by the glow of Law’s phone screen and the soft, flickering nightlight in the corner. Damian was knocked out, mouth slightly open, tiny fists resting against Law’s shirt like he’d just lost a baby-sized boxing match with sleep. Law had his arm curled protectively around him while he stared at his phone, debating for the fifth time whether or not to send a text.

His fingers hovered over the screen, then tapped out a simple message:

Law - 9:42 PM
Hey. You doing anything tonight?

He stared at it for a full minute before hitting send.

Nothing.

Law sighed, put the phone down on the pillow, and returned to glaring at the half-finished worksheet on his lap. Geometry was not a subject that played fair when you were also trying not to wake a toddler.

An hour passed. Then another. The message remained unanswered, and Law started convincing himself he was being ridiculous. Luffy was probably asleep. Or maybe out. Or maybe he'd changed his mind and decided Law was too boring after all. Or maybe—

The phone buzzed.

Luffy - 11:37 PM
Sorry sorry!! Just got home. I went out to dinner with some friends. What’s up?

Law exhaled, tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding finally loosening in his shoulders.

Law - 11:38 PM
Nothing urgent. Just... bored. Damian’s out cold. Room’s quiet. You know.

Luffy - 11:39 PM
Ugh I wish my place was quiet. Garp is still lecturing Ace in the kitchen. I swear they’ve been arguing about salad dressing for 15 minutes.

Law - 11:40 PM
Sounds intense.

Luffy - 11:41 PM
It’s the war of the century. Oil vs. mayonnaise. Place your bets now.

Law chuckled softly, careful not to move too much and wake Damian. His fingers moved across the screen again.

Law - 11:43 PM
Tell your grandpa I said olive oil supremacy. Mayo belongs in the trash.

Luffy - 11:44 PM
YOU'RE TRIGGERING ACE RIGHT NOW I HOPE YOU KNOW THAT.

Law - 11:44 PM
Good.

He paused, eyes flicking to the top of the screen where Luffy’s contact name was still just "Luffy." He wondered if it was too early to change it to something stupid. Something with an emoji. Or maybe Tornado Omega because of how Luffy blew into his life like chaos wrapped in a hoodie.

Another message came in:

Luffy - 11:46 PM
Also I didn’t forget you said you were bored. Want to video call? I promise not to say anything dumb for like… five minutes.

Law hesitated, then glanced at Damian. He was still completely out, clutching the corner of Law’s blanket in his sleep.

Law - 11:47 PM
Sure. Just don’t yell.

Luffy - 11:47 PM
Me? NEVER.

Two seconds later, the screen lit up with an incoming call.

Law accepted, and Luffy’s face popped onto the screen—hair messy, hoodie half-zipped, and a crooked grin already plastered across his face.

“Hey, Torao,” Luffy whispered, voice low but mischievous. “Whatcha doing?”

“Talking to a sleep-deprived omega at midnight,” Law said, raising an eyebrow. “Living the dream.”

“You’re lucky I like your face,” Luffy said, stifling a laugh.

Law rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth tugged upward anyway.

They talked for almost an hour. Quietly, half-whispers and soft chuckles, with Luffy telling stories about his chaotic family and Law occasionally glancing at Damian to make sure he was still asleep. At some point, Luffy yawned mid-sentence and flopped sideways on his bed, muttering something about sandwiches and betrayal.

Law was smiling when the call finally ended, long after midnight. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but Damian was the first to wake up, of course, the next morning.

Law barely managed to blink awake before a tiny hand patted his face with the urgency of someone declaring war on sleep. He grunted, rolling to the side with a muffled groan as Damian giggled and climbed over him like he was part jungle gym, part pillow.

“Papa! Up,” Damian declared triumphantly, already sticking his fingers under Law’s shirt in search of tickle territory.

“Traitor,” Law mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “You were supposed to sleep in. It's Saturday. Saturday.”

Damian responded by blowing a raspberry.

The geometry homework glared at him from the corner of his desk, open and abandoned from the night before. Law made a mental note to bribe himself with coffee later before dragging himself out of bed, hoisting Damian up with practiced ease and then grabbing his geometry book from the desk.

“Alright, little bear,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to his son's messy hair. “Let’s get some breakfast before we face the horror that is triangle proofs.”

Downstairs, the house was surprisingly quiet. Too quiet. Law peeked into the kitchen, saw the telltale signs of someone else already having made coffee—probably Rosinante, thank every deity that cared—and made a beeline for the pot. Damian followed, dragging a toy car in one hand and a suspiciously sticky banana in the other.

“You can’t eat that, Damian,” Law warned, eyeing the very brown fruit.

“Yummy,” Damian said firmly.

“Gross,” Law countered, snatching it from him and swapping it for some cereal. “Eat this instead. It won’t kill you.”

He didn’t see anyone else around. Which was perfect. No Doflamingo with his judgmental glances. No Lami watching TikToks at full volume. And, blessedly, no Dulcinea.

Damian chomped down on the cereal like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted while Law sat at the table with his coffee and the geometry textbook, flipping it open with the enthusiasm of a man preparing for surgery without anesthesia.

About twenty minutes in, Damian started talking to his cereal like it was a sentient being. Law let him, too tired to correct the behavior, and half-suspecting the cereal had more personality than most of the support group teens.

Eventually, the peaceful illusion shattered when Doflamingo appeared in the doorway, shirtless and yawning like he hadn’t ruined at least three lives by 9 AM.

“You gonna keep that kid on sugar all day or do some parenting?” he muttered, reaching for a mug.

Law didn’t even look up. “It’s Cheerios. Relax.”

“Still,” Doflamingo said, sipping loudly, “He doesn’t need to end up like you.”

Law stiffened, jaw tightening. Damian chose that moment to throw a Cheerio at the floor.

“Oops,” he said brightly.

Law stood and gathered Damian into his arms, grabbing his geometry book with one hand.

“We’re going back upstairs,” he said coolly. “Come on, little bear.”

Damian waved at Doflamingo like he hadn’t just witnessed a passive-aggressive storm cloud. “Bye-bye, Uncle Donny.”

Law snorted once they were upstairs. “You shouldn’t call him that. He hates it.”

Damian just giggled. “Donny!”

Law cracked a small smile despite himself and dropped onto the bed, setting the book aside in favor of pulling Damian onto his lap. They had the whole day, and aside from the hellscape of angles and equations, it was just the two of them. Just how he liked it.

Damian was busy lining up his toy cars on the windowsill, narrating a dramatic race between the red one and the blue one—though Law was ninety percent sure the winner changed every five seconds.

Law, sitting cross-legged on his bed, finally wrote the last angle in a proof and underlined his answer with unnecessary aggression. He dropped the pencil and flopped back dramatically against the mattress, letting out a sigh that could rival the most dramatic soap opera death.

“Done,” he announced to no one.

Damian responded by crashing two cars together with an enthusiastic, “Boom!”

“Exactly,” Law muttered, rubbing his face. “Geometry? Boom. Sanity? Boom.”

He reached for his phone and opened his chat with Luffy, hesitating a moment before typing:

Law - 11:40 A.M
Finished my homework. Reward me with something stupid and distracting.

It only took a minute before the screen lit up with a reply.

Luffy - 11:41 A.M
there’s a cat outside my window that looks like it wants to rob me
hold on I’ll send a pic

A blurry photo arrived a second later. A chunky tabby cat was staring directly at the camera through the window with murderous intent.

Luffy - 11:41 A.M
he KNOWS what I did

Law - 11:41 A.M
What did you do?

Luffy - 11:42 A.M
I might have thrown him a hotdog once. Now I think I’m in a mafia deal.

Law - 11:42 A.M
That’s how it starts. Today it’s hotdogs. Tomorrow it’s your wallet.

Luffy - 11:42 A.M
what wallet

Law smirked and shifted so he was lying on his stomach, watching Damian roll a car across the windowsill with such concentration you'd think he was controlling an actual highway.

Law - 11:43 A.M
Got anything planned today?

Luffy - 11:43 A.M
not unless “eating 3 packs of fruit snacks and regretting nothing” counts
you?

Law - 11:43 A.M
Just me and the menace. Might take him to the park later.

Luffy - 11: 45 A.M
aw I wanna come
I mean not like come-come if you don’t want me to
I just—
you know what I meant
ignore me I’m dumb

Law stared at the screen, lips twitching.

Law - 11:46 A.M
You’re not dumb. You can come.

There was a pause. Then:

Luffy - 11:46 A.M
really???

Law - 11:47 A.M
Yeah. Bring snacks. He likes apples.

Luffy - 11:47 A.M
you AND the baby Torao have snack preferences???
I’m so unprepared

Law - 11:48 A.M
He’s two. He’s basically a dictator in footie pajamas.

Law looked up at Damian, who had just laid down on his belly and was now driving a car up the side of his own leg like it was a ramp.

Yeah. That was accurate.

Luffy - 11:50 A.M
what time?

Law - 11:50 A.M
After lunch. I’ll text.

Luffy - 11:53 A.M
okay!
I’m gonna pack snacks
I don’t know what kind
but it’ll be colorful

Law smiled again, a little softer this time.

“Hey, little bear,” he said, reaching over to ruffle Damian’s hair. “Wanna go to the park later?”

Damian grinned. “Swings!”

“Yeah, swings,” Law said, voice low and fond. “And a weird omega who brings colorful snacks.”

Damian didn’t understand the second part, but he cheered anyway.

Law set his phone down and pushed himself off the bed with a groan. Damian had now abandoned his toy cars and was attempting to climb onto the desk chair, for no reason other than sheer toddler determination.

“Okay, little bear,” Law said, scooping him up mid-climb, “time to get you cleaned up before you transform into a walking peanut butter smear.”

Damian giggled, wrapping his arms around Law’s neck and kicking his feet like it was part of the game. It always was with him. Law carried him into the bathroom, rolling up his sleeves as he balanced Damian on his hip.

As soon as the water started running and steam filled the bathroom, Damian started stripping like a professional wrestler entering a ring. Socks were flung like confetti. His shirt got stuck halfway over his head, and Law had to rescue him before he panicked and declared himself “lost.”

Once inside the tub, Damian immediately launched into full gremlin mode—splashing, smacking bubbles, and attempting to submerge a rubber duck like it owed him money.

“Don’t drown Duckzilla,” Law said, raising an eyebrow as he soaped Damian’s tiny back.

“Duck go ‘boom!’” Damian declared, dramatically slapping the water again and soaking Law’s shirt.

“Boom later,” Law said dryly, wiping his face. “Let’s rinse you before this becomes an indoor flood warning.”

Damian whined a little but lifted his chin obligingly so Law could shampoo his hair. It was soft and thick and still damp from the last time he’d tried to ‘wash’ it with juice. Two-year-olds had an interesting relationship with logic.

Eventually, Law wrapped him in a towel, carried the squirming bundle out, and wrestled him into his favorite hoodie—the one with tiny bear ears on the hood—and some soft sweatpants. He left him in the living room, already sprawled on the couch and fully absorbed by a cartoon about animal firefighters with vaguely French names.

Law stepped back, arms crossed, watching him for a second. Then he sighed and dragged himself to the bathroom.

His own shower was mercifully quiet. He stood under the hot spray longer than he needed to, eyes closed, letting the warmth bleed out some of the weight clinging to his shoulders. It wasn’t exactly relaxation, but it was close enough.

Once clean and wrapped in a towel, he leaned against the sink for a moment, staring at himself in the mirror. Tired. Still seventeen. Still figuring it out.

Still showing up.

“Alright,” he murmured to his reflection. “Let’s survive the day.”

He stepped out, ready for lunch and prep for the park—and, weirdly, not dreading it. Luffy had a way of making things feel less heavy. Less exhausting.

The kitchen was loud, as always—voices overlapping, chairs scraping, cutlery clinking against plates. Law sat at the end of the table, Damian in his booster seat beside him, smearing mashed potatoes around with the solemnity of a Michelin chef.

Rosinante was trying to tell a story about one of his students accidentally bringing a hamster to school in their backpack. Lami kept interrupting with dramatized hamster impressions, which involved squeaking noises and dramatic reenactments. Doflamingo was laughing too loudly, as usual, and Dulcinea was sipping her coffee while scrolling on her phone, occasionally glancing up to make a disapproving comment about posture or elbows on the table.

Law stayed quiet.

He focused on cutting up Damian’s tiny chicken nuggets into even smaller pieces, ignoring the way Doflamingo kept gesturing wildly across the table and the sideways glances Dulcinea gave him now and then. He made sure Damian had enough water, wiped mashed potato off his cheek, and only half-listened to the chaotic conversation surrounding them.

At one point, Lami leaned across the table with a grin and whispered, “I told Rosi I’d name a hamster after him. He cried. Actual tears.”

Law snorted, the sound escaping before he could stop it. Lami winked and went back to her food, looking proud of herself.

“That’s the first sound he’s made since we sat down,” Rosinante said, pretending to wipe his eyes with a napkin. “Write it down. Historic moment.”

Law rolled his eyes and helped Damian lift a forkful of peas toward his mouth. Most of them fell, but a few made it in. Victory.

“The little man’s gonna be a food critic,” Rosinante added. “I can see it now. 'Too much crunch, not enough chaos.'”

Doflamingo barked a laugh, and Lami declared, “He gets that from you, Law! He gives everything that same judgy stare.”

“I do not,” Law muttered, but his expression betrayed him.

“See? Right there,” Lami said, grinning. “Total nugget snob.”

Law looked at Damian, who had somehow gotten ketchup on his ear.

He sighed.

And maybe, just maybe, smiled a little.

“By the way,” Dulcinea said, setting her cup down a little too firmly. “I checked Damian’s health report. His weight’s a bit under the chart again.”

Law didn’t look up from helping Damian clean his hands with a napkin.

“He’s fine.”

“He’s borderline,” she replied smoothly, like she was talking about a weather forecast and not Law’s son. “You need to make sure he’s eating more iron-rich foods. And not just nuggets and juice.”

“I cook for him,” Law muttered.

“Yes, but cooking and cooking well are two different things.” Dulcinea’s tone was calm, too calm, and that somehow made it worse. “You should let me take him to his next checkup. You’re already busy with school, and I know what to ask the pediatrician.”

“I already have the appointment booked. I can handle it,” Law said flatly.

Dulcinea raised an eyebrow. “I'm just saying, don't get defensive. I'm offering help.”

Law bit down on the inside of his cheek before answering. “I didn’t ask.”

There was a pause. Even the chaotic hum of the rest of the table seemed to hush slightly, as if the air noticed the sudden tension and politely pulled back.

“I’m just concerned,” she said, quieter now but no less insistent. “I’ve been through this before. I know what raising a child requires. And whether you like it or not, Law, you’re still seventeen. You can’t expect to get everything right.”

That was the sting. Always that edge. It never sounded outright cruel, but it always pressed in the same spot. A reminder: you made your bed, now lie in it—but don’t think you can do it without me. A reminder that somewhere in her eyes, he was still the child, not the parent.

“I am doing everything I can,” Law said, just as quietly.

“I know you think that,” she answered, and her hand reached out to brush Damian’s hair. “But thinking isn’t always enough.”

He flinched, just slightly, at the gesture.

Law stood up without another word, carrying Damian gently in his arms. The toddler was already rubbing his eyes, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing just above his head.

“We’re done,” Law said simply, turning his back.

Behind him, Rosinante sighed into his cup. Lami mouthed “ouch” exaggeratedly at the air.

Dulcinea didn’t call after him. She didn’t need to. Her silence followed him anyway, like smoke from a fire that never quite went out.

Upstairs, in the quiet of his shared room, Law sat Damian down on the bed, helped him into softer clothes, and ran a hand through his messy brown hair.

“Don’t worry, little bear,” he muttered. “I’ve got you.”

Law grabbed Damian's backpack to throw in some toys and a change of clothes before grabbing his phone and keys to head to the park.

The park was busier than Law liked. Kids darted between swings and monkey bars while parents—half on their phones, half shouting distracted warnings—sat on benches that had long since lost their paint. He adjusted the strap of the backpack on his shoulder, glancing down at Damian toddling beside him, holding his finger.

“Enjoy the park, little bear,” Law said. “Then we go home and pretend we didn’t eat ice cream before dinner.”

Damian, who barely understood half of that, grinned up at him anyway, which was good enough.

Law scanned the park while pulling out his phone.

Law - 3:10 P.M
You around?

Thumb hovering as he waited for the little “typing” bubble to appear.

Instead, a familiar voice shouted across the park. “Torao!”

Law froze, turning slowly as Luffy jogged toward them, holding an empty water bottle and looking like he’d been sitting on the grass for days. His hoodie was streaked with dust and something that looked suspiciously like ice cream, and his hair was even messier than usual.

“I texted you like thirty seconds ago,” Law said as Luffy skidded to a stop in front of him.

“I know. I saw you. Thought I’d yell instead,” Luffy grinned. “I’ve been here for, like, two hours. Was hiding from my grandpa.”

Law blinked. “So you live at the park now?”

“Maybe.” Luffy’s smile widened before he glanced down. “Hey, you didn’t say your kid was this cute.”

Damian was staring up at Luffy with wide, fascinated eyes and the cautious curiosity of a kid who wasn’t sure if this was a friend or a threat. Law crouched beside him.

“This is Luffy. Can you say hi?”

Damian stared for another beat. Then, with a shy wiggle behind Law, he whispered, “Hi.”

Luffy crouched, mimicking Law. “Hi, I’m Luffy. I like cookies and video games and... naps.”

Damian’s eyes lit up at “cookies,” but he said nothing, gripping Law’s hoodie tighter.

“He’s shy with new people,” Law said, though he wasn’t trying to sound apologetic.

Luffy stood up again. “That’s okay. I can be charming. Eventually.”

“You’ve never once been charming,” Law deadpanned.

“I was born charming.” Luffy nudged him with his elbow. “Wanna sit? I staked out a good spot.”

They made their way to a slightly crumpled blanket near the trees, half-shaded and surrounded by snack wrappers that definitely weren’t Luffy’s responsibility. Damian walked between them now, gripping Law’s hand tightly but stealing glances at Luffy every few steps.

When they sat, Damian plopped into Law’s lap without hesitation. Luffy leaned over.

“Do you wanna know a secret?” he whispered, loudly enough for both of them to hear. “I brought gummies.”

Damian looked at Law like he was silently begging for permission.

Law sighed. “Only one.”

Luffy dramatically opened his hoodie pocket and revealed a small bag of bear-shaped gummies.

“For the tiny human,” he said, offering it to Damian, who slowly reached out like it might disappear if he blinked.

“He likes you,” Law muttered, surprised.

“I like me too,” Luffy said with a wink, and Law couldn’t even be mad.

So, for a while, they sat in the dappled light—Law watching Damian chew his gummy bear with serious concentration, Luffy humming to himself and poking at his phone, and the world around them soft and not so loud.

It was, weirdly, kind of nice.

Damian had eaten three gummy bears and was now clinging to Law’s hoodie string like it was a lifeline, sitting on his lap and watching Luffy with narrowed, investigative eyes. The toddler leaned forward a little, nose twitching.

Luffy noticed, paused mid-sip of his juice pouch, and tilted his head.

“What’s up, baby Torao?”

Damian scrunched his nose and leaned in a little more—sniffing. Really sniffing. Law blinked, a warning forming on his tongue, but it was already too late.

“You smell weird,” Damian declared, finger pointed straight at Luffy like he’d solved a mystery. “Not like Papa.”

Luffy choked on his juice. Law sighed.

“Damian,” he said, half-warning, half-exhausted.

“But he does!” Damian insisted, looking up at Law like come on, back me up. “Not like Uncle Rosi, or Uncle Donny, or Granny, or Auntie Lami.”

Law ran a hand down his face. “Yeah, okay, but maybe don’t say it like that, Damian.”

Luffy was grinning though, amused. “He’s right, I guess,” he said easily. “I do smell different. I’m an omega.”

Damian blinked. His brain worked on that for a second, then he asked,

“Omegas smell like juice?”

Luffy laughed so hard he doubled forward. “I mean, I probably do, ‘cause I drink too much of it. But not all omegas, no.”

Law rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t feed into his weird logic. He’s gonna start trying to sniff people at school.”

“I don’t go to school yet,” Damian replied proudly, clearly missing the point.

Luffy wiped his eyes, still chuckling. “He’s really something, huh?”

“Yeah,” Law murmured, smoothing Damian’s hair back as the toddler rested against his chest. “He is.”

Damian peered up at Luffy again. “Baby in your belly?”

Luffy blinked in surprise. “Uh… yeah.” He sat up a little straighter. “Five months.”

“Is it gummy bears?”

Law groaned. “Please don’t explain pregnancy to my son. I beg you.”

Luffy snorted, hand on his stomach. “No, it’s not gummy bears. But if it was, I’d probably be the happiest person alive.”

Damian tilted his head. “I was in Papa’s belly?”

Law denied. That made the boy go silent, his tiny brain processing everything.

Luffy glanced over, quieter now too. “It’s really cool, y’know? That he knows. That he asks.”

Law shrugged. “He’s curious. Smart. Too smart sometimes.”

Luffy smiled at that. “Must get it from his papa.”

Law looked at him. Really looked. Luffy had crumbs on his hoodie, his socks didn’t match, and he had a faint grape juice stain on his chin—and yet he looked at Damian like he wasn’t a burden or a mistake or something to pity. Just… a little boy.

And for once, Law didn’t feel like the story of his life was being quietly judged.

Damian leaned into him again, content for now.

Luffy rested back on his elbows, legs stretched out, watching the clouds.

“So,” he said lazily, “what are you doing next weekend?”

Law raised an eyebrow. “You asking me out, or babysitting?”

Luffy grinned, eyes closed. “Why not both?”

Law looked down at Damian.

Damian looked up, then at Luffy. “I like him,” he declared.

Law sighed again, hiding a smile. “You would.”

Damian had taken it upon himself to poke Luffy’s knee with the tip of his velcro sneaker every few seconds, a silent toddler form of approval—or maybe a test. Either way, Luffy didn’t seem to mind. In fact, now he was still lying back on the grass, arms behind his head, grinning at the sky like the clouds were telling him jokes.

Law shifted slightly, settling Damian more comfortably in his lap.

“He’s usually more suspicious,” he murmured.

“Suspicious?” Luffy asked, glancing sideways. “Of what?”

“People. Strangers. Even my classmates. He doesn’t talk to most of them.” Law brushed his thumb across Damian’s curls. “But you? He started sniffing you and interrogating you like it was an interview for a job.”

Luffy laughed. “Well, I am hiring a new friend. Perks include juice boxes and possibly emotional support at 3 a.m.”

“Pass,” Law deadpanned. “I’m not giving up his juice boxes.”

Damian looked up at Luffy again. “Do you watch cartoons?”

“I do,” Luffy said solemnly. “Every morning. It’s how I start my day right.”

Damian’s eyes lit up. “Me too!” Then he added, as if it were a badge of honor, “I like dinosaurs.”

“You would like dinosaurs,” Law muttered under his breath.

“I love dinosaurs,” Luffy said to Damian like it was a secret. “One time, I had a birthday cake shaped like a T. rex.”

Damian gasped, full of betrayal. “Papa, why didn’t I get that cake?”

Law stared at him. “You were one. You tried to eat the candle.”

“Still!” Damian pouted.

Luffy sat up, clutching his stomach like he was laughing too hard.

“You better step up your cake game, Torao.”

“Don’t call me that,” Law said flatly, but there wasn’t much heat behind it.

“You didn’t complain last time.”

Law glanced at him sideways. “That’s because we were surrounded by people worse at naming.”

“Like that one guy named his baby Zeppelin.”

Law made a face. “That’s not a name. That’s a regret.”

They sat in the late afternoon sun, letting the breeze do the talking for a while. Damian began to hum softly to himself, distracted by the shapes he was making in the dirt with a stick. Law looked down at him—small, content, safe—and then glanced at Luffy again.

He still had no idea why he’d responded to Luffy’s message last night.

But maybe—just maybe—he was glad he did.

“So…” Luffy said, flopping back again. “Next weekend? We could go to that tiny dinosaur museum across town. It’s lame. You’ll hate it. I’ve been five times.”

Law blinked. “You’re terrible at selling things.”

“And yet,” Luffy said smugly, “I still think you’re going to say yes.”

Damian perked up. “Museum?”

Law hesitated. Damian looked up at him again with big, pleading hazel eyes.

“Pwease?”

Law groaned. “Why do you say it like that?”

Luffy grinned. “Because it works.”

Law closed his eyes, sighed dramatically, and said, “Fine. But if it’s just cardboard dinosaurs and someone in a sad T. rex costume—”

“I will take photos,” Luffy promised.

Law didn’t smile, not really.

But he didn’t not smile either.

The afternoon passed in gentle, golden light, stretching longer than Law expected it to. Damian darted across the park grass in lopsided toddler sprints, chasing butterflies and imaginary dinosaurs, his tiny voice echoing with laughter that rose like birdsong. Luffy watched him with soft eyes. Maybe he did.

Law found himself sitting beside Luffy, knees drawn up, arms folded over them, his shoulders slowly unwinding from their usual rigid set. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this... light. Like he wasn’t waiting for someone to frown at him, remind him of the statistics, or offer unsolicited advice about sleep training and responsibility. Luffy didn’t do any of that. He just laughed too loud, shared his snacks, and let Damian crawl into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

They didn’t talk about the heavy things. Not really. No lectures, no questions about Damian’s other parent, no veiled comments about Law’s future. Just comfortable silence, the kind that only settles between people who are exhausted in the same way. Occasionally, Luffy would toss out a sarcastic comment about the support group or tell an outrageous story about his friend Usopp’s failed attempt at babysitting a neighbor's baby. Law would roll his eyes, but he listened. And more than once, he almost laughed.

Time slowed. Law stretched out on the blanket, one arm draped lazily behind his head, watching Damian push a toy car in the dirt and make engine sounds. Luffy handed him a juice box like it was a peace offering, and Law accepted it without a word.

The sun dipped lower, streaking the sky with pink and orange. The breeze shifted cooler, but not enough to chase them away. Damian crawled into Law’s lap with heavy limbs and sleepy eyes, resting his cheek against his father’s chest.

Luffy lay on his side now, propped on one elbow, watching them with a small smile. No pity. No admiration. Just quiet understanding.

Law didn’t say it out loud—wouldn’t—but the stillness of that moment, the way his heartbeat steadied with Damian’s weight and Luffy’s presence beside him... he needed that.

More than he realized.

Chapter Text

Luffy was hunched at his desk, tongue poking out slightly as he adjusted the brightness on one of Hancock’s clips. The streamer had recorded the whole thing in some overly-lit pink room again, and Luffy was half-blind from scrubbing the footage. The headphones were crooked on his head, one ear exposed so he could still hear the house around him—specifically, in case Garp yelled something from the kitchen or Sabo called.

He didn’t hear the front door open, but he felt it—like a pressure drop in the atmosphere. A moment later, Ace’s voice cut through the hallway, heavy with irritation. “Luffy!”

Luffy flinched, sighing before pulling the headphones down to his neck. He didn’t even bother to turn around.

“What?”

“You didn’t take the trash out this morning,” Ace said, already stomping toward his room. “And Garp told me you didn’t help with groceries. Again.”

“I was working,” Luffy muttered, not looking at him. He clicked back into the editing software.

“That’s all you say now,” Ace snapped. “You’re always working. Or sleeping. Or ignoring everything except that damn computer.”

“I have to work!” Luffy whirled around, finally facing him. “Do you think Hancock just throws money at me for being cute?! Okay—bad example, she does, but I also have deadlines!”

Ace crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. “You can’t keep acting like nothing’s changed. You’re pregnant, Luffy. You’re seventeen and pregnant. And you’re just—what? Playing with filters while the rest of us clean up after you?”

Luffy stood up, barefoot, his yellow shirt riding up slightly over the swell of his belly.

“I’m not asking anyone to clean up after me! I didn’t ask for your help! I didn’t ask for anything!”

“Yeah, well maybe you should’ve before getting knocked up!” Ace snapped, instantly regretting it.

Luffy froze. His expression shuttered, eyes going flat. “Wow,” he said quietly.

Ace sighed, dragging a hand through his hair, already on the back foot.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You did,” Luffy said. “You’re just mad that I didn’t ask you for help. Because you think I ruined everything and you can’t fix it.”

“You think I want to fight with you?” Ace said, his voice climbing with frustration. “You think I like watching you screw up and pretend everything’s fine when it’s not?!”

Luffy scoffed, turning back to his computer and sitting down hard.

“Newsflash, Ace: it’s not your life. It’s mine. And I’m the one dealing with it, not you. So either help or leave me alone.”

Ace stood in the doorway a moment longer, breathing heavily, his fists clenched. But he didn’t say anything else.

He just left, the sound of his footsteps retreating down the hall.

Luffy didn’t watch him go. He just sat there, staring at his screen, not really seeing it. His hands hovered over the keyboard, then dropped into his lap. The room felt too hot.

He didn’t cry. But he did close the editing program without saving.

Luffy stayed frozen in his chair for a long time after Ace left, his fingers loosely curled on his lap, the soft hum of the computer the only sound in the room. He hated how easily Ace could make him feel like a child. Like everything he did was a mistake.

Their relationship had started crumbling the moment the pregnancy test turned positive. At first, Ace hadn’t even spoken to him. Then the silence turned to lectures. Then arguments. Now? They couldn’t be in the same room for more than five minutes without blowing up at each other.

It used to be different. Ace had always been the fun one—loud, impulsive, a little too protective. They used to get into trouble together, share snacks in bed and skip school when it rained. Luffy used to think Ace was invincible.

Now he just made Luffy feel small. Like a burden. Like he’d ruined everything.

He curled his legs up into the chair and pulled his hoodie from the back of it, stuffing his arms through the sleeves. The room was too quiet. And too loud. And he couldn’t decide if he was hot or cold. His stomach twisted—not from the baby, but from the fight.

Sabo was better. More patient. More cautious with his words. But even Sabo couldn’t hide that look he got sometimes—the one where he wanted to say something but didn’t. Where he was disappointed but trying not to be. Sabo tried to fix things between them all, always playing middleman between him and Ace, or him and Garp.

But even that was exhausting. Because Luffy didn’t want to be fixed. He just wanted to be treated like he hadn’t broken something.

Garp still hovered like a hawk, but he was more practical. Luffy figured it was the marine instincts. You knock something over, you clean it up. No moralizing, just action. It helped sometimes—Garp’s focus on solutions instead of scolding. But even Garp had moments where he’d mutter things under his breath, thinking Luffy couldn’t hear. "Too young. Too reckless."

Luffy had started tuning them all out. They didn’t get it. None of them did.

He pulled his phone from his desk, unlocked it, and opened his messages.

Torao - 4:26 P.M
U still alive over there?

Luffy stared at the screen for a few seconds, lips twitching.

Then he typed back:

Luffy - 4:26 P.M
Ace’s being a jerk again. Can I trade him for your toddler?

The reply came quickly.

Torao - 4:26 P.M
Tempting. Damian eats less and throws fewer tantrums.

Luffy grinned, just a little. Then shifted in his chair again, slowly starting to uncurl.

At least one person didn’t make him feel like a total disaster.

Luffy tucked the phone into the pocket of his hoodie and slowly leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. His soda had gone warm on the desk beside him. He didn’t feel like finishing the video. Hancock wouldn’t care—she’d just coo at him through the screen and call him “sweet little darling” and send him another ridiculous emoji. She had a habit of treating him like a tiny puppy, and Luffy kind of liked it.

Still, his mood was too sour to be sweet to anyone.

He looked down at his belly and poked it lightly through the fabric of his shirt.

“You better come out with a good personality,” he muttered. “’Cause your uncle Ace is the worst.”

No response from inside. Typical. Luffy blew a raspberry and pushed himself to his feet, dragging his blanket off the bed and tossing it over his shoulders like a cape. He wandered toward the kitchen barefoot, not even bothering to turn the light on. The fridge hummed louder than usual, and he opened it with the same enthusiasm someone might show a cryptic treasure chest. Inside: half a leftover sandwich, some cheese sticks, three eggs, a single slice of cake with his name very clearly written on the container.

“Try me, Ace,” he muttered under his breath, yanking the cake out like it owed him money.

He flopped onto the couch, blanket trailing behind him like a wounded flag. The cake was cold, and he didn’t bother with a plate. Just a fork. He shoved a bite in his mouth and let the sugar numb him a little. That was better. Not good. But better.

His phone buzzed again.

Torao - 4:33 P.M
You free tomorrow? I was thinking of taking Damian to the library or the mall. Somewhere with air conditioning.

Luffy smiled into his cake.

Luffy - 4:33 P.M
Mall. I want fries. And AC. And one of those cinnamon things.

There was a pause. Then:

Torao - 4:34 P.M
Done. I’ll bring juice boxes.

Luffy - 4:34 P.M
You really know how to treat a pregnant omega.

He stared at the screen after sending it, waiting, suddenly nervous.

But then:

Torao - 4:34 P.M
That’s what they all say.

Luffy laughed quietly into his fork. Maybe tomorrow would be a little better. Maybe, for once, he’d actually want to leave the house.

The couch felt a little softer than usual as Luffy curled into it, cake nearly gone and his blanket half-dragged across his legs. The living room was quiet except for the hum of the fridge and the occasional creak of the old apartment settling. He could hear Ace in the other room, probably on the phone with Marco or pacing while pretending not to sulk. Luffy didn’t care. Not tonight.

He glanced at the dim glow of his phone screen again. Law hadn’t sent another message, and that was fine. He didn’t need constant conversation. He just liked knowing Law was there, somewhere, thinking about juice boxes and cinnamon things and his little bear of a son. There was something oddly comforting about how normal it all felt—messy and tired and normal.

With his friends, it was different. They checked in, sure. They sent memes, helped him with homework when he asked, told him he was strong and brave and doing amazing. And it was nice. But none of them really got it. None of them had a swollen belly, or aching joints, or the feeling of being both too young and too old all at once. None of them looked at the future with a mix of fear and fierce determination, thinking: I have no idea what I’m doing, but I have to do it anyway.

But Law did.

He wasn’t soft or overly sweet. He didn’t coddle or pity him. He was grumpy and sarcastic and always looked like he’d slept two hours at most. But he listened. And he didn’t judge.

Luffy sighed, nestling further into the couch, fingers absently tracing the curve of his stomach.

“Guess we’re not alone, huh?” he murmured to the baby.

He thought about the way Law had crouched beside Damian at the park, patient even when the toddler got distracted by every bug and leaf. The way he subtly guided him without being overbearing. The way he watched everything, quietly. Carefully. Like he was always calculating how to keep things steady, even when the rest of the world spun out of control.

Luffy liked that.

He liked him.

Not like a crush—at least not yet. It was something quieter than that. Something warm. A hand reaching out in the middle of a storm, saying, I don’t know what I’m doing either, but I’m still here.

Luffy yawned, his limbs growing heavier by the second.

He didn’t know where this was going. He didn’t know if anything would ever really get easier.

But for now, he had a cinnamon roll date at the mall and someone who got it.

And that was enough.

Luffy lay sprawled on the couch, one hand resting over his stomach, his other scrolling idly through his messages. Nothing new from Law, just the last few texts they’d exchanged. Mostly nonsense. A meme. A complaint about toddler diapers. A photo of Damian holding a cucumber like a sword. Luffy had laughed for five straight minutes at that one.

But now, in the stillness of the evening, his mind wandered again.

He couldn’t help it. He was curious. Law had mentioned Damian’s other parent only once—and vaguely, like he was trying not to say too much. The way he’d said “gone” had been clipped, impersonal. Like it was an old bruise he didn’t want to poke at.

Luffy had imagined a dozen scenarios. Maybe she’d moved away. Maybe she’d been older, and the family hadn’t accepted Law. Maybe she’d been younger and scared, like Luffy’s ex. Or maybe—maybe she’d been sweet and kind, and they’d planned it all, and everything had been going great until it wasn’t.

He rubbed at his face. “Ugh. Why do I care so much?”

Maybe because it made him feel a little less alone. Like he wasn’t the only one who’d been left.

His own ex—he didn’t even like thinking about him. It was weird to use the word “ex,” even. That made it sound like they’d dated for real, like there’d been something worth grieving. But there hadn’t. Not really. There’d been excitement, and a few dumb promises, and then—nothing. He’d run the second things stopped being fun.

Luffy still remembered the message: You need someone stronger. You’ll be fine. I’m sorry.

It hadn’t even been a phone call.

The worst part was, Luffy had been fine. He’d cried. He’d yelled at Ace. He’d told Garp to mind his own business. He’d eaten an entire pizza in one sitting. And then he’d kept going, because what else could he do?

Still, some nights—like this one—he thought about how quickly someone could abandon you. How easy it was for people to leave. Even when they said they wouldn’t.

So yeah, maybe he wanted to ask Law. Maybe he wanted to know what happened. But more than that, maybe he didn’t want Law to ask him.

Because if he said it out loud—if he admitted just how much it had hurt—it would make it real again. And Luffy was tired of things hurting.

He sighed, dragging the blanket up over his chest.

Maybe one day he’d ask. When it felt less like picking at a scab.

But for now, it was enough to know that Law had stayed.

And that, somehow, made Luffy feel like maybe he could keep going too.

 

...

 

The automatic doors parted with a soft whoosh, letting in a breeze of chilled air from the mall’s overworked AC system. Luffy stepped inside, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows, the weight of the weekend heavy in his chest but lightened just a bit by the sight ahead.

Law stood near the entrance, one hand balancing a small backpack on his shoulder, the other wrapped securely around the tiny form of Damian—who was perched on his hip like he belonged there, cheek squished against Law’s shoulder, lazily blinking at the noise and lights. Damian had a little red cap on, turned slightly askew, and he was wearing a black hoodie with a purple fish design.

Luffy smiled as he walked over. “Hey, Torao.”

Law looked up, expression easing when he saw him.

“You’re late,” he said flatly, but there wasn’t any real bite to it.

“Not my fault,” Luffy huffed. “I had to escape a war zone.”

Law raised an eyebrow. “Your house?”

“Worse. Sunday family brunch.” He made a gagging sound. “Ace brought a spreadsheet of life choices I’ve made and why they’re all bad.”

Damian blinked slowly at him. “Hi,” he said, voice soft and slightly muffled.

Luffy’s eyes lit up. “Hey, baby Torao. You remember me?”

Damian stared at him solemnly, then nodded. “You smell weird.”

Law sighed. “We’ve talked about this.”

“What? It’s true,” Luffy grinned. “I do smell weird. Omega funk.”

Damian made a thoughtful hum and stuck two fingers in his mouth.

Law shifted him slightly. “We’ve only got a few hours before nap time. You still want food or straight to the stores?”

“Food,” Luffy said, without hesitation. “I want mall fries and a milkshake the size of my head.”

“You’ll have to share the fries.”

“With Damian?”

“With me.”

Luffy smirked. “Fine. But only if I get pickles too.”

Damian’s eyes widened. “Pickuhs?”

“Yeah!” Luffy grinned at him. “You ever had one?”

Damian shook his head.

Law muttered, “Don’t encourage the chaos,” but he was already adjusting Damian on his hip and turning toward the food court.

The mall was unusually quiet for a Sunday, a blessing they silently agreed not to question. They fell into step together, Luffy occasionally glancing down to catch Damian making faces at him from Law’s shoulder. Law looked tired, but not in the bone-deep way he usually did. Something in his posture was looser, more at ease.

They weren’t a trio of friends. Not really. Not yet.

But it felt good to be close to something like that. Something like normal.

They found a table near the edge of the food court, tucked behind a column and half-shielded from the bustle of other families and mall-goers. Law set Damian down gently in a plastic seat, which was comically too big for him, and Damian immediately started kicking his feet and peering over the edge of the table like he was on a reconnaissance mission.

Luffy dropped his tray onto the table with a flourish. “Behold. Fries. Pickles. And enough ketchup to drown in.”

Law followed with a much more reasonable tray—grilled chicken, a bottle of water, and a kid’s meal for Damian. He slid the little box across the table and watched his son pry it open with the glee of someone who believed treasure might actually be inside.

“I don’t know how you eat like that,” Law muttered, eyeing Luffy’s double cheeseburger monstrosity.

“Years of dedication,” Luffy said through a mouthful. “My stomach’s in peak condition.”

Damian inspected a packet of apple slices with suspicion, then looked up at Law. “Where’s the toy?”

“It’s not that kind of kid’s meal,” Law said, brushing Damian’s bangs out of his eyes.

Damian frowned like Law had just personally betrayed him.

Luffy snorted. “I’ll buy him a toy later. Gotta reward the tiny gremlin for his patience.”

Law raised an eyebrow. “Toy?”

Luffy winked at Damian, who giggled.

They ate quietly for a few minutes—well, as quietly as one could with Luffy making a mess of napkins and Law meticulously cutting Damian’s chicken nuggets into bite-sized pieces. At some point, Luffy swiped a fry from Law’s tray. Law didn’t complain.

“Hey,” Luffy said, halfway through his milkshake, “you ever think about leaving?”

Law looked up from where he was wiping Damian’s hands. “Leaving?”

“Your house,” Luffy clarified. “Living somewhere else.”

Law didn’t answer right away. He stared down at his son, who had ketchup smeared across one cheek and was happily humming to himself.

“Yeah,” Law said quietly. “All the time.”

Luffy nodded like he understood. Because he did. Because if he could’ve packed a bag and vanished without Garp dragging him back by the ear, he would’ve done it already.

They didn’t say anything else for a while. Damian tugged at Luffy’s sleeve and offered him a half-eaten fry. Luffy took it without hesitation and popped it into his mouth.

“Thanks, baby Torao.”

Law watched them, something unfamiliar and warm fluttering in his chest.

Maybe this whole group thing wasn’t completely useless after all.

Damian’s eyes sparkled the moment they stepped into the toy store, wide and filled with unfiltered wonder. The walls were lined with color—shelves of plush animals, noisy gadgets, building blocks, action figures, trains that moved and whistled on command. He didn’t know where to look first, so he just stood there, frozen in place, clutching Law’s pant leg while his little mouth formed a quiet, “Wow.”

Law crossed his arms, already regretting this. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

Luffy had already grabbed a small shopping basket and tossed a tiny dinosaur plushie into it.

“I know.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I,” Luffy replied with a grin, wandering down the aisle. “I work so I can spend it on things I want. Sometimes it’s food. Sometimes it’s dumb figurines. Sometimes it’s the kid of the only person I like at those weird group meetings.”

Law blinked. “You like me?”

Luffy looked over his shoulder with a deadpan stare.

“Don’t be dumb, Torao.”

Law scoffed quietly and turned away before Luffy could see the stupid warmth creeping up his neck. Meanwhile, Damian had detached from his leg and wandered toward a shelf of animal plushies almost as tall as he was. He pointed toward the middle row, where a small, scruffy brown bear with an oversized red ribbon sat.

“This one,” Damian declared.

Law crouched down beside him. “You sure? What about a robot, or a train?”

Damian shook his head. “Bear.”

Of course it had to be a bear.

Luffy strolled back just as Damian hugged the plushie against his chest, practically disappearing behind it.

“Well,” Luffy said, hands on his hips. “That’s that. Operation Spoil the Tiny Gremlin: complete.”

Law sighed, defeated. “At least let me pay for—”

“Nope.” Luffy was already walking to the counter. “Let me do this, Torao. I want to.”

Law followed him reluctantly, Damian trailing behind with the bear almost dragging on the floor.

“You’re gonna regret spending all your money like this.”

“Maybe,” Luffy shrugged. “But I’d regret it more if I didn’t.”

Law didn’t know how to answer that, so he didn’t.

Once the plushie was paid for and Damian proudly clutching the small bag, they left the store. Luffy’s phone buzzed—probably Garp, or Ace, or some other headache waiting at home—but he didn’t check it. Instead, he looked at Law, sunlight hitting his hair just right, smile relaxed.

“Want to walk around a bit?” Luffy asked. “Or do you need to get back?”

Law glanced at the time and at Damian, who looked like he could keep going for hours.

“…Yeah. Let’s walk.”

They strolled through the mall at a slow pace, the kind of walk you take when there’s nowhere urgent to be. Damian swung the toy store bag with one hand and held onto Law’s with the other, occasionally stopping to look through shop windows. Law didn’t mind it. It was nice, surprisingly peaceful—even with the usual weekend crowd moving around them.

“You know,” Law said, sliding a look at Luffy, “when your pup is born, you’re gonna spend a ridiculous amount of money. On everything. Diapers, wipes, clothes they’ll outgrow in a week. Toys they won’t even like. Doctor visits. Sleepless nights. It adds up.”

Luffy snorted. “Torao, you make it sound like I haven’t thought of that.”

Law arched an eyebrow. “Have you?”

“I have,” Luffy answered, proudly puffing out his chest a little. “I got Nami for that.”

Law blinked. “Nami?”

“One of my best friends. She’s obsessed with budgeting. Like, really obsessed. She handles my money and has this whole plan laid out for me. Charts and graphs and stuff. I don’t understand most of it, but she says I’m doing okay.”

Law blinked again. “You let your friend manage your money?”

“I let the best person I know manage my money,” Luffy corrected, grinning. “She makes me do reports. We had a whole presentation on formula prices and baby cribs. I cried. She didn’t.”

“…Sounds terrifying.”

“It was,” Luffy said, laughing. “But she made me promise not to waste money just because I feel bad, or anxious, or anything like that. Says babies don’t need a thousand things. Just stability. And love.”

Law didn’t say anything right away. The words stuck to him a bit, like lint on a sweater. He looked down at Damian, who was now holding the plush bear by one paw, dragging it behind him like a tiny adventurer.

“…Your friend’s not wrong,” Law said finally, soft.

“I know,” Luffy replied. “But I also think sometimes, when you love someone, it’s okay to spoil them. A little.”

He gave Law a pointed look and then grinned wider, as if daring him to disagree. Law just huffed quietly, shaking his head. But he didn’t stop walking beside Luffy. Not even when their hands brushed for the third time and neither of them moved away.

They stopped at a small corner of the mall where a bench sat tucked beside a decorative plant. Damian was still full of energy, bouncing on his feet and babbling to his plush bear. Law sat down with a slow exhale, stretching his legs out while keeping an eye on his son. Luffy joined him, sipping the last of his bubble tea.

“…That’s what my dad used to say too,” Law murmured after a moment, eyes tracking Damian but his voice distant. “That kids didn’t need thousands of things. Just stability. Love. And someone who always came back.”

Luffy glanced sideways at him but said nothing, letting the silence stretch, letting Law have the space.

“He died last year,” Law continued, voice even but softer. “It was sudden. Damian was still a baby—barely one. And he…” Law paused, as if rearranging the words carefully in his mouth. “He really loved Damian. Despite everything. He said it wasn’t ideal, but he’d stand by me. That he’d help me raise him. And he did.”

Luffy looked down at his cup, his hand tightening slightly around it. “He sounds like he was a good dad.”

“He was,” Law said. “The best. I don’t think I would’ve made it through that first year without him. Rosinante helped too, and even Doflamingo in his weird way, but my dad… He was the one who kept things from falling apart.”

Luffy shifted closer slightly, careful. “Did he get to spend time with Damian?”

“Yeah,” Law said with a small, almost-smile. “He left him money, too. A decent amount, actually. Set it aside in an account under Damian’s name. Said it was for his future, no matter what happened to any of us.”

“So you don’t work?”

Law shook his head. “I’m still in school full-time. And with everything… It’s hard to juggle. But we’re okay. Between the money my dad left, Rosinante covering the house, and me not spending much, we get by. I’ve thought about working part-time, but then I think about daycare hours, and Damian getting sick, and homework piling up, and I just—” He stopped himself, sighing. “I can’t do it all. Not yet.”

Luffy nodded slowly. “You don’t have to explain. I get it.”

“You’re gonna work and study with a baby,” Law said, glancing at him with a raised brow. “That’s different.”

“I’m not trying to do it all,” Luffy replied. “I’ve got people helping me. Even if they annoy me half the time.”

Law gave him a look. “Like your brother?”

Luffy groaned, flopping back against the bench dramatically. “Don’t even get me started.”

But Law smiled quietly this time. And it wasn’t a tired or heavy smile—it was something lighter. Something grateful.

Next to them, Damian toddled closer and climbed onto Law’s lap, dragging his bear with him. Luffy reached out and gently ruffled the boy’s hair, grinning when Damian wrinkled his nose in protest.

“I think he likes you,” Law said.

Luffy shrugged. “I’m irresistible.”

Law rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

Luffy sat beside Law, leaning slightly back against the bench as his fingers tapped absently against the empty plastic cup in his lap. The mall buzzed quietly around them—families walking past, distant chatter, the clink of forks and plates from the food court. But Luffy barely noticed. His attention kept drifting back to the person beside him.

Law wasn’t what he expected when they met. He was quiet, sharp-tongued, and carried this heavy air around him like an old, worn coat. But he was also gentle. Not the obvious kind—Luffy had to watch to catch it. The way Law knelt every time Damian spoke so they’d be eye-level. How he remembered what his son liked and didn’t like, cutting out onions from his noodles or tying the sleeves of his jacket just so. There was care in every little movement.

And then there was that seriousness in his eyes. Not just tiredness, but something deeper—like he’d had to grow up fast and never got the chance to slow down. That made Luffy ache a little in his chest. Because he understood. Maybe not in the same way, but enough.

He glanced sideways again. Law’s features were soft in the mall’s light, expression relaxed now that Damian was nestled against him. The tension in his shoulders had eased, his voice a little lighter with Luffy than it was at school or in the group. Luffy liked that. He liked being the reason for even a small part of that change.

And maybe—just maybe—he liked the idea of being allowed into Law’s little world. Not to fix anything. Just to be there. To help carry some of that weight.

He smiled to himself, quiet and small. Law didn’t talk much, but Luffy didn’t mind silence. As long as he could sit close like this, hear Damian’s soft hums and see Law’s face when he was calm—he’d take it.

Chapter Text

Law had been having a rough morning.

He’d woken up to the unmistakable wail of Damian protesting the cruel injustice of having to get dressed. The two-year-old had managed to throw every item of clothing onto the floor, including his socks—how he got those off while still half-asleep was a mystery Law didn’t have time to solve.

“No pants,” Damian said with a stubborn pout, sitting bare-legged on the floor.

“Yes, pants,” Law replied, already pulling on his jacket uniform with one hand while holding a tiny shoe in the other. “And socks. And shoes. And if we’re really lucky, a jacket.”

Damian flopped over onto his side dramatically.

Law ran a hand down his face. He was going to be late again, and he had two quizzes today. The group project he was stuck in had scheduled a meeting during lunch, and on top of it all, his mother was already in the kitchen, probably waiting to make some passive-aggressive comment about how Law needed to be more “structured” as a parent.

He wasn’t in the mood.

After wrangling Damian into his clothes—using the promise of watch cartoons, eat crackers, and the fact that he could bring his favorite bear plush to the daycare— Law practically dragged them both down the hallway. His backpack was slung over one shoulder, Damian was tugging on his hand, and his nerves were already wearing thin.

When they stepped into the kitchen, Dulcinea was sipping coffee at the table like a queen watching her disheveled court enter.

“He’s not wearing the jacket I left out,” she said, eyes barely flicking up from her tablet.

“He doesn’t like that one,” Law replied flatly, brushing past her to grab his thermos.

“You should be the one deciding what he wears, not him.”

Law turned, jaw tight. “He’s two. I picked my battles this morning, and a jacket wasn’t it.”

Dulcinea just raised a brow. “And what about breakfast? He needs a proper meal, not just pouches and crackers.”

Law gave her a pointed look. “We’re late. He’ll eat at daycare.”

“I can’t believe you still call that place daycare,” she muttered. “It’s practically a warehouse for children.”

Law didn’t bother responding. He clipped Damian’s backpack on, handed him the bear, and knelt to zip up his shoes.

“Come on, little bear,” he said gently. “Let’s go before grandma has another opinion.”

Damian just grinned at him, bear clutched under one arm. “No like jacket!”

“I know,” Law muttered under his breath, lifting him up and grabbing his keys. “Believe me, I heard you the first twelve times.”

As he closed the door behind him, the sound of Dulcinea calling out, “Don’t forget, his last health check report is in my drawer. I still think you’re skipping appointments,” echoed down the hall.

Law ignored her. He focused on the weight of his son in his arms, the cool air on his face, and the desperate hope that the day wouldn’t get any worse than it already was.

Law barely had time to take a sip from his thermos before Damian resumed his grumbling.

“No shoes,” the toddler muttered again, kicking lightly against Law’s hip.

“You’re already wearing them,” Law replied dryly, adjusting Damian’s weight as he walked down the cracked sidewalk. “We’re not doing this again.”

Damian leaned his head against Law’s shoulder with a dramatic sigh, arms flopped to the side.

"Too many clothes.”

“Yeah, yeah. Life’s tough,” Law mumbled, eyes narrowed against the morning sun.

They were just rounding the corner near the park when two familiar voices called out.

“Oi! Law!”

Law turned to see Shachi and Penguin approaching from the opposite sidewalk, both of them with their usual lopsided grins and oversized jackets. Shachi had a breakfast sandwich in hand, while Penguin was already halfway through a bottle of soda—at 7:00 AM, no less.

Damian immediately perked up.

“Shaaa! Pen!”

“Hey, look who it is!” Penguin laughed, crouching slightly as Damian squirmed in Law’s arms.

“Down, down, down!” Damian chanted, and Law obliged with a sigh, setting him on the ground carefully.

The second his sneakers hit pavement, Damian took off in a waddling run straight into Shachi’s legs, nearly knocking him over.

“Whoa!” Shachi caught him easily, swinging him up into the air. “You got heavier again, kid!”

Damian giggled, wrapping his arms around Shachi’s neck, the tantrum from earlier completely forgotten.

“He’s been protesting socks all morning,” Law muttered, sipping his coffee.

“Classic,” Penguin said with a snort, ruffling Damian’s hair. “I feel like I’ve seen you have the same argument with yourself, honestly.”

“Not wrong,” Shachi added, making Damian laugh by bouncing him on his hip. “What’s with the look? You okay?”

“Just a morning,” Law said simply. “Dulcinea started early.”

Shachi and Penguin both winced in perfect sync.

“Yikes.”

“Say no more.”

Law gave a tired shrug. “Anyway, I’ve got class soon. You guys headed to school?”

“Yeah, but we’re skipping first period,” Penguin said cheerfully. “We’ll walk with you, though.”

Damian clung to Shachi’s hoodie as they started walking again, his earlier complaints forgotten now that he was surrounded by his honorary uncles. Law let himself relax just a little, sipping his coffee and pretending—just for a minute—that it was a normal morning and not the daily chaos he had come to know so well.

Shachi still carried Damian as they walked, effortlessly balancing the squirming toddler on his hip. Penguin occasionally handed Damian sips from his bottle of juice, like they’d done this a hundred times before—which, honestly, they had.

Those two had been Law’s best friends since they were kids, along with Bepo, who’d messaged the group chat earlier to say he was running late. It was strange, sometimes, how life hadn’t shaken them apart. Even after everything, after the worst year of Law’s life, they’d stuck around without asking for anything. Just stayed.

Shachi and Penguin had even dated once—briefly, messily, predictably—and then just… laughed it off and moved on, somehow closer than before. Law admired that. He didn’t think he could ever do that with someone, especially now.

They’d been the first people he told about the pregnancy. They were the ones who’d sat with him outside the health center when he couldn’t stop shaking, helped him tell his parents—well, his dad, anyway. His mom had found out differently, and the fallout from that still hadn’t stopped.

“They’ll get used to it,” Shachi had said, back then.

“Or we’ll just adopt you,” Penguin had offered, only half joking.

They’d both cried when Damian was born. Shachi had held him first, after Law. Penguin had brought a stuffed penguin the size of a pillow, which Damian still refused to sleep without.

And when Law’s ex had ghosted him just past the Damian's birth—no explanations, no calls, not even a fight—they’d both nearly lost their minds.

“Give me five minutes,” Penguin had said. “I’ll find her.”

“And I’ll flatten her car tires,” Shachi had added, dead serious.

Law hadn’t let them go through with it, not because he wasn’t angry—he was, burning—but because it felt pointless. What was the point in chasing someone who had already decided they didn’t want to be there?

She was a beta, a girl he’d dated for a couple of years. They’d been good together, or so he thought. Comfortable. Predictable. Law had imagined a future with her, even if it was quiet and kind of boring. It wasn’t love, maybe, but it had felt safe.

Until it didn’t.

“You okay?” Penguin asked, bumping his shoulder lightly.

Law blinked and realized he’d been silent too long. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Shachi looked over his shoulder. “Tired of life or just mornings?”

“Both,” Law muttered.

Damian snuggled closer to Shachi’s chest and mumbled something about juice again.

Law glanced at him, a little pang in his chest. “He’s been cranky since he woke up.”

“Don’t blame him,” Penguin said, grinning. “If I had to live with that many alphas under one roof, I’d throw tantrums too.”

Law didn’t laugh, but his mouth twitched, and that was enough. They walked on in the early light, Damian giggling softly between his makeshift uncles, and for a while, things felt a little more manageable.

Damian clung to Law like a stubborn koala, his small arms wrapped tightly around his neck as they stood in front of the daycare entrance. His face was scrunched up, lip trembling, and he’d already begun that slow, building whimper that Law recognized as the warning siren before a full-blown meltdown.

“Damian,” Law said in a low voice, trying not to draw attention from the other parents. “Come on, we talked about this. Just a few hours. I’ll be back after school.”

“No!” Damian's reply was sharp and watery. “No school, no go, stay with you!”

Law sighed, gently trying to pry the toddler off him, but Damian only latched on harder, now with both legs wrapped around Law’s waist.

Shachi winced beside him. “Oof. He’s got the grip of a champion.”

“Should’ve enrolled him in judo instead,” Penguin added, though he reached out to ruffle Damian’s hair in support.

Law shifted his weight and tried again, “You like Makino-san, remember? And your little blocks? And you said you wanted to show off your lion drawing.”

Damian shook his head frantically, hiccuping. “Don’t wanna!”

Law swallowed the rising frustration in his throat. He was going to be late. He had a quiz first period. His backpack was slipping, and he hadn’t slept more than five hours last night.

“Damian,” he said a little more firmly. “You’re going. You can cry, you can scream, but you’re going.”

The screaming part started immediately.

Makino peeked out the door with a sympathetic smile.

“Tough morning?”

“He woke up like this,” Law muttered, exhausted.

Damian was now kicking lightly against his side, little fists pounding into his shirt as if that might change his fate.

Penguin, bless him, reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a tiny box of juice and held it up like a peace offering.

“Hey, little man. How about I give you this super-secret strawberry juice, and you let your dad go to class like a responsible teenager?”

Damian hesitated mid-sob. Sniffled. Blinked.

Law stared at the juice box like it was a miracle.

Shachi leaned in and whispered, “Bribery always works.”

Slowly, Damian let go of Law’s neck, reaching out with one sticky hand toward the juice box. Penguin handed it over with the reverence of a holy transaction.

Makino took the opportunity to scoop Damian into her arms.

“Let’s go color some dinosaurs.”

Still hiccupping softly, Damian clutched the juice and leaned against her shoulder, glaring at Law with betrayal.

Law rubbed his eyes. “I swear, I thought he got it out of his system earlier. He screamed bloody murder when I tried to get his socks on.”

“And he’s still got enough energy for round two,” Shachi said, shaking his head with amusement.

They stood there for a moment longer, watching Makino disappear inside with Damian, who now quietly sipped his juice like none of the drama had happened.

“Parenthood,” Penguin said with a snort. “Truly the greatest circus.”

Law groaned and turned to walk toward school.

"Come on. If I run, I might only be five minutes late.”

Behind him, Shachi and Penguin followed, still laughing softly, and Law muttered, "I swear I’m not having another one until I’m thirty.”

They didn’t believe him. And neither did he.

As soon as they slipped into the school building, the bell echoed down the hallway, mocking their attempt at stealth. The three of them rushed toward the classroom, shoes squeaking against the tile floor. Law’s bag bounced on his shoulder, and his jacket was still slightly damp where Damian had cried into it.

Penguin and Shachi veered off into their usual seats near the back of the room with a pair of casual waves like they hadn’t just committed a crime against punctuality. Law wasn’t as lucky.

“Law.”
That voice—the sharp, dry tone that could cut glass—stopped him in his tracks.

Borsalino stood, arms crossed, brow furrowed, his glasses perched low on the bridge of his nose.

Law sighed internally. He knew this was coming.

“You’re fifteen minutes late,” the teacher said plainly.

“I know. I—”

“Don’t make excuses.”

Law closed his mouth.

The class was already settled, some students glancing up from their notebooks, others watching the scene like it was free entertainment. He could already hear the whispers starting again—probably something about how Law always got away with things because he had a kid or that he was milking it for sympathy. Some even suggested he got special treatment, which was a joke.

“I let it slide on Monday. And last Thursday. But we can’t keep doing this, Trafalgar,” Borsalino-san went on, flipping through a folder. “Just because you have additional responsibilities doesn’t mean the rest of your education can go on pause.”

“I understand,” Law said stiffly. “It won’t happen again.”

The teacher looked at him for a long second, then gave a tired sigh, his expression softening ever so slightly.

"Sit down. But I want you to stay after class. We need to talk about how to keep this from becoming a pattern.”

Law nodded and quietly slid into his seat next to Bepo, who gave him a look that said, Rough morning?

Law just let his head fall against the desk for a moment, exhaling hard.

“Damian again?” Bepo whispered.

“He weaponized tears,” Law muttered. “And juice bribes.”

Bepo chuckled softly.

The teacher resumed the lecture, and Law tried to focus, but his mind kept drifting—to Damian’s little hands clinging to him, to the way his back ached from carrying him half the morning, to the look in Luffy’s eyes when he said he could indulge his friend's kid without guilt.

Law’s eyelids fluttered once, and he pinched himself under the desk to stay alert.

He hated being late.

He hated the eyes on him.

He hated that people assumed he was failing when he was trying so hard to hold everything together.

But at least he made it. And Damian had gone to daycare.

For now, that was enough.

At lunchtime, Law dragged himself across the courtyard, the sun too bright for the kind of day he was having. His tray had barely anything on it—just a couple of onigiris and a coffee—because he hadn’t had the energy to fight the cafeteria line. He headed toward the usual meeting spot under the old tree near the back of the school where his project group always sat.

Eustass Kid was already there, sprawled on the grass like he owned the place, arms crossed behind his head, boots kicked out in front of him. Basil Hawkins was calmly sitting beside him, drawing cards from his strange little tarot deck, murmuring things to himself about probability and doom. Kajaku was perched on a bench nearby, swinging one leg and humming while scrolling on his phone.

Law sighed.

“Look who finally showed up,” Kid said without opening his eyes. “Late this morning, late now—gonna start charging you interest, Trafalgar.”

Law sat down on the grass across from him.

“I had to drop off my son. You know, that thing I mention every time we have to plan something?”

“Oh, right,” Kid said, now cracking one eye open, “your emotional support child. Forgot.”

Kajaku snorted softly into his phone.

Law narrowed his eyes. “You wanna lead this project, go ahead. I’ve got enough to juggle.”

“I already am,” Kid shot back. “Since you conveniently missed the last meeting.”

“I was at the doctor’s. Damian had a fever.”

“Excuses,” Kid muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Guys,” Kajaku intervened, still tapping on her phone. “Can we not do the usual? At least not before I’ve eaten. I beg you.”

“Let them fight,” Hawkins said, still not looking up. “The death energy between them is oddly symmetrical.”

Law rubbed his temples. “Can we just assign the damn sections already?”

“Yeah, we did,” Kid said, smirking. “While you were busy. Guess who’s doing the research part now?”

Law glared. “You gave me research? That’s the most time-consuming section.”

“Exactly,” Kid said, leaning back with a smug grin. “Since you’re so responsible and mature and all.”

Kajaku laughed. “Honestly, Law, you kinda walked into that one.”

Law groaned and leaned back on the grass. “I hate you all.”

“You’ll get over it,” Kajaku said cheerfully.

Hawkins turned a card, looked at Law, and added, “The cards say your suffering has only just begun.”

“Great,” Law muttered, closing his eyes. “Just great.”

Kid snorted. “You’re lucky we didn’t stick you with the visual presentation too.”

Law sat up straight, glaring across the grass. “I’m already doing the research, Kid. What are you doing? Yelling at people until the project assembles itself?”

“I’m doing the outline and presentation,” Kid snapped, jabbing his thumb into his chest. “Because unlike you, I can actually speak without putting the entire class to sleep.”

“You yell,” Law said flatly. “You don’t present. There’s a difference.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kid replied, voice thick with sarcasm. “Did I forget to adopt a monotonous, brooding tone like you? My bad.”

“Kid, Law,” Kajaku warned, but neither of them were listening anymore.

“At least I read the material,” Law shot back. “Unlike you, who only understands things when they come with explosions or power tools.”

Kid sat up now too, leaning forward. “Don’t act like you’re the only one who works, Trafalgar. You show up late, you always look like you haven’t slept in days, and now you’re throwing a fit because I gave you the hardest part.”

“I’m not throwing a fit,” Law said sharply. “I just don’t have time for your ego trip on top of everything else.”

“Then drop the project if it’s too much for you,” Kid growled. “Oh wait, that’s not something you’d do, right? Mr. Perfect Father of the Year.”

The words hit a nerve so deep that for a second, Law went completely still. His jaw clenched, and his hands curled into fists in the grass.

Kajaku immediately stood up. “Okay! Nope. That’s enough. Time out. You two are worse than my nephews.”

Even Hawkins looked up now, blinking slowly. “You may have pushed a little too far,” he said to Kid in a neutral tone.

Kid, for once, looked vaguely uncomfortable. “...Whatever,” he muttered, looking away.

Law stood up, brushing off his pants. “We’ll finish the damn project,” he said coolly. “But don’t talk about my kid again. Got it?”

Kid didn’t respond. Law walked off without waiting for one.

Kajaku sighed, sitting back down. “Every meeting. Every time.”

Hawkins turned another card and murmured, “Conflict is inevitable when fire meets ice.”

Kajaku rubbed her face. “I need new group partners.”

Law stormed off the field, his shoes crunching over the gravel with sharp, irritated steps. He could still hear Kid's voice echoing in his ears, and it made his blood boil. Father of the Year, huh? That bastard didn’t know anything. Not what it was like to drag yourself out of bed after two hours of sleep, make sure a toddler was fed and dressed and calm, only to still show up at school pretending everything was normal.

He clenched his jaw and headed straight to the bathrooms, ignoring the stares from a group of underclassmen huddled near the vending machines. Once inside, he locked himself in a stall and leaned his head against the cold metal door, exhaling slowly.

His hands were trembling, not from rage—but from exhaustion. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging slightly at the ends. He didn’t have time for this. He didn’t have the energy for this. Not for fights with annoying redheads, not for passive-aggressive teachers, not for constant looks from students who still whispered about him when they thought he couldn’t hear.

He took out his phone, debating whether to message Penguin or Shachi—maybe Luffy, even—but decided against it. They were probably still eating, and he didn’t want to be a bother. He slid down until he was sitting on the closed toilet seat, rubbing his temples.

“Just a few more months,” he muttered to himself. “Just hold on a little longer.”

He stayed there until the bell rang for the next class. Then, sighing deeply, he pushed himself up and washed his face in the sink, letting the cold water shock some clarity back into him. His reflection looked tired—dark circles under his eyes, mouth pulled in a tight line. But he straightened up, wiped his face with a paper towel, and walked out.

He’d show them. He’d graduate. He’d build a future for Damian. And no loudmouthed punk or sanctimonious beta would get in his way.

Chapter Text

Luffy sank into the worn-out chair in the waiting room, cradling a thermos with ginger tea between his hands like it was the most valuable thing in the world. The warmth felt nice against his palms, and the steam brushed up against his face gently. His stomach was still churning a little, but not as bad as earlier. Morning sickness wasn’t supposed to still be a thing, but his body clearly hadn’t gotten the memo.

Across the room, Garp was chatting animatedly with the receptionist like they were old friends—which honestly, they probably were. Garp had a way of talking to people that made them laugh even when they didn’t want to. Luffy was grateful for the company, even if his grandfather's presence meant constant side-eyes and overbearing glances every time Luffy so much as shifted in his seat.

He rubbed the curve of his stomach absently, now a visible bump under his t-shirt. Twenty-one weeks. He was past the halfway mark. It felt surreal. He could already feel little movements sometimes, like soft flutters or the occasional thump when the baby had opinions. Luffy liked to pretend the baby was throwing punches like him.

The nurse finally called his name, and Garp go first, as if he were the one getting checked out. Luffy rolled his eyes, downed the last of the tea, and stood up more slowly. His back ached a bit, but nothing unmanageable.

“Monkey D. Luffy?” the nurse asked with a warm smile.

“That’s me,” Luffy said, placing a hand on his belly as he waddled a bit toward her.

Garp clapped him on the shoulder, earning a glare from Luffy.

“Let’s go make sure my great-grandkid’s cookin’ alright,” Garp said proudly.

Luffy groaned. “Don’t say it like that.”

As they followed the nurse down the hallway, Luffy could already picture the monitor, the cold gel, the weird wand they rolled across his stomach. It wasn't his favorite part, but hearing the heartbeat… yeah. That made it worth it. That sound always made everything else quiet down, even the mess at home, even the ache of missing his classes, even Ace’s constant judgment.

Today, at least, it felt a little bit okay.

The nurse led Luffy into one of the exam rooms, where everything smelled like disinfectant and vinyl. The walls were painted a bland shade of pale yellow, and a little poster of a smiling cartoon fetus with big eyes and way too many facts was taped next to the examination table. Luffy barely glanced at it before settling down with a sigh.

“Let’s start with the basics,” the nurse said cheerfully, pulling out a clipboard. “Any discomfort? Nausea? Dizziness?”

Luffy shrugged. “A little queasy this morning. Nothing major. My back hurts when I sit for too long.”

She nodded, jotting it down. “All pretty normal for this stage. We’ll check your vitals, and then the doctor will come in before we do the ultrasound, okay?”

Luffy gave her a thumbs-up and offered a crooked grin, then turned toward Garp who was already busy inspecting the jars of cotton swabs and tongue depressors like they were fascinating ancient artifacts.

“Don’t touch stuff, old man,” Luffy muttered.

“I’m just lookin’,” Garp said innocently.

The nurse took his blood pressure, listened to his heartbeat, and asked him a few more questions about sleep and appetite. Luffy answered as honestly as he could—he’d been sleeping less, thanks to the baby waking him up by apparently breakdancing at 3 a.m., and his appetite was weird. One day he wanted spicy food, the next he wanted nothing but toast and ice.

“You’re doing okay,” the nurse said after noting everything. “Doctor Crocus will be here in a minute.”

Luffy perked up a bit at the name. Crocus was strict, but nice. She didn’t make him feel like he was failing just because he was young and alone. She’d even given him her personal number once, in case he had any urgent questions or emergencies. Luffy trusted her.

When the nurse left, Garp finally settled down into a chair and grumbled, “This whole thing takes too long. When I was your age—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Luffy interrupted, smirking. “You were fighting bears and carrying barrels up mountains.”

“I was!” Garp puffed up his chest.

Luffy rolled his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. The room was quiet again. For a moment, Luffy just listened to the soft hum of the fluorescent lights. The checkups weren’t fun, but they were one of the few things that made him feel like he had a little control over everything.

He glanced down at his bump and rubbed it absentmindedly, whispering, “Almost time to hear you again.”

He smiled a little.

Doctor Crocus entered with a tablet in hand and a warm, professional smile.

“Hey, Luffy. Ready for today’s checkup?”

Luffy gave a half-nod, half-shrug. “Guess so. Didn’t sleep much.”

He set the tablet down. “We’ll take a look and see if baby’s been throwing nighttime dance parties again.”

That made Luffy crack a smile. “Yeah, something like that.”

Crocus ran through the standard questions again—diet, movement, any pain—and Luffy answered in his usual casual tone, though she noticed he was rubbing his back more than usual.

“I’ll check the ligaments. You’re in the middle of that growth spurt stage. A lot of omegas feel more pressure around this time.”

He moved efficiently, checking him over and listening to his heartbeat again before finally turning on the ultrasound machine and motioning for him to recline.

“Still don’t want to know the sex?” he asked, prepping the gel.

“Nope.” Luffy looked at the ceiling. “Everyone wants to know, but I don’t care. I’ll meet them when they’re born, right? That’s enough.”

Crocus chuckled. “Fair enough. I wish more parents thought like that. Alright, little one, let’s see how you’re doing.”

The cold gel made Luffy twitch, but he relaxed as the image started to flicker into life on the monitor. Garp stood up to get a better look, his face unreadable for once, watching in silence. The baby moved, a slow turn that made Luffy’s breath catch in his throat.

Crocus’s voice softened. “Heartbeat is strong. Movement’s good. Growth is on track. Everything looks perfect.”

Luffy nodded, his eyes glued to the screen. “Good. That’s good.”

He could see the tiny curve of the spine, the faint profile of a nose, the outline of arms tucked close. It still felt surreal sometimes—like this couldn’t actually be happening to him. Like this little creature really lived inside him.

Crocus kept scanning, taking measurements and saving stills.

“You’ve got an active one,” he said with a knowing smile. “Any name ideas yet?”

Luffy shook his head, distracted by the shifting image on the screen.

“Haven’t thought that far. Just want them to get here okay.”

Crocus wiped the gel away gently and handed him a towel.

“That’s the most important thing. And you’re doing a good job, Luffy. Really.”

He glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone, and gave a small nod.

“Thanks.”

Garp stayed quiet the whole time, but when they walked out into the hallway, he ruffled Luffy’s hair roughly.

“You’re tough, brat.”

“I know,” Luffy said without missing a beat. But for once, it didn’t sound like bravado.

As they walked out of the clinic and toward the parking lot, Luffy clutched the printed ultrasound images in one hand and his thermos of tea in the other. Garp was mumbling something about picking up groceries on the way home, but Luffy wasn’t listening.

His eyes lingered on the soft, grainy outline of the baby. So small, but already so real.

He hadn’t wanted to know the gender. Still didn’t. Maybe part of him felt like putting a label on them would make it more permanent—more terrifying. Like he was supposed to know what he was doing just because he could give the baby a name, or plan a nursery, or pretend he was ready. But he wasn’t. Not really.

He remembered when Koby had first found out. The way he’d gone pale, like all the blood drained from his face. At first, Koby had tried to be supportive—he was sweet like that—but the fear had crept in fast. Too fast. He’d started avoiding things, avoiding Luffy, pretending everything was normal when it wasn’t.

And then, just after that first scan of the second trimester when Luffy was still throwing up and terrified and trying not to show it, Koby had said the words that still stung.

“You deserve someone better than me. Someone stronger. You’ll be fine. I’m sorry.”

And just like that, he was gone. Luffy had stared at the closed door for a long time after. He hadn’t cried. He just felt hollow. Like someone had scooped out all the hope he had left.

Now, sometimes when he felt the baby kick, he wanted to tell someone about it—not just anyone, someone who wanted to hear it. Someone who would get excited with him. But there was no one like that anymore. His friends were busy with their own lives. His brothers were more angry than supportive. And Garp… well, Garp was trying in his own gruff way, but Luffy couldn’t talk to him about feelings. Not like that.

He stared down at the ultrasound again, the baby curled up like a comma.

I’ll be here, he thought. Even if it’s just me.

Garp’s car rumbled as it pulled up to the familiar curb. Luffy sat slouched in the passenger seat, arms crossed over his stomach, t-shirt bunched up under his belly. He stared out the window with a frown as the church hall came into view. The fluorescent lighting inside was already on, casting a cold glow through the windows.

“I can wait outside if you want,” Garp said, voice casual but eyes flicking toward him with a sharpness that didn’t miss much.

“No,” Luffy muttered, grabbing his phone and slowly climbing down from the car. “It’s fine.”

He didn’t wait for Garp to say anything else. The door slammed behind him, and he shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked into the building, shoulders slightly hunched.

Every Wednesday. Like clockwork.

He hated it at first—sitting in a circle of folding chairs, surrounded by strangers who all had that same tired look, sharing stories that were too honest or way too fake. It made him feel even more alien than usual. But lately… it was better. Because Law would be there.

The familiar scent hit him just as he stepped inside. Not Law’s scent specifically—just that lingering mix of sterile floors, cheap coffee, and a dozen different body chemistries. But still, he looked toward the meeting room, hoping to see that black hoodie, that scowl that was more of a defense mechanism than anything real.

He signed in at the front desk without really acknowledging the volunteer, and wandered down the hall. The soft murmur of conversation echoed ahead, some laughter too. Luffy walked slower.

He wasn’t really in the mood today. He was tired, sore, and the ultrasound had left his brain scrambled. But he knew that if he skipped, Garp would get annoying about it. And worse, he’d miss seeing Law.

When he finally stepped into the room, he kept his expression neutral, eyes scanning lazily across the circle until they landed on him. Law. Sitting with his arms crossed, as usual, legs stretched out just enough to look aloof. He caught Luffy’s eye, and something like a flicker of recognition passed between them.

Luffy smirked, lips tugging up at the corners. Without saying anything, he walked over and plopped into the chair next to him, letting out a loud sigh as he leaned back.

“Rough day?” Law murmured, barely looking at him.

“Always,” Luffy said, nudging his elbow gently against Law’s. “But you’re here, so it’s not total garbage.”

Law rolled his eyes, but the tiniest smirk betrayed him.

And for a moment, Luffy forgot he was tired, or that he missed Koby, or that the weight on his back felt heavier than ever. For a moment, he just sat there, next to someone who didn’t ask for more than what he could give.

The meeting started, but Luffy didn’t really listen. He sat slouched in his seat, legs stretched out, his hands resting lazily on his belly as it rose and fell with each breath. Across the circle, someone was sharing their week—something about a hospital scare and their omega mother showing up uninvited. There were sympathetic nods and soft reassurances, but Luffy’s attention was elsewhere.

Law leaned toward him just slightly, keeping his voice low enough not to interrupt.

“Bet twenty berries the guy next to the snacks is gonna cry again.”

Luffy pressed his lips together to keep from laughing, his eyes flicking toward the man in question, who already looked misty-eyed.

“You’re evil.”

“Realist,” Law replied with a slight shrug. “Besides, I’ve got a perfect record.”

Luffy bit the inside of his cheek to hide the grin creeping in. These were the moments he liked most—small exchanges like secrets between them, reminders that not everything had to be so heavy.

“Should’ve brought snacks,” Luffy whispered back, eyeing the sad little tray of crackers and dry-looking muffins on the side table.

“I brought juice boxes,” Law replied, pulling one discreetly from his backpack and slipping it to Luffy under his hoodie like they were passing contraband. “Damian’s emergency stash.”

Luffy grinned and took it, poking the straw in with the kind of reverence normally reserved for fine wine.

"You’re the best.”

“I know.”

They sat there like that, quiet and close, occasionally throwing each other glances when someone in the circle said something strange or preachy. The two of them didn’t have to explain themselves to each other. That was rare.

Luffy snuck another look at Law as someone new began talking about their nesting instincts. Law wasn’t really paying attention either—his fingers tapped a slow, repetitive beat on his knee. He looked tired. More tired than usual.

“You okay?” Luffy asked softly, his voice barely above a murmur.

Law gave a slow blink, then nodded once. “Long day. Damian’s in a ‘why’ phase.”

Luffy winced in sympathy. “Brutal.”

Law hummed in agreement, then finally turned his head toward him fully. “You?”

Luffy shrugged. “Doctor stuff. Baby’s fine, I guess. Still swimming around like a goldfish.”

“You didn’t find out the gender?”

He shook his head. “Didn’t wanna.”

Law didn’t ask why. He just nodded, like that made perfect sense.

Another story started in the circle—something about choosing names—but Luffy wasn’t listening again. He and Law were stuck in their own little world, and honestly, it was the only reason he came anymore. If Law ever stopped showing up, Luffy wasn’t sure he’d keep going either.

But for now, he was here. And so was Law. And that made the room feel just a little less cold.

Law blinked, a little caught off guard by the question. The circle had moved on to talking about support systems—who had them and who didn’t—but Luffy was staring straight at him, straw still in his mouth, hands folded over the curve of his belly like a quiet anchor.

“How was it with you? When you found out you were having a boy? I mean…” Luffy started, fidgeting slightly. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I just—was thinking. About it.”

Law leaned back a little, letting out a quiet breath through his nose.

“Nah. It’s okay.” He tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing like he was pulling the memory out of storage. “I wasn’t even the one who asked.”

Luffy raised an eyebrow, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“My dad,” Law said, his voice softer now. “He went with us. I was… freaking out. I wasn’t ready. I kept thinking I was going to screw everything up. I didn’t even wanna know. I thought—if I knew, it would make it too real, and I’d mess it all up somehow.”

Luffy nodded slowly. He knew that feeling too well.

“But my dad asked. I didn’t say anything, nor her, so we let him do it.” Law’s lips twitched faintly, not quite a smile, more of a memory ghosting across his face. “When they said it was a boy, he started crying. Like, full-on crying. I’d never seen him do that.”

Luffy’s eyes widened. “No way.”

Law shrugged. “I think he saw Damian before I did. Really saw him, you know? I was still caught in the fear. He was just… happy. He said something stupid like, ‘You’re gonna be a good dad, just like me,’ and I laughed in his face.”

Luffy smiled at that, small and genuine. “But he was right.”

Law looked at him for a moment, expression unreadable. “I’m trying,” he said finally. “I mess up a lot. But Damian’s still smiling, so I guess I haven’t ruined him yet.”

Luffy sipped from his juice box, quiet for a beat.

"I haven’t even met mine yet and I’m already terrified I’m gonna ruin everything.”

“I think that you won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re asking,” Law replied simply. “That’s more than a lot of people do.”

Luffy’s eyes dropped to his belly again, watching the slow rise and fall under his fingers.

“I still don’t know if I want to know,” he murmured. “What if knowing just makes me panic more?”

“Then don’t find out,” Law said. “No one gets to tell you what you need except you.”

Luffy looked at him again, this time a little longer, a little softer.

“Thanks, Torao.”

Law rolled his eyes. “Don’t start with the nickname again.”

Luffy grinned. “Too late.”

And in that moment, even surrounded by strangers and awkward support group chatter, Luffy felt a little less scared. Maybe he didn’t have all the answers. Maybe he never would. But he had someone sitting next to him who understood—and that counted for something.

Luffy was quiet for a while after that. The group kept talking—someone was crying, someone else was giving advice that sounded like it came from a parenting blog, and the host was trying to keep everything running smoothly—but it all started to fade into the background.

Luffy was still thinking about what Law had said. About his dad, about Damian, about the fear and how it never really left, even after the baby was there. It wasn’t comforting, exactly, but it was real. It was honest. Luffy hadn’t had much of that lately.

He looked at Law again, who was leaning back in his chair, sipping on the second juice box he'd stolen from the communal snack table, after having finished the ones he had brought. He looked tired, as always, but more relaxed now. Like he’d stopped waiting for someone to corner him and ask why he wasn’t smiling more.

Luffy leaned in a little and whispered, “Hey.”

Law tilted his head, raising an eyebrow.

“Do you wanna escape?”

Law blinked. “What?”

“From here,” Luffy said, glancing around like they were planning a heist. “This group. It’s been almost an hour. That’s legally enough suffering for the day.”

Law gave him a look. “Is that so?”

“Yep. Besides, you already did your emotional honesty quota, I saw it with my own eyes.”

Law actually huffed a quiet laugh.

Luffy nudged him with his elbow, playful. “C’mon. There’s a bakery two blocks down with killer cinnamon rolls. I’ll treat. I got paid yesterday.”

“And you’re blowing it on pastries?”

“No, I’m blowing it on not listening to Janet talk about how her husband is still on a fishing trip.” Luffy stood up slowly, hand on his lower back. “That, and I like hanging out with you.”

Law stared at him for a beat, surprised, but then quietly gathered his things and stood up too.

“Fine. But I’m not walking fast.”

“I’m not either, I’m carrying a watermelon.”

They slipped out the door like two teenagers ditching class, and for the first time that week, Luffy felt like breathing came a little easier.

The late afternoon air was cool as they stepped outside, a sharp contrast to the stuffy meeting room they’d just left behind. Luffy stretched his arms high, groaning dramatically.

“Freedom,” he declared, earning a side-glance from Law.

Law stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, exhaling slowly.

“God, that place drains me.”

“I know, right?” Luffy smiled, nudging him again as they fell into step on the sidewalk. “And they always circle back to that one girl who gives advice like she read it off a cereal box.”

“She probably did.” Law smirked slightly, eyes fixed ahead. “Or a Facebook group for overenthusiastic parenting.”

They kept walking, talking about random things—nothing deep this time, just dumb little observations. It felt easy, a sort of peace neither of them got often. When they reached the bakery, Luffy practically dragged Law inside.

It smelled like heaven—freshly baked pastries, caramel, a hint of coffee. Luffy beelined for the counter, eyes wide.

“Oh man, I want like... all of these,” he muttered, pointing at a cinnamon roll the size of his head.

Law stood behind him, looking unimpressed.

Luffy glanced back. “You want one?”

Law shook his head. “I’m allergic to gluten.”

Luffy blinked, mid-order. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah. Can’t touch most of this stuff unless I feel like spending the night in the ER.”

“Damn. That’s tragic,” Luffy said, then pointed at a lemon tart with unnecessary drama. “Guess I’ll suffer enough for the both of us.”

The cashier laughed while ringing him up. Luffy turned back to Law with a curious look.

“What about Damian? He got it too?”

“No. Thankfully,” Law said. “I tested him last year when he had a reaction to something, but it turned out to be strawberries. He’s fine with gluten.”

“Phew,” Luffy said, grabbing his little paper bag of sin. “I don’t think I’d survive if my kid couldn’t eat cake with me.”

Law chuckled under his breath, following him back outside. “You just want someone to use as an excuse to eat more sugar.”

“Absolutely.”

They found a bench near the corner, quiet enough, with a small planter box behind it full of overgrown basil and something that might’ve once been flowers. Luffy sat down with a sigh, unwrapping his cinnamon roll like it was the Holy Grail. Law sat beside him, sipping a bottled iced tea he’d grabbed instead.

There was a lull in their conversation as Luffy chewed thoughtfully and Law leaned back, eyes half-lidded against the sunlight. Neither of them said it, but it was obvious—they both needed this break. Not just from the support group, but from everything else, too.

They stayed on that sun-warmed bench longer than either of them had intended, chatting, teasing, and drifting from topic to topic with the lazy ease of people who didn't want to go home just yet.

Luffy was halfway through licking icing off his fingers when Law gave him a dry look.

“You know, you’re going to give yourself a sugar crash in about twenty minutes.”

“That’s future Luffy’s problem,” he replied with a grin, popping the last piece of cinnamon roll into his mouth. “Besides, I’m eating for two.”

Law snorted. “That’s not how it works.”

“Then how does it work, Doctor Know-It-All?”

Law raised an eyebrow. “First of all, I’m not a doctor yet. Second, your baby isn’t the one begging for refined carbs.”

“He totally is,” Luffy said confidently, patting his belly. “He or she wants pastries and love. In that order.”

Law rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth tugged up again.

“You’re going to be one of those parents, huh?”

“I’m gonna be the best,” Luffy said, kicking his legs out and leaning back. “The coolest, weirdest, funnest omega dad ever.”

“Funnest isn’t a word.”

“It is in my vocabulary.”

Law shook his head, but he didn’t correct him again. He just watched as Luffy tilted his face up to the sky, eyes closed, soaking in the sunlight like a cat. There was a kind of simplicity to him in that moment, a lightness that was rare to find in anyone, let alone someone in their situation.

Luffy cracked one eye open. “What?”

“Nothing.” Law looked away.

They lapsed into silence again, but it wasn’t awkward—just full. Luffy felt his heartbeat calm, his thoughts slow down. No one was asking him about the future or judging his choices. No one was reminding him what he’d lost or what he didn’t have.

Here, with Law, he felt like just another person. Not a pregnant omega. Not a failure. Not a mess. Just… himself.

And that was something he didn’t realize he’d been missing so badly.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, glancing over. “Thanks for hanging out.”

Law looked at him. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It kinda is,” Luffy said quietly, with a small smile. “So thanks.”

Law didn’t say anything right away, but his expression softened.

“Anytime.”

Chapter Text

Law sat hunched on the edge of the pale blue plastic chair, thumbing through his phone without really seeing the screen. The pediatric clinic’s lounge smelled like antiseptic and bubblegum, and the walls were covered in faded posters about flu season and developmental milestones. Damian sat a few feet away, flipping through a chewed-up picture book under Dulcinea’s watchful eye.

She didn’t waste the opportunity.

“You know, if you actually paid attention to your son, maybe he wouldn’t be so anxious every time we come here,” she said, loud enough for the receptionist and the old man across the room to hear.

Law’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t look up.

“I’m serious, Law. You’re always on your phone, always distracted. He needs more than just a roommate who knows how to make snacks.”

Law slowly lifted his eyes, face blank and voice flat.

“Are you done?”

Dulcinea clicked her tongue, brushing a curl from Damian’s forehead.

"I’m just saying, I know raising a child at your age is overwhelming, but you don’t get to just skate by.”

“I’m not skating by,” Law said through clenched teeth. “And I’m not the one who treats him like a doll to dress up and parade around.”

Her mouth tightened. “Don’t be childish.”

He gave her a look like she had sprouted three heads. “Childish? I’m the one raising him. Every day. While you’re playing parent on holidays and checkups.”

“I do more than you think,” she snapped, her tone dipping low, dangerous.

“And less than you pretend,” he shot back.

Damian looked up from his book, sensing the tension. He didn’t say anything, just slowly crawled into the chair beside Law and leaned into his side. That small, instinctive gesture hit Law hard.

He wrapped an arm around his son without looking away from Dulcinea. “You say I’m immature, but you’re the one throwing shade in a pediatric waiting room like we’re in a reality show.”

She scoffed. “You’re just mad that someone’s telling you the truth.”

“No,” Law said calmly, voice like ice, “I’m just tired of you acting like Damian’s your second chance.”

That stunned her for a second. She blinked and looked away, lips pressed in a thin line.

The nurse stepped into the lounge and called Damian’s name.

Law stood, lifting Damian into his arms. “Come on, kid. Let’s go.”

As he walked past her, Dulcinea didn’t say another word. But Law could feel her stare on his back like a branding iron.

The nurse guided them through the hallway, the soft squeak of her shoes echoing against the pale floors. Law carried Damian on his hip, the boy's fingers curled around the collar of his shirt, his cheek resting against his shoulder.

They entered the small consultation room, where a pediatrician with warm eyes and a clipboard greeted them. Dulcinea followed behind and sat in the chair closest to the doctor’s desk, as if she were the one being reviewed.

“Good afternoon, Damian,” the doctor said kindly, and Damian gave a small wave from his place in Law’s arms.

Law sat him down on the padded table, helping him take off his little jacket and shoes. Damian squirmed a bit, looking around, his expression wary.

“How’s he been eating?” the doctor asked, glancing between Law and Dulcinea.

“Fine,” Law answered.

“He’s been picky,” Dulcinea cut in quickly. “He refused carrots last week.”

Law’s jaw ticked. “Because they were raw. He prefers them cooked.”

The doctor nodded neutrally, scribbling a note.

They moved through the usual check-up: weight, height, ears, breathing. Damian endured it like a champ, only whining when the stethoscope touched his chest. Law whispered something to him, brushing his fingers through his hair.

“And sleep?”

“He sleeps well,” Law replied. “Wakes up sometimes, but nothing unusual.”

Dulcinea gave a sigh, loud and theatrical. “He needs more structure.”

Law didn’t answer this time. He just looked at Damian, who was now sitting upright, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt.

The review continued for a while, filled with standard observations and vague concerns. The pediatrician, thankfully, didn’t feed into Dulcinea’s subtle jabs. She seemed to notice the tension but didn’t acknowledge it.

When it was finally over, Damian slid off the table and reached for Law’s hand.

“He’s healthy,” the doctor concluded. “Nothing to worry about.”

Law gave a quiet nod and thanked her, lifting Damian back into his arms. As they left the room, Dulcinea muttered something under her breath, but Law didn’t ask her to repeat it. He’d had enough of her commentary for the day.

Outside the room, Damian tugged at his sleeve. “Are we going home?”

“Yeah,” Law said softly. “We’re going home.”

Law walked down the steps of the clinic with Damian in his arms, the boy’s head resting sleepily on his shoulder. The spring breeze tousled Law’s hair, but it wasn’t enough to cool the frustration burning at the base of his spine.

Dulcinea followed close behind, her heels clacking against the pavement like a ticking clock. She didn’t say anything at first, but Law could feel it—her irritation building with every step he took away from her.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me like that,” she snapped finally, voice sharp as glass. “Get in the car, Law.”

He didn’t even turn around.

“Water Law!”

He kept walking, the sound of Damian’s little breaths more important than her voice.

“You’re being childish. Irresponsible. I don’t know why you insist on pretending you know what you're doing.” Her voice got louder, catching the attention of a few people near the entrance. “I’m your mother. You will respect me.”

Law paused for half a second, adjusted Damian in his arms, and kept walking.

“I’m talking to you!”

“And I’m ignoring you,” he muttered, not even glancing back.

“You’re grounded,” she said, like they were still in the house, like he was still fifteen. “You don’t go anywhere without my permission.”

Law gave a short, humorless laugh. “Good luck with that.”

“You're making a mistake,” she said more quietly, but no less harsh. “One day you’ll realize I’m the only one who’s been trying to help you.”

Law stopped then, shoulders tense, but his expression remained cold as he looked over his shoulder.

“You don’t help. You control. There’s a difference.”

Dulcinea looked stunned for a second—just long enough for Law to turn back around and keep walking, Damian clutching onto his jacket.

“She’s mad,” Damian mumbled sleepily against his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Law said softly. “But she’s not the boss of us.”

He kept walking, not even glancing back as Dulcinea stood by her car, hands trembling with anger, watching them disappear down the street.

Law shifted Damian slightly in his arms as they turned down a quieter street, finally free from the pressure of Dulcinea’s suffocating presence. Damian blinked up at him with tired but curious eyes.

"What do you think about having a sleepover at Grandpa Sengoku’s house?” Law asked, keeping his voice light, like it was just a suggestion and not a desperate need for peace.

Damian’s head tilted. “Will Uncle Dakey be there?”

Law smirked a little. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure he’s always there. It’s his house too.”

Damian perked up a bit at that, rubbing one eye with the back of his small hand.

“Uncle Dakey makes popcorn.”

"He does,” Law said. “And weird smoothies that are mostly protein powder and disappointment.”

Damian giggled softly, the sound making Law’s chest ache in a good way. He missed this—just being alone with his son, no one breathing down his neck about what he was doing wrong.

“Can I bring Mr. Dino?” Damian asked.

“Of course you can bring Mr. Dino,” Law said, nudging the boy’s forehead gently with his chin. “You think I’d let you go to battle without your fiercest warrior?”

Damian grinned against his shoulder, then yawned. “Okay. I want to go.”

“Cool,” Law said, and exhaled deeply. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

He didn’t text Sengoku. He knew he’d be welcome. Even if Sengoku grumbled a lot and called Law a ‘grumpy porcupine’ under his breath, he always made space. Drake might pretend to be annoyed, but he’d throw together snacks and clear space on the couch anyway.

Law just needed a break—from the lectures, from the guilt trips, from his mother treating him like he was some reckless kid who couldn’t tie his own shoes, let alone raise a son. Damian didn’t need that kind of noise. Neither did he.
They kept walking, the afternoon sun warm on their backs, Damian humming quietly as Law felt—for the first time that day—like he could breathe.

They reached the corner of the street, and Damian slipped down from Law’s arms, choosing to walk beside him instead. He clutched Law’s hand tightly, swinging it a little with each step as they moved toward the station.

“Do you think Grandpa Sen will let me stay up late?” Damian asked, his voice hopeful.

Law glanced down, one brow raised. “You planning to bribe him?”

Damian gave him a sly smile. “Maybe.”

Law chuckled. “He’s immune to your tricks, you know. He’s been dealing with me since I was your age. That man’s got nerves of steel.”

Damian giggled again, skipping ahead slightly before turning around and walking backwards.

“But you were probably bad.”

“Excuse me?” Law said, pretending to be offended. “I was an absolute angel.”

Damian gave him a look that clearly said he didn’t believe a word of it. Law smiled despite himself.

The streets were calm, just a few people coming and going. There was something strangely soothing about the quiet—the ordinary kind of peace he rarely got to enjoy between classes, homework, and constant judgment from home.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it for now. He didn’t need another message from his mom, probably asking where he’d taken Damian or if he’d fed him a second snack.

They passed a small convenience store, and Damian tugged at Law’s hand.

“Can we get juice?”

Law hesitated, but then nodded. “Yeah, why not?”

They went inside, and Damian carefully selected two juice boxes. One apple, one grape—he always saved the grape for Drake, saying it was his “favorite color,” even if Drake didn’t care about flavors.

Back on the street, Damian kept quiet, sipping from his box and occasionally looking up at Law like he wanted to ask something but couldn’t quite decide if he should.
Law didn’t push. He’d learned sometimes kids just needed the space to think their own thoughts.

They were halfway to Sengoku’s when Damian finally spoke again.

“Papa,” he said quietly, “you’re not gonna leave me, right?”

The question stopped Law in his tracks. He looked down, heart catching for a moment. Damian was staring at his sneakers, juice box half-forgotten in his hand. Law crouched down in front of him, brushing a strand of hair from his son’s face.

“Hey,” he said, softly. “I’m not going anywhere. Ever. Okay?” Damian nodded, but his lip trembled slightly. “I promise,” Law added, wrapping his arms around him tightly. “Even if I have to fight a whole army of annoying people and gluten-filled snacks to stay, I’ll do it.”

That made Damian laugh again, muffled against Law’s shoulder. They stayed like that for a moment, still on the sidewalk, just holding each other while the world moved around them. Then Damian pulled back, wiping his eyes.

“Okay,” he said, his voice steadier now. “Then I wanna sleep over.”

Law smiled, standing and taking his hand again. “Then let’s go.”

As they walked side by side, Damian pointing out clouds that looked like dinosaurs, Law’s gaze drifted from the boy’s little hand in his to the horizon, eyes momentarily unfocused.

If only Damian knew.

If only he understood everything Law had done—everything he had fought through just to be here, holding his hand like this.

Back then, he had still been fifteen. Barely keeping up with school, barely holding himself together. The hospital hadn’t even let him hold Damian for more than a minute before taking him away. The moment they found out the mother had signed adoption papers and Law was legally still a minor, they looked at him like he was invisible. Like he didn’t matter. Like he wasn’t the father.

He’d sat alone in that cold hallway after they took Damian. His jacket still damp from the rain, hands shaking, heart trying to crawl up his throat. He remembered the nurse saying, “I’m sorry, sweetie, but your situation is complicated.” Complicated. As if love wasn’t simple. As if wanting to raise his own child wasn’t enough.

He had fought tooth and nail. Hours of paperwork, hearings, proof of paternity, meetings with social workers, psychologists, even school counselors. The only reason he even won the case was because of Rosinante, his father and Sengoku, who showed up in court with a suit and an army of character witnesses. Because Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin had stood in front of the judge and said, "He's not alone."

Law hadn't cried when he got Damian back. He just held him. Quietly. Like something sacred.

It had taken him six months. Six long, aching months.

He looked at his son now—his little whirlwind with scuffed shoes and juice-stained fingers—and a knot of emotion rose in his throat.

“I hope one day you understand,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to the child skipping beside him.

Damian turned to him with a tilted head. “What did you say, Papa?”

Law smiled and shook his head. “Nothing, little bear. Just thinking.”

Damian grinned. “Thinking about how I’m gonna beat Uncle Dakey at Mario Kart?”

Law chuckled, nudging him gently. “You wish.”

But deep down, behind the quiet smirk and tired eyes, Law carried the weight of a thousand moments like that one. All the battles fought in silence. All the nights he sat awake wondering if he was enough.

He would never tell Damian everything. He didn’t need to.

He’d just keep walking beside him, through every tantrum and sleepless night, until one day Damian could look back and say, He never gave up on me.

Sengoku opened the door in his usual state—glasses slightly crooked, slippers mismatched, and a newspaper tucked under one arm. He blinked at them for a second before stepping aside with a small grunt.

"Well, well. What brings the storm to my doorstep?"

Damian was the first to rush in, already calling out for Drake as he kicked off his shoes. Law followed slower, a backpack slung over his shoulder and the faintest hint of exhaustion tugging at his features.

“Hope it’s okay,” Law said, avoiding eye contact as he stepped inside. “We needed… air.”

Sengoku raised an eyebrow, locking the door behind them.

“Ah,” he said after a beat, not pressing. “The usual brand of air, or Dulcinea-brand air?”

Law offered a tight-lipped smirk. “Guess.”

Sengoku sighed, more in understanding than annoyance, and placed a firm hand on Law’s shoulder.

“You know you’re always welcome here. You don’t have to explain.”

Law nodded once, grateful, and set the backpack by the couch. Damian’s laughter echoed from somewhere down the hall, and the distant sound of Drake’s voice followed—half greeting, half complaint.

Sengoku watched Law as he sank into one of the living room armchairs, the younger man finally letting out a long breath now that he was somewhere safe.

He didn’t mention Dulcinea again.

Didn’t ask what she’d said or how bad it had been this time. He just went to the kitchen and came back with two mugs—one with tea, one with something stronger—and handed the second to Law without a word.

Law took it, stared into the amber liquid for a second, then took a slow sip.

“…Thanks,” he said quietly.

Sengoku just hummed and sat across from him with his own cup, the television playing low in the background and the muffled voices of the boys upstairs blending into the silence between them. For now, this was enough.

Sengoku stood with a low groan, stretching his back with the grace of a man who’d been retired far too long from heavy lifting but still pretended otherwise. He walked over to a small cabinet by the hallway and rummaged through a drawer.

“There are clean sheets in the laundry closet,” he said, pulling out a set of keys and tossing them onto the nearby table. “The cleaning lady came by Thursday, so the guest room should be decent. Smells like lemon polish though. Sorry.”

Law glanced up from the couch, still holding the warm mug in his hands, nodding slowly.

"No problem,” he murmured.

“Oh, and—” Sengoku paused, rubbing the back of his neck, “the water heater’s acting up again. Lukewarm at best unless you shower at six in the morning. Might be a problem for the kid.”

Law snorted faintly. “He hates cold water. I’ll warm some up the old way if I have to.”

Sengoku gave him a half-smile of approval. “Good. You always figure it out.” He stepped into the kitchen, grabbing the house phone and handing it over. “Now, order whatever you and Damian want to eat. I’m not cooking, and if you even think about paying for it, I’ll kick you both out.”

Law blinked at the phone and arched a brow. “You’re really leaning into the retired-grandpa routine.”

Sengoku chuckled, already heading back toward his favorite recliner.

“I’ve earned it. And you’ve earned a damn break, Law. Let someone else handle it tonight.”

Law didn’t respond right away. He just looked at the phone for a moment, then up the stairs where Damian’s voice was still bubbling with excitement, probably showing Drake some new toy or drawing.

“…Thanks,” he said, soft and genuine.

Sengoku didn’t look over. “Don’t thank me. Just rest.”

After eating — some overstuffed curry boxes and fried snacks from the place Sengoku liked to pretend he didn’t order from every other week — Law and Damian stuck around in the living room for a while, bothering Drake.

Drake was trying to finish something on his laptop, probably coursework or a report for one of his training certifications, but Damian kept bouncing beside him on the couch, tugging at his sleeve and asking endless questions about dinosaurs, swords, and whatever else was going on in that tiny, loud brain of his. Law, arms crossed and faintly amused, occasionally threw in sarcastic comments just to rile Drake up more.

Eventually, Drake snapped his laptop shut with a dramatic sigh. “You two are worse than a plague,” he muttered. Damian cackled.

“I’m teaching him well,” Law said flatly, tossing a piece of rice cracker at Drake’s head before scooping Damian up in one arm. “Bedtime.”

The guest room had that familiar faint scent of detergent and old wooden furniture, and Law welcomed the silence as he placed Damian down on the mattress, then moved to open the linen closet.

The clean sheets were neatly folded, the usual floral pattern. Law gave them a quick shake and began making the bed, tucking each corner with slow, practiced hands. Damian watched from the edge of the mattress, arms wrapped around his knees.

Law glanced over now and then. Damian looked thoughtful, tired, but not upset. He was getting better at not immediately asking for Dulcinea or reacting to change with panic — still, Law could never quite tell what his son was really thinking. The kid was quiet in a way that reminded Law uncomfortably of himself.

He exhaled slowly, smoothing the last pillow into place.

“I wish I knew what was going through your little head sometimes,” Law muttered softly, crouching down to help Damian out of his socks. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

Damian blinked at him, then shrugged in the vague, uninterested way only a child could.

“I like this house,” he said instead.

Law gave a small, tired smile. “Yeah. Me too.”

That night, with Damian curled up under the covers beside him, the faint sound of Drake talking to Sengoku in the kitchen, and no one yelling at him or giving him parenting advice he never asked for, Law finally felt like he could breathe.

Even if just for a night, he and Damian had gotten away.

Law stared at the ceiling long after Damian had fallen asleep beside him, the soft rise and fall of his son's breathing a steady comfort in the dark. But his mind was elsewhere — in memories, in the past, in all the pieces of his life that didn’t quite fit together anymore.

When his father was alive, things had been... tolerable. He wasn’t perfect — no parent was — but he kept Dulcinea in check. She could be overbearing and high-strung, always trying to wrap her life around others and mold them into what she thought was best. But back then, she had boundaries. His father enforced them with calm authority, never raising his voice, never needing to. And in that space, Law had been allowed to be Damian’s father.

He remembered how his dad used to talk to him like an equal, not like a reckless teenager who had made a mistake. “You made a choice,” he had said, more than once. “So now you stand by it. And that boy — he’s lucky to have you.”

Law had clung to those words in the quiet moments, when the pressure of everything else threatened to drown him.

But when his father died, everything cracked.

Dulcinea had moved in with them — Law, Damian, Rosinante, and Doflamingo — without even asking, dragging Lami with her. At first, Law thought it would be temporary, just until they figured things out. But weeks turned into months. Then months became a year. She slowly took over, filling every room with her presence, her opinions, her judgments.

She hovered like a shadow, always watching.

Law couldn’t breathe without feeling her eyes on the back of his neck. She questioned everything: the food he gave Damian, the way he dressed him, how long he let him nap. If Damian had a scratch, a cough, a moody afternoon — it was Law’s fault. If he said no to her, she went through Rosinante. And if Rosinante defended him, she turned her guilt onto Lami, who never wanted to be there either.

Sometimes, Law wondered if she’d always seen Damian as a second chance. A do-over. Not hers, but something she could shape anyway. Something she could control, like she tried to do with everything.

But Damian wasn’t hers. Damian was his.

Law turned slightly, brushing a few strands of hair from Damian’s forehead as the boy shifted in his sleep. He'd fought hard for this. For the right to be a father. For the chance to be seen not as some kid who ruined his life, but as someone doing his best.

His mother didn’t see that. Maybe she never would.

But here, in Sengoku’s house, where her voice couldn’t follow — Law finally felt like his own person again. Even if it wouldn’t last.

Law wrapped his arm around Damian’s small body, pulling him close as they settled under the covers. The warmth of his son’s body, the soft sound of his breathing — it all melted into something that stilled the noise in Law’s head. Damian shifted, instinctively curling against his chest, his fingers clutching the fabric of Law’s shirt in his sleep.

There it was again — that scent.

It was hard to explain, the way it grounded him. Soothing and familiar, like a fire burning gently in the middle of winter. He’d read about how scent helped omegas bond with their pups, how it calmed them, created a link. It was hormonal, biological, natural. And in the eyes of many, that wasn’t supposed to apply to alphas — especially not single alphas raising children on their own.

But maybe those people didn’t know what it was like to be fifteen and terrified and in love with the way your baby’s tiny fingers curled around yours. Or to hear that first cry and feel something shift in your chest so deeply it never went back to the way it was before.

Law had never needed anyone to complete the picture. Not the girl who left, not the people who said he was too young or too cold or too alpha to be a good parent. He had Damian. He had that bond. And lying here in the quiet of Sengoku’s guest room, away from Dulcinea’s sharp words and the chaos of home, Law let himself feel the weight of that.

His chin rested lightly atop Damian’s head, the boy’s scent weaving into his senses, like comfort and home and something sacred. His eyes drifted closed slowly.

Maybe it was different with him. Maybe it was always meant to be.

And for tonight, that was enough.

Chapter Text

Luffy sighed loudly and slumped over the desk, burying his face in his arms.

"This sucks," he mumbled, voice muffled.

"You're not even trying!" Nami scolded from the bed, flipping through his notes with an expression of deep offense. "Luffy, this is basic stuff. If you don’t understand it, at least read the damn question."

"I did! I just… forgot what it meant right after," he groaned, raising his head just enough to blink helplessly at her.

Chopper, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the desk, leaned forward with a hopeful smile.

"It's okay, we’ll go through it again! I made you a mini-guide, remember?"

"Yeah, but it looks like it was written by a genius for a genius," Luffy muttered, glancing at the colorful pamphlet with cartoon and arrows that Chopper had made. It was adorable. It was also completely incomprehensible to him.

Usopp snorted from where he was lying on the floor, balancing a pencil on his upper lip. "I told you, you should’ve bribed Robin or Franky. They're the only ones who might’ve been able to make sense of this for you."

"You’re not helping!" Nami snapped.

Luffy groaned again and swiveled in his chair, hands on his stomach.

"My brain’s all scrambled. Maybe the baby’s eating it."

Chopper blinked. "That’s not how pregnancy works."

"You don’t know that!" Luffy argued, slumping back in the chair and kicking his legs aimlessly. “What if it’s psychic? What if it’s absorbing my intelligence?”

"You didn’t have much to begin with," Usopp said without missing a beat.

"Hey!"

Nami sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Okay, let’s take a break before I lose it. Chopper, do you have snacks?”

"In my bag!" Chopper hopped up eagerly and darted over to where his backpack was sitting near the door.

Luffy spun again in his chair, looking at the ceiling. He liked having them there. It felt normal, almost like the old days before things got messy and complicated. Even if he didn’t understand half of the notes or the diagrams, their voices, their presence, grounded him. Reminded him he wasn’t completely alone in this.

Even if his grades were going to be a disaster.

Luffy leaned forward, resting his chin on the desk, eyes unfocused as Nami’s voice faded into background noise. The words on the screen in front of him all blurred together like alphabet soup, and the more he stared, the less any of it made sense. His fingers tapped restlessly against the table, and he kicked his legs back and forth like a bored kid in detention.

"I just don't get it," he muttered, barely above a whisper.

"That's because you don’t listen," Nami snapped, arms crossed tightly as she stared him down. “Every time we go over this, you zone out halfway through.”

Luffy didn’t argue. She wasn’t wrong. He didn’t mean to stop paying attention—it just happened. He'd start off strong, following along, and then his mind would drift. To the nausea that wouldn’t leave him alone. To how weird his body felt lately. To how quiet the house was when no one was around. To what he was even going to do once the baby came. His chest tightened just thinking about it.

"I wasn’t always this bad…" he said after a moment, his voice soft and distant. “Back in high school, I was fine. I didn’t love it, but it didn’t feel like this.”

Nami’s expression softened, just a little. “I know. Things have been hard lately.”

"And online classes suck," Luffy added quickly, like if he said it fast enough it would sound more valid. “It’s different. Everything’s just… different.”

"Yeah, well, you’ve been through a lot,” Usopp said from the floor, voice gentler than usual. “It makes sense your brain’s a little scrambled. But you still gotta try, Luffy.”

"I am trying!" he burst out, frustration bubbling up like soda in a shaken can. “But I sit here, and nothing sticks. It’s like it just slides off my brain.”

Chopper patted his arm, small and supportive. “It’s okay, Luffy. Maybe we can try a different way. Something that works better for you. We just have to figure it out.”

Luffy nodded slowly, eyes tired. He hated this part. He hated feeling dumb. He hated feeling like he wasn’t enough—for school, for his family, for the baby. It wasn’t fair. But most days, nothing felt fair anymore.

Luffy leaned back in the chair, his hands falling into his lap as he looked up at the ceiling. A soft sigh escaped his lips, long and heavy. The room was warm with afternoon light coming through the half-closed blinds, casting streaks across the walls and his friends' concerned faces. But even with all that warmth, Luffy felt cold inside. Unsettled.

"I don't even know what I'm doing anymore," he muttered, voice low, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

Usopp, sitting cross-legged on the floor with his notebook resting on one knee, glanced up at him. “You’re doing your best. That counts for something.”

“Barely,” Luffy said with a crooked grin that didn’t reach his eyes.

Nami set her pen down, her frustration ebbing. She studied him for a moment, really looked. Luffy’s skin was paler than usual, and the dark circles under his eyes stood out more. His yellow shirt hung a little loose on his shoulders, and the way he slouched in the chair made him look smaller than he was. Like someone slowly folding into himself.

“You’ve been on your own too much,” she said gently. “You need help, not just for school. For everything.”

"I've got help," Luffy replied quickly, maybe too quickly. “You’re here, right?”

Chopper piped up, “That’s true, but you never really ask for help, Luffy. We just show up.”

He didn’t respond right away. He rubbed his thumb over the edge of his desk, jaw tight.

“Because if I ask, then I have to admit I can’t do this alone.”

“Luffy…” Nami’s voice cracked just slightly.

He shook his head. “It’s not just school. It's waking up and wondering if I’m already messing everything up. It’s looking at the calendar and realizing I’m already past halfway, and I don’t even have a crib or… or any idea what I’m doing. And I miss Koby, and I hate that I still miss him. I shouldn’t. But I do.”

His words fell into silence, heavy and raw.

The room was still for a few seconds. Then Usopp stood and crossed over, placing a hand on Luffy’s shoulder.

“You’re not messing everything up. You’re scared. That’s human.”

Chopper nodded. “You’re not alone, okay? Even if it feels like it.”

Luffy blinked quickly, as if that might stop the sting behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Thanks.”

He didn’t believe it yet—not really. But maybe one day soon, he could.

Nami stood up suddenly, brushing her hands off on her skirt with that familiar spark of determination lighting up her expression.

“Okay,” she said, cutting through the heavy mood like a knife. “We’re not doing this anymore.”

Luffy blinked. “Doing what?”

“This moping. This stressing. This sitting in your room pretending it’ll all magically make sense.” She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “You guys are coming with me. We’re going out.”

Usopp raised an eyebrow. “Like, out where? It’s Thursday.”

“Exactly. That’s why we need it,” Nami said, already walking toward the door. “A little distraction never hurt anyone. Fresh air. Snacks. Something stupid to laugh about. And I know just the thing to help you, Luffy.”

He frowned but stood anyway, slow and hesitant. “You’re not dragging me to another bookstore, are you?”

Nami smirked. “No. I was thinking ice cream. Maybe the park. And then…” she trailed off, eyes glinting, “a stop at the baby store.”

Luffy froze. “Wait—what?”

Chopper clapped excitedly. “That’s a great idea! We could help pick out things!”

“Yeah!” Usopp chimed in, grabbing his backpack. “You can’t keep putting it off, man. It might actually make you feel better to get it started.”

Luffy hesitated. The thought made his chest feel tight. But… maybe they were right. Maybe picking something small would help him stop being so scared of everything. It wasn’t like he had to furnish a nursery today.

“Okay,” he mumbled, tugging on his hoodie. “But no weird onesies.”

Nami grinned as they all headed out the door. “No promises.”

The sun was already low in the sky by the time they stepped outside, the air still warm but gentled by the approaching evening. The city moved around them in a lazy rhythm—cars passing slowly, people walking their dogs or pushing strollers, music drifting faintly from a nearby café.

Luffy shoved his hands in his sweater pocket, walking a little behind Nami and Chopper. Usopp lingered beside him, humming something under his breath.

They stopped first at the ice cream place Nami loved, the one with the chalkboard menu and mismatched chairs. Luffy got something fruity—mango, maybe—and Chopper’s face lit up with pure joy as he held his cone. It made Luffy smile without thinking.

Then came the walk to the baby store, which made Luffy’s stomach flutter. He tried to ignore the way it made his fingers itch, that nervous feeling creeping in. But his friends were there. They talked and joked like it was just another day, like it wasn’t a huge deal.

Inside the store, it smelled faintly of baby powder and soft plastic. The pastel colors were almost blinding. Nami took control, as expected, darting between shelves and lifting things up with comments like, “This one’s hideous,” or “You’re legally required to own at least one of these.”

Chopper kept gravitating toward plushies with round faces and floppy ears. Usopp found a diaper bag shaped like a lion and tried to convince Luffy it was “totally your vibe.”

Luffy wandered quietly for a while, eyes landing on a small pack of baby socks—white with little red and yellow stripes. For some reason, they made his throat tighten. They were so tiny. How could a person fit into that?

He took a deep breath and picked them up, feeling the texture between his fingers. Maybe it didn’t mean anything. Or maybe it meant a lot.

Nami came up beside him, saw what he was holding, and didn’t say a word—just gently nudged his arm and smiled.

Luffy finally said, so quietly it could’ve gone unheard, “Maybe just this. For now.”

And nobody pushed him to do more.

Luffy clutched the tiny socks in his hand, eyes fixed on the floor as the fluorescent lights above buzzed softly. The cheerful decorations and lullabies playing through the speakers made everything feel distant and unreal. He didn’t say anything. He just stood there, feeling like the weight of the entire store was pressing on his chest.

He should be smiling. His friends were there—they didn’t have to be. They weren’t mocking him, or disappearing like Koby did. They were trying. They cared. And still, this heaviness inside him wouldn’t go away.

He was only seventeen. He should be out with Usopp and the others, lying to gas station clerks about his age to buy cheap beer, or dancing like an idiot at some half-empty house party with music too loud and lights too dim. He should be failing a test because he forgot to study, not because he was exhausted from throwing up all morning and then crying alone in the shower.

He wasn’t supposed to be picking out socks for someone who didn’t even was there yet.

“Oi,” Nami’s voice cut through the static in his brain, light and casual. “Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”

Before he could react, Usopp turned around with a grin that didn’t quite hide his concern and jabbed a finger at Luffy’s chest.

"Bet I can eat more pizza than you.”

That got Luffy to blink.

He looked up slowly, Usopp’s smirk a challenge. His lips twitched, then curved up slightly.

“You? No way.”

Usopp puffed up his chest. “Way. You forget I’ve been training my stomach for years. It’s an elite athlete.”

Chopper let out a laugh and Nami rolled her eyes. “You two are going to make the poor waiter cry.”

But Luffy finally smiled, small but real, and nodded. “Alright then. You’re on.”

They left the store together, the tiny socks in a little paper bag Luffy carried himself.

The pizza place was warm and loud, with red booths and checkered tablecloths, the kind of place that smelled like melted cheese, oregano, and childhood memories. A familiar comfort. Luffy and Usopp slid into one of the corner booths, both looking serious as if they were about to compete in a championship rather than a pizza-eating contest.

Nami sat next to Chopper on the opposite side, already scanning the menu. “We’ll take two extra-large pepperoni, one all-meat, and one veggie, just in case one of you chickens out,” she told the waitress before either of them could open their mouths.

Usopp clapped his hands. “That’s right, give me the full experience.”

Luffy was already rolling up his sleeves, grinning wide.

"You’re going down.”

Chopper glanced between them, fidgeting with his napkin. “Uh… Luffy, are you sure this is okay? I mean, you were feeling nauseous this morning, and greasy food might—”

“I’m fine,” Luffy interrupted, waving a hand. “I can eat a cow right now.”

“But your stomach—”

“Don’t worry, Chopper,” Nami said softly, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “If he starts looking green, we’ll stop him. You know Luffy—he always pushes himself too much, but we’ve got his back.”

Chopper still looked uneasy, but nodded. “Okay… but I’m watching.”

The waitress returned with water and breadsticks, and soon enough, the first round of pizzas hit the table, steam rising in lazy curls. Usopp cracked his knuckles dramatically.

“Let the games begin.”

And just like that, Luffy took a huge bite, sauce smearing at the corner of his mouth, and grinned around the cheese.

For a while, it didn’t feel like they were worried about grades, money, babies, or futures. Just teenagers, being loud, joking around, living in a moment that felt halfway normal. Even if that moment was full of pizza and competitive chaos.

At first, the contest was all laughter and bravado. Luffy and Usopp chewed furiously, slice after slice disappearing between jokes and challenges.

"That's your fifth?" Usopp said, smirking with marinara on his cheek. "I’m on my sixth—better pick up the pace!"

Luffy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You wish. I'm just warming up.”

Nami was laughing, her arms crossed over the table, clearly enjoying the show.

“This is the dumbest thing I’ve seen all week.”

Chopper poked at his slice nervously, watching Luffy out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re not looking so good…”

Luffy gave a lopsided grin, already reaching for another piece. “I’m—urp—fine.”

But around his seventh slice, Luffy’s chewing slowed. He blinked hard, a faint sweat breaking out across his forehead. The greasy cheese wasn’t sitting right anymore. His stomach gave a loud, ominous gurgle.

“Ugh…” Luffy groaned, setting the crust down and leaning back against the booth. “Okay. Maybe I’m not fine.”

Usopp looked up from his plate, concerned. “You good?”

Luffy shook his head slightly, pressing a hand to his belly. “I think my baby hates pizza.”

Chopper immediately leaned forward. “I told you to be careful! Your stomach’s sensitive right now. You probably triggered your nausea again.”

Nami grabbed a napkin and dabbed the sweat on Luffy’s forehead. “Alright, contest’s over. You lose. And you’re done for the night.”

“But I was winning,” Luffy muttered weakly.

“No, you weren’t,” Nami said flatly. “Usopp was ahead by two slices.”

Luffy pouted, but the discomfort was too much to argue further. He curled up a bit, arms protectively over his stomach.

“We’ll get the rest to go,” Chopper said quickly, standing up to flag the waitress. “You need to lie down or something.”

“Yeah,” Luffy mumbled, eyes fluttering half-shut. “But not home. Don’t wanna go home…”

Nami and Chopper exchanged a look.

“Alright,” she said gently. “We’ll figure something out. Don’t worry.”

And even though he felt miserable, Luffy relaxed a little at that.

The air outside was cooler now, brushing gently against Luffy’s face as they walked out of the pizza place. His steps were slow, weighed down more by his thoughts than the food. After stopping three times for him to use the bathroom—each time emerging looking more worn and quiet—they finally gave up on the idea of walking around and headed for the park nearby.

Nami helped him lower himself onto one of the benches beneath a wide, leafy tree. He stretched out across it, one arm resting over his face, the other over his belly. The smell of grass, the rustle of leaves, the distant sound of kids playing—it should have calmed him. But it didn’t.

Usopp and Chopper wandered a bit ahead, pretending to be distracted by the playground, giving him a little space. Nami stayed near, watching him silently.

Luffy wasn’t crying. But he looked like he could. His face was tight in a way that made Nami’s chest ache.

She sat down at the edge of the bench. “Luffy…”

He didn’t answer, just turned his head away from her, eyes fixed on the fading sky.

Nami bit her lip, guilt crawling in. She’d thought she could fix things—bring a little joy, a little of their old rhythm back. She missed the days when their biggest worries were homework or who’d sneak into the school pool at night. She missed the boy who was always hungry, always laughing, always invincible.

And she hated seeing him like this—so small and quiet and heavy with things he never said out loud.

“I messed up,” she said quietly. “I thought today might help you feel normal again. But I think I just made you feel worse.”

Luffy slowly looked at her. His eyes were tired, not angry, but hollow in a way that made her want to take back every plan she’d made.

“You didn’t mess up,” he said, voice rough. “I just… I don’t know who I am right now.”

Nami nodded slowly. “You’re still you, Luffy.”

He blinked up at the tree canopy, like he wasn’t so sure.

"Then why do I feel like I’m living someone else’s life?”

Nami had no answer. Only the sound of wind through the leaves, and the quiet ache of sitting next to someone she loved who was still trying to recognize himself.

Nami didn’t respond right away. She let the silence settle between them, soft and uncomfortable, like the dusk creeping over the park. The bench creaked a little under Luffy’s weight as he shifted, pressing his hand lightly over the swell of his stomach. His thumb moved in slow circles, absent-minded and thoughtful.

“I thought I could handle it,” he finally murmured. “I thought… if I just acted like it was okay, it would be.”

Nami leaned forward, elbows on her knees, clasping her hands.

"You don’t have to pretend with us, Luffy. Not with me.”

“I know,” he said. “But sometimes pretending feels easier.”

She glanced at him. “Even when it hurts?”

Luffy let out a breathy laugh, bitter and quiet. “Especially when it hurts.”

The fading sun caught the edge of his hair, giving it a soft halo glow that contrasted the deep lines of weariness in his expression. He looked like a child, and not at the same time. Like someone holding the whole weight of a future they hadn’t asked for.

“Do you regret it?” Nami asked, voice low.

Luffy didn’t answer for a long time. He just stared at the sky, lips parted like he was trying to taste the words before saying them.

“No,” he said at last. “I don’t regret the baby. I just regret everything else.”

Nami’s throat tightened. “Like what?”

“Like thinking Koby was gonna stay. Like not telling Ace to fuck off sooner. Like not being scared sooner, so I could’ve prepared for how lonely this was gonna be.”

His voice cracked near the end, barely audible. Nami placed her hand over his, the one resting on his stomach.

“You’re not alone,” she said.

He didn’t move, didn’t look at her. Just closed his eyes and breathed in deep.

“I know. But sometimes it feels like I am.”

And for a moment, Nami didn’t try to say anything else. She just stayed there, holding his hand while the sky turned orange and the wind picked up, brushing the world in soft twilight.

Luffy curled his fingers around Nami's, his grip loose but needing the contact. The air was cooling now, a soft breeze threading through the trees, and the distant sound of laughter drifted from the other side of the park. For a second, it made him ache—not because he wasn’t happy for other people, but because he used to laugh like that too. He used to feel like he was standing at the edge of something brilliant, like the world had all these doors waiting for him to open.

Now he felt like the doors had slammed shut. One after another.

He knew his friends loved him. He knew they were trying—Chopper checking his diet, Usopp still making him laugh, Nami organizing things he didn’t even ask for. But none of them were going to be there when the baby woke up screaming at 3 a.m. None of them would feel the cold creeping in when he stared at the crib alone. They had classes, plans, families, dreams. They could walk away when it got too hard. But he couldn’t. He didn’t get to choose anymore.

He turned his head toward Nami. Her eyes were fixed on the pavement, lips pressed tight like she was holding something back. Maybe guilt. Maybe worry.

“I just…” Luffy started, then faltered. “I just wish there was someone who was in this with me. Not just helping out sometimes, but… really in it.”

Nami finally looked at him. “You mean like a partner?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Someone who’d be just as scared and just as excited. Someone who’d be there, you know? Even when it sucks.”

His voice cracked a little at the end, and he hated it. He hated sounding weak, but it was the truth. That was the hardest part—how much he wanted to share this with someone. Someone who wouldn’t disappear. Someone who wouldn’t say it was too much.

Because this baby was his now. And he could already feel how much he loved them, even if he didn’t know what they’d look like or how they'd sound when they cried. He was going to be everything for that child—but he didn’t want to be everything alone.

He exhaled, tired and quiet.

“I’m just scared, Nami. And I don’t want to be scared alone.”

She squeezed his hand a little tighter. “You won’t be. Not as long as I’m here.”

He didn’t respond. But he let himself close his eyes letting the silence wrap around them like a blanket. It wasn’t everything he needed—but it was enough for now.

Luffy blinked slowly when he felt her shift a little. She looked down at him, hesitant, then gently placed her hand over his stomach.

“Can I…?”

He gave a small nod.

For a moment, there was nothing. Then a soft flutter beneath her palm—like a ripple under skin. Nami stilled completely, her breath catching, and Luffy looked up at her reaction, watching her eyes widen.

“They’re moving…” she whispered, a bit awestruck.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “They’ve been doing that more lately.”

Her fingers spread slightly, like she wanted to memorize the sensation. Then, slowly, her expression changed—something deeper settling in. It wasn’t just the wonder of feeling a baby move. It was the weight of it, too.

“You really are doing this all by yourself,” she said quietly. “You feel them every day and there’s no one around to say, ‘Wow, I felt that too’ or ‘They kicked my hand.’ No one to tell you it’s amazing or terrifying or both.”

Luffy didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

“I get it now,” Nami continued, her voice soft. “I mean, I thought I did before, but… it’s different when you feel it. That someone’s in there, alive, real. And you’re carrying that on your own.”

Luffy swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Yeah. That’s why it’s so hard.”

Nami looked at him again, her eyes suddenly glassy. “You shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

“I know.” He blinked fast. “But I am.”

“I can’t be everything you need. I know that. But I can be something. And one day, you’re going to have someone who wants to be everything. Someone who’s not scared.”

He sniffled once, half-laughing through his nose. “I’m not holding my breath.”

“You don’t have to.” She smiled. “I’ll hold it for you until then.”

They stayed like that for a while, the pizza forgotten, the park quieting down as the sky turned lilac. Luffy let himself breathe slower, the weight on his chest easing just a little with every kick, every beat beneath his ribs. Maybe he was still scared. Maybe he was still alone in the big-picture way. But right now, Nami was there. And that mattered.

Nami cupped Luffy’s cheek gently, her thumb brushing away the trace of a tear he didn’t even realize had fallen.

"You’ve carried so much, Luffy,” she said, her voice low and full of warmth. “But you don’t have to carry it alone anymore. You’ve done so much for us—for me, for Usopp, for Chopper…”

She paused, glancing down at his stomach where her hand still rested over the soft thrum of movement. “And now for them, too. You’ve kept it together when everything felt like it was falling apart. You’ve been strong for so long. But it’s okay to lean on us now.”

Luffy looked at her, eyes shining, but still unsure.

“You don’t just have me, Chopper, and Usopp,” she continued. “You have Zoro, who’ll probably offer to be your bodyguard even if he has no idea how babies work. You have Sanji, who’s probably already planning a month’s worth of meals for your recovery without saying anything. You have Robin, who reads every baby book under the sun and will pretend it’s for fun.”

Luffy let out a small laugh at that, his expression softening.

“Franky would build your kid a robot stroller if you asked. Brook will sing lullabies with his creepy skeleton voice. And Jinbe…” Nami smiled. “Jinbe will sit next to you, listening to you and advising you, and just be solid. Like he always is.”

Luffy looked away, a little overwhelmed.

“I just didn’t want to be a burden. Everyone’s got their own stuff.”

“You’re not a burden. You’re family,” Nami said firmly. “You’ve always been our captain. Our balance. Let us be yours now.”

He was quiet for a long moment and sat up straight on the bench. Then he nodded, a little hesitant at first, but more sure with every second.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I’ll try.”

“That’s all we want,” she said, hugging him again. “Just let us try too.”

As the streetlights flickered on and the night crept closer, Luffy sat with his best friend, feeling for the first time in a long while that maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t completely alone in this.

"I don't feel that motivated even in the support group."

Nami snorted, pulling back just enough to roll her eyes at him.

“Obviously,” she said with a smirk. “Your support group lady doesn’t have my charm or my excellent sense of fashion.”

Luffy chuckled, leaning his head back against the bench.

"Or your scary ability to guilt-trip someone into eating a full meal and doing their homework in the same hour.”

“That’s a skill,” Nami said proudly. “They don’t just hand that out to anyone.”

He smiled at her, his laughter soft but real, like something cracked open in his chest just enough to let the light in.

"You should run the support group,” he teased. “Bet everyone would leave feeling like they could conquer the world… or at least pay their taxes on time.”

Nami grinned. “That’s because I’d scare them into it.”

They both laughed, and it felt easy for once. Natural. Luffy exhaled slowly, rubbing his belly in absent circles.

“Thanks for making me come out today,” he said quietly. “Even if it started with a pizza war and ended with me almost crying on a park bench.”

Nami stretched her legs in front of her, glancing up at the stars.

“That’s what friends are for, right? Dragging you out of the house, feeding you too much, and helping you not fall apart.”

Luffy leaned against her shoulder. “Then I owe you like… twenty favors.”

“You can start by actually turning in your homework next time,” she teased, bumping him lightly.

“Ugh, don’t ruin the moment,” he groaned.

She laughed, and they stayed like that for a while—just quiet, under the night sky, the city lights flickering around them, and the soft, steady rhythm of the life growing inside Luffy anchoring them both.

"I must finish my homework."

Nami groaned dramatically. “Don’t remind me,” she said, rubbing her forehead like the thought physically pained her. “You still don’t even understand the main concept, do you?”

Luffy gave her an apologetic smile and shrugged.

"I was kinda distracted… you know, with the whole life crisis and the growing human inside me.”

Usopp and Chopper came right up to hear the rest of the conversation.

“You get a pass this time, but only because you’re incubating the next generation.”

Chopper nodded seriously. “Still, you should really try to focus, Luffy. Stress can make everything worse.”

“I know, I know,” Luffy said, waving a hand. “I’ll try. I just... sometimes I look at the screen and it’s like the words turn into fish and start swimming away.”

Nami rolled her eyes again, though there was a fond smile tugging at her lips.

"Alright, fish-brain, let’s head back. I’ll explain it to you again, slowly this time.”

Luffy groaned but stood up, brushing off his pants.

“You guys are gonna be the reason I survive all this.”

“No,” Nami corrected him gently, looping her arm with his as they walked. “You are. We’re just the backup dancers.”

Chapter Text

Law was hunched over his laptop at the dining table, pages of printed articles spread out around him, highlighted notes scattered in a disorganized rainbow. His eyes burned from the screen's glare, and his head was pounding from the constant chatter of a two-year-old who had, apparently, decided today was a no-nap day.

“Papa! Papa! Look!” Damian squealed, running around with one of Law’s belts tied around his waist like a cape, pretending to be some kind of superhero. Law gave him a glance, lips pressed in a flat line.

“I see you, little bear,” he muttered, trying to focus on a particularly dense article. He hadn’t even touched the analysis portion of the assignment. The deadline was creeping closer and his group was useless—especially Kid.

Damian jumped onto the couch and nearly knocked over a cup of water on the nightstand. Law winced. That was enough. He stood up and scooped Damian into his arms.

“We’re going to Auntie Lami’s room,” he said with a sigh.

Damian pouted. “No! I wanna play with you!”

“I have homework,” Law said firmly, though he softened the blow with a quick kiss in his hair.

Lami’s door was cracked open, music playing low on her speaker. She was standing in front of the mirror, brushing out her hair. She had on a cute outfit and some lip gloss—definitely going out.

“Lami,” Law said, knocking once and stepping inside, Damian now squirming in his arms, trying to pull at his hair. “Can you babysit Damian for like an hour? I need to finish something for school.”

Lami turned to him with an apologetic smile. “I would, honestly, I would any day. But I’m going out with friends—Bonney invited me, and I already told Mom.”

Law pinched the bridge of his nose. “Seriously?”

“I’m thirteen, not your free nanny,” she said, pulling on a denim jacket and slipping her phone into her bag. “You knew I had plans.”

“Right,” he muttered, shifting Damian to his other hip. “God forbid I ask for help in my own house.”

Lami rolled her eyes. “You’re not the only one with a life, Law.”

That stung more than he wanted to admit. As she brushed past him, Lami paused and ruffled Damian’s hair.

"I’ll play with you tomorrow, okay? Be good for Papa.”

“Okay,” Damian said softly, already disappointed.

Law watched her leave, then glanced down at his son, who blinked up at him with wide, curious eyes.

“Looks like it’s just you and me again,” he murmured. “Guess we’ll study together, huh?”

Damian clapped his hands. “I help!”

Law rubbed at his temples, Damian now babbling nonsense beside him while attempting to color a printed article with a blue crayon. His eyes felt heavy from lack of sleep, and the looming pressure of his thesis project was starting to close in like a vice. He could already hear his mother’s voice echoing in the back of his mind:

You made your bed, Law. No one told you to go and play dad before you even turned eighteen.

His jaw clenched. He knew. He knew what he’d done. He didn’t need it thrown at him every other day. It wasn’t like he regretted having Damian—not for a second. But he was tired. And being tired made everything louder, heavier.

Doflamingo and Rosinante were both working late. They’d left that morning before Law even got up. He didn’t want to bother either of them, not when they were constantly picking up extra shifts to keep the house running.

He opened his phone again and scrolled through his contacts, looking for someone—anyone—who could maybe watch Damian for just an hour. Shachi worked with his uncles, who were quite annoying and wouldn't let him leave without finishing his shift at the warehouse. Penguin was just as busy on his project as Law. Bepo was visiting his grandparents this week. Lami was out. Drake had classes at the university in the afternoon. Sengoku wasn’t an option, because his Friday poker games with his retired Marine friends were sacred.

Finally, at the very bottom of the unread messages, Law spotted a text from Luffy. A simple one, sent the day before:

Luffy - 2:37 P.M
in the end I used pink, the red saturated the subtitle too much.

Law had seen it when it came in but hadn’t opened it. He hadn’t known what to say. He and Luffy had started talking more regularly since the support group, and Law hadn’t minded it… actually, he kind of liked it. Luffy was easy to talk to in a way most people weren’t. He didn’t ask too many questions, and he didn’t pity him either.

Law stared at the message for a second, thumb hovering over the screen.

He didn’t want to be that person—the one who only reached out when they needed something.

But he also didn’t have another option.

With a quiet sigh, he tapped the message and started typing.

Law - 3:24
I don't know much about editing, but it looks better. You busy?

It felt weird. Casual. But not desperate. He sent it and waited, watching Damian try to fold one of his papers into a plane.

“Please don’t,” he mumbled, snatching it before Damian could crumple it.

He checked his phone again. No reply yet. He set it down and leaned back in the chair, running his fingers through his hair. Just one hour. That’s all he needed.

His phone buzzed against the desk barely a minute later.

Luffy - 3:25
not really. just finishing homework. why? everything okay?

Law hesitated. He didn’t want to dump all his frustration into a text, but the weight in his chest had gotten heavier the longer he sat there. Damian had now moved on to pulling all the pens out of the cup and scattering them across the floor. Law didn’t even stop him.

He typed slowly, then deleted the message. Then typed again.

Law - 3:27
I have to submit part of my research tonight. damian won’t settle and i’m losing time. think you could come by and watch him for a bit?]

He felt a little sick after hitting send. He hated asking for help. But he couldn’t ignore the relief that followed.

Luffy replied quickly.

Luffy - 3:27
yeah ofc. gimme like 20 mins? want me to bring anything?

Law blinked. He hadn’t expected it to be that easy.

Law - 3:27
Just yourself. thanks.

He put the phone down and looked over at Damian, who was now sitting on the floor with a pair of scissors he definitely wasn’t supposed to have.

“Hey!” Law yanked them away. “What did I say about touching the drawer?”

Damian huffed, crossing his arms. “But I was making shapes!”

“You’re going to make the hospital trip if you keep playing with sharp things,” Law muttered, putting the scissors out of reach and picking Damian up. “We’re having a visitor, so you’re going to behave for him, alright?”

Damian’s expression brightened instantly. “Uncle Drake?”

“No,” Law said, already tired, “Luffy.”

Damian thought about it, then shrugged and pointed to the door.

“Where?”

“Coming soon.”

Law managed to clear a corner of the desk just as the doorbell rang twenty minutes later. He opened it to find Luffy, windblown and wearing a green hoodie and shorts, standing with a half-grin and a small bag of gummy candies.

“I figured he might need a bribe,” Luffy said, holding up the bag.

Damian bolted to the door, arms in the air. “Luffy!!”

Law stood aside, letting them both in. Luffy handed the candy over, smiling as Damian latched onto his leg.

Law didn’t say anything at first. He just watched Luffy sitting down on the floor, already starting some game Damian had made up on the spot, and for the first time that day, he felt like he could breathe again. The noise was still there, but it was manageable now.

“Thanks,” Law said quietly, going back to his roo..

Luffy glanced over and gave him a thumbs up.

"Kick that research’s ass.”

Law snorted softly.

 

...

 

Law leaned back in his chair for a moment, eyes flickering over the lines of text on his screen. His fingers were sore from typing, and his back ached from hunching over for so long, but he’d managed to pull together something decent. It wasn’t perfect—nothing ever was lately—but it was enough for now. He glanced at the progress bar on his document save and allowed himself a small breath of satisfaction.

Downstairs, Damian’s laughter rang out, high-pitched and carefree. Luffy responded with some exaggerated sound effect that sent Damian into another fit of giggles. It was a strange contrast to the heavy quiet of his room, where only the faint hum of his laptop and the occasional creak of the house accompanied his thoughts.

Law checked the clock again: 4:56 p.m.

He rubbed at his temple. The relief that Luffy had come to help was already starting to wear thin, replaced by the familiar weight that always came just before Dulcinea stepped back into the house. It was like muscle memory now—his body already beginning to brace for the tight smile, the passive-aggressive comments, the not-so-subtle glances that always seemed to carry judgment.

She’d probably be home any minute. And with her, the curtain would fall again. Whatever moment of peace he’d managed to find upstairs, in the quiet bubble of his work, would shatter under the reality of her expectations. Her voice would fill the kitchen, asking why Damian had a candy wrapper stuck to his sock or why Law hadn’t done something more “productive” with his day. She’d complain that the boy was too loud, that Law didn’t discipline him properly, that he was wasting the chance Doflamingo and Rosinante gave him by staying under their roof.

His jaw tensed at the thought. No one ever said it outright, but the implication was always there: that he had to prove himself, over and over, just to stay afloat.

Law minimized the document on his screen and stood slowly, stretching. The window was tinted with late-afternoon sun, the golden light brushing against the furniture, deceptively warm. The moment felt borrowed, like it wasn’t meant to last.

He looked toward the door, then down at his hands. Still ink-smudged, still shaking slightly from the adrenaline of the rush.

Then he heard it again—Damian’s bright little voice, calling Luffy something ridiculous and laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world. Law couldn’t help the twitch of a smile at the corner of his lips.

He didn’t know what kind of spell Luffy had cast on his son, but it worked. It made Law’s life a little easier for a moment, and even that was rare enough to feel like a gift.

But the clock kept ticking. And Law knew: any minute now, the door would open, and the spell would break.

Law forced himself to move and gathering the scattered notes on his desk with practiced precision. His fingers slid over highlighted lines and handwritten reminders he no longer needed to read. He’d memorized half of them already, burned them into his brain in some desperate attempt to keep ahead, to stay afloat in a world that constantly reminded him he was already behind.

His eyes flicked once more to the digital clock in the corner of his screen: 5:01 p.m.

He sighed and picked up the papers, slipping them into a folder. He paused by his bedroom window, pulling the curtain back just enough to see the front yard.

Empty.

For now.

But he could already imagine her car pulling into the driveway. Could already hear the click of her heels against the tile, the sigh she always let out like she’d just stepped into a disaster zone. The way she’d scan the living room like it was a battlefield and she had to assess the damage.

Law closed his eyes briefly. He hated this version of himself—the one who counted down to confrontation, who braced like someone waiting for a hit that never came outright but always landed just the same.

He stepped back and opened the door to his room. The hallway smelled like citrus and detergent—Rosinante’s influence. He was the only one who ever really cleaned when things got tense, like scrubbing floors could chase away silence and bitterness.

As Law descended the stairs, the sound of Luffy and Damian became clearer. Luffy was making car noises now, probably pushing one of Damian’s plastic trucks across the floor with exaggerated chaos. Damian was narrating something, his little voice bright and fast, full of invented words and sound effects.

Law reached the bottom step and stood there for a moment, watching them from a distance.

Luffy was sprawled on the rug, legs crossed, one hand steering the truck while the other shielded his face from Damian’s wild enthusiasm. Damian was standing on the couch, bouncing slightly, holding another toy and shrieking with laughter as he directed their imaginary race.

Law didn’t say anything. He just watched.

There was a strange comfort in the scene. A quiet reminder that not everything in his life was breaking under pressure. That there were still pieces—soft, loud, chaotic pieces—that worked. That breathed.

He took a breath. Then another.

Luffy noticed him first, offering a sheepish grin.

“Hey. I think I made him hyper.”

Law shook his head, a soft huff of something like laughter escaping his lips.

“I don’t mind.”

He walked into the living room, then leaned over the back of the couch. Damian spotted him and instantly launched into a dramatic retelling of the game’s events.

Law didn’t follow most of it. He just listened. Let the rhythm of his son’s voice push back the anxiety that was starting to creep in.

The moment wouldn't last. But while it did, he let himself stay there. Let himself feel a little less alone in the middle of everything.

Even if just for a few minutes.

"You hungry?" Law asked casually, tugging open the fridge door.

Luffy blinked, caught off guard. “You cook?”

Law glanced back over his shoulder as he headed to the kitchen, smirking faintly. “Had to learn. Couldn’t exactly rely on takeout forever with a baby. And if I wanted Damian to eat something other than mashed pasta and applesauce, I had to get halfway decent.”

“Whoa,” Luffy said, got up from the floor following him “That’s more than halfway functional. That’s practically husband material.”

Law rolled his eyes, but a soft laugh escaped him as he took out some vegetables and leftover chicken.

“Don’t go romanticizing it. It’s just feeding a two-year-old and keeping him alive. Low bar.”

Luffy leaned against the counter, chin in his hand.

“Still impressive. I can barely toast bread without burning it.”

“You’re gonna have to learn eventually,” Law said as he set a pan on the stove and turned on the burner. He started chopping without looking up. “You said twenty-one weeks, right?”

“Yeah…” Luffy said, rubbing the curve of his stomach absentmindedly. “Still plenty of time, I guess.”

Law tossed some garlic into the pan and listened to it sizzle before he spoke again.

“Thanks for helping me out, by the way. I know it’s Friday. You probably had plans.”

Luffy shook his head. “It’s fine. I wasn’t doing anything, only homework. And honestly, I should get used to this kind of thing, right?”

Law looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Luffy shrugged. “Eventually I’ll have a little person attached to me twenty-four/seven. If I can’t handle hanging with a toddler for a couple hours, I’m screwed.”

Law gave a quiet snort. “Fair point.” He scraped the chopped vegetables into the pan and stirred them around. “But for the record, you handled him just fine. He likes you.”

Luffy grinned. “Yeah? He’s cool. Reminds me of Ace when we were little. Always running around, turning everything into an action movie.”

Law’s lips tugged upward. “That sounds about right.”

Luffy leaned in a little closer. “Also… if you ever need help again—studying, babysitting, whatever—I don’t mind. You’re not the only one who’s gonna need a backup.”

Law didn’t respond right away, but there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes. He stirred the food, watching it cook, then finally said, “Thanks. That means more than you know.”

And for a moment, the kitchen felt warmer. Not just from the stove, but from the quiet understanding between them—two teenagers carrying more than they should, finding strange comfort in each other's exhaustion.

Luffy had gotten comfortable at the kitchen table, his chair pulled close to Damian’s as the toddler played with a few action figures he'd brought over. The two were deep in an important conversation about which toy was the strongest.

“I think this one is the boss,” Damian said, holding up a plastic dinosaur missing an eye.

“No way,” Luffy replied, pointing at a battered superhero figure. “This guy’s clearly the leader. Look at his cape! Anyone with a cape is automatically the strongest.”

Damian furrowed his brow and considered that seriously before nodding. “Okay. But mine can fly.”

“What?!” Luffy gasped, genuinely scandalized. “Why didn’t you say that before?!”

Law stirred the pan with half a smile tugging at his lips. The sound of their laughter was strangely grounding, like white noise in a house that often felt too heavy. It was rare for Damian to click so easily with someone outside the family, and Luffy… well, Luffy was surprisingly good with kids for someone who said he couldn’t even toast bread.

Law was just plating the food—simple stir-fried vegetables and chicken over rice—when the front door opened.

The sound of heels tapping against the wooden floor echoed from the entrance hall. Law’s expression dropped instantly.

Dulcinea.

Damian stiffened for half a second, glancing at Law. Luffy looked up from the toys, smile fading as he noticed the tension creeping into the room like smoke under a door.

Dulcinea appeared in the doorway not a moment later, dressed in business attire, holding her purse tightly like it had offended her. Her eyes scanned the room quickly. They stopped on Luffy.

“Oh,” she said flatly, eyes narrowing. Then she turned her gaze to Law, voice as sharp as ever. “You got someone else pregnant?”

Luffy blinked, completely caught off guard. Damian just frowned.

Law didn’t even flinch. He didn’t turn around. He just grabbed another plate from the cupboard and set it down calmly beside the stove.

“No,” he said, like it was obvious. “He’s just my friend.”

There was a long pause, thick with judgment hanging in the air.

Dulcinea gave a hum that meant she didn’t believe him—or worse, that she didn’t care either way.

But for now, she didn’t say anything else. She just walked past, her heels clicking against the floor, disappearing down the hallway.

And Law… just exhaled slowly. Like he always did when she entered a room. Like he was reminding himself that he was still standing.

Luffy shifted awkwardly in his seat after Dulcinea walked away, scratching the back of his neck as if trying to physically brush off the tension that had just settled over the room.

Law didn’t say anything at first. He simply placed the finished plates on the counter with practiced precision and then turned to wash the pan, his jaw tight and his expression unreadable.

“Sorry about that,” Law finally muttered, not turning around. “She always has something to say.”

Luffy gave a half-smile, trying to lighten the mood.

"It’s okay. She kinda scared me, though.”

Law let out a short, humorless laugh through his nose but didn’t reply. He dried the pan and set it aside, wiping his hands on a towel and then leaning against the counter, arms crossed, eyes downcast. Silence hung between them again, heavier this time.

Luffy didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen a parent like that, but seeing Law—someone who always looked so sharp, so cold and in control—go quiet like that made something pinch in his chest.

A small hand tugged at Luffy’s sleeve.

Luffy looked down to see Damian climbing into his lap with a little grunt. The toddler leaned close, like he was sharing a secret.

“Papa always stays quiet when Granny comes home,” Damian whispered, then pressed a hand over Luffy’s, like he was trying to reassure him. “He doesn’t like her very much.”

Luffy blinked, then glanced at Law, whose shoulders had gone stiff again, though his back was still turned.

“Oh yeah?” Luffy whispered back, smiling faintly, brushing Damian’s hair from his forehead. “Why do you think that?”

Damian shrugged, pressing his little face against Luffy’s chest.

“She always says mean things. I don’t like when Papa gets sad.”

Law finally turned around, face neutral.

“Damian,” he said softly. “Time to wash up.”

Damian groaned like he was being sentenced to the worst fate in the world but nodded and slid off Luffy’s lap.

As Damian toddled to the sink, Luffy stood up slowly, catching Law’s gaze.

Law stood frozen for a second, trying to interpret Luffy’s expression. The silence after Dulcinea’s comment had been thick, and Law was sure Luffy would make an excuse to leave. Maybe something like “Thanks for dinner, but I should go,” or “I forgot I had something to do.” Instead, Luffy seemed… unfazed. Almost like he didn’t care about what had just happened, or if he did, he wasn’t letting it get to him.

“You mind if we go up to your room to eat?” Luffy asked suddenly, lifting his plate with a casual grin. “I wanna watch a movie.”

Law blinked, caught off guard. “A movie?”

“Yeah.” Luffy looked around like he was checking if Dulcinea was still nearby. “It’s too tense down here. Figured upstairs would be better.”

Law tilted his head slightly, still trying to wrap his mind around Luffy’s energy. He wasn’t bothered. In fact, he seemed even more determined to stick around. Law wasn’t used to that.

“I usually eat with… them,” Law said slowly, gesturing toward the rest of the house as if saying their names would give them power. “Even if it sucks.”

Luffy shrugged. “We’re teenagers. Eating in your room is kind of a requirement, isn’t it?”

That made Law huff a tiny laugh through his nose. It was unexpected how easily Luffy could pull him out of a spiral.

“Alright,” Law said after a pause. “No problem. You can pick the movie

Luffy smiled like it was the easiest thing in the world and took Damian’s little hand in his free one, leading the way like he’d been in Law’s house dozens of times. Damian didn’t complain—he was clearly happy to escape the dining room too, probably sensing the atmosphere just as much as the adults did.

Law followed them upstairs with the plates, still thinking about how strange it felt to have someone just… stay. No awkward excuses, no nervous glances at the clock, no offers to come back another time. Luffy stayed. Like it was the most normal thing ever.

Once inside his room, Law pushed open the window to let the last of the daylight in. The soft breeze was a relief. Luffy settled himself on the floor with his back to the bed and helped Damian up beside him, already flipping through streaming options on Law’s small TV.

“What are we watching?” Law asked, setting the plates on a tray he used as a makeshift table.

Damian answered before Luffy could, “Dinosaurs!”

Luffy laughed. “You heard the boss.”

Law shook his head but let it happen. He didn’t even care that Damian might pick the most annoying movie possible. He sat down beside them, watching as Luffy spooned some food into Damian’s mouth between bites of his own. Law didn’t realize how quiet and warm the room had become until the movie started playing. Damian was squished between them, happily eating and talking to the characters on screen.

For a moment, it didn’t feel like a disaster. It didn’t feel like the weight of the world was sitting on his shoulders. It felt like a normal evening, like a normal kid hanging out with a friend who didn’t treat him like a broken cautionary tale.

Luffy elbowed him gently. “Hey.”

Law turned, brows raised.

“You okay?” Luffy asked, mouth half-full. “You spaced out.”

Law hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

And weirdly, he meant it.

Law leaned back slightly, his plate now resting empty beside him, Damian tucked snugly into Luffy’s side, his little hand still clutching his fork like he didn’t want the meal to end. Luffy laughed at something the dinosaur on-screen said, ruffling Damian’s hair absentmindedly, and Law just… watched.

He wasn’t used to this. The softness. The quiet that didn’t come from exhaustion, but peace.

His eyes flicked to Luffy again. The way he just fit into the room like he’d always been part of it, like he belonged there. Like Damian was his kid too, like this wasn’t just a temporary thing or a favor, but something more natural. Something real.

Law turned his gaze toward the open window, feeling the breeze drift across his face, the sound of faint laughter from the movie filling the space. And he wondered.

What would it be like if every day felt like this?

Not perfect. Not without struggle. But... less heavy. Less lonely. What if there was someone there to lean on, even a little? Someone to laugh at stupid cartoons with, someone to help distract Damian during a tantrum, someone who stayed.

Law didn’t let himself dream like that often—he knew better. People didn’t stay. Not friends. Not partners. Not family. Not when things got hard.

But now, with Luffy sitting in his room, acting like they’d done this a thousand times, with Damian looking like he’d found a new favorite person... Law let the thought linger.

Just for a moment.

Maybe it didn’t have to be like this forever. Maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t temporary.

As the movie played out its final scene, Damian’s blinks grew slower and slower, his tiny head beginning to droop against Luffy’s side. Luffy, careful not to startle him, shifted slightly and gently adjusted the small blanket over the boy’s lap, tucking it around him like he’d done it a hundred times. Damian gave a small, content sigh before fully drifting off, his thumb slipping into his mouth.

Law sat cross-legged on the floor, his back against the side of his bed, the half-empty plates long forgotten. He watched quietly, heart tugging at the sight. It always amazed him how quickly Damian trusted people. How easily he’d accepted Luffy into his little world.

“…Thanks again,” Law said, voice quiet so he wouldn’t wake the boy. “For helping me out today.”

Luffy looked up at him, smiling with that easy kind of warmth that Law couldn’t explain.

"Don’t mention it,” he said, brushing a lock of Damian’s hair away from his forehead. “It’s good practice for me. He’s cool… and he talks a lot.”

Law huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Gets it from his mom, probably.”

Luffy smiled, but didn’t push. He never did.

There was a beat of silence, not awkward, just… still. Luffy’s hand rested lightly on Damian’s back, like it was second nature. Law looked at the two of them, and again, that fragile thought crossed his mind.

What if this didn’t have to be a one-time thing?

He cleared his throat softly and looked away, trying not to let himself fall too deep into that thought.

“You don’t have to stay much longer, you must be tired,” he said. “I can walk you out if you want.”

Luffy shook his head. “It’s fine. I’m not in a hurry. He’s asleep now, so I guess I win.”

Law raised an eyebrow. “Win what?”

“The ‘Who Puts Damian to Sleep Faster’ competition,” Luffy said with a soft grin, glancing at him like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Law snorted, shaking his head. “Sure. Take the crown.”

Luffy chuckled quietly. “I will.”

The quiet of the room settled around them like a soft blanket, dimmed only by the low hum of the movie credits rolling in the background. Damian’s breathing had evened out, slow and steady, his small body curled peacefully beside Luffy on the mattress.

Law let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. His hands rested on his knees, eyes lingering on his son for a moment before drifting back to Luffy.

Luffy hadn’t moved much, but there was something in the way he looked at Damian—gentle, thoughtful. And maybe a little wistful, too.

“He really likes you,” Law said suddenly, keeping his voice low.

Luffy looked over at him with a small smile. “Yeah? It's that I'm cool.”

Law gave a quiet chuckle.

They fell into silence again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it felt… safe.

Law shifted his legs and leaned back against the wall. “I used to think I had to be good at everything,” he said slowly, as if testing the words. “That if I just did everything right, I’d prove I could raise him. Prove to my family that I didn’t screw everything up.”

Luffy didn’t say anything, but his eyes stayed on Law, calm and open. Listening.

“I still feel like I’m failing, though. All the time.” Law’s voice cracked just slightly. “I don’t sleep much. I forget things. I lose my temper. I—I don’t even know if he’ll look back on any of this and feel safe. Or just… remember me being tired all the time.”

Luffy was quiet for a moment before replying, “You know what I remember about my grandpa raising me?”

Law glanced at him, curious.

“He was loud, kind of scary. He didn’t always do things the right way,” Luffy said. “But I always remembered that he was there. I think that’s what matters more. You’re here. Damian sees that.”

Law stared at him, caught off guard by how easily the words cut through his self-doubt. Luffy, of all people, with his wild energy and mismatched socks and inability to study, somehow always said the things Law needed to hear.

“…Thanks,” Law murmured.

Luffy just grinned. “Anytime.”

They stayed there a while longer, letting the room stay quiet except for Damian’s soft breathing and the occasional rustle of sheets.

Law didn’t know what tomorrow would bring—maybe more stress, more fights with his mother, more guilt about his grades—but right now, in this small, quiet corner of the world, things felt bearable.

They moved carefully, trying not to wake Damian, arranging a fortress of pillows around him the way he always did—one on each side, one tucked under his little feet, and another at the head. It wasn’t perfect, but it gave Law enough peace of mind to step away for a few minutes.

Luffy watched quietly, hands stuffed into his hoodie pocket, before turning toward the door when Law gave a little nod. They slipped out of the room and Law pulled the door mostly shut, leaving it cracked just a little to hear if Damian needed anything.

"I'll take you home," Law said, grabbing his keys from the counter.

"You sure?" Luffy asked, hesitant. "Your mom... won't she, you know, scold you or something?"

Law gave a wry little smile, pushing the front door open and stepping into the cooler evening air. "Probably," he admitted. "But I can just close my door and pretend I didn’t hear her. She’ll find a reason to yell either way, might as well be for something worth it."

Luffy laughed under his breath, trailing after him. "Sounds rough, man."

"You have no idea," Law muttered, locking the door behind them.

The streetlights were already blinking on, casting long shadows along the sidewalk. Dulcinea's car sat parked a few houses down, and they walked toward it, their footsteps soft against the pavement.

"Thanks for helping me today," Law said again, breaking the quiet. "Really. I know you could’ve been doing... literally anything else."

Luffy shrugged, hopping over a crack in the sidewalk.

"It’s fine. I needed the practice anyway. Plus, Damian’s cool. And you’re... not so bad either."

Law let out a short laugh. "High praise."

They reached the car and climbed in. As Law started the engine, Luffy leaned back in the seat, tilting his head to look out the window.

"It's weird," Luffy said after a moment. "Spending the day like this. Feels almost... normal."

Law glanced over at him, his mouth twitching up in a faint smile. "Yeah. It kind of does."

As they drove through the familiar streets, Luffy leaned his elbow against the window, looking relaxed despite the heavy conversation they’d had earlier.

"You know," Luffy said casually, "if you need more help tomorrow or something... I can come back. It's no big deal."

Law glanced over at him, genuinely touched. "Thanks," he said sincerely, fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel. "But... Saturdays are a nightmare. My whole family stays at home. They’re a pain in the ass."

Luffy snorted. "Yeah? Sounds awful."

"It is," Law muttered. "Mom, sister and uncles. It's like a zoo."

They shared a quick look, both of them grinning at the mental image.

"Well..." Luffy said, stretching out his legs, "you could always come to my house. My grandpa’s kinda eccentric, but he’ll leave you alone if you’re working. He mostly just naps or watches TV. My brothers are out working most of the day anyway, so it’s pretty chill."

Law was quiet for a second, the idea rolling around in his head.
Luffy's house. Somewhere away from Dulcinea's constant nagging, from the constant judgment, from feeling like a prisoner in his own life. Somewhere he could actually think.

"You sure?" Law asked, a little cautious. "I don’t wanna be a burden."

"You’re not," Luffy said easily.

Law cracked a smile, feeling a lightness in his chest he hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever.

"Alright. I'll come by."

"Cool," Luffy grinned, sitting up straighter. "We can get pizza."

Law huffed a small laugh. "Yeah, okay."

They pulled up in front of Luffy’s house, the porch light flickering in the night breeze. Luffy opened the door and hopped out but leaned back in before closing it.

"See you tomorrow, Torao."

"Yeah," Law said, his voice softer than usual. "See you."

Luffy slammed the door shut and jogged up the porch steps, waving once before disappearing inside. Law watched the door close, a strange warmth blooming in his chest.

Tomorrow didn’t feel as heavy anymore.

Chapter Text

The kitchen was filled with the rich smell of coffee brewing and the quiet clatter of Luffy rummaging through the cupboards. The clock on the wall read 6:30 a.m.—an absurdly early time for Luffy to be awake, especially on a Saturday. Normally, it took divine intervention—or the promise of food—to drag him out of bed before noon.

Ace and Sabo, sitting at the table, exchanged a confused glance over their mugs of coffee.

"You okay, Luffy?" Sabo asked, arching a brow.
"You’re up... early," Ace added suspiciously.

Luffy barely looked up from where he was trying to decide between pancake mix and cereal.

"A friend’s coming over," he said simply, as if that explained everything.

Ace and Sabo immediately straightened, their relaxed Saturday morning demeanor vanishing.

"A friend, huh?" Ace repeated, voice dripping with suspicion.

"Who?" Sabo asked, setting his coffee down with a little more force than necessary.

Luffy sighed, knowing exactly where this was going.

"Just a friend. Someone from support group."

Ace leaned forward, arms crossed on the table. "Is this friend an alpha?"

Luffy rolled his eyes. "Yes, but it's not like that."

Ace scoffed loudly. "Not like that? Luffy, you’re—"

"Ace," Sabo interrupted, trying to keep things from escalating, but Ace was already revving up.

"No, seriously! We’re not just going to sit around and pretend it’s fine for random guys to come over when you're—" he gestured vaguely at Luffy's stomach, "vulnerable."

Luffy's hands clenched around the box of cereal. "Garp’s gonna be here," he snapped.

Ace laughed, a cold, humorless sound.

"Yeah, because that worked so well last time, right?" He gave a sharp look at Luffy, who immediately stiffened. "Wasn't Gramps at home when you ended up knocked up?"

The words landed like a slap. Luffy’s throat tightened. Sabo grimaced and looked away, already regretting not shutting Ace up earlier.

"Shut up," Luffy muttered, voice low but shaking.

Ace stood up, pushing his chair back with a scrape.

"No, really, Lu. Maybe if you hadn't been so stupid, we wouldn't be here, trying to figure out how to protect you from yourself!"

"You think I don’t know I screwed up?!" Luffy exploded, slamming the cereal box onto the counter. "You think I don't wake up every damn day thinking about how I’m gonna do this alone?! You think I wanted it to be like this?!"

Ace's expression faltered for a second—but just for a second—before he clenched his jaw and threw his arms up.

"Well, you sure didn’t do a lot to prevent it, did you?!"

"Maybe if I wasn’t so used to being treated like a kid by everyone, I wouldn’t have been so desperate for someone to actually listen to me!" Luffy shouted back.

Sabo finally stood up, stepping between them. "Both of you, stop it!"

But neither Ace nor Luffy seemed to hear him.

"You’re selfish, Luffy!" Ace barked. "You only think about what you want without thinking about the people who care about you!"

"And you’re a jerk!" Luffy shot back, fists clenched. "You only know how to criticize! You never help, you just make me feel worse!"

Ace's face darkened, but Sabo shoved him back gently but firmly.

"Enough!" Sabo said sharply. "This isn’t helping anyone!"

There was a heavy silence. Luffy’s chest heaved with uneven breaths. Ace looked away, jaw tight, his hands balled into fists.

Luffy grabbed the cereal box again, not even sure why, and mumbled under his breath, "If you're just gonna make me feel like shit, don't bother talking to me."

He stormed out of the kitchen, leaving Ace and Sabo standing there in the thick, tense air. Ace sank back into his chair heavily, rubbing his face with both hands.

Sabo sighed and sat back down too, giving Ace a disappointed look. "That wasn’t fair, Ace."

Ace didn't reply, because heknew it wasn’t fair.
But he was just so scared. And fear made him say cruel things he couldn’t take back.

Luffy stomped up the stairs, taking them two at a time, the cereal box still clutched tightly in his hand like some kind of dumb trophy from the argument. His face burned with anger and frustration, and his chest felt tight, like if he didn’t move or do something, he’d explode.

When he reached his room, he threw the box onto his bed and slammed the door shut harder than necessary. The sound echoed in the hall, but he didn’t care. Screw Ace. Screw everything.

He glanced around his room, his safe place, and immediately felt an itch under his skin. It was messy—clothes on the floor, papers from school assignments scattered on his desk, a stack of books tipping dangerously on the chair. It looked like the inside of his head felt: chaotic and out of control.

He yanked the sheets off his bed, tossing them into a pile. He grabbed clothes and started throwing them into the laundry basket, aggressively smoothing out the ones he wanted to keep.
His movements were sharp and angry, but it still felt better than standing still, better than crying or letting Ace’s words echo in his head.

He shoved the books back into place, organized his homework into neat piles, wiped dust off the windowsill with the sleeve of his hoodie. His breathing slowed little by little, though his hands were still shaking.

"Selfish," he muttered under his breath, tossing another crumpled t-shirt into the basket. "I’m selfish?"

He didn’t ask for this. He didn’t ask to be left alone with a life growing inside him while everyone else went on with their normal, perfect lives.

Luffy kicked a soccer ball under his bed, too hard, and heard it thunk against the wall.

He wasn’t selfish. He was just trying to survive. Trying to not drown under the weight of something way too big for him.

After a while, the room started to look cleaner, less suffocating. He sat on the edge of his freshly-made bed, breathing hard, feeling like he had just fought a battle and only barely won.

The cereal box sat beside him, like some stupid reminder of how the morning had started.
Luffy picked it up and stared at it blankly.

The worst part wasn’t Ace being mad, it was Ace disappointed in him. It was the fear that maybe Ace was right. That maybe he really wasn’t ready.

He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and let himself sit there, in the quiet, waiting for the next thing to come crashing down.

Luffy dragged himself off the bed, still feeling the heavy pit in his stomach, but pushing it down the best he could. He grabbed a towel and headed to the bathroom, turning on the shower so hot that the steam fogged up the mirror in seconds.

The water helped, a little. He stood under it longer than usual, letting it pound against his back and wash away the grime of the morning fight. When he finally got out, he threw on a pair of black athletic shorts and a red t-shirt with a band logo faded across the chest, one of his favorites even if the print was peeling off. He rubbed his hair dry with a towel, not bothering to style it. It stuck up in every direction, but he didn’t care.

He peeked out into the hallway.
He could hear Ace and Sabo’s voices downstairs — still low, still tense — but he ignored them.
He didn't want to see them.
Not now.
Maybe not for the rest of the day.

Instead, Luffy descended the stairs quickly, his bare feet making soft thuds against the wood. He went straight into the living room and started picking things up: empty soda cans, snack wrappers, a pair of Sabo’s boots abandoned by the couch. The house wasn’t exactly trashed, but it wasn’t safe for a two-year-old either.

Normally, he wouldn’t have cared if the place looked like a tornado hit it.
But Law was coming over.
And more importantly, Damian was coming over.

Luffy knelt by the coffee table, stacking magazines neatly and pushing a few old video game controllers into a drawer. He even straightened the worn cushions on the couch. His mind raced the whole time: thinking about Damian wandering around, maybe tripping over Ace’s dumb weights he left by the TV, or cutting himself on the chipped edge of the coffee table. He didn’t want anything bad to happen, not while they were visiting his house.

He grabbed a rag and wiped down the kitchen counter too, ignoring the look Ace gave him when he passed by the kitchen. Luffy didn’t even look at his brothers. He just focused on his hands, wiping, organizing, clearing spaces where little feet could run without risk.

After a while, the house started to look a little better, lived-in but safer. Luffy stood in the middle of the living room, hands on his hips, taking in his work. Not perfect, but way better.

Now, all he had to do was wait. And pretend that the knot in his chest wasn’t getting tighter by the second.

Luffy stayed busy. He wiped down the kitchen table, swept the entryway, and even folded the pile of laundry that had been sitting on the couch for two days. His movements were automatic, mechanical — anything to keep his mind from spiraling back to the fight.

Meanwhile, Ace and Sabo were getting ready for work.

Sabo was in his usual dress shirt and slacks, adjusting his tie loosely around his neck, checking his bag for files. He worked as an assistant at a big law firm downtown, the kind of job that made everyone else in the house feel guilty for sleeping in. Ace, on the other hand, pulled on his dark security uniform, the patch of Whitebeard's company stitched on the sleeve. His job was less formal but just as serious — patrolling sites, checking IDs, breaking up fights when necessary. He liked it. It suited him.

Luffy stayed quiet, dusting the TV stand, pretending not to notice the way Ace kept shooting him glances from the corner of the room.

When Ace finally finished tying his boots, he grabbed his keys from the counter and muttered, “See ya.” Barely a grunt.

Luffy didn’t even glance his way. Ace hesitated for a split second at the door — like he wanted to say something else — but then shook his head and left, letting the door slam a little too hard behind him.

Sabo, standing by the fridge, sighed heavily. He looked at Luffy, the disappointment clear on his face, but it was softer. Less angry.
More... sad.

“You need anything before I go?” Sabo asked, voice neutral, slipping his messenger bag over his shoulder.

Luffy shook his head without looking up.
“Nah. I’m good.”

Sabo didn’t argue. He just adjusted his bag and said, “I’ll bring food when I get back anyway. Something easy. Maybe burgers.”

Luffy only nodded.

“Take care, Luffy,” Sabo added, lingering in the doorway a second longer before stepping out into the morning sun.

Luffy stood there in the now-quiet house, the clock ticking loudly on the wall.
The silence was almost suffocating.

He glanced at his phone. An hour and forty minutes had passed since he’d first come downstairs. Law would probably show up any minute.

With a shaky breath, he grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV, letting the low hum of some random morning show fill the house as he finished picking up, waiting for something — someone — to break the heavy loneliness that had been clinging to him since the sun came up.

Luffy kept glancing at the clock on the wall, bouncing his leg anxiously where he sat on the couch. It was almost nine. Law had said eight or eight-thirty. Typical. Luffy grumbled under his breath but decided to use the extra time to make the house look a little more "normal."
Meaning: he kicked some dirty laundry into the laundry room, shoved a suspiciously large number of empty snack wrappers under the couch, and sprayed some air freshener around like it was holy water.

He had just managed to plop down and pretend he hadn’t been cleaning like a madman when the doorbell rang.

Luffy nearly tripped over the coffee table in his hurry to answer it.

When he pulled the door open, there they were — Law, looking vaguely exhausted as usual, carrying a backpack over one shoulder, and Damian, peeking out shyly from behind Law’s leg.

"Hey," Law said, scratching the back of his neck. "Sorry. We got caught up with my mom... and my sister... and a neighbor's dog..."

His voice trailed off as if that line of explanation alone was enough to sum up the chaos of his morning.

Before Luffy could say anything, Damian, clutching a tiny dinosaur toy in one hand, took a hesitant step forward. Then another. And without much warning, he latched onto Luffy’s leg in a tight, shy hug.

Luffy blinked in surprise, then he laughed, ruffling Damian’s messy black hair.

"Hey, baby Torao," Luffy said, grinning. "You're more polite than your dad, you know that?"

Law rolled his eyes but didn't argue.
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," he said dryly, stepping inside and kicking off his shoes.

Damian looked up at Luffy with wide gray eyes — the same exact shade as Law’s — and Luffy chuckled.

"You two look exactly the same," he said, crouching down to Damian’s height. "Tiny Law."

Damian wrinkled his nose. "Nooo. I'm Damian."

"Ah, right. My bad," Luffy said with a mock serious face. "You're way cooler than Torao too."

Law dropped the Damian's backpack by the couch and muttered, "This is gonna be a long day."

Damian smiled proudly and clutched Luffy’s hand like they were best friends who’d known each other for years.
And even Law — tired, sarcastic Law — felt the corners of his mouth twitch upward just a little at the sight.

Maybe this day wouldn't be so bad after all.

"You can work in my room," Luffy said as he walked.

Luffy led Law down the hallway toward his room, chatting animatedly about how he had cleared off the desk so Law would have space to work. Damian toddled along between them, still clinging to Luffy’s hand like he didn’t plan on letting go anytime soon.

When they entered the room, Law stopped for a moment, glancing around.

It was—

well, it was exactly what he expected Luffy’s room to look like.

Figures from various anime and superhero series lined the shelves, some still in pristine boxes, others posed dramatically around the room. A bookshelf crammed full of comics and manga leaned slightly to one side, and several movie posters decorated the walls—some of them crooked, others placed without any real plan. But what caught Law's eye immediately was the amount of Sora, the Sea Warrior merchandise.

There were action figures, posters, even a small lamp shaped like Sora’s iconic ship.
Law squinted at a particularly ridiculous plushie of Sora giving a thumbs-up, perched proudly on Luffy's pillow.

"You've got... a lot of Sora merch," Law said, raising an eyebrow as he dropped his backpack by the desk.

Luffy grinned, walking over and tapping the Sora plush like it was an old friend.

"Yeah! A friend of mine gets a ton of it. Like, endless amounts. He’s always trying to get rid of it, so I take some off his hands."

Law narrowed his eyes. "Let me guess. Sponsored?"

"Probably!" Luffy said, laughing. "But he pretends he hates Sora. It’s hilarious."

Law smirked faintly, sensing the story behind that one but deciding not to ask too much.
(He had a feeling he'd hear the full chaotic version eventually.)

"Anyway!" Luffy clapped his hands. "You can work here. Desk's all yours. Me and Damian'll be in the living room!"

Law nodded, already pulling out some papers and his laptop. As Luffy and Damian left the room, Damian paused to look at a bobblehead of Sora by the door. He giggled when it bobbled violently after he tapped it lightly.

Luffy ruffled his hair and steered him out toward the living room.

"Come on, baby Torao. Let’s find something fun to do while your dad gets nerdy."

Damian giggled again, trotting after Luffy like an enthusiastic little duckling, leaving Law to settle in to work in the middle of a room that somehow smelled faintly of candy, salt air, and sunshine.

Damian started digging through his backpack with intense concentration. Luffy watched, sitting cross-legged on the floor, chin resting in his hand, amused by how serious the boy looked.

"It's very quiet," Damian commented in a small voice, his eyes still focused on unzipping a pocket.

Luffy laughed softly. "Yeah, it is. My brothers went to work, that's why. If they were here, it’d be a lot louder, believe me."

Damian just nodded like he understood perfectly and kept rummaging until he pulled out a few small toys—a couple of little cars, a plastic dinosaur missing a leg, and some colorful blocks that clattered onto the floor, also a tiger stuffed animal, the bear that Luffy bought him and a triceratops.

Luffy tilted his head, smiling. "Whatcha got there, Damian?"

Damian's face lit up with excitement. "Let’s play like we did yesterday!" he said, holding up one of the cars proudly. It was red and a little scratched, but he treated it like it was a treasure.

Luffy's heart softened at how earnest he was.
"Of course!" he said, scooting closer on the floor. "You’re gonna have to remind me the rules, though. I kinda forgot."

Damian giggled, covering his mouth with both hands before explaining in great detail how they had built a 'race track' across the living room yesterday—with couch cushions as mountains, magazines as bridges, and a shoelace as a "very dangerous snake road."

Luffy nodded seriously, pretending it was the most important mission he'd ever heard.
"Got it, captain. Let’s make the biggest race track ever!"

Damian practically buzzed with excitement, already dragging cushions onto the floor and talking rapidly about how this time there had to be a lava river and a secret tunnel.

Luffy sat on the floor with a small grunt, bracing one hand behind him and shifting to the side to accommodate the curve of his belly.

“Alright,” he murmured, mostly to himself, “we can still do this.”

Damian was already deep in the world they had created, carefully rolling his car down a cushion and narrating an entire race in a dramatic whisper. Luffy leaned in to join the action, trying to follow along.

“An’ then he go’d up the snakey road, but the snake was… it was… big! And it bite but not really ‘cause it sleeped,” Damian said, waving the car in circles.

Luffy blinked. “Wait, it bit but didn’t bite because it was asleep?” he repeated, confused but grinning.

Damian gave a serious nod. “Yes, ‘cause the lava maked it sleepy.”

“Got it. Lava snake nap,” Luffy said solemnly, grabbing another toy car to join the race.

Sometimes he couldn’t understand everything Damian said—there were mixed-up words and half-finished sentences—but the kid made up for it with his intense expressions and enthusiastic hand gestures. Honestly, for a two-year-old, Damian was surprisingly articulate. Luffy had met older kids that spoke with way less clarity.

As they played, Luffy’s mind wandered for a moment. He looked down at his belly, resting a protective hand over it. Soon, he’d be doing this every day, but not for a few hours—forever. It wouldn’t be just a visit or a favor while Law worked. There wouldn’t be a parent to hand the kid back to when the day ended. It would just be him. All day. Every day. For years.

Damian let out a little laugh and threw himself into Luffy’s side with a gentle thud, hugging him briefly before going back to the race. Luffy smiled at the small gesture. It was sweet… and a little heartbreaking.

He’d miss Damian when he left. But more than that, he couldn’t help but think about how much more complicated things were going to get. This was just pretend—a borrowed afternoon. Soon, the noise, the toys, the tantrums, the joy… it would all be his to handle.

He watched Damian now, so bright and happy and sure that Luffy understood his whole world. Luffy hoped his own kid would look at him like that too someday.

He shook the thought away and ruffled Damian’s hair. “Okay, next round—this time my car’s got rocket boosters.”

Damian gasped. “No fair!”

Luffy laughed. “Life isn’t fair, kid. Get used to it.”

Damian zoomed his car across the floor, crashing it softly into a pillow with a triumphant “bam!” Then he paused, picking it up again and mumbling, “Papa dun’ let me crash like that. He says the speed was too… not real.”

Luffy glanced at him, amused. “Yeah? Your dad makes you drive realistic?”

Damian nodded, clearly remembering something important. “He asks me ‘how fast was it?’ and then says cars don’ go on pillows. Pillows not roads.” He looked at Luffy with a small frown. “But pillows are soft. Better if crash.”

Luffy chuckled, nodding. “You got a point, Damian. Pillows make the best roads.”

Damian looked pleased with the agreement, but then added, “Papa ask questions. Lots of ‘em. Sometimes he say ‘wrong’… but it’s a game,” he said, uncertain. Then, more quietly, “But it’s not fun-fun.”

Luffy’s smile faded just a little. “He corrects you?”

Damian nodded again and shifted closer to Luffy. “Auntie Lami play better. She let the tiger drive.” He lifted a small plush animal and made it hop on the toy car. “She laugh and make voices.”

“Who’s Lami?” Luffy asked gently, curious.

Damian blinked, then blinked again like Luffy had asked the silliest question.

“My auntie!” he said with a smile, waving his hands for emphasis. “Lami’s Papa’s sister. She lives with us. She like blue and she always say ‘no more cookies’ but she give ‘em anyway.”

Luffy laughed softly. “She sounds cool.”

Damian’s eyes lit up. “She is! She say she’s big now ‘cause she’s thirteen!” He held up all his fingers twice and then looked confused about the math.

Luffy just nodded. “Thirteen? That’s ancient.”

Damian giggled. “She don’ think so!”

Luffy watched him for a moment, heart warming again. “And Uncle Rosi?”

That one made Damian pause. He had to think for a second, scrunching his nose. “He’s... Grandma’s brother. Like... not big-brother, that's Uncle Donny. Uncle Rosi is little-brother. But he’s big now. And funny. He make voices too! And he say ‘don’ tell your papa’ when we eat cake.”

“Sounds like the fun uncle.”

Damian nodded very seriously. “He the funnest.”

Luffy grinned, imagining these pieces of Law’s life. People Damian trusted and played with, voices Law had probably grown up with. He was slowly stitching together a picture of the people in Law’s world… and suddenly, he kind of wanted to meet them.

Damian lined up the toy cars again, this time putting the plush tiger in the front seat.

“Tiger’s drivin’. He go to the moon,” he announced seriously, pushing the car slowly across the carpet. “But only on Tuesdays. Not Monday ‘cause Uncle Rosi say Monday is boring.”

Luffy leaned back on his hands, smiling, belly gently rising and falling as he breathed.

"Only Tuesdays, huh? That’s a solid travel schedule.”

Damian nodded again, this time very solemn. “Yeah. Uncle Rosi say you gotta have fun on boring days. So Tuesday is moon-day now.” He made the tiger bounce. “Bounce on the moon!”

Luffy laughed, hand drifting to his belly automatically. He could almost imagine himself doing this again in a couple years—only the tiger would be bouncing in a different pair of tiny hands. He watched Damian quietly, fondness settling behind his ribs like a weight.

The boy went on chattering. “Auntie Lami always say she’s too old to play, but then she play anyway. She say she don’t like mess, but then she make mess too. One time she glue glitter to the fridge. Granny got mad.” He glanced at Luffy like he’d shared a great secret. “We still don’ tell her.”

Luffy’s eyes sparkled. “That’s a real family conspiracy.”

Damian tilted his head. “What’s that?”

“A conspiracy is when you and someone else do something and agree not to tell. Like a secret team.”

The boy grinned, clearly loving the idea. “We a team!”

Luffy smiled softly. “Yeah. Sounds like your family’s full of teams.”

Damian nodded hard. “Papa, me, Antie Lami, Uncle Rosi... and sometimes Uncle Donny—but he’s not fun.” He made a little face. “He don’t play. He just talk about work and say Papa’s wrong.”

“Is your dad wrong a lot?”

Damian looked down, thoughtful. “Not really… but Uncle Donny say he is. Papa get quiet. Like he forget how to talk, like yesterday.”

Luffy’s heart sank just a bit. He remembered the way Law had gone silent when Dulcinea arrived. That silence seemed to run deep in him.

Damian looked up again. “But with me, Papa talk lots. He read me dinosaur book and make funny dino voices. But only when no one’s around. He get serious face again after.”

Luffy looked toward the hallway, picturing Law bent over research, trying to be everything at once—a student, a parent, a son trying to keep peace in a storm. He reached out and ruffled Damian’s hair gently.

“Hey, you know your dad’s doing a good job, right?”

Damian paused, then beamed. “Yeah. He make good soup.”

Luffy laughed quietly. “That counts. That definitely counts.”

Luffy sighed heavily the moment he heard the Garp’s unmistakable voice booming through the second floor of the house.

"OI! Who the hell is the teenage raccoon sneakin’ into my house?! LUFFY!"

Luffy groaned, pushing himself off the floor as Damian blinked up at him.

“Stay here, buddy,” Luffy said gently, patting his head. “I gotta go make sure Gramps doesn’t scare your dad into digging a tunnel out of my bedroom.”

He jogged up the stairs as fast as he could, huffing a little at the effort—pregnancy and speed didn’t mix well. By the time he reached the second level, the door to his room was wide open, and Garp was standing in the doorway, one hand on his hip and the other pointing accusingly at a very uncomfortable-looking Law who was sitting cross-legged at Luffy’s desk.

“I oughta call animal control,” Garp was saying. “Sneakin’ in here, lookin’ like you just crawled outta a library dumpster with all them papers. What are you, some kind of academic rodent?”

“I’m—” Law began, calmly but flatly.

“Teenage raccoon!” Garp snapped his fingers triumphantly. “That’s what you are! You're thinking of taking advantage of my grandson!”

“Gramps!” Luffy cut in, panting slightly. “Can you not harass my guests before I even get to offer them water or something?!”

Garp turned around, all gruff beard and mischief. “Luffy, you didn’t tell me your raccoon friend was gonna be doing homework crimes in your room!”

“He’s my friend, and I’m babysitting his son and none of this requires your commentary!”

Law gave a slow blink, clearly unsure whether to be annoyed or amused.

“I came through the front door,” he said. “You were just upstairs, sir.”

“Suspicious,” Garp muttered. “Only people with something to hide knock politely.”

“What does that even mean—” Luffy dragged a hand down his face. “Okay, Grandpa, why don’t you go make yourself a coffee and let us not traumatize the guest today?”

Garp huffed, clearly unconvinced, but with a dramatic sigh he stepped back into the hallway.

"Fine. But if you try to do something, I’m lookin’ at you, Raccoon Boy.”

Law tilted his head slightly. “I’m more of a bear person.”

“Oh, he’s sassy too.” Garp barked a laugh. “This one’s got teeth. Good luck, Luffy!” And with that, he stomped down the stairs.

Luffy slumped against the doorframe, blowing a strand of hair out of his face.

“Sorry. He’s just… like that.”

Law gave him a look that was somewhere between amusement and horror.

“Your grandfather thinks I’m a raccoon.”

“He also thinks we are half monkeys. Just… don’t engage.”

“…Noted.”

Law raised an eyebrow and looked back toward the doorway, where Garp’s footsteps were still echoing down the stairs. Luffy stepped into the room and gently closed the door behind him with a sigh.

“Don’t take it personally,” Luffy said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “They’ve just been like this ever since I got pregnant. Like, extra. Overprotective doesn’t even cover it.”

Law leaned back in the desk chair, arms loosely crossed.

“That explains a lot.”

“They usually don’t let me bring anyone home unless they’ve known them since kindergarten,” Luffy went on, flopping down on his bed with a soft grunt. “And you, well… you’re new. Practically a stranger. So, you know. You haven’t gone through the trial by fire yet.”

Law raised a brow. “Trial by fire?”

Luffy waved a hand. “You know. The usual—twenty questions, accidental background checks, weird staring contests with Ace, and Sabo suddenly needing to know your zodiac sign. Oh, and Garp absolutely threatens to call the cops at least once.”

“That’s excessive.”

“Yeah, well.” Luffy gave him a crooked smile. “They’re also kinda weird about me being alone with alphas. It’s like, I’m still me. I didn’t forget how to exist because of this,” he gestured vaguely at his belly. “But to them, I’m suddenly made of glass.”

Law was silent for a moment, taking that in. “I can go, if it’s a problem. I didn’t mean to stir up anything—”

“No!” Luffy sat up quickly, then winced slightly at the movement. “No. You’re fine. Really. I want you here. Damian too. It’s nice having people around who aren’t trying to micromanage my life.”

Law looked at him for a second longer, then gave a small nod.

“Alright. Just… let me know if I overstep.”

“You’re already doing better than half my family,” Luffy said dryly. “You’re okay, Torao. My family’ll chill out… eventually.”

“…I doubt it.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Luffy left the room, leaving Law in peace to finish his research. His feet padded softly against the wood steps as he descended, and when he glanced toward the living room, he noticed it was empty.

A low chuckle and the muffled sound of Damian’s tiny voice led him to the courtyard. His heart jumped—Garp and toddlers unsupervised weren’t exactly a relaxing combination.

Luffy slid the door open and stepped outside. Damian was attempting to lift a potted plant with all the serious effort of a two-year-old on a mission, and Garp was watching him like he was training a future marine.

“Garp,” Luffy said cautiously. “You can’t just take other people’s kids into the courtyard like this. What if he eats dirt?”

“I already told him not to!” Garp barked proudly. “And besides, look at him—strong little guy. I was just seeing if he could carry that pot, and he almost managed it!”

“He’s two,” Luffy said flatly, hurrying over. Damian let go of the pot and looked up at him, smiling wide like he hadn’t just tried to dislocate his tiny spine. Luffy ruffled his hair and gave Garp a wary glance. “That’s Law’s son.”

Garp paused, blinking. “Huh. The teenage raccoon has a kid?”

Luffy sighed. “Please stop calling him that.”

Garp only laughed louder. “Well, then, it’s good he brought the boy. You need to start getting used to little kids around you, brat. Yours will be born soon, and then you’ll be dealing with this twenty-four-seven.”

Luffy crossed his arms. “I am used to kids. Kind of. I babysat a few times. And I’ve got Damian now. That counts.”

Garp gave a mischievous grin, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Babysitting and raising a kid are two different beasts. But you’ll see. Just wait until your baby starts crying for no reason at 3 a.m. and starts chewing on your furniture.”

Luffy stared at him. “Why would they chew on furniture?”

“They all do!” Garp declared with the confidence of someone who raised three grandchildren with brute force and questionable logic. “Mark my words.”

Luffy shook his head but smiled as Damian tugged on his shirt to get his attention. “Let’s just make sure this one doesn’t break his back lifting flower pots, okay?”

“Bah,” Garp grumbled, but he stepped back and waved a hand. “Fine. I’ll let you supervise. But only because I don’t wanna be blamed if he decides to jump off something.”

“You mean if you tell him to jump off something,” Luffy muttered under his breath.

Damian simply plopped onto the grass and pulled out a small toy car from his pocket, zooming it along the ground. Luffy sat down nearby to keep watch, half-listening to Garp’s nostalgic stories about Luffy’s own chaotic toddler years.

It was strangely peaceful. And for a moment, Luffy let himself relax.

Damian drove his toy car across the uneven concrete with a small “vroom,” deeply focused, as if the fate of the world depended on the car reaching the flowerbed. Luffy leaned back on his hands, feeling the early morning sun warming his arms. For a few minutes, there was quiet—the kind of quiet Luffy had forgotten existed in his house.

Garp was standing with his arms crossed, watching them with an unreadable expression before he finally broke the silence. “You’re good with him,” he said gruffly.

Luffy glanced up. “With Damian?”

Garp grunted. “With kids in general. Never thought I’d see the day.”

Luffy raised an eyebrow. “Gee, thanks, Grandpa. Real vote of confidence.”

“You know what I mean.” Garp turned his face toward the yard. “You were always reckless. Got into fights. Set a mailbox on fire once. But now look at you—playing with a toddler like it’s second nature.”

“I’m still reckless,” Luffy muttered, watching Damian as he rolled onto his stomach to make the car go under a garden bench.

Garp smirked. “You’re not the same. Doesn’t mean you’ve changed completely, but… you’re steadier. Grounded.”

Luffy didn’t know what to say to that. His hand rested over his belly, a quiet gesture he’d started doing without thinking. He hadn’t exactly felt grounded lately. Most days, he felt like he was floating untethered—just trying to get by, trying to make sense of everything changing so fast.

He glanced at Damian again and wondered if Law ever felt the same.

“Damian!” a voice called softly from inside. It was Law, peeking out from the hallway. “You okay?”

“Playing!” Damian shouted back without looking up.

Law stepped out cautiously, eyes flicking to Garp like he was preparing for another interrogation.

“He’s fine,” Luffy said before Garp could say anything. “He’s just—uh, testing the limits of the toy car’s suspension system.”

Law nodded slowly, then turned to Garp. “Thank you for… letting us stay.”

Garp grunted. “Didn’t have a choice, did I? He invited you. And you brought the kid, which buys you a few points.”

Law blinked, unsure if that was a compliment or an insult. “...Right.”

Luffy stood up, brushing dirt off his shorts. “We were going to have a snack. You want anything, Law?”

Law hesitated, then gave a small shake of his head. “No, thanks. Just came to check.”

As he turned to go, Garp leaned toward Luffy and muttered, “Still looks like a raccoon.”

Luffy gave him a sharp elbow to the side.

Garp chuckled, holding his ribs. “What? It’s not a bad thing. Raccoons are survivors.”

Luffy rolled his eyes but smiled anyway. He helped Damian to his feet, taking his small hand.

"Come on. Let’s go inside and grab something to eat.”

Damian looked up at him with those round eyes and nodded seriously.

As they headed back toward the house, Damian’s little hand in his, and Garp trailing behind mumbling about snacks. Luffy couldn’t help but think: Maybe I really can do this.

Luffy barely had time to kick off his sandals before the energy in the living room shifted. Damian had wandered ahead with his toy car still clutched in his hand, while Garp ambled behind them. But when Luffy stepped into the living room, his stomach dropped.

There it was again: Law, standing awkwardly in front of the couch, clutching a folder against his chest like it was a shield. And across from him—Ace and Sabo, freshly returned from work, both standing like two bouncers ready to interrogate a suspicious guest.

“I asked who you were,” Ace said, arms crossed, security badge still clipped to his shirt.

Sabo, less aggressive but no less pointed, added, “And why you’re alone with my little brother when he’s pregnant.”

Law looked exhausted already. “I’m working on a school project. Luffy invited me. Your grandfather already gave me the raccoon treatment, if that helps.”

Luffy rushed forward, holding up a hand. “Guys, seriously? Again?”

Ace pointed at Law like a prosecutor. “Do you know how many creeps pretend to be harmless? I’ve worked security for Whitebeard long enough to sniff out trouble.”

“I’m not pretending,” Law said dryly. “I’m seventeen. I have a toddler. I don’t have time to be trouble.”

Sabo raised an eyebrow. “You have a kid?”

“Yes,” Law replied. “His name is Damian. He’s currently inspecting the structural durability of your kitchen table with a toy car.”

Damian, right on cue, made a loud vroom sound and crashed the car into the leg of a chair with great dramatic flair. “Oops.”

Sabo leaned over to look, then blinked. “He’s cute.”

“Thank you,” Law said, then added with exasperated sarcasm, “He survived despite my suspicious presence.”

“Guys,” Luffy said firmly, stepping between them. “He’s my friend. A new one, yes, but my friend. And he’s not plotting to turn me into a human piñata or something.”

Ace huffed but stepped back. “Still don’t trust him.”

“Well, that’s your problem,” Luffy muttered.

Garp walked in then, holding a tub of yogurt and a spoon.

“Are we interrogating the raccoon again?”

“Gramps!” Luffy groaned.

Garp shrugged. “What? You can’t blame them. Your last ‘friend’ left you pregnant.”

Sabo coughed into his hand. Ace smirked. Law stared at the ceiling, clearly wondering why he agreed to this in the first place.

“Okay,” Luffy announced, grabbing Damian’s hand and taking away the bag of food that Sabo was carrying. “We are going to the kitchen. Law, snack break. Let’s go before my family does background checks and swabs your DNA.”

Law followed without complaint, looking grateful for the escape. As they left, Damian tugged on Luffy’s shirt and whispered, “Luffy… your family’s kinda loud.”

Luffy chuckled, leaning down to whisper back, “Welcome to the jungle, kid.”

Luffy dropped the bag of food on the counter a little more forcefully than intended, letting out a sigh as he set to work clearing away some empty mugs and stray dishes. Damian was busy climbing onto one of the chairs with the focus of a boy preparing for a feast, while Law stood near the fridge, eyes still subtly flicking toward the hallway like he was expecting another surprise interrogation.

They hadn't said anything yet. Not since the living room ambush.

Law finally broke the silence. “Are they going to eat too?”

Luffy glanced over his shoulder. “Nah. They can order something later.”

Law nodded and took a seat. Damian happily thudded his toy car on the table next to him before being gently nudged toward his food. The scent of Sabo’s takeout filled the space—rice, grilled chicken, vegetables, something that smelled vaguely garlicky.

Luffy continued cleaning, moving with more tension than usual. He dried his hands on a towel, then leaned against the counter with a tired expression.

"Sorry again. About all that.”

Law shrugged lightly. “It’s fine. I’ve been interrogated before.”

Luffy stared at him, then looked away, frowning. “No, I mean… before. Earlier. When I said my family doesn’t let me bring people over who aren’t my friends…”

Law tilted his head, confused. “Yeah?”

Luffy looked down, fiddling with the hem of his shirt, avoiding Law’s gaze.

"He wasn’t a friend.”

Law blinked. “Who wasn’t?”

“My ex,” Luffy muttered, voice quiet and tight. “The one who got me pregnant.”

Law’s expression shifted, not with surprise, but with a quiet weight settling over him. “Oh.”

“I just…” Luffy shrugged awkwardly. “Thought I loved him. Thought we were going to take care of it together, y’know? But the second things got hard, he bolted. So yeah, my family’s on high alert now. They think everyone I meet is just… another mistake.”

Law didn’t speak right away. Instead, he looked down at the table, watching Damian scoop some rice into his mouth with messy enthusiasm. Then he said, simply, “That sucks.”

Luffy huffed a laugh. “Yeah. It really does.”

Another quiet moment passed before Law added, “For what it’s worth, you don’t seem like someone who makes a lot of mistakes.”

Luffy’s eyes flicked up at him, surprised.

Law glanced away quickly, clearing his throat. “I mean. The kid’s not a mistake. Just… the situation, maybe.”

Luffy cracked a small, appreciative smile. “Thanks. I guess I needed to hear that.”

Luffy leaned against the counter again, chewing on his bottom lip, visibly lost in thought. His fingers tapped against the tile absently as Damian slurped up the last of his juice with dramatic enthusiasm. There was something distant in Luffy’s eyes—not quite sadness, but not peace either.

Damian, completely oblivious to the emotional exchange, pointed at the takeout box. “Luffy, this rice is the best rice ever!”

Luffy laughed and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Well, Sabo does have good taste, at least.”

Law watched him for a few seconds before speaking. “Hey. We should go to that museum you mentioned.”

Luffy blinked and looked at him, puzzled. “What museum?”

“The one with the dinosaur exhibit. You were talking about it a few weeks ago when we were in the park.” Law rested his chin in his hand. “You said they had a whole section about fossils and giant marine reptiles.”

“Oh.” Luffy blinked again, then laughed at himself. “Right! I totally forgot about that.”

Before either of them could say more, Damian’s head shot up. “Dinos?!”

Law nodded with a small smirk. “Yeah. Big ones. Skeletons and everything.”

Damian gasped as if someone had just told him Christmas was tomorrow.

“I wanna see the long-neck one and the one that ROARS!”

Luffy chuckled, watching the boy bounce in his seat with delight.

“That’s the plan then. Let’s go tomorrow. I think I can escape surveillance for one day.”

Law raised an eyebrow. “Surveillance?”

Luffy gestured vaguely toward the rest of the house. “Ace, Sabo, Garp... my personal security team. They think I need a bodyguard to go to the convenience store.”

Law snorted. “You kinda do.”

“Hey!”

Damian giggled, clearly enjoying the banter.

Luffy grinned down at him. “What do you say, baby Torao? Wanna see some dinos tomorrow?”

“Yes!” Damian shouted, then paused. “Can we eat dino nuggets too?”

Luffy laughed so hard he had to lean on the counter again. “Only the finest prehistoric cuisine for you.”

Law shook his head, amused. “We’ll pack snacks, just in case museum food’s awful.”

Luffy nodded. “Deal."

Damian was still talking about dinosaurs—half of what he said was jumbled or made-up, but his excitement was infectious. And in that small kitchen, surrounded by mess and tension that lingered just outside the door, there was a rare moment of ease.

Chapter Text

Law waited near the entrance, tightening the strap of Damian's backpack as the boy jumped excitedly around him with a small plastic dinosaur in one hand. It was early, just before eight, and the sky was a pale blue. Rosinante was still fiddling with his keys by the car, yawning so wide his jaw felt like it might unhinge.

"You know," Rosinante muttered, scratching the back of his neck, "you could have asked your mom again."

Law scoffed, walking to the car and opening the back door for Damian and gently ushering inside.

“Seatbelt first.”

Damian climbed in, still rawring under his breath, and started clicking the seatbelt with practiced toddler effort.

"And listen to a lecture on boundaries, responsibility, and 'the proper use of family property'? No, thanks."

Rosinante chuckled and ruffled Law's hair as he passed, earning a swat.

"You were always dramatic in the mornings."

"I learned from the best," Law muttered, climbing into the driver seat.

Rosinante glanced at his nephew. "So... Damian, the museum... and picking up a friend?"

Law sighed, already regretting being too honest.

"Yeah."

Rosinante smirked, but said nothing.

"It's not like that," Law added quickly.

"I didn't say anything," Rosinante replied, too innocently. "Just a friend?"

"Just a friend," Law firmly said.

"Does this friend have a name?"

"Luffy."

Rocinante's smile widened slightly. "Ah, the famous Luffy."

"Don't start."

"I'm not going to start anything. I'm just glad you're getting out of the house and doing something fun."

"Yeah, well. It's mostly for Damian. He's been excited about this for days."

Rosinante finally fished the right key from his jangling ring and tossed it to Law with a small grin.

"She’s got a full tank. Try not to crash it or leave any dinosaur nuggets between the seats.”

Law caught the keys easily. "No promises about the nuggets. Damian’s hands are sticky by default.”

“I’m serious,” Rocinante said, rubbing at his temple. “Last time you drove it, I found a gummy bear fused to the gear shift.”

Law smirked, “A relic of Damian’s toddler years. You should consider it a treasure.”

“Uh-huh. Just make sure my car comes back in one piece and preferably not smelling like a prehistoric daycare.”

Damian popped up in the window, gripping his little plastic dinosaur like a talisman.

"Uncle Rosi, we’re gonna see BIG dinosaurs!”

Rocinante crouched slightly to meet Damian’s excited gaze.

“You better tell me everything about them later, alright? Especially the ones that go RAWR.”

“RAWR!” Damian yelled, lifting the toy above his head.

Rosinante winced and chuckled. “Yup. That’s what I’m talking about.”

Law rolled his eyes, Rosinante leaned against the open driver’s side door and lowered his voice.

“So. Really, Law… You sure you’re okay?”

Law glanced up at him. The question had weight, even if it came lightly.

He nodded. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

“Being a teenage parent doesn’t come with many off days.”

Law’s jaw tensed slightly, but he nodded again.
“Today’s supposed to be one of them. Just a few hours with Damian. Maybe a little peace and quiet.”

“And Luffy?”

Law looked away and shut the driver’s door gently.

"Like I said. Just a friend.”

Rosinante held up his hands. “Alright, alright. Just make sure this friend knows how to help you relax. You’re seventeen going on seventy lately.”

Law snorted.

“Coming from the guy who listens to jazz while ironing.”

“It’s calming,” Rosinante defended. “Drive safe, and text me if you need anything.”

Law gave a short nod before starting the engine. Damian was already narrating an imaginary dinosaur battle in the back seat, two fingers holding his toy mid-roar.

As they pulled out of the driveway, Rosinante waved once, then headed back toward the house, yawning again like he hadn’t slept in a week.

Law focused on the road, shifting into gear, his fingers tapping the steering wheel. The early morning air was still cool, and the sunlight was beginning to stretch long over the rooftops. For a few hours, he’d pretend like this was normal—like they were just any trio on their way to the museum. A little boy, his dad, and... a friend.

Law glanced at Damian through the rearview mirror as he turned onto a quieter street. The little boy was swinging his dinosaur toy in one hand and staring eagerly out the window, his legs kicking at the air.

"Okay, okay," Law said, reaching over to the dashboard. "Let’s find something to match the mood."

He scrolled through his playlist and landed on something soft and upbeat—light acoustic with a bit of piano. It filled the car gently, a calm backdrop for the morning ride. Damian didn’t seem to notice at first, too caught up in his excitement.

“I wanna show Luffy the… the… the parasalopha!” Damian announced, sitting up straighter in his car seat.

Law arched a brow. “The what?”

“The parasa-lofa-saurus!” Damian insisted, squinting with effort. “It got a big… big head thing and it go honk!”

Law chuckled under his breath. “You mean Parasaurolophus?”

“That’s what I said!”

“You really didn’t.”

Damian huffed, crossing his arms. “I know a lotta dinos. There’s the T-Rex, and the diplo… the diploplo… the long neck one!”

“Diplodocus,” Law corrected gently.

“And the trick-a-top!”

“Triceratops.”

“Yeah! That one too!” Damian nodded enthusiastically, then turned his dinosaur toy around in his hand. “Luffy’s gonna like them. I’ll show him the raptor that go really fast. And the stego-saurus with the… the… tail swords!”

Law gave a half-smile, eyes still on the road.

“Sounds like you’re gonna give him a full tour.”

“I will!” Damian said proudly. “And I’m gonna hold his hand so he don’t get lost.”

Law blinked at that, a small warmth creeping into his chest.

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out,” he muttered.

Damian leaned his cheek against the side of his car seat and looked out the window again, humming softly to the music.

“Luffy is nice,” he mumbled. “He talks to me like I’m big.”

Law didn’t say anything for a moment, letting the soft music and Damian’s chatter fill the car. The sky was clearing to a pale blue, the kind of day that hinted it might stay pleasant from start to finish. He glanced again at the mirror and saw Damian cradling the dinosaur in his lap like it was a precious artifact.

Law hadn’t realized just how much the kid had taken to Luffy already. And strangely, he didn’t mind. Not at all.

Law parked in front of Luffy’s house and barely had time to kill the engine before the front door opened. Luffy stepped out, a red hoodie thrown over his black t-shirt and a drawstring bag on his shoulder. His hair was still a little damp from a quick shower, and his expression was bright, though there was a touch of sleep still in his eyes. Following him was Sabo, dressed like he was heading straight into a political debate — neat jacket, clean slacks, and polished shoes, with a thermos of coffee in hand.

Sabo gave Law a nod, clearly sizing him up like he always did, while Luffy waved and jogged over at a surprisingly fast pace for someone five months pregnant. Law instinctively reached to open the door for him.

“You really didn’t have to come all the way here,” Luffy said, grinning as he climbed into the passenger seat. “We could’ve walked.”

“The museum’s in the center of town,” Law replied, adjusting the rearview mirror again out of habit. “That’s at least a 40-minute walk from here. I didn’t want you to get tired.”

Luffy waved the concern off. “Before I got pregnant, I was basically a demigod.”

Law raised an eyebrow. “A demigod?”

“I was captain of the soccer team. And the basketball team. Volleyball too. Baseball, boxing, and track and field,” Luffy said, ticking each one off on his fingers with pride. “I only didn’t lead the kendo team because that was Zoro’s thing, and he threatened to whack anyone who got in his way with a bamboo sword.”

Damian’s head popped up between the front seats.

“What’s a demigod?”

“It’s like a super strong human with god powers,” Luffy explained, giving the boy a thumbs-up. “Like me.”

“You’re not supposed to lift heavy stuff now,” Damian said sagely, echoing something Law had clearly told him before. “So you can’t be a demigod.”

Luffy gasped dramatically. “You’re right! I lost my powers when I got pregnant!”

Damian giggled from the back, and Law just shook his head, biting back a reluctant smile.

“You’re not like any pregnant omega I’ve met,” Law muttered.

Luffy leaned his head back against the seat with a grin. “Is that a compliment?”

“It’s an observation.”

“Sounds like a compliment.”

Before Law could respond, Sabo tapped on the window. Law rolled it down halfway.

Sabo leaned slightly in. “You have water, snacks, and a charged phone?”

Luffy groaned. “Yes, Dad.”

“I am older than you,” Sabo replied dryly, then glanced at Law. “Have him back by a reasonable time.”

Law gave a slight, ironic salute. “Yes, sir.”

Sabo smirked. “I’m trusting you.”

“You’re not trusting me,” Luffy muttered under his breath. “You just don’t want to deal with Ace if something goes wrong.”

“Correct,” Sabo said with no shame at all, then waved at Damian, who cheerfully waved back.

As they pulled away from the curb, Luffy sighed. “Sorry. He gets super dramatic when Ace isn’t around.”

“He seemed more like the calm one,” Law said.

Luffy huffed. “That’s the scary part.”

Damian, dinosaur in hand, started babbling about which exhibit he wanted to see first, his excitement overflowing again. Luffy twisted in his seat to listen, and Law just drove, quiet but a little more at ease.

As they drove toward the city center, Damian sat in his booster seat behind them, kicking his little feet and clutching his plastic dinosaur like it was a prized treasure. He started listing off dinosaur names with the utmost concentration.

“Steg-sosaurus. And uh… Tyro—Tyran… Tyronosnoreus Rex! And that big one with the neck—Longy-saurus!”

Luffy snorted, twisting slightly in his seat to look back.

“You mean Brachiosaurus?”

Damian gasped and nodded furiously. “Yeah! And the one with the sharp tail, the one that pokes! Aunt Lami said it’s… Spike-o-saurus!”

“You mean Stegosaurus again?” Law asked, amused.

Damian frowned. “No, it’s different. This one wants to poke you.”

Luffy chuckled, covering his mouth with his hand. “That’s a very important distinction.”

Law glanced sideways at Luffy with a smirk. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“It’s endearing,” Luffy said, his smile softening as he looked back at Damian. “He really wants to show me all of them.”

“I think he’s more excited about showing you stuff than seeing it himself,” Law murmured. “He’s been asking about this trip every morning.”

Luffy leaned back against the window, a fond look still on his face. “I like him,” he said simply. “He’s… easy to be around.”

Damian continued rattling off his own made-up dinosaur names—“Pointysaur!” “Fly-Rex!” “Roary!”—as the city buildings came into view. The sky had turned a soft gold, the sun climbing behind the glass and steel skyline.

Law turned into a shaded street that led to the museum parking lot.

"Guess we’re a bit early. Should be less crowded.”

“Good,” Luffy replied. “Less chance of someone bumping into my belly.”

They parked, and Damian practically burst out of the car once Law unbuckled him, his tiny arms waving as he darted toward the entrance plaza. Luffy stepped out more slowly, steadying himself with one hand on the door frame.

“You okay?” Law asked, watching him carefully.

“Yeah. Just a big ol’ demigod body to drag around,” Luffy said, grinning despite himself.

Law snorted but held out a hand. Luffy glanced at it for a second before taking it without a word.

Together, with Damian skipping ahead and clutching his toy dinosaur, they crossed toward the museum entrance under the warm morning sun.

Luffy stepped ahead of Law, his hand still gripping the strap of his bag, his walk a little more determined as he approached the ticket booth. Damian ran alongside them, but Luffy slowed him down with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Hi! I’m looking for Nico Robin,” Luffy said to the person behind the counter, his grin wide and confident despite the early hour.

The person blinked in surprise but quickly smiled.

“Oh, Robin? She should be here. Let me call her.”

As they waited, Law finally caught up to them, glancing between Luffy and the counter.

“Who is Nico Robin?”

“She's the assistant to the director of the museum” Luffy said brightly, rocking a little on his heels. “She’s one of my best friends. She was three years ahead of me in school, and when I got into high school, she was already known for being super smart and nice. She even tutored me for a while.”

Law’s eyebrows shot up. “So you’re telling me your friend is the assistant director of a museum. And she just… gives you free tickets?”

“Basically,” Luffy said, grinning. “She’s great. I used to think she was a secret spy or something ‘cause she was always so calm and collected. But turns out, she just really loves history.”

Damian tugged at Luffy’s shirt. “Luffy! What’s that word?” He pointed to a sign near the entrance that read “Paleontology Exhibit – Featuring Dinosaurs!”

Luffy crouched down a bit, leaning over to look. “That one says ‘Paleontology.’"

"It’s the study of fossils. And those are dinosaur fossils inside.” Law intervened.

Damian’s eyes lit up. “Fos-sills!”

Luffy smirked a little, his hands in his pockets. “He’s learning so fast.”

Law gave him a warm glance, his fingers brushing Damian’s curls.

"Yeah. He’s sharp.”

Just then, a woman with sleek black hair and a graceful air approached from a side door.

“Luffy,” she greeted softly, her lips curving into a faint smile. “I thought I heard your voice.”

“Robin!” Luffy grinned widely, standing up and pulling her into a brief hug. “Thanks for letting us come today.”

Robin’s eyes flickered to Law, her expression kind but curious. “

 

"Of course. Who’s this?”

“Oh, this is Law,” Luffy said, stepping aside so Robin could see him properly. “And that’s Damian. Law’s son.”

Robin gave Law a polite nod and a brief smile. “Nice to meet you, Law. Damian, you must be very excited for the dinosaur exhibit.”

Damian nodded eagerly, showing Robin his plastic dinosaur.

“Come on,” Robin said, gesturing toward the entrance. “Let’s get you all inside before the crowds.”

As they followed her, Law leaned closer to Luffy.

“You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

Luffy just grinned wider. “I know.”

They stepped inside the museum, the quiet hum of air conditioning and soft echoes of voices mingling with the scent of polished wood and faintly musty paper. Though it was early, a few families were scattered about, lingering in front of glass cases or reading information plaques. Damian’s eyes widened, darting to every display with fascination, his little hands tightening on the plastic dinosaur he’d brought.

“Wait here a second,” Luffy said, glancing at the museum map by the entrance. “I forgot to use the bathroom before we left.”

Law gave him a nod, and Luffy disappeared down a hallway, leaving Law and Damian standing in the main lobby. Damian was practically vibrating with excitement, tugging at Law’s sleeve every few seconds to point at something — a towering replica of a dinosaur skeleton in the center, a glass case of fossils, a big, colorful mural depicting prehistoric life.

Law was distracted from Damian’s enthusiasm when he felt a gentle but knowing gaze on him. He glanced sideways and saw Robin standing a few feet away, her arms loosely crossed, an almost serene smile on her lips.

“You’re the guy from the support group, right? Luffy’s told me about you.”

Law felt his throat tighten slightly. Robin’s gaze wasn’t threatening, but it held a kind of quiet confidence that made him feel like she could see right through him, as if she knew every thought circling his head. He gave a small nod, his hands tightening in his pockets.

Robin’s smile softened, her voice low and calm. “Luffy’s been much more lively since he started coming to the group. It’s been good for him, and I’m glad. We were all worried about him for a while.”

Law wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He glanced down at Damian, who was now kneeling to inspect a shiny, polished rock embedded in the floor.

"Damian likes him,” he said simply, his voice low but steady.

Robin tilted her head slightly, a knowing gleam in her eyes.

“And do you?”

Law’s lips parted slightly, caught off-guard. He didn’t need to think too hard about it, though. He gave a faint nod.

Robin’s smile grew just a touch wider. “I’m glad to hear that. Luffy’s been through a lot, more than he lets on. Last night he called me, telling me how excited he was for today. He doesn’t usually call late, you know.”

Law’s chest tightened. “No, I didn’t.”

Robin glanced in the direction where Luffy had disappeared. “Just be good to him, okay? He’s stronger than he looks, but everyone needs someone to lean on.”

Law found himself nodding again, unable to speak. Damian tugged at his sleeve again, pointing to a set of massive fossilized bones displayed under spotlights.

"Papa! Look! Dino bones!”

Robin chuckled softly, stepping back. “I’ll leave you two to enjoy. I’ll be nearby if you need anything.”

As Robin disappeared into the museum’s quieter corridors, Law felt a strange sense of relief, but also a nagging weight in his chest. He crouched down next to Damian, brushing the boy’s hair lightly.

"Yeah, those are dino bones. You’ll see even bigger ones soon.”

Damian’s eyes sparkled, and Law found himself smiling faintly, his thoughts lingering on Robin’s words—and Luffy’s excited voice in her memory.

Luffy returned from the bathroom a few minutes later, adjusting the strap of his backpack across his chest as he walked. His cheeks were flushed, probably from hurrying back, and his slightly disheveled hair was a clear sign that he’d been rushing to avoid leaving Law and Damian alone for too long.

“Sorry!” he said, a little breathless as he joined them again. “There was a line. Who knew the bathroom at a museum would be busy this early?”

Law glanced up, his mouth twitching in a faint smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

Damian immediately grabbed Luffy’s hand and began tugging him toward the nearest exhibit, babbling about the dinosaur bones and how he was going to show Luffy all the dinosaurs he knew by name—even the ones he couldn’t pronounce. Luffy laughed, letting himself be pulled along, his steps light despite his obvious discomfort from the weight of his belly.

“Sooooo...Robin,” Luffy said over his shoulder to Law as they followed Damian. “She’s the coolest. Kinda scary sometimes, but super smart.”

Law’s gaze lingered on Robin’s retreating figure in the distance.

“She’s… perceptive.”

Luffy laughed again. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it. She always says she can tell when someone’s got something on their mind. She’s like a psychic or something. But she means well.”

Law gave a small nod, though his gaze lingered thoughtfully on Luffy. “She said you were excited about today.”

Luffy’s cheeks turned pink, and he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, yeah. I was looking forward to it. I mean, Damian’s been talking about dinosaurs for days, and it’s nice to get out of the house, you know?”

Law’s lips curved into a faint smile, but he said nothing. Damian tugged at both of them again, impatient to move on.

“C’mon! Let’s see the big ones!”

“Big ones, huh?” Luffy teased, ruffling Damian’s hair. “Let’s go find the biggest one we can!”

As they moved deeper into the museum, the light filtering through high windows painted everything in soft gold. Law walked a little behind, watching as Luffy and Damian giggled and pointed at displays, and for the first time in a long while, he felt something warm settle in his chest.

It was quiet. It was peaceful. And, just maybe, it was something he wanted to last.

Damian’s little feet pattered across the smooth floor, plastic dinosaur clutched in his small hand, as he pointed excitedly at the towering skeletons above them.

“Look, Papa! That’s a—uh—a bronty-saurus! And that one has spikes on its back!”

Law hurried to catch up, trying to keep pace with his son without pulling Luffy along too quickly.

“Don’t run off so fast, Damian,” he warned gently. “Hold on to Luffy’s hand.”

“I’m not even that fast,” Luffy chimed in with a laugh, breathless but clearly enjoying himself. He tightened his grip on Damian’s small hand, steadying him. “But this guy is pulling me along like a train.”

Law watched them for a moment, the sight unexpectedly tugging at something deep inside him. His mind wandered—unbidden—back to when his ex had been pregnant with Damian. She had been exhausted, her moods swinging from frustration to irritation with little warning. It hadn’t been an easy time for either of them, and it had left Law constantly feeling like he was walking on eggshells, trying to keep the peace.

But Luffy—Luffy was different. Here he was, pregnant and dealing with all the same physical challenges, and yet he was laughing, playing with Damian, making everything feel so... natural. Like he wasn’t just surviving this part of his life, but embracing it.

Law swallowed, pushing the thoughts aside as they approached one of the larger display cases, filled with towering dinosaur bones. Damian let go of Luffy’s hand long enough to press both hands against the glass, his breath fogging it slightly as he gazed up in wonder.

“Papa, Papa, look! It’s sooo big!” Damian called, his voice echoing slightly in the large space.

Law stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on Damian’s shoulder.

"Yeah, that’s a diplodocus,” he said quietly, reading the name from the display plaque. “It was one of the biggest land animals ever.”

“Biiiig,” Damian repeated, stretching his arms wide.

Luffy grinned, crouching slightly—though not without some difficulty—to point at the skeletal head. “I bet your toy dinosaur is nowhere near as big as this one, huh?”

Damian giggled, pressing his toy to the glass as if comparing sizes. “Mine’s small!”

Law chuckled softly, exchanging a glance with Luffy. For a brief moment, the tension he’d felt earlier dissolved, replaced by the simple joy of watching his son—and Luffy—enjoy something as ordinary as a museum visit.

“C’mon, let’s go see the next one!” Damian shouted, tugging at Law’s sleeve with renewed energy.

Luffy straightened with a laugh. “We’ve got a whole museum to explore, so we’d better keep moving or he’s gonna drag us to every exhibit!”

And as they moved on, with Damian chattering excitedly and Luffy gently guiding him, Law found himself thinking—for the first time in a long while—that maybe, just maybe, this kind of life wasn’t so far out of reach.

They moved along the winding path of exhibits, Damian’s delighted squeals echoing as he spotted another towering skeleton. Luffy, still hand-in-hand with the little boy, grinned over at Law.

“Hey,” Luffy said, tilting his head slightly, “why do you think kids like dinosaurs so much? Especially Damian.”

Law shrugged, hands stuffed into his pockets. “I think it’s just… everywhere. Kids’ books, toys, cartoons—it’s all dinosaurs. They’re big and cool and extinct, so they feel like a safe kind of monster.”

Luffy snorted, glancing at the toy dinosaur clutched in Damian’s small hand. “I mean, dinosaurs are fine and all, but… I kinda wish my kid would be into something more, I dunno, unique. Or easier to find stuff for.”

Law let out a soft laugh. “You can’t really force what a kid likes. Trust me, I tried. I wanted Damian to love bears. I even got him a bear costume when he was a baby. He rebelled so hard. Now he just makes fun of me.”

“Bear costume?” Luffy echoed, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “That’s adorable. I can’t imagine Damian rebelling. He seems like such a sweet kid.”

“Oh, he is,” Law said with a faint smile, watching Damian bounce from one display to the next, chattering non-stop about the names of dinosaurs he couldn’t quite pronounce. “But the moment I tried to nudge him into something I liked? Full rebellion mode. He picked dinosaurs all on his own.”

Luffy chuckled, adjusting his backpack with a slight wince. “Guess I’ll just have to wait and see what my kid’s into. Maybe it’ll be dinosaurs too.”

“Or something completely out of left field,” Law added, his voice wry. “You’ll find yourself surrounded by train sets or dolls or—who knows.”

“Please, not dolls,” Luffy said, mock-groaning. “I’d rather it be dinosaurs.”

Damian turned toward them, holding his plastic dinosaur high. “Dinooo!”

Luffy laughed softly. “Guess the dino era is starting early.”

Law nodded, his expression gentle as he looked at Luffy—really looked at him, a flash of tenderness crossing his face. “It’s not so bad, you know. You might end up liking dinosaurs more than you expect.”

Luffy glanced up, catching Law’s gaze, and for a brief moment, there was a quiet connection between them, the museum’s hum fading into the background. Then Damian tugged on Law’s sleeve, eager to move on to the next exhibit.

“Let’s go, Papa! More dinos!” Damian chirped.

Law ruffled his son’s hair. “Alright, alright. Lead the way.”

Luffy, still smiling, followed as they made their way deeper into the exhibits, the conversation about dinosaurs lingering between them.

They arrived at the exhibit, where the T-Rex towered over them, its massive jaws frozen in a dramatic roar, every detail painstakingly recreated. Damian’s tiny hands gripped his toy dinosaur as he froze in place, eyes wide with awe and the faintest hint of apprehension.

“Woah,” Damian whispered, his voice nearly lost in the ambient noise of the museum. “It’s too big…”

Law crouched beside him, one hand on his small shoulder. “It could’ve been even bigger in real life.”

Damian’s eyes went rounder, but then his mouth turned down in a determined pout.

“I wanna climb it,” he said, stepping toward the towering figure with his little fists clenched.

Law sighed, already anticipating the argument. “Damian, you can’t climb on it. It’s not a playground.”

“Why?” Damian demanded, his voice climbing into that dangerous, pre-tantrum register that made Law’s shoulders tense.

“Because it could break,” Law said, attempting to sound calm and reasonable. “And it’s for everyone to see, not just for climbing.”

Damian gave him a skeptical look, his lower lip jutting out stubbornly. He stomped a tiny foot, turning back to the dinosaur with an air of defiance. Luffy, catching up with them, noticed Damian’s stiff posture and exchanged an amused glance with Law.

“Looks like trouble’s brewing,” Luffy whispered, his voice low enough for only Law to hear.

“Every time,” Law muttered, crossing his arms.

Damian, clearly sensing his limited options, scowled at the T-Rex, his fists still clenched.

“It’s not fair,” he muttered, half to himself. “Dinosaurs are supposed to be fun.”

Luffy knelt down, a playful smile on his face. “Hey, how about we make a deal? No climbing on dinosaurs today, but later, you can show me your best dinosaur roar, huh?”

Damian’s expression shifted, his little mind clearly weighing the offer. He glanced at Law for confirmation, who gave a tiny, exhausted nod. Slowly, Damian’s stance relaxed.

“Okay,” he said with a huff, dragging his feet a little as he stepped back from the exhibit.

Luffy ruffled his hair, grinning. “Good choice, baby Torao. Let’s go find the next dino. Maybe we’ll find one small enough to ride.”

Damian’s face lit up again, the impending tantrum dissolving as quickly as it had threatened. He darted ahead, eager to find his next prehistoric fascination.

Law straightened with a quiet sigh of relief. “You’re a miracle worker.”

Luffy chuckled softly, rubbing his belly. “I’m just getting practice for when mine gets to that stage.”

Law smirked, watching Damian bounce ahead. “Better get used to it. This is just the beginning.”

They continued wandering through the exhibits, with Damian practically bouncing from one display to the next. Each time he encountered a new dinosaur, his face lit up, and he pointed excitedly.

“That one’s my favorite!” he declared, pressing his hands against the glass of a model of a Triceratops.

Law, trailing behind and carrying Damian’s backpack now, sighed, “You said that about the T-Rex.”

Damian turned, his little face scrunched up in frustration. “But this one has horns!”

A few steps later, they reached a Velociraptor display, complete with a dramatic scene of the raptors hunting a smaller dinosaur. Damian’s eyes went wide again, and he pointed with his toy dinosaur.

“No, no, this one’s my favorite! It’s fast!”

Law exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms. “You have to pick just one favorite, Damian.”

But Damian had already moved on, his toy dinosaur bouncing in his hand as he rushed toward a model of a Stegosaurus.

"This one’s my favorite! It has plates!”

Luffy followed them, one hand casually resting on his belly, amused by the exchange. He grinned at Law, whose shoulders had tensed in resignation.

“He’s just like me,” Luffy said with a laugh. “I could never decide either.”

Law gave him a side-eye, his mouth quirking into a reluctant smile.

“Yeah, I can tell.”

Damian, meanwhile, was oblivious to the adults’ banter. He had glued himself to the glass, his tiny hands leaving faint smudges on the polished surface as he marveled at each dinosaur’s features. His toy dinosaur was now “talking” to the Stegosaurus in what was undoubtedly an epic prehistoric conversation only he understood.

“Okay, okay,” Law said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’re going to have to pick one by the end of the day, Damian.”

Damian spun around, holding his toy dinosaur aloft like a trophy.

“I’ll pick! My favorite is—” He glanced at the Stegosaurus, then back toward the raptor, and then at the T-Rex they’d seen earlier. “—all of them!”

Law groaned softly, and Luffy chuckled, leaning against the glass.

"Well, you can’t argue with that logic.”

Damian, pleased with his final decision, ran ahead to the next exhibit, waving his dinosaur toy above his head as he shouted something incomprehensible but undoubtedly dino-related.

Law shook his head with a faint smile. “I give up.”

“Welcome to parenthood,” Luffy teased, nudging him lightly with his elbow.

Law smirked, falling in step beside him as they trailed after Damian’s enthusiastic little feet.

They trailed after Damian as he rushed toward the next exhibit, Luffy walking with a casual gait, his hands placed behind his head in that signature, relaxed gesture of his.

“Man, with all the energy Damian’s burning off, he’s gonna sleep like a log tonight,” Luffy commented, grinning as Damian continued his dinosaur-themed adventure.

Law gave a tired laugh, brushing a hand through his dark hair. “I hope so. It’ll give me a few hours of peace to work on that stupid school project.”

Luffy tilted his head curiously. “Oh yeah? What’s the project about? You’ve been really into it lately.”

“It’s a graduation requirement,” Law explained, his voice laced with frustration. “At my school, if you don’t complete your senior project, you don’t graduate. They call it a ‘comprehensive thesis’, but it’s more like a giant headache. My project team’s a mess. No one wants to do their part, and the deadlines are murder.”

Luffy’s eyes widened in sympathy. “Yikes. That sounds rough.”

Law sighed, shifting the backpack on his shoulder. “It is. I’ve been picking up the slack for everyone. We’re supposed to present a full research project on medical advancements and ethics, and they barely show up to the meetings. If I don’t do the work myself, we’re screwed.”

Luffy winced. “Sounds like your group sucks.”

“Exactly.”

“Are you guys at, like, a fancy school or something?” Luffy asked, genuinely curious.

“Yeah,” Law admitted, his tone a bit sheepish. “It’s a private school. My mom insisted.”

Luffy gave a low whistle. “Wow. No wonder they’ve got you doing stuff like that. My online school doesn’t even mention anything like a thesis project. They just give us assignments, and I’m hoping I pass.”

Law glanced at him, his brows lifting. “So you’re studying online?”

“Yeah,” Luffy said with a grin. “It’s easier that way, y’know? Less stress, I can do it at my own pace, and it doesn’t interfere with… well, life.”

Law snorted, a hint of amusement flashing in his eyes. “That actually sounds nice. I can’t imagine having the freedom to just… study when I want.”

Luffy shrugged, still looking cheerful despite the heavy topic.

"I’m not even sure if I’ll have to do anything like a big project. If they do, I’ll just… wing it.”

Law shook his head in disbelief, though a smile tugged at his lips. “I don’t know how you’re so relaxed about it.”

“It’s just school,” Luffy said nonchalantly. “If I mess up, I can always find another way to get by.”

“Must be nice,” Law muttered, though his voice lacked real resentment. “Meanwhile, if I don’t finish this project perfectly, my mom’s going to kill me.”

Luffy grinned wider. “Guess you’d better make sure Damian wears himself out, huh?”

Law chuckled, looking toward Damian, who was now intently examining a diorama of a prehistoric jungle.

“Yeah. Looks like we’ll both be busy tonight.”

They shared a small, knowing smile as they continued following Damian’s unrelenting energy through the museum’s winding halls.

As they trailed after Damian—who was now “hunting” dinosaurs with his toy dino clutched in one hand—Luffy grinned and nudged Law’s arm with his elbow.

“Hey, y’know, I don’t mind if you keep calling me to watch Damian, like you’ve been doing.”

Law’s brow furrowed a little, guilt tugging at his features. “I don’t want to interfere with your work or classes.”

Luffy chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. “Nah, don’t worry about it! I’m always a week ahead with editing. And Hancock’s pretty flexible with deadlines. I think it’s ‘cause she likes me. Or maybe she just feels bad for me.” He scratched the back of his neck with a sheepish smile.

Law’s lips quirked upward. “Hancock?”

“Yeah, Boa Hancock,” Luffy said, eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and pride. “She’s a streamer—huge online. I do all the editing for her streams, cut them into highlight reels, stuff like that. She’s picky about how she looks, but if I make her laugh, she’s fine with almost anything.”

“Sounds like a good deal,” Law murmured, intrigued despite himself.

Luffy shrugged, still looking upbeat. “It is. Plus, she pays me decently and always tosses me snacks when I stop by. I think she just likes having someone who doesn’t fawn over her, you know?”

Law hummed in acknowledgment, glancing sideways at him.

“So you’re saying you’re on top of your schedule.”

“Always,” Luffy grinned, flashing a peace sign. “Hancock tries to drop last-minute stuff on me sometimes, but I just stay ahead to avoid the rush. Besides, it gives me time to do things I like. Or to help you out.”

“You’re too easygoing for your own good,” Law muttered, though his tone was tinged with reluctant gratitude.

Luffy grinned wider. “Hey, I gotta balance out all your stress. Think of me as your… stress buffer.”

Law shook his head with a quiet laugh, glancing fondly at the boy in front of them.

“Well, Damian's lucky” Luffy said thoughtfully, “he’s got you too, y’know. And you’re doing great.”

Law’s steps faltered for a moment, caught off guard by the genuine warmth in Luffy’s words. His gaze softened, but he quickly glanced away to hide it.

“Thanks,” he said softly. “That means a lot.”

They both fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, broken only by Damian’s excited chattering as he tried to explain the differences between the dinosaurs he’d just seen.

“You really know your dinosaurs, huh?” Luffy grinned at Damian.

“Uh-huh!” Damian beamed, his words tumbling together as he tried to pronounce dinosaur names. “And I’m gonna tell Auntie Lami and Uncle Rosi all about ‘em!”

Luffy laughed. “Well, maybe you can bring them next time.”

Law chuckled under his breath, feeling the weight on his shoulders lift just a little. Maybe, with Luffy around, things wouldn’t feel so overwhelming after all.

They decided to take a break from the prehistoric world and get something to eat. The museum did have a cafeteria—technically. But as Luffy put it, “If I wanted to eat rubbery fries and dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets that taste like cardboard, I’d just chew on the museum brochure.”

Law, being slightly more prepared, patted his bag and said, “I brought food from home.”

“You brought lunch?” Luffy blinked, impressed. “Like… full-on bento box?”

“Not exactly,” Law replied, adjusting Damian’s little backpack as they walked toward the museum’s side exit. “Just sandwiches, fruit, and some snacks Damian won’t throw on the floor.”

“Wow. Responsible and organized,” Luffy teased as they exited into the garden, a neatly maintained open-air space with a few benches, shaded trees, and decorative stone tiles carved with fossil patterns. “That’s two traits I’ve never been accused of.”

Law glanced at him with a smirk. “You’re still allowed near children though. Wild.”

“Hey!” Luffy laughed, elbowing him gently.

They found a bench under a tree and spread out their modest picnic. Law handed Damian his food—a tiny plastic container with crustless sandwiches, cut-up grapes, and a juice box that had a smiling stegosaurus on the side. Damian immediately sat cross-legged on the bench and started eating happily.

Luffy flopped down next to him, not quite as graceful with the belly in the way.

“You even brought wet wipes?” he asked when Law pulled a pack from his bag.

“I live with a toddler. They’re a survival tool.”

Luffy leaned back against the bench, watching the clouds roll lazily across the sky. “This is nice,” he said after a moment. “I don’t really get to just sit like this anymore. Not with the house being… y’know. A military base.”

Law raised a brow. “They still tracking your bathroom breaks?”

Luffy snorted. “Worse. Last night Sabo tried to install one of those nanny cams disguised as a plant. I only noticed because the fake fern looked too healthy for our house.”

“Remind me never to tell your family where I live,” Law muttered.

“You should be more worried they’ll try to adopt you. You’re a parent, so you’re halfway in already.”

Damian, mid-chew, pointed a grape-sticky finger at Luffy. “You’re my Luffy.”

Luffy blinked, touched. “I am?”

Damian nodded, serious. “Yes. And Papa's Law. So you be Luffy.”

Law tried not to choke on his sandwich.

Luffy beamed, then stage-whispered to Law, “I think I just got promoted.”

Law shook his head but couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Careful. That’s a permanent position.”

Luffy raised an eyebrow, eyes warm. “Yeah? Good thing I’m not scared of commitment.”

Damian, oblivious to the underlying tension or the way Law’s ears went pink, happily drank from his juice box.

They sat there for a while, enjoying the food, the quiet breeze, and each other’s company. For once, there was no noise, no expectations—just sun, shade, and the faint roar of a mechanical T-Rex from inside the museum.

Luffy stretched his legs out in front of the bench, groaning softly as he looked down at his swollen feet, which barely fit in his sneakers anymore. He poked at the side of his ankle with a frown.

“I’m meeting up with my friends on Friday,” he said, glancing at Law. “It’ll be quiet. All our get-togethers are quiet now. No drinking, no loud places, and I’m usually the first to fall asleep halfway through a movie.”

Law raised an eyebrow, half-amused. “You sure you don’t want to reconsider selling this glamorous lifestyle?”

Luffy grinned. “Tempting, huh?”

Damian, sitting on the grass in front of them with a sandwich in one hand and a dino toy in the other, made dinosaur noises under his breath. Law looked at his son fondly, then turned back to Luffy.

"I’ll see. I need to keep working on the project, and I’d have to find someone to watch Damian. Rosinante has a meeting that night and Doflamingo’s out of town for a work thing.”

Luffy waved a hand dismissively. “Then bring him. I mean it. He’s practically an extension of you anyway, like your tiny, slightly louder, very dino-obsessed shadow.”

Law gave him a look. “I’m not sure your friends would be thrilled to have a toddler knocking over their drinks.”

Luffy snorted. “First of all, no drinks. Second, my friends need to get used to kids. Especially my kid. I’m not going to turn into some cave-dwelling omega that only shows up once a year at birthdays.”

“That’s oddly specific,” Law murmured.

Luffy shrugged. “I have uncles like that. I don’t want that. I want my friends to be around, even if it means there’s a kid running under the table screaming about raptors.”

Damian, hearing the word “raptor,” perked up immediately. “Raptor! Raptor! I have raptor at home!”

Law gave a tired chuckle. “You have six raptors at home, and you lost all of their tails.”

“They still bite,” Damian said solemnly, holding up two tiny fingers shaped like claws.

Luffy laughed, then turned back to Law. “Come on. Just think about it. We’ll probably just eat snacks, sit on the floor, and complain about our joints. It’s basically daycare for grown-ups.”

Law looked at Luffy, then at Damian, then back at Luffy again. Something about the offer—the ease of it, the invitation into something more casual, more permanent—unsettled him and comforted him at the same time.

“I’ll think about it,” he said softly.

Luffy grinned. “That’s all I’m asking.” He leaned back on the bench again, one hand on his belly. “If you come, I’ll even share my sour gummies.”

Law blinked. “You said those were off-limits. Sacred.”

“I said Usopp couldn’t have them. You, I like.”

Law looked away quickly, pretending to focus on Damian, but not quite fast enough to hide the small smile that lingered.

Chapter Text

It was Wednesday at noon, and the sun filtered lazily through the bedroom curtains, casting a sleepy warmth over Luffy’s desk and the scattered notebooks that sat untouched beside his computer. Luffy adjusted his headphones and stared at his screen, where the timeline of his editing software looked like a colorful Tetris game gone wrong. On the Discord call, Hancock’s voice rang crystal clear through the speakers.

“Move the transition back a few frames,” she said, sipping something from a mug. Her camera was on, of course—she always looked flawless, even when dressed casually. “It cuts off the laugh too soon.”

“Like this?” Luffy dragged the marker and played back the clip. A burst of laughter echoed from the screen, perfectly timed with the cut.

“Yes. That’s better,” she replied, smiling. Then, with a slight tilt of her head, she added, “Why do you have the camera off, Luffy? You know I work better when I can see you.”

Luffy chuckled and leaned back in his chair, scratching his belly absentmindedly.

“You keep staring. I can’t concentrate if you’re making faces at me.”

“I do not make faces,” Hancock said, clearly offended. Then she added in a quieter tone, “I just think you’re cute.”

“See? That’s exactly why the camera’s off,” Luffy teased, grinning to himself as he adjusted the audio levels on another segment of the clip. “You get all weird.”

“I do not get weird.”

“You do.”

“You’re impossible,” Hancock said with a sigh, but her voice was smiling. “You know, you’re one of the only editors I’ve ever actually liked working with.”

“Because I don’t freak out when your streams run long?”

“No,” she said, softer now. “Because you’re funny, and honest, and you treat this like it’s more than just a paycheck. I appreciate that.”

Luffy paused, blinking at the screen. “...Thanks.”

There was a short silence between them, not uncomfortable, just thoughtful.

“Anyway,” she said quickly, clearing her throat, “how much longer until you finish this episode?”

“Probably two more hours if I don’t take a snack break.”

“Can you send me the final cut tonight?”

“Yup.”

“I owe you one,” she said.

“You already owe me, like, three pizzas and a foot rub.”

“You’re impossible,” she repeated, but this time it was affectionate.

Luffy smiled, switching over to export a preview file. His inbox pinged with a new message—probably Law sending a progress update on that project of his—and Luffy thought, not for the first time that week, that his life was weird right now. Weird, but not bad.

Just weird enough to be interesting.

Luffy kept working after the call ended, stretching his arms over his head and groaning softly when his spine popped. He rubbed the side of his belly with one hand. The room had gone quiet except for the hum of the fan and the occasional click of his mouse as he adjusted the audio levels on Hancock’s video.

He glanced at the screen with half-lidded eyes, watching as the preview rendered frame by frame. It was almost hypnotic. His fingers tapped idly on the desk, following the rhythm of Hancock’s laugh in the background. She always laughed like she didn’t care who was listening.

He leaned forward again, dragging a segment of video back to clip out a glitch. Time slipped past him easily when he was editing—it was like a puzzle, everything needing to fit just right. And he liked the control of it, the way he could fix things, smooth them over, make them better than when they started.

The fan turned slowly in the corner, and Luffy shifted in his seat, wincing slightly as his swollen feet brushed the bottom edge of the chair. He didn’t complain, though. He was used to it now. The discomfort was just background noise at this point—like the stretching skin and constant need to pee. He kept a bottle of water on the desk and took a long sip, then pushed up his sleeves and went back to adjusting the timestamps.

A few minutes passed. He rubbed his eyes and leaned back again, feeling the baby shift slightly, just enough to make him glance down.

“You’re not kicking now?” he muttered. “Could’ve helped me stay awake.”

He glanced at the clock—already almost one. Maybe after this clip, he’d heat up some leftovers. There was still curry in the fridge, unless one of his brothers had eaten it.

The project was coming together. Hancock’s voice, bright and lively, echoed in the background as he watched the rough cut again, taking notes in the margins of the software interface. There was a weird jump in the middle, a joke that landed flat. He marked it for trimming. Everything else was looking clean.

Luffy worked steadily, eyes focused, body tired but mind alert. The hours passed like that—just him, the screen, and the low hum of life around him.

He pushed himself up from the chair, stretching out the stiffness in his lower back as he padded toward the window of his room. The scent of grilled food and something baked filled the air now—rich, savory, and clearly Sanji’s doing. He could practically taste the spices already.

"Oi! It's open, come in," he exclaimed from the window, waving to his friends.

By the time he reached the door, Zoro and Sanji were stepping inside like they owned the place, Sanji balancing a food container in each hand while Zoro held a paper bag in his arms.

“We brought lunch,” Sanji announced with a grin, slipping off his shoes.

Zoro followed with a snort. “You looked like you hadn’t seen the sun in three days, so we decided to check if you were still alive.”

“I’ve been working,” Luffy said, flopping back onto the couch with a soft grunt. “And I totally saw the sun… through the window.”

Zoro rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

Sanji headed straight for the kitchen, setting the containers on the counter with care.

“Well, now you’re going to eat real food, not just toast or whatever sad thing you’ve been surviving on. You’re lucky I love you.”

Luffy grinned. “I know.”

Zoro walked over and dropped the paper bag beside him. “There’s dessert too. Sanji baked.”

“Really?” Luffy perked up. “What is it?”

“Lemon tart,” Sanji called from the kitchen. “Made it this morning.”

Luffy’s eyes lit up as he rubbed his belly.

“You hear that? We got lucky today.”

Zoro dropped beside him on the couch, tossing an arm over the back casually.

"How’s the editing going?”

Luffy leaned his head back. “Almost done. Hancock’s been hovering, but she’s letting me do my thing. The montage is gonna be cool.”

“She hovering because you’re good at your job or because she likes you?” Zoro smirked.

Luffy huffed. “Both.”

Sanji returned with plates already set, passing one to Luffy before handing another to Zoro.

“Don’t flirt with the pregnant omega,” he said to Zoro without looking.

“Too late,” Zoro muttered.

Luffy laughed and shifted on the couch, balancing the plate on his knees.

"You guys are the best.”

“Yeah, yeah. Eat,” Sanji said, finally settling down in the armchair with his own food.

The three of them sat together, sunlight filtering in through the windows, and for a moment everything felt warm and easy.

Zoro was already halfway through his lunch when Luffy squinted at them and asked, “Wait, aren’t you guys still in class at this hour?”

Both Sanji and Zoro paused for just a beat too long. Luffy raised an eyebrow.

Sanji cleared his throat and glanced at Zoro, who didn’t even try to look innocent.

“Well,” Sanji began, using his best casual voice, “technically, one of the teachers didn’t show up, so they let us out early.”

Zoro shrugged. “Yeah, it’s not like we snuck out or anything.”

Luffy narrowed his eyes, then looked down at his food.

"Uh-huh. And what class was that?”

“Chemistry,” Sanji replied too quickly. “Or maybe economics?”

Zoro rolled his eyes. “It was gym.”

“Gym is still a class!” Sanji shot back.

Luffy laughed, mouth full. “So you did run away.”

“No,” Sanji said with great dignity, “we tactically withdrew.”

“To bring you lunch,” Zoro added, jabbing his chopsticks at Luffy’s plate. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Luffy leaned back, grinning. “Man, you’re lucky I’m pregnant and hungry. Otherwise I’d report you.”

Sanji placed a hand over his heart. “That would be a betrayal of the deepest kind.”

Zoro just grunted. “You’d never turn us in. Who else is gonna bring you lemon tarts?”

Luffy looked dramatically conflicted. “True. I’m shallow like that.”

They fell into easy chatter again, the sort that filled the room with light noise but no pressure. Sanji started ranting about how the school cafeteria had committed crimes against pasta, and Zoro kept adding fuel by describing the “mystery meat” they’d tried to serve last week. Luffy laughed so much he had to put his plate down and hold his belly with both hands.

By the time lunch was over, the three of them were relaxed, full, and comfortably sprawled out like cats in the warm living room light.

Luffy sat cross-legged on the couch, absently running a hand over his rounded stomach as he glanced between his friends.

“I miss taking classes with you guys,” he said quietly, almost like it slipped out by accident.

Sanji scoffed, waving a hand. “Tch. There’s nothing to miss. Same teachers, same morons, same school food pretending to be edible.”

Luffy cracked a smile. “Still. It’s different when you’re not there. I dunno, I liked going with you both… made everything easier.”

Sanji’s smirk faded a little, and Zoro, sitting on the floor with his arms draped over the coffee table, tilted his head slightly. The glance they exchanged wasn’t long, but it was loud—one of those wordless conversations forged from knowing someone way too well. Sanji cleared his throat, just a touch awkwardly.

Before Luffy could say anything else, Zoro cut in, voice a bit louder than necessary.

“So. What’re you doing later this afternoon?”

Luffy blinked. “I’ve got my support group. Like every Wednesday.”

Zoro made a face, leaning back with a grunt. “Ugh. That sounds boring.”

Before the words were even out, Sanji had swatted him on the back of the head, hard enough to make Zoro flinch.

“Don’t be a jerk. He likes going, you moss-covered moron.”

Luffy laughed, covering his mouth. “He’s not wrong, though. It is kind of boring. But I don’t mind. It’s quiet, and I like hearing what the others say. Makes me feel less…” He gestured vaguely. “Alone.”

Sanji’s hand dropped slowly from Zoro’s shoulder, and the teasing faded from his expression.

“You’re not alone, Luffy.”

Zoro nodded, rubbing his head and muttering something about how violence wasn’t necessary for emotional support.

Luffy smiled again, this time softer. “I know. You guys showing up today kind of proves that.” He looked around his slightly messy living room. “Even if you’re probably skipping class and lying to me.”

Zoro and Sanji shared another look. This one, maybe, a little guiltier.

Sanji cleared his throat as he leaned against the back of the couch, brushing some hair behind his ear with practiced ease.

“So… about that Torao guy,” he said casually, too casually. “You’ve been talking about him a lot in the group chat.”

Luffy blinked. “Yeah?”

Zoro raised an eyebrow. “The one with the kid, right?”

“Mhm.” Luffy nodded, fiddling with a coaster on the table. “His name’s Law. He’s seventeen like us. His son’s name is Damian. He’s cool… a little quiet sometimes, and intense, but he’s nice. I invited him to Friday’s meet-up.”

Sanji tilted his head, crossing his arms. “Just invited him out of nowhere?”

Luffy shrugged. “Why not? He’s been helping me too, you know. With some stuff. And Damian’s really sweet.”

Zoro narrowed his eyes slightly, lips twitching like he was holding back a smirk.

“Helping you with ‘stuff,’ huh.”

“Oh my god.” Luffy rolled his eyes and leaned back with a sigh. “You two sound like my brothers.”

Sanji raised both hands defensively. “We’re just saying. You barely talk about anyone new for months, and now there’s a guy who edits his homework in your room and has a toddler who hugs you like you’re his favorite toy. It’s fair to be curious.”

Luffy grinned despite himself. “Well, you’ll get to meet him Friday. I told him my friends were cool.”

Sanji raised an eyebrow. “I hope we live up to the reputation.”

Zoro muttered, “If I don’t, it’s because I was assaulted earlier today by my own supposed comrade.”

Sanji smacked the back of his head again, this time with zero remorse.

Luffy laughed.

Sanji stayed uncharacteristically quiet for a moment, arms still crossed, leaning one shoulder lazily against the wall. His eyes flicked from Zoro, who was rubbing the spot Sanji had just smacked, back to Luffy, who was still lounging on the floor with his legs stretched out in front of him, poking at his belly like it had personally inconvenienced him.

Then, Sanji smirked—an unmistakable, scheming kind of smirk that Zoro immediately recognized and rolled his eyes at.

“You like him,” Sanji said suddenly, in a singsong tone.

Luffy blinked, caught mid-poke. “…Huh?”

“Law,” Sanji clarified, gesturing vaguely toward the air as if Law’s presence lingered like a scent in the room. “You like Law."

Luffy made a face, scrunching his nose. “What? No, I don’t.”

Sanji stepped forward like a cat that had just cornered its prey.

“Yes, you do. You talk about him a lot. You keep inviting him over. And when you do talk about him, you get this weird tone in your voice. All soft and gooey.”

“I do not,” Luffy argued immediately, sitting up straighter.

Zoro, who had stayed quiet up to this point, looked at Luffy with the kind of slow, measured thought that was rare for him. Then, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, he added, “He kinda does.”

Luffy turned to gape at him. “Zoro!”

Zoro shrugged. “You do. It’s not a bad thing.”

“I don’t even know him that well,” Luffy said defensively, already feeling the heat rising in his face. “He’s just… easy to be around. And Damian’s funny. That’s all.”

Sanji grinned even wider. “That’s exactly how it starts.”

Luffy covered his face with both hands and groaned. “You two are the worst.”

Zoro leaned back against the arm of the couch. “Could be worse. At least the guy’s not a jerk.”

Sanji added, “Yeah, and he’s hot. In that clinically-tired, emotionally-repressed way.”

“Stop talking,” Luffy whined into his hands.

Sanji and Zoro just exchanged a look and laughed.

Luffy pulled his hands away from his face, cheeks still flushed, and stared at both of them like they’d just told him the moon was made of cheese.

“I’ve literally been out of a relationship for two months,” he said, each word slow and deliberate. “Two. Months. I don’t want to be in another one. Especially with a pup on the way.”

Sanji flopped dramatically onto the couch beside him, one arm over the backrest and the other waving around like he was giving a TED Talk.

“And life keeps going, doesn’t it? Look—there he is, Torao, the emotionally complex, broody but supportive single dad—just appearing in your life when you’re vulnerable but still glowing. That’s a cosmic sign, Luffy. You can’t ignore that.”

Luffy gave him a deadpan look. “Did you hit your head today?”

Zoro snorted.

Luffy turned to him next. “And you? Aren’t you supposed to be neutral or whatever?”

Zoro shrugged. “Sanji’s right.”

Sanji sat up a little straighter, smug. “Say that again.”

“No.”

Luffy squinted at both of them, suspicious now. “You never agree. You argue about whether the sun’s out or not.”

Sanji tossed his hair back with a flourish. “We rarely agree. That’s what makes it special when we do.”

Zoro crossed his arms and leaned against the wall again. “We only agree when you’re being stupid.”

“I’m not being stupid,” Luffy groaned. “I’m just—still dealing with everything. I’m still grieving. Everything’s changed. I don’t even feel like myself half the time. I don’t want to drag someone else into that.”

Sanji softened a bit, his voice quieter. “And no one’s saying you have to. But maybe… don’t slam the door on something good just because it came too soon.”

Zoro nodded. “You don’t have to marry the guy. But don’t pretend you don’t like being around him.”

Luffy looked between them again, brow furrowed. He dropped his head back with a sigh.

“I hate you both.”

“You love us,” Sanji replied, grinning.

Zoro smirked. “Not as much as he likes Law.”

“Shut up!” Luffy groaned, throwing a pillow at both of them. His laugh was dry, humorless. “Law’s not even my type.”

Sanji raised an eyebrow, sitting up straighter on the couch.

“True. You like shy, short guys who wouldn’t say ‘boo’ to a fly.”

Luffy flinched, gritting his teeth. “Don’t remind me.”

Zoro scratched his head. “If other people can keep up with their lives, why can’t you?”

The words hung in the air like a dropped glass.

Luffy froze. His gaze snapped to Zoro, sharp and narrowed. Sanji turned his head slowly toward Zoro like he was witnessing a crime in real time.

Zoro blinked. “What?”

Luffy sat forward, hands on his knees.

"Explain that.”

Zoro opened his mouth, but Sanji cut in with a long-suffering sigh, running his hand down his face.

“Nice going, moss-for-brains.”

“What? What did I say?” Zoro asked, genuinely confused.

Sanji turned to Luffy. “We may or may not have seen… you-know-who. At school.”

Luffy’s throat tightened. “Koby.”

Neither of them answered, but the silence said enough.

“With someone?” Luffy asked. His voice was surprisingly calm, but there was a cold edge beneath it.

Sanji hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Look, we didn’t want to say anything. We weren’t even sure it was—”

“But it was,” Zoro added bluntly.

Sanji gave him a murderous look.

Luffy leaned back again, staring at the ceiling. “What were they doing?”

“Just walking,” Sanji said quickly. “Laughing. Talking. I mean, it wasn’t anything bad. But… yeah.”

Luffy’s chest felt heavy. His fingers tightened against his thighs. That familiar ache, the one that started in his gut and wrapped around his ribs, returned in full force. Sanji placed a hand on Luffy’s shoulder.

“We didn’t tell you to hurt you. We just thought… you should know.”

Zoro nodded, less gracefully. “He doesn’t deserve to take up space in your head. He ran.”

Luffy didn’t respond right away. He swallowed hard, his voice low. “He said it was too much. That I was too much.”

Sanji squeezed his shoulder. “He was too little.”

Luffy chuckled bitterly. “That was a good one.”

But the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Zoro frowned and whispered under his breath, “We broke him.”

Sanji didn’t answer—he just stood and followed Luffy, who had gone completely quiet. It was a dangerous kind of silence. Not the sulking kind, not the wounded kind—this one simmered. Luffy’s whole body was tense, jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides.

Sanji stepped into his path. “Luffy—”

“I’m fine,” Luffy said, too quickly. “I’m obviously not thinking about Koby. I’m obviously not remembering how he promised he’d be there, and then left me when things got a little uncomfortable.”

Zoro stood too now, unsure whether to speak or stay out of it.

“I’m obviously not thinking about how he didn’t even say it to my face—he just looked at the floor like a coward,” Luffy continued, his voice rising with each word. “I’m obviously not picturing that naive face he probably made while pretending to feel bad when asked about all this. Or how he said I’ll always care about you and we should still talk as if I’d just stay on the shelf waiting for him like some goddamn toy—”

He was pacing now, barefoot across the floor, each step louder than the last. His hand found the doorknob.

“I’m obviously not going to go find him and smash his stupid face in.”

“Luffy,” Sanji said, placing a hand on his shoulder, “sit down.”

“I already hit him once, remember?” Luffy said, eyes blazing, voice trembling. “Back when he said he was scared to confront his bullies and I, like an idiot, encouraged him knowing that he was nothing more than a coward. Fuck. And after everything we went through I decided to stay. And I stayed. I stayed!”

His voice cracked at the end, and he shook his head.

“I stayed,” he repeated, barely a whisper.

Sanji tightened his grip, gently pulling him back from the door. “And that means something. To us. To your kid. And someday, to someone who won’t run.”

Luffy's shoulders slumped, the heat draining out of him all at once. He leaned forward, forehead resting against Sanji’s shoulder, breathing hard. His fists were still clenched.

“I hate him,” Luffy muttered.

“I know,” Sanji said.

Zoro finally approached too, awkwardly patting Luffy’s back like one would console a startled cat.

“He doesn’t get to live rent-free in your head forever.”

Luffy laughed weakly. “Then someone evict him. Please.”

Sanji didn't say anything right away. He just kept a steady hand on Luffy's shoulder while Zoro stepped back, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his usual scowl softened by something almost like sympathy.

Luffy’s voice came out quieter this time, rougher. “We were together for two years.”

The words hung in the air like dust in a beam of sunlight. Even the distant sound of traffic outside seemed to muffle itself.

“I know it wasn’t much for some people,” Luffy went on, gaze dropping to the floor, “but that was everything to me. He was my first... well, my first real everything. First boyfriend. First kiss. First person I told about the pregnancy. He said he wanted this.”

Sanji exhaled softly and crouched to be at eye level with him. “You believed him. That’s not your fault.”

Luffy gave a tired shrug, his arms wrapping loosely around his middle.

“It’s stupid, but... I keep thinking he’ll realize he made a mistake. That he’ll show up and apologize or something. Even though I don’t want him to. Not really.”

Zoro tilted his head. “You still want him to hurt the way you did.”

Luffy nodded slowly. “Yeah. I want him to wake up one day and realize he lost something. That he could’ve had all of this.” He gestured vaguely to himself—his messy shirt, his swollen belly, his exhausted face. “That this was worth it.”

Sanji looked like he wanted to say something sharp, maybe vengeful, but instead, he just said gently, “You are worth it. And one day you’ll stop thinking about him when you wake up. One day, you won’t care.”

Luffy rubbed his face with one hand, sighing. “I hope that day comes before the baby does.”

Zoro finally spoke again. “You want us to help you stop thinking about him?”

Luffy raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

Zoro smirked faintly. “I mean, we can help you forget. We’ve got snacks. We’ve got stupid movies. We’ve got the rest of the day to kill."

Zoro flopped onto the couch first, one arm draped across the backrest as if he owned the place. Sanji followed a moment later, kicking off his shoes and settling on the opposite end. Luffy dropped into the middle cushion with a groan, dragging a pillow onto his lap as he leaned back and closed his eyes.

The room settled into silence for about ten seconds—just long enough for Luffy to believe he might get a break.

Then Zoro said, with zero subtlety, “You know, Torao could really help you forget about Koby.”

Sanji clicked his tongue. “Took the words right out of my mouth.”

Luffy’s eyes snapped open, and he sat up with a sharp glare aimed at both of them.

“Seriously? Again with this?”

Sanji shrugged, completely unbothered. “We’re just saying. He’s smart, good-looking in a ‘serious emo’ kind of way, has a kid already, so he knows the drill—”

“He’s not a dating checklist, Sanji,” Luffy snapped, though his tone had more exhaustion than anger. “You guys are acting like this is some romcom where the heartbroken omega magically falls for the brooding single dad.”

Zoro lifted an eyebrow. “It’s not not like that.”

Luffy let out a loud groan and pressed the pillow to his face. “I’m so done with you two trying to be matchmakers.”

Sanji leaned in, arms crossed over his knees. “We just want you to be happy. You’ve been through hell, and Law… he’s different. He listens to you. He doesn’t treat you like glass or walk on eggshells. That matters.”

Luffy peeked at him from behind the pillow. “I don’t need to be with someone to get better, Sanji. That’s not the goal here.”

“I know,” Sanji said gently. “But it’s okay if it happens along the way.”

Zoro nodded. “We’re not saying fall in love tomorrow. Just… don’t push him away if he sticks around.”

Luffy sighed and sagged into the sofa again. “I’m not even thinking about Law like that.”

“Sure,” Zoro muttered, smirking. “That’s why you invited him to a quiet get-together with all your closest friends.”

“That’s not—!” Luffy started, then groaned and threw his head back. “Okay, fine, maybe I like hanging out with him. He doesn’t annoy me. He doesn’t pity me. He doesn’t treat me like I’m one bad day away from breaking.”

Sanji softened at that. “That’s important, Luffy.”

“I still don’t want a boyfriend,” Luffy muttered.

“Then don’t have one,” Zoro said. “Just have someone who makes you feel less alone.”

Luffy didn’t respond right away.

Eventually, he murmured, “I’ll think about it.”

That was good enough for them. They didn’t say anything more. Just leaned back into the couch, letting the silence stretch out between the three of them.

This time, it was a comfortable one.

Zoro raised an eyebrow. “What time do you have to be at the support group?”

Luffy blinked, grateful for the change of subject. “Four.”

Sanji straightened up. “We’ll go with you.”

Luffy looked at him, surprised. “You don’t have to—”

“We’re coming,” Zoro cut in.

Sanji grinned. “Yeah, maybe if moss-for-brains actually listens to what omegas go through, he’ll stop acting like he knows everything.”

Zoro turned toward him slowly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sanji shrugged, all fake innocence. “Nothing, just that maybe hearing other people talk will knock some sense into your thick skull. You’re omega, right? You could benefit from it.”

Zoro’s jaw twitched. “You’re not even part of the conversation. You’re just a loud beta with no filter.”

“Better than being a walking rage problem with no understanding of his own secondary gender,” Sanji fired back, smirking. “You don’t even know what nesting is, do you?”

“I do,” Zoro barked. “I just don’t do it with fifty stupid pillows and lavender candles like you said omegas do!”

Sanji placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Lavender is calming, you Neanderthal.”

Luffy rolled his eyes and buried his face in the pillow again, groaning, “Why are you both like this.”

“Because we care,” Sanji said brightly.

“Because you’re hopeless,” Zoro added at the same time.

Luffy didn’t lift his head, muffling through the pillow, “This is going to be the most embarrassing support group ever.”

Zoro crossed his arms. “We’ll be quiet.”

Sanji scoffed. “No, we won’t.”

Luffy looked between them and couldn’t help but laugh. “You guys are so dumb.”

Sanji grinned, adjusting his shirt collar smugly and leaned back on the couch, lacing his fingers behind his head and smirking.

“Well, we’re going to meet this Torao, right? So he’ll have to pass the test.”

Luffy groaned, dragging a pillow over his face. “He’s not—! We’re not—! There’s no test!”

Zoro raised an eyebrow. “There should be.”

Luffy peeked out from under the pillow, exasperated. “It’s enough that my family already treats him like some sort of burglar. Garp called him a teenage raccoon, Ace won’t look at him without squinting like he’s reading fine print, and Sabo practically sniffed him when he walked in.”

Sanji snorted. “Sounds like standard procedure.”

“Sanji,” Luffy warned, sitting up straighter. “Seriously. He’s just a friend. He helps me, I help him. That’s all. He’s got enough on his plate already. He doesn’t need to be grilled by my friends, too.”

Zoro rested his head against the back of the couch and looked at the ceiling. “We’re not grilling. We’re evaluating.”

Luffy rolled his eyes. “It’s not an interview!”

Sanji grinned. “Could be. What are his qualifications, huh? Good listener? Responsible? Cute?”

Luffy’s face twitched. “I’m not answering that.”

“That's a yes,” Sanji and Zoro said in perfect unison.

Luffy flopped back on the couch with a loud groan. “I hate both of you.”

Sanji chuckled and ruffled his hair. “You’ll thank us later.”

Zoro added, “When you’re married with two more kids.”

“Stop. Talking.” Luffy mumbled, face smushed into the couch.

They let the silence hang for a moment, comfortable again.

Sanji finally sighed. “Alright. But seriously, we’ll behave at the support group. No third-degree. Not in front of the others.”

Zoro muttered, “But after that—”

“Zoro.” Luffy shot him a glare.

Zoro held up his hands. “Fine, fine. Just observing.”

Luffy closed his eyes and breathed out. “You’re all insane.”

Later, the support group met in one of the multipurpose rooms at the church, its walls lined with faded motivational posters and the faint smell of lemon-scented disinfectant still lingering in the air. At four sharp, the room was already buzzing softly with quiet chatter—most of the chairs had filled with familiar faces. A few omegas sat with their partners, some betas fidgeted with their drink cups, and one alpha was bouncing a baby on his lap.

Luffy sat a little stiffly, shoulders tense, his hands folded over his belly. His red hoodie was slightly stretched at the front, and his expression was unreadable—somewhere between focused and anxious. He hadn’t stopped glancing at the door since he walked in. The others noticed it too.

Miss Otohime beamed as she walked past him, gently patting his shoulder. “I’m so glad you brought company today, Luffy. It’s good to be supported.”

Luffy just gave a half-smile in return, his eyes flicking back to the entrance before the smile could even settle on his face.

Sanji was already making himself comfortable—offering to help set up chairs when they were a little short at one end, complimenting a young mother on her scarf, and charming an older omega into telling him about her baked goods business. His voice floated across the room like a light breeze.

Zoro, on the other hand, was settled firmly into his seat, arms crossed and brows drawn together. He hadn’t said much, just watched the room with his usual skeptical expression and occasionally muttered under his breath when Sanji got too social.

Luffy tried to focus, but the seconds crawled by, and every time the door creaked open—even when it was just someone coming back from the bathroom—he sat a little straighter in anticipation. The seat next to him remained empty. His hands fiddled with the sleeves of his hoodie, and his foot tapped quietly against the floor.

Zoro leaned in closer to Luffy, lowering his voice despite the hum of conversations around them. "So, this is it? The famous group?"

Luffy nodded without looking away from the door. "Yeah. They meet twice a week. Miss Otohime started it a few years ago. She's kind of like the of the group."

Sanji shifted in his seat, adjusting the collar of his button-up. "So what do you do? Sit around and trauma-dump?"

Luffy snorted. "Kinda, yeah. But not always. Sometimes it's just talking about the week. Or venting. Or showing baby pictures."

Zoro raised a brow. "And you like this?"

Luffy shrugged. "I didn’t at first. Garp made me come, said it was this or he'd make me go to a family therapist with Sabo and Ace." He looked away, expression unreadable. "But it got better. The people here… they get it. Above all Law."

Sanji's expression softened. "Anyone interesting? Apart from Law, of course."

Luffy leaned back, eyes flicking briefly to Sanji. “You mean gossip?”

“Obviously.”

Luffy grinned faintly. “Okay, well, there’s a couple who always bring baked stuff. She’s omega, he’s alpha, and they met here. Everyone thought it was cute until they found out he ghosted her for a month before apologizing with a croquembouche.”

Zoro blinked. “What the hell is a croquem—”

“Tower of cream puffs,” Sanji supplied. “You’d know if you had taste.”

Luffy ignored them and kept going. “Then there’s that one beta dad who always brings his twin daughters. He’s new. Super nervous. I think he was in high school or something. And there’s this other guy—alpha, maybe sixteen or seventeen—who thinks he’s too cool for everyone but still shows up.”

Zoro smirked. “Sounds familiar.”

Sanji nudged him. “Don’t look at me.”

Luffy chuckled, finally relaxing a little. "They're all kinda weird. But good weird. Like... it makes you feel less alone." He hesitated, then added, "I think that’s why I hoped Law would come. I feel less alone with him too."

Sanji and Zoro shared a glance but said nothing. Luffy went quiet again, glancing toward the door once more.

Luffy was still midway through recounting a chaotic support group story involving a spilled bottle of prenatal vitamins and someone’s toddler escaping out the door when the door creaked open.

Law stepped in, his hair slightly windswept, messenger bag slung over one shoulder, hoodie hanging off one side as if he'd rushed out and barely remembered to dress properly. His eyes scanned the room once—until they landed on Luffy. Luffy waved, bright and enthusiastic, like Law had just returned from a months-long journey and not just shown up five minutes late.

Law's smile was small, barely there, but real. It softened the sharp lines of his face.

Luffy’s heart thumped—once, then again.

Shut up, he told it.

Sanji leaned in, already grinning like a cat who had found the cream.

"There’s your ‘just a friend,’ huh?”

Luffy’s elbow met Sanji’s ribs fast and hard.

“I didn’t say anything,” Sanji wheezed.

Zoro, arms crossed and watching Law with narrowed eyes, muttered, “He looks tired. Hope he doesn’t fall asleep during whatever they talk about in here.”

Luffy looked back at Law and motioned him over, patting the chair next to his own. Law hesitated only a moment before walking toward them and sitting, giving polite nods to Zoro and Sanji.

“Hey,” Luffy greeted him again, now quieter. “You made it.”

“I said I would,” Law replied, glancing at him. “You thought I’d ditch?”

“No,” Luffy said too quickly. “No! I mean, not really. I just… you know… sometimes stuff comes up.”

Zoro watched them like a bored referee at a game that hadn’t picked up speed yet. Sanji, on the other hand, was visibly giddy, and Luffy regretted everything.

He cleared his throat, desperate to change the subject. “So, how’s the project?”

Law groaned softly and rubbed his temples. “If I have to explain source credibility to Kid one more time, I might actually explode.”

Sanji laughed. “Sounds like fun.”

“It’s not,” Law deadpanned. He looked at Luffy again. “Who are they?”

And there it was again—that strange fluttery feeling in Luffy’s chest. No. No, no, no. He didn’t like Law. He liked annoying, overly organized alphas with matching socks and cute dimples. Law was frowning, wore all black, and looked like he hadn’t slept since middle school.

Luffy reminded himself of his new life goals: no dating, no relationships, no distractions.

His brain added: Zoro and Sanji should stop projecting their unresolved romantic tension onto you and maybe make out already.

Luffy glanced sideways at them. Zoro was clearly trying to size Law up, and Sanji was clearly trying to look like he wasn’t looking.

“Seriously,” he muttered, just loud enough for them to hear. “If you two need to get a room, I’ll give you the number for the inn down the street.”

Sanji choked on air, and Zoro sat up straight. “The hell are you talking about?”

“I don’t know, maybe redirect some of that attention you’re throwing at my nonexistent love life to your very obvious one,” Luffy said, arms folded smugly.

Law raised an eyebrow. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing,” all three of them said in unison.

Miss Otohime called the group to order at that moment, saving them from implosion. Luffy took a deep breath and forced himself to focus. He didn’t like Law. Not like that.

Definitely not.

 

Maybe.

Chapter Text

Law walked with his hands deep in his pockets, earbuds in but no music playing, mind already turning through logistics like a well-oiled machine. Luffy's last message was still open on his phone, timestamped 10:03 a.m.:

Luffy - 10:03 A.M
Franky and I’ll pick u and the baby Torao up after school 🦖 be ready!!”

There was a little emoji after the sentence, something dumb like a dancing dinosaur. Typical Luffy.

Law knew exactly how this afternoon would go. It was Friday. School was out. Damian would be excited, loud, and sticky from whatever snack they’d given him. His energy would spike, then crash—and Law was determined to get at least an hour of nap time out of him before they headed to this “quiet get-together” Luffy had promised.

As he neared the daycare, the usual parental chaos was in full swing. Strollers blocking the narrow path, a couple of overheated moms arguing about parking spaces, a toddler screaming bloody murder over a dropped lollipop. Law bypassed them all with the quiet expertise of someone who’d been navigating this exact battleground for two years.

He thought about Luffy’s invitation again. His brain was running multiple subroutines: calculate travel time, dinner options, nap window, appropriate clothing for Damian, level of social engagement required. Somewhere in there was the ever-looming specter of his mother, Dulcinea, and the lecture she’d definitely give if she found out.

“You’re taking your son to a gathering after bedtime?” she’d say, voice steeped in disappointment and passive aggression. “Do you even care about his routines? His stability?”

Law could already hear it. The imaginary version of her voice came with a dramatic sigh and a headshake. She always acted like taking Damian anywhere remotely fun was akin to abandoning him in the woods.

He rolled his eyes.

Damian wasn’t made of glass. The kid loved Luffy—talked about him constantly—and had been looking forward to this outing since Monday. And it wasn’t a wild party. It was a group of teens, probably just sitting around with snacks, music, and one or two too many inside jokes. He doubted anyone was planning on playing drinking games or sneaking off to make out behind couches. And even if they were… Damian would be safe. With him. Always.

Law reached the daycare gate and peeked through. There he was—Damian, crouched by the sandbox, building a misshapen structure with a green plastic shovel and what looked like half of someone else’s toy truck. His mouth was moving as he explained something to no one, probably the names of every dinosaur involved in the castle’s construction.

Law exhaled slowly, letting the tension bleed out of his shoulders. He raised a hand in greeting. Damian spotted him and stood up immediately, yelling “Papa!” like they hadn’t seen each other in years.

Law felt a little lighter.

The gathering could be a disaster. It could be awkward or too loud or filled with too many new people. But Damian would be happy. Luffy would be there. Maybe, just maybe, Law could allow himself to enjoy something for once.

Damian ran toward Law with his arms open, a huge grin on his face, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process. Law crouched slightly to catch him, steadying the small bundle of energy with practiced hands.

“Papa! I made a dinosaur today! “It's huge like Godzilla” Damian announced, eyes sparkling, speaking in one breath. “Conis-sensei said that Godzilla is not a dinosaur.”

Law smirked, brushing dirt off Damian’s cheeks. “It's not actually a dinosaur.”

Damian nodded solemnly, as if it were a confirmed scientific fact. “I know. Godzilla is a monster, but he's as big as a dinosaur." He paused to think, then blurted, “—But Godzilla looks like a dinosaur!”

One of the caretakers exited behind them, holding Damian’s little dinosaur-themed backpack by the straps. She smiled warmly at Law. “He had a good day. Talked about a museum the whole time.”

“Thanks,” Law said, taking the backpack from her and sliding it over his shoulder. Damian was already trying to climb up his leg like a koala. Law bent to lift him easily, propping him on his hip before turning toward the exit.

Outside, the sunlight was soft and golden, just past its midday peak. The breeze was light, fluttering Damian’s hair as they stepped out onto the sidewalk. Law shifted the weight of the backpack and adjusted Damian with one arm as they walked.

“Guess what,” Law said, looking ahead.

Damian glanced up, curious. “What?”

“We’re going to see Luffy today.”

Damian gasped, small hands clenching his shirt in excitement. “Really?! Today-today?!”

“Today-today,” Law confirmed, smirking at his phrasing.

Damian started bouncing slightly in his arms. “Is he gonna play dinosaurs with me again?”

“Maybe, since some of his friends will be there too.”

Damian’s mouth made a small “o” of wonder, as if trying to imagine how many new people could possibly be contained in a single house. Then he gasped again. “Are they nice? Do they have snacks? Do they like dinosaurs?"

Law chuckled. “You’ll find out soon. But first, nap. You need to be awake for all that playing.”

Damian nodded with wide, solemn eyes—the kind of nod that said yes, I understand, even though Law could feel the way his body was already buzzing with anticipation. Vibrating, really. The boy was practically electric.

Law knew there was no way Damian would fall asleep easily, not when Luffy was on the horizon like Christmas morning—but he had to try. A cranky Damian was a dramatic Damian, and Luffy’s friends didn’t need to be introduced to that version of his son.

Still, as he walked them home, Law couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He wasn’t sure when spending time with Luffy had stopped feeling like a casual favor and started feeling like something he looked forward to. Something he planned his day around.

He’d worry about that later. For now, he just had to get Damian to sleep. Or at least lying down with his eyes shut. That alone would be a miracle.

Law shifted Damian higher in his arms as they neared the front gate. The boy’s excited babbling had softened into a stream of hums, as if he were trying to lull himself to sleep—but Law wasn’t fooled. The moment they got inside, Damian would be looking for his toy dinosaurs and preparing for battle.

As they reached the front steps, the familiar chime of laughter rang out from the corner of the sidewalk. Law turned to see Lami walking toward the house, flanked by her two inseparable friends, Chimney and Apis. The three girls were animated as always, backpacks bouncing, probably coming from some after-school club or overpriced café that sold pink drinks.

The second they spotted him, or more accurately—spotted Damian—their conversation derailed.

“Damian!!” Chimney squealed, practically skipping to them.

“Oh no,” Law muttered under his breath.

“My little monster!” Lami cooed, rushing ahead to tickle Damian’s belly. The boy immediately snapped back into alert mode, squealing with laughter and wrapping his arms around her neck when she leaned close.

“Hi Auntie Lami!” he chirped.

“Hi baby,” she grinned, then turned a dramatic pout to Law. “You didn’t tell me you were picking him up early!”

“Didn’t know it was such a community event,” Law said dryly, adjusting the backpack strap.

Apis peeked over Lami’s shoulder. “We were just talking about him! I miss when he used to come on weekend walks.”

“You guys were just using him as a dog magnet,” Law accused.

“Uh, yeah,” Chimney replied unapologetically. “Cute kid equals cute attention.”

Law rolled his eyes and gestured toward the door with his chin. “Move it. I have a ticking time bomb that needs to be reset with a nap.”

The girls laughed and ushered themselves inside, each tossing off their shoes with chaotic energy, like a mini-storm had swept through the entryway. Damian waved at them from Law’s arms as Law climbed the stairs, shaking his head.

Once upstairs, Law set Damian on the bed and pulled the blinds halfway shut. The house was blissfully empty—no mother to criticize his choices, no Rosinante asking if he’d eaten, and no Doflamingo stomping through with loud phone calls. Just quiet. For now.

“Alright, Damian. Nap time,” he said, kneeling to take off the boy’s shoes.

Damian twisted to reach for the teddy bear that Luffy gave him, on the nightstand. “But I’m not tired.”

“You say that every time. Then five minutes later, you’re drooling.”

“No I don’t,” Damian protested with a yawn.

Law arched an eyebrow. “Convincing.”

He tucked him in with practiced hands, letting Damian keep the teddy bear, and sat on the edge of the bed for a few moments until the boy's breathing slowed and his eyes fluttered shut. Maybe it wouldn’t be a full nap. But twenty minutes of stillness would already be a win.

Law stood, quietly heading toward his own desk, where his laptop sat waiting. He could at least review one section of the project outline before they left later. Maybe even change out of his wrinkled shirt. He still wasn’t sure what to wear—Luffy’s group didn’t seem judgmental, but it was still the first time he’d be meeting all of them.

He glanced over his shoulder. Damian’s hair peeked over the blanket. Peaceful. For now.

Law exhaled slowly, rubbed his temple, and sat down. Time to make the most of this rare silence.

Law stared at the screen in front of him, fingers hovering over the keyboard, the document blinking—waiting for him to finish a sentence he no longer remembered how to start. He leaned back in his chair with a quiet sigh, the soft sounds of Damian’s breathing behind him reminding him that for now, at least, he had silence.

He was supposed to be writing about the medical advancements and ethics—something he normally would have torn through with no issue. But his mind was somewhere else. Or rather, back in a place he didn’t really like revisiting.

He’d never been the outgoing one. He wasn’t like Penguin or Shachi, they could talk to anyone and befriend strangers on a whim, or like Lami, who collected social circles like they were hobby cards. Law had always kept a tight group of people he actually liked, and he was fine with that. He liked quiet nights in, gossiping with his friends about teachers, relationships, TV shows, and stupid memes. If someone managed to sneak in a beer or two? Even better.

And then everything changed.

The moment it got out that his girlfriend was pregnant, things started to fall apart. It wasn’t like they were trying to hide it, but Law hadn’t exactly broadcast it either. They were still figuring things out when word spread like wildfire. Suddenly, he was being looked at like he was radioactive. Even people he considered close started to ghost him or treat him with this weird, pitying distance—like he’d ruined his life, and hanging out with him might mean they'd ruin theirs too.

He stopped getting invited to parties. Group chats dried up. Some people even switched seats in class, like teen parenthood was a disease they might catch if they sat too close. It hadn’t taken long for Law to retreat into himself. He already hadn’t been very social, but now he didn’t even try.

Worse still, when his girlfriend left—when she decided she wasn’t ready to be a mother—he became that guy. The one who got abandoned and still stuck around to raise the kid. Some people acted like he was some kind of martyr. Others acted like he was stupid.

He didn’t care about their opinions, not really. Not anymore. He had Damian, and Damian was real, warm, loud, exhausting, and his. That was enough.

Still… he wondered sometimes. What if things had been different? What if someone had stuck around? What if someone still could?

He frowned, pushing those thoughts away before they tangled him up too tightly. He clicked back into the document and forced himself to refocus. Paragraph by paragraph, even if it killed him.

There was still time before Luffy and that Franky guy showed up. He could finish this one section, maybe brush his hair, maybe even feel like a human being for five minutes before he had to be a dad in public again.

And yet, even as he resumed typing, his mind kept drifting—toward Luffy, toward what it would be like tonight, and toward the strange thought that maybe… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to start being around people again.

Law saved his document with a sharp sigh, pushed back his chair, and glanced at the bed. Damian stirred with a grumble, scrunching his nose and turning over. His little fists clenched the blanket, and he made a small whining sound—the kind that meant just on the edge of waking up. The bass thumped through the walls again, rattling the glass on Law’s desk.

He muttered under his breath and grabbed his phone, texting Lami:

"Turn it down. Damian's sleeping."

No response. Again.

Law's jaw tightened as he tucked his phone into his pocket and quietly left the room. He closed the door behind him, careful not to let it click loudly, then made his way down the hallway and toward the stairs, each beat of the music growing louder, more obnoxious, and—worse—more distorted. Someone had definitely messed with the equalizer.

He reached the bottom of the stairs and saw them—Lami and her two friends, Chimney and Apis, sprawled across the living room like they owned the place. Chimney was trying to teach Apis a ridiculous dance move from some viral video, and Lami, phone in hand, was the one blasting the music from a speaker set up on the console table like it was a house party.

Law stood at the edge of the room, arms crossed, waiting.

None of them noticed him.

He cleared his throat. Nothing.

"Hey!" he called, raising his voice over the music.

Apis turned first, eyes wide. Chimney stopped mid-dance. Lami didn’t look up until she noticed everyone else freezing.

“Oh,” she said, like she’d just remembered he lived there. “Heyyyyyy, what’s up?”

“What’s up,” Law echoed flatly, stepping closer, “is the volume, Lami. I told you Damian’s sleeping. Turn it down.”

Lami raised her hands in surrender. “Relax, jeez, we were just trying out a new playlist. It’s not like we’re throwing a rave.”

“You’re throwing a tantrum through speakers,” Law said, grabbing her phone and lowering the volume himself before she could react.

Chimney stifled a laugh. Apis pretended to fix her hair.

“You don’t have to be so dramatic,” Lami muttered.

Law looked at her, deadpan. “You want to deal with a two-year-old having a meltdown because he didn’t nap properly?”

Lami’s mouth opened and shut. She sank a little lower into the couch.

“Thought so.”

He handed her phone back with a sigh. “Just keep it low, alright? I’ve got work to do.”

Lami rolled her eyes but nodded, gesturing to her friends to chill. Chimney grabbed a pair of earbuds and offered one to Apis. At least they were trying now.

Law didn’t wait for more discussion. He turned and headed back up the stairs, shaking his head. He never should have let her have friends over. But then again, it was easier than dealing with his mother directly, and Lami wasn’t always like this.

Still, when he reached his room again and saw Damian sleeping peacefully, he exhaled and quietly returned to his desk.

One quiet moment preserved. Now back to the nightmare that was this thesis project.

Law had finally gotten into a rhythm. The kind of mental groove that only came after wrestling with several drafts, rewording the same paragraph three times, and deciding he could live with the phrasing just this once. His fingers tapped steadily on the keyboard, his eyes darting between his notes and the screen, and for the first time all week, he felt like maybe—just maybe—he was catching up.

The house had been quiet. Blessedly quiet. Damian, curled up in the bed behind him, had fallen into a deeper sleep, his breathing slow and steady. Law had even dared to stretch his legs and sit back for a second without worrying about a sudden cry or thump on the floor.

Then it happened.

The bass dropped. Again.

Law froze mid-sentence, blinking at the wall as if it could somehow be responsible.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

The same awful, bass-heavy song as before, louder this time. Like Lami had cranked it up just to spite him.

From the bed, Damian stirred. Then whimpered.

Law turned in his chair just as his son’s little hands reached for the blanket, pulling it over his head with a grumble. But it was too late—the child squirmed, turned over again, and let out a loud, sleepy complaint.

Law’s nostrils flared.

He stood, stormed to the door, opened it more forcefully than necessary, and stalked back down the stairs, skipping two steps at a time.

“LAMI!” he shouted over the pounding beat as he entered the living room.

All three girls jumped. Lami was holding her phone again, grinning at something Apis had just said. Chimney had returned to dancing in socks on the tile floor. The music came from the same speaker, now vibrating slightly from the pressure of the sound.

Law marched straight to the table, grabbed the speaker, and turned it off without caring whether or not he ruined the button.

“Hey!” Lami protested, reaching out as if he’d just kidnapped a puppy.

“I told you to keep it down,” Law snapped. “You had one job.”

“It’s just music, Law, calm down—”

“You woke him up.” Law’s voice dropped, cold and low. “He hasn’t napped properly. I asked you once. I was polite. I even came down here instead of yelling from upstairs. This is the second time. You’re done.”

“It’s not that serious!” Chimney mumbled.

Law shot her a look that shut her up instantly. “You don’t live here.”

He turned back to his sister. “Either turn it off or take your friends somewhere else. I have schoolwork, and now I have to calm down a cranky toddler because you can’t go five minutes without blasting trashy dance remixes.”

Lami crossed her arms. “Why do you always act like you’re the adult?”

“Because I am, Lami.”

There was a beat of silence between them. Lami’s mouth curled as if she wanted to say something cruel, but she stopped herself. She turned away with a huff and sat down hard on the couch, pulling out her phone and jabbing at it.

Law didn’t wait to see if the speaker turned on again. He carried it with him up the stairs.

Damian had already sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes and pouting.

“‘S too loud,” he mumbled as Law walked in.

“I know,” Law said gently, setting the speaker on his desk and walking over. “I fixed it.”

He sat beside Damian and rubbed his back slowly. “Wanna lie back down for a little more? We’ve got some fun coming later. Luffy’s picking us up, remember?”

Damian sniffled and blinked slowly. “Luffy has gummy bears.”

Law smiled faintly. “Yeah, and he might bring one for you.”

The boy smiled at the thought and curled back up. Law stayed beside him for a bit, listening as his breathing evened out again.

He’d lost time. The momentum for the project was broken.

But at least he’d reclaimed the silence.

Damian didn’t go back to sleep.

No matter how much Law adjusted the sheets, rubbed his back, or whispered the soft tone that usually calmed him down, the toddler kept shifting around, kicking at the blanket and twisting his body like he was trying to untangle invisible threads.

“Damian,” Law murmured, brushing the boy’s hair from his forehead, “come on, just thirty more minutes. Please.”

Damian let out a dramatic groan, kicking both feet now. “I not sleepy…”

“You were,” Law muttered under his breath, glancing at the laptop screen still glowing across the room. “You were very sleepy.”

“I wanna wake up.”

“You already are awake,” Law sighed, rubbing his temples. “But that doesn’t mean it’s time to get up.”

Damian whined and rolled toward Law, burying his face into his stomach and curling up there. “You warm.”

“I’m not a pillow,” Law said dryly, though he didn’t push him away.

The boy yawned—great, yawned—and Law’s hope sparked for a second. But a moment later, Damian shifted again, crawling up into Law’s lap like a small, heavy cat that refused to settle.

“I hungry,” he mumbled.

“You’re always hungry,” Law said, glancing at the time on his phone. “You ate at daycare.”

“I hungry again.”

Law looked down at him and let out another long sigh. “If I give you a snack, will you lie down afterward?”

Damian nodded quickly. “Yes.”

Law narrowed his eyes. “You’re lying.”

Damian grinned.

Law carried him downstairs anyway, offering a death glare at Lami and her friends who were now huddled around her phone, scrolling. No one said anything when he passed—probably for the best.

He gave Damian a banana and some yogurt, sat him at the table, and leaned against the counter with crossed arms, silently trying to recalculate the rest of his day.

He wouldn’t be able to finish his project section like he’d hoped. The quiet time was gone. Damian was now fully in “hyperactive toddler mode,” and Law would be lucky if he didn’t walk into the get-together with eye bags and the patience of a man on the verge.

Across the table, Damian swung his legs while eating, happily humming between bites.

“You're lucky you’re cute,” Law muttered.

Damian didn’t hear. Or pretended not to.

Law sighed again and rubbed his face. This was the price of trying to be everything at once—student, teen, full-time parent. And right now, there was no getting out of it.

Lami’s voice drifted in from the living room—sharp, fast, and just loud enough that she probably wanted Law to hear, even if she pretended otherwise.

“I’m just saying,” she huffed to Chimney and Apis, “it’s not normal to be stuck at home all the time because someone else had a baby. Like, I’m thirteen. I should be able to have friends over without everything being about diapers and nap times and quiet hours.”

Law stayed silent in the kitchen, leaning against the counter while Damian finished his snack. He didn’t move, didn’t sigh, didn’t even roll his eyes. He was used to it. That tone, those complaints—they weren’t new.

He knew Lami loved Damian. In her own way, she was obsessed with the kid. She bought him little socks when she found ones with animals on them, tried to teach him how to say weird words, and once even cried when he said her name correctly for the first time.

But that love had limits. Limits that showed up when her social life clashed with Damian’s needs. When her friends didn’t want to lower their voices. When she couldn’t blast music after school. When she wanted to go out, and Dulcinea wasn’t home, and Law had to say: no, not today.

“She acts like it’s my fault,” Lami was saying now. “Like I signed up for any of this. But I didn’t. He did.”

Chimney muttered something in response that Law couldn’t make out, and Apis laughed softly.

Law clenched his jaw and focused on Damian, who was licking the inside of his yogurt cup like it held eternal youth. “Hey,” Law said, softening his voice, “you done?”

Damian nodded, mouth full, and stretched his arms up to be carried. Law picked him up effortlessly and wiped his face with a napkin.

He didn’t go into the living room. He wasn’t in the mood for that conversation, and frankly, Lami wasn’t either—she was just venting. She always got like this when something was happening with her friends and she had to weigh responsibility against impulse.

Back in his room, Law laid Damian on the bed with a blanket and let the boy curl up with the stuffed bear. The moment Damian closed his eyes again, Law sat back at his desk, opened his laptop, and exhaled.

The ache was in his chest this time. That slow, pressurized guilt he never really escaped. He’d brought Damian into this world, yes—but it often felt like he was trying to keep that world from folding in on itself. And sometimes that meant people he cared about resented him for it.

But Law didn’t regret Damian. Not even on the worst days.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder, as he stared at the blinking cursor on his document, what things would’ve been like if he didn’t have to play grown-up at seventeen. If he didn’t have to juggle maturity while his own sister got to voice out loud the things he never dared to say.

Law kept his eyes on the screen, but the words on the document blurred together. The longer he sat there, the more the house seemed to close in—between Lami’s passive-aggressive sighs and Damian’s soft, rhythmic breathing behind him.

He had about two pages left to clean up and format. His project partner hadn’t even sent their part. Law wasn’t surprised. It was always like this. If he wanted it done, he had to do it himself. Just like everything else.

From the other side of the door, Lami’s voice had quieted a little. Maybe she’d gone back to watching some reality show with her friends or gotten distracted scrolling on her phone. Law doubted she’d talk to him before he left the house; he wasn’t even sure if she’d noticed Damian hadn’t gone back to sleep.

He turned to glance at the bed. Damian had his thumb pressed under his lip and was curled around the bear like it was keeping him afloat. His legs twitched occasionally, like he was chasing something in a dream.

Law sighed and minimized his document, rubbing his temples. He couldn’t focus. Not with the lingering echo of Lami’s words still turning in his head.

“I didn’t sign up for this.”

Neither had he. Not like this. He never asked for the hospital to deny him custody at first. He never asked for the other parent to walk away and wipe their hands clean. He never asked for Dulcinea to swoop in, to become so involved that she made every decision feel like a test.

But he stayed. Every night. Every tantrum. Every cough, every fever, every long night writing with Damian on his chest because there was no one else.

Law loved Damian more than anything—but sometimes, the weight of that love was a quiet, constant ache.

His phone buzzed.

It was a message from Luffy, letting him know they were heading out soon to pick him up. He had maybe twenty minutes. Enough time to throw on a clean shirt, wipe the stress from his face, and pretend he was just a normal teen going to a quiet hangout with friends.

Law closed his laptop and stood up slowly, cracking his neck and stretching his arms over his head. He looked at Damian again and gently nudged his shoulder.

“Hey, little bear,” he murmured, brushing a lock of hair from the boy’s forehead. “Time to wake up.”

Damian stirred, groaned, and rolled over, but after a few more whispers and a soft shake, he blinked up at Law with glassy, confused eyes.

“We’re going to see Luffy, remember?” Law reminded him.

Damian perked up at the name, and Law smiled—just a little.

Yeah. This part? This was worth it.

Law tugged open the closet doors, one of them slightly off its track and squeaking as it rolled. Half the space was filled with his own neatly folded clothes—dark shirts, worn hoodies, a couple of school uniforms in plastic dry-cleaner bags—and the other half was Damian’s, a mix of toddler-size button-ups, soft printed T-shirts with animals or stars, and tiny pairs of jeans that barely fit anymore.

Behind him, Damian stretched out on the bed like a cat, limbs long and still sleepy. He blinked slowly and mumbled, “I wanna look as cool as you.”

Law paused mid-reach and looked back at him, a brow raising. “As cool as me?”

Damian nodded, dragging his blanket with him as he scooted to the edge of the bed. “You always wear cool clothes. Like black. And shoes that make sounds.”

Law chuckled under his breath. “They're just boots, not magic.”

“But they sound magic.”

Law pulled out a tiny black T-shirt with a red dinosaur on it and a pair of dark denim jeans with a skull patch on one knee. “Okay, mister fashion critic. You want to look like me? Here’s your edgy ensemble.”

Damian’s eyes lit up as he slid off the bed and padded over, still wobbling a little from sleep. “Does it come with boots that sound magic?”

“No, but I’ll let you wear the socks with the sharks on them.”

“That’s almost the same.”

Law knelt down and helped Damian change, brushing out his hair a bit with his fingers. The boy babbled as they worked, telling him about the dream he had during his nap. Law listened, smiling faintly. He liked these moments when Damian was chatty and happy, and the house was just quiet enough that it felt like their own.

Once Damian was dressed, he turned toward the mirror and struck a pose. “I look awesome.”

Law stood, brushing off his jeans. “You do.”

Damian tugged on his hand. “What are you gonna wear?”

Law sighed with exaggerated dread. “Something less awesome, apparently.”

He ruffled Damian’s hair and grabbed a clean shirt from the dresser. He didn’t have time to overthink it—black long-sleeve, clean jeans, leather jacket. No frills. He didn’t care if it was a ‘get-together’; he wasn’t there to impress anyone. Except maybe… no, not even Luffy. That was just… coincidental.

Damian watched him as he changed and then whispered, “Luffy’s gonna like your clothes.”

Law gave him a sideways look. “You think?”

“Yeah,” Damian said seriously, arms crossed. “You’re gonna look like a motocy.”

Law chuckled and shook his head. “You’re too much sometimes.”

Law crouched down by the bed, pulling the backpack closer as Damian sat beside him on the carpet, kicking his little legs in those shark socks he insisted on wearing. The backpack was small, black with faded patches from cartoons Damian liked last year. Law opened it, mentally checking the essentials: clean shirt, pants, extra underwear, wipes, and one of those pre-packaged snack bags just in case. He folded the clothes neatly and tucked them into the largest pocket.

Meanwhile, Damian was carefully selecting two toy dinosaurs from his pile on the floor. After a long moment of deliberation, he added a battered triceratops and a tiny T-Rex with one arm missing. He looked at Law and said with utmost seriousness, “They’re best friends.”

“Perfect,” Law muttered, gently zipping up the backpack once everything was in place.

He was slinging the bag over his shoulder when there was a sharp knock at the door—then it creaked open without waiting for a reply.

Lami leaned inside, still glued to her phone. “We’re gonna order food,” she said without looking up. “You want anything for Damian?”

Law adjusted the strap on the bag, his movements casual. “Nah. We’re heading out.”

That finally got her to glance up. Her thumb paused mid-scroll as she looked him up and down, taking in the backpack, Damian’s neat outfit, and Law’s leather jacket. Her mouth curled into a pouty, annoyed expression, somewhere between judgmental little sister and teenage jealousy.

“Oh,” she said, her tone sharp and flat. “Going out?”

Law didn’t respond. He bent down to help Damian with his shoes, but he could feel Lami’s stare boring into the top of his head.

“I’ll tell mom,” she added lightly, though her voice was anything but innocent.

Law sighed through his nose. “Be my guest.”

Lami scoffed. “She’s gonna flip when she finds out you’re taking him to some party or whatever it is—”

“It’s not a party. It’s just a small get-together.” Law stood up slowly, his voice level, but his eyes narrowing slightly. “With people who don’t treat me like I’m radioactive.”

Lami rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Yeah, well, maybe if you didn’t act like we’re all out to ruin your life—”

“Maybe if you didn’t act like he ruined yours,” Law snapped back without raising his voice.

That silenced her. For a second, the air between them buzzed with tension. Damian tugged gently at Law’s hand, and Law looked down at his son, face softening immediately.

Lami opened her mouth again, then thought better of it. She turned, muttered something under her breath, and shut the door behind her.

Law exhaled and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

“Papa?” Damian asked quietly. “We still go?”

Law glanced at him and nodded. “Yeah. We’re still going.”

He picked up the backpack, adjusted the strap, and slung it across his shoulder again. “Let’s get your jacket. Franky and Luffy should be here any minute.”

Damian had already run halfway down the stairs before Law could call after him to slow down. His little sneakers thumped against the wood steps, followed by the telltale creak of the last one. Law remained in his room for a moment, staring at the message thread with Luffy.

Law - 5:20 P.M
We're ready.

He'd typed it out without much thought, thumb hesitating for a second before hitting send. Luffy replied almost instantly.
Luffy - 5:21 P.M
Perfect! We're leaving now, see you in 10! 😎🐢

Law stared at the turtle emoji and exhaled a small laugh through his nose and headed downstairs.

In the living room, Damian was already rummaging around the entryway, trying to zip up his little jacket on his own.

"Need help?" Law asked, walking over.

“No,” Damian said defiantly, brows furrowed in deep concentration as he battled with the zipper. After a few failed tries and a soft grumble, he surrendered. “...Maybe.”

Law knelt and tugged the zipper gently into place, smoothing the jacket down once it was secured. “There. Ready to go.”

“Do I look cool?” Damian asked, craning his head up to meet Law’s eyes with serious anticipation.

Law gave him a mock-inspection. “Definitely the coolest. Cooler than me.”

Damian beamed and bounced on his heels. “Even cooler than Luffy?”

Law paused. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

That made Damian giggle.

Law glanced at the clock near the door: five twenty-five. Luffy would be there any minute.

He sat down on the bottom step and pulled out his phone again, checking messages and the weather, just to kill time. He could hear Lami and her friends still in the kitchen, laughing loudly about something on one of their phones, their voices muffled through the walls.

“Will Luffy bring toys?” Damian asked suddenly, sitting beside him with his legs dangling off the step.

“No, probably not. But you’ve got yours,” Law replied, nudging the backpack gently with his foot.

Damian nodded. “I bring them so he won’t get bored.”

Law raised a brow. “Oh yeah? That thoughtful, huh?”

Damian shrugged with a little smile. “He plays with me.”

Law smiled faintly, turning the phone off and slipping it into his pocket. The front porch light blinked on automatically as the sun dipped lower outside. Law stood, brushing his hands on his jeans.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s wait outside.”

Damian hopped up, grabbing his backpack and slinging it onto his shoulders with great effort.

Law opened the front door just in time to catch the distant sound of a car engine humming closer.

As soon as the red and blue van rolled to a stop in front of the house, Law noticed the obnoxiously bright "37" painted on the passenger door in bold yellow. The van looked like it had been through several lifetimes—scratches along the sides, a dent in the bumper, a bunch of weird stickers on the back window, including a cartoon figure flexing muscles under the phrase "BUILD DIFFERENT."

Luffy leaned out the passenger window, grinning and waving both arms. “You’re late!”

Law scoffed and opened the side door, motioning for Damian to hop in first. “You said you’d be here in ten.”

“It was ten,” Luffy said innocently, despite the clock clearly saying otherwise.

Behind the wheel sat Franky—who, true to Luffy’s brief description, was… unique. His blue hair was slicked high like a cartoon character’s, and he wore sunglasses despite the fading sun. He turned in his seat and greeted them with an exaggerated thumbs-up and a booming, “Suuuuper to meet you, bro and mini-bro!”

Law blinked slowly, while Damian giggled and offered a tiny thumbs-up in return, clearly already a fan.

“This is Franky,” Luffy said with a chuckle. “He’s weird, but he’s good.”

“Weirdly good!” Franky added, winking at Law before gunning the engine.

As Law climbed in, closing the door behind him, he glanced up through the side window—and froze.

Just pulling into the driveway, his mother’s car came to a halt. The silver sedan looked all too familiar, and dread coiled in his gut as he saw Dulcinea in the driver’s seat. Lami got out of the house at the same time with her phone in one hand and a straw poking out of a cup in the other. She saw the van immediately.

Law locked eyes with her for a second through the window. She squinted at the van, then pointed toward it dramatically, shouting something unintelligible to her mom while clearly mouthing, "He's leaving."

Dulcinea turned her head sharply in Law’s direction, her expression immediately sharpening with suspicion. Law turned forward in his seat as Franky pulled away from the curb, pretending he hadn’t seen any of it.

Luffy twisted in his seat, looking behind. “Was that your mom?”

“Yup,” Law muttered, popping his neck to one side. “And my sister. She’s probably telling her everything. I’ve got an hour and a half before the angry call comes.”

Damian was too busy sticking his face to the van window to notice anything serious. “Franky, your car is noisy,” he observed.

Franky grinned proudly. “That’s the sound of power, mini-bro!”

Law sighed. “That’s the sound of a dying muffler.”

Luffy laughed as Franky made a sharp turn, and Damian yelled “Whee!” like they were on a roller coaster. The van rattled dramatically.

“You sure this thing’s street legal?” Law asked under his breath.

“Super legal,” Franky replied, a little too confidently.

As the neighborhood shrank behind them, Law’s shoulders eased. Damian was laughing, Luffy looked relaxed, and for the first time that day, Law felt like he wouldn’t regret leaving the house. Even if he was probably going to get a passive-aggressive twenty-minute voicemail later.

Chapter Text

Luffy laughed, the sound bright and careless as he set the plates down on the corner of a picnic table already overflowing with bowls, trays, and Franky’s strange “custom” cups. His hand immediately went to his stomach, rubbing absently, while Brook straightened the plates and passed him one of the lighter ones.

“Yohohoho! Three plates at once—your appetite has reached new levels, Luffy-san,” Brook teased, pushing his glasses up. “Pregnancy suits you!”

“Shishishi, it’s not my fault! The baby wants food too,” Luffy answered with a grin, already reaching for chopsticks from a nearby container. “I swear it’s Sanji’s fault. Everything he cooks makes me hungry again.”

Brook’s chuckle softened, his tone turning conspiratorial. “Speaking of Sanji-san… Law-san seems pretty excited about him. He’s been hovering around the grill like a puppy since they started cooking. I think he’s forgotten how sharp Sanji-san's tongue can be.”

Luffy leaned back, cackling so loudly a few people turned to look. “Shishishishi! That’s normal! Everyone gets like that when they meet Sanji. He’s cool, he’s funny, he’s got that voice—Stealth Black, c’mon. Even Damian likes him.”

Brook tilted his head. “Yes, but if Law-san keeps staring at the food and not helping, he might end up getting smacked with the spatula.”

“Ahhh, yeah, that’s true,” Luffy laughed, the sound bubbling out between bites. “Sanji doesn’t like distractions in the kitchen. Maybe I should go save Torao before he turns into grilled surgeon.”

From across the yard, the smell of grilled fish and spices drifted thickly in the air. Damian sat on the steps with Chopper, Usopp and Kaya, clutching a toy robot Franky had given him, while Sanji worked with mechanical precision at the grill. Law, true to Brook’s words, was standing there with his arms crossed, trying not to look too interested but clearly fascinated by how Sanji balanced talking, flipping, and seasoning all at once.

“Shishishishi… yeah, I should save him,” Luffy said around a mouthful, shoving the rest of the rice into his mouth before waddling off toward the grill.

Brook stayed behind, chuckling. “Well, at least it won’t be boring.”

Luffy pushed his way through the crowd, grinning as he approached the grill. The heat of the coals hit him first, then the smell—charred fish, marinated meat, and Sanji’s signature mix of garlic and herbs. His mouth watered instantly, though his hands were already busy rubbing his rounded stomach.

Sanji was at the grill, cigarette dangling from his lips, spatula in one hand and a pair of tongs in the other, his blond hair tied back with a bandana. His brow was furrowed, his whole posture screaming do not mess with me right now.

And right next to him, of course, was Law.

Luffy slowed his steps, catching the tail end of Law’s voice.

“…but in episode thirty-four, when Stealth Black turns on his family to protect the villagers—that was peak character writing. The shift in tone, the way he says ‘I’ll carry that burden,’ it was the exact opposite of how he was introduced. Honestly, your delivery in that scene was…”

“Oi,” Sanji interrupted flatly, flipping a fish with unnecessary force. “Are you seriously bringing that up right now? I’m cooking, Trafalgar. Cooking.”

Law didn’t budge, his grays eyes narrowing as though Sanji’s resistance was a puzzle to solve. “That episode is important. You gave weight to the entire arc with that performance. The way you layered guilt under bravado… It was subtle, but if you compare it to the later scene where he faces Judge—”

Sanji snapped the spatula against the edge of the grill, loud enough to make a few people at the table turn their heads. “Tch. I told you, I don’t talk about work outside of work. You think I like people bringing up my lines like some kind of parrot?”

“Not like some parrot,” Law replied, annoyingly calm. “I’m acknowledging skill. There’s a difference.”

Sanji shot him a glare. “Yeah? Well, there’s also a difference between a compliment and harassment, and you’re about two sentences away from the second one.”

Luffy finally stepped in, grinning wide despite the obvious tension. “Shishishishi! Law, you’re really bad at hiding when you’re a fanboy!”

Both boys turned their heads at once—Sanji exhaling smoke with irritation, Law’s face going faintly pink as his glare snapped to Luffy.

“Luffy,” Law muttered under his breath, straightening, “I wasn’t—”

“Yes you were!” Luffy cut him off cheerfully, plopping down on the bench right beside the grill like it was his throne. “You’re just like Damian when he watches cartoons. Big shiny eyes, talking too much, forgetting people can hit you with a spatula.”

Sanji smirked around his cigarette, his mood improving a fraction. “Luffy’s not wrong.” He flicked ash into a nearby tray, then leaned down just enough to murmur, “Don’t test me, Trafalgar. I don’t care if you’re the top student or the school’s little scary genius. One more word about Stealth Black and you’re not eating until tomorrow.”

Law opened his mouth as if to argue—then, for once, shut it. His ears burned red.

Luffy howled with laughter, “Shishishishishi! Told you!”

Luffy noticed Sanji’s grip on the spatula tightening, his knuckles going pale. Without missing a beat, he hopped up and tugged Law by the wrist, dragging him a couple steps back before Sanji decided to launch the spatula across his head.

“Oi, oi!” Luffy laughed, though there was warning in his voice. “Don’t piss him off more. He’ll burn the meat just to spite you, and then I’ll suffer.”

Law frowned, letting himself be pulled but glancing back at Sanji with something between fascination and stubbornness. “I wasn’t trying to upset him,” he muttered. “But you don’t get it, Luffy. Knowing that one of your friends—someone who just stands at a grill like it’s nothing—is the voice of Stealth Black? My favorite character? That’s not something I can ignore.” His tone shifted, almost reverent. “It’s like the universe handed me a once-in-a-lifetime chance.”

Luffy groaned dramatically, throwing his hands in the air. “It’s been two days since you met him! Two days since the support group! You should be over it already.”

Law’s brows drew together, and he shook his head slowly. “Over it?” He scoffed. “I doubt I can get over it. The cadence, the inflection, the layers—he is Stealth Black. And now he’s just… here. In the same group, in front of me, flipping fish like none of it matters.”

Luffy puffed his cheeks, sulking at Law’s seriousness. “You’re hopeless. Totally hopeless.” He tugged Law a little farther from the grill, plopping him down on the bench and leaning close so Law couldn’t wriggle out. “Listen. Sanji doesn’t like talking about that stuff, so stop pushing. You can fanboy, or whatever—quietly in your head. Otherwise, he’s gonna hit you with the spatula, and then I’ll have to protect you, and then Zoro will get involved, and it’ll turn into a fight. And I was promised food, not drama.”

Law gave him a sideways glance, lips twitching like he wanted to argue but couldn’t quite find the words. “…I’ll try.”

Luffy grinned, smacking his shoulder. “Good! That’s all I ask.”

Law looked away, muttering under his breath, “Not that it’ll work.”

Luffy hooked an arm around Law’s middle before he could slink back toward the grill and hauled him across the yard toward the picnic table. “C’mon, Torao,” he said cheerfully, ignoring Law’s faint scowl. “You’ll sit, you’ll eat, and you won’t get whacked with a spatula. Win-win.”

As they reached the table, Luffy noticed the way Law’s sharp gaze immediately shifted past the plates and glasses, past the bright chatter of Nami and Vivi, and landed on Damian. The boy was crouched in the grass a few steps away, his laughter carrying as he pressed buttons on the robot Franky had gifted him. Usopp and Chopper were both acting like the robot was the most incredible piece of technology they’d ever seen—which, given Franky’s flair for the ridiculous, it probably was. Damian’s face lit up in that rare, unguarded way Luffy loved to see, his whole body vibrating with excitement.

Luffy’s chest swelled at the sight. He caught the subtle change in Law’s expression too—his shoulders loosened, his eyes softened, his usual sharp edges blunted by something warmer. Luffy grinned to himself. For all of Law’s brooding, he couldn’t hide how much he adored that kid.

At the table, Nami was perched close to Vivi, their heads bent together as they exchanged comments about something on Vivi’s phone. Vivi laughed softly, resting her hand over Nami’s as if they were the only two people in the world. Across from them, Jinbe sat comfortably, his deep voice rumbling as he shared some story about his part-time work at the aquarium.

Luffy’s eyes flicked down to the dishes Brook had stacked earlier—tall, wobbly, way too much for one person to carry. He remembered his attempt to haul them all at once, remembered the near disaster, and winced. They were neatly set out now, a faint clink each time the breeze jostled the table.

“Oi, oi,” Luffy said, releasing Law into a chair with a gentle shove. “Look, everything’s ready. Brook did the work for us!”

Law didn’t respond right away, still watching Damian across the yard. Luffy leaned forward, propping his chin in his hands as he watched him watch. “He’s fine, you know,” Luffy said softly, just for Law’s ears. “Usopp won’t let him get into trouble. Kaya will take him as her little brother. And Chopper’s like a mother hen when it comes to him.”

Law finally tore his gaze back, lips pressed in a thin line but eyes betraying him with that flicker of relief. Luffy smiled wide, proud of himself for noticing.

Law leaned his elbows on the table, his long fingers laced together as he kept half an eye on Damian in the grass. “It’s… good to see him like this,” he admitted, his voice low enough that only Luffy could hear. “He’s usually so guarded. Shy, even. Doesn’t talk much when there are too many people around.”

Luffy tilted his head, watching Damian point at a button on the robot while Chopper and Kaya patiently explained what it did. Usopp added his own flair, making sound effects so dramatic that Damian actually laughed loud enough for the others at the table to glance over. That sound alone seemed to soften Law’s expression even more.

“I guess that’s normal, right?” Luffy said after a pause, scratching his cheek thoughtfully. “He’s only two. Most kids that age don’t run around talking to everyone they meet.”

Law gave a faint hum, somewhere between agreement and contemplation. “Maybe. But still—seeing him play, letting them close like that…” He shook his head as though words failed him, and instead settled for a quiet sigh. “It means more than I thought it would.”

Luffy grinned, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms over his head until his joints popped. “Then you should just let him, Torao. He’s gonna grow up surrounded by friends if I have anything to say about it.”

Law’s sharp gaze flicked to him at that, but Luffy only met it with an easy smile, wide and unbothered. Damian shrieked happily as the robot extended a pair of mechanical arms, and both boys turned at the sound, though for entirely different reasons—Damian tugging at Usopp’s sleeve to show him, and Law’s mouth twitching into the barest shadow of a smile he didn’t quite manage to hide.

Luffy had been staring longer than he realized, his chin propped in his hand, eyes following the way the sunlight brushed along Law’s cheekbone as he kept watching Damian with that quiet, almost reverent attention. It made something warm curl in Luffy’s chest, a weightless kind of feeling he didn’t have words for.

He thought absently that Law had a really nice profile—sharp, clean lines, but softened by the way his eyes crinkled whenever Damian laughed. Luffy let himself drift in that thought, so much so that he didn’t notice the chatter at the table had gone quiet until Nami cleared her throat loudly.

Snapping upright, Luffy blinked back to the present, catching Nami and Vivi both watching him with identical knowing expressions. His mouth opened, fumbling for something to say, but Nami was quicker, smoothly turning her focus to Law.

“It’s good to finally meet you,” she said with a smile that was polite but edged with curiosity.

Vivi nodded, her tone warm. “Yes, Luffy’s told us a lot about you.”

Luffy’s heart skipped, panic flickering across his face as his gaze darted between them. He immediately looked to Jinbe, who sat calmly sipping his drink, the picture of composure. Luffy tried to signal with his eyes—help, don’t let them say anything weird—but Jinbe only raised one thick brow and set his cup down with deliberate slowness, giving nothing away.

Luffy’s stomach had dropped the second Vivi’s words left her mouth. He was sure the next thing out of their mouths would be how he never shut up about Law, how Law this and Law that, how maybe Law was all he seemed to think about these days. The thought alone had him nearly bolting upright from his seat.

His mind raced through half-baked escape plans—he could say he needed the bathroom, yeah, and just not come back until they’d moved on. Or better yet, he could clutch his stomach dramatically, claim contractions, and let them fuss over him until the topic was forgotten. He’d done worse.

But before he could set his performance into motion, a calm, steady voice cut through the tension.

“Luffy mentioned you wanted to study medicine. To become a surgeon,” Jinbe said, tone even and grounded, like he’d been waiting for the perfect moment to intervene.

Luffy almost sagged in relief, gratitude surging for Jinbe’s perfect timing. Blessed Jinbe, he thought, swearing silently he’d bring him extra dessert later.

Law blinked at that, faint surprise crossing his face as he turned his attention away from Damian and back to the table. He gave a slow nod, voice measured. “That’s right.”

Nami leaned in a little, curiosity sparking. “Do you already know what specialty you want to go into?”

“Cardiovascular,” Law answered without hesitation. His tone carried the weight of someone who had thought it through more than once.

Both Nami and Vivi exchanged a quick look—one of those wordless glances that carried more meaning than sentences. Then their eyes flicked, in unison, straight toward Luffy.

Heat shot to Luffy’s cheeks instantly. He tried to glare at them, warning them not to start, but the knowing little smiles they wore made his skin prickle all the same.

Nami propped her chin on her hand, lips curling with that sly little smile that always meant trouble. “So cardiovascular… that means you’d fix heart problems, right?”

Law gave the smallest twitch of his mouth, equal parts amused and exasperated. “That’s… one way of putting it,” he replied dryly, lifting his glass of water.

Luffy’s foot bounced nervously under the table. He could feel where Nami was steering this, the same way he could feel when a storm was about to break over the sea.

Sure enough, Nami’s eyes glinted as she drew in a breath to continue, but—mercifully—Jinbe spoke again before she could push further.

“There are excellent universities here in Logue Town,” Jinbe said in that calm, deliberate voice of his, always steering conversations like he was guiding a ship through reefs. “And, of course, Drum Island has its medical institutions, highly regarded in their field.”

Law’s attention shifted smoothly to him, and the moment of tension snapped like a rope. “I’ve looked into both,” he admitted, setting down his glass. His tone was composed, but there was a spark there, the kind that came whenever he spoke about his future. “Logue Town is convenient, but Drum’s program is very specialized.”

Vivi nodded, genuinely curious. “Would you leave Logue Town for it? Or do you prefer to stay here?”

Law’s gaze flickered toward Damian across the room, still laughing with Usopp, Kaya and Chopper as the robot clanked around on the floor. His expression softened almost imperceptibly before he looked back at the table. “…I haven’t decided yet,” he said carefully.

Luffy, meanwhile, was chewing the inside of his cheek, trying not to betray how warm his chest felt hearing Law talk about his plans like that. The idea of him going far away, though—it sat heavy, like swallowing seawater. He didn’t want to think about it.

Nami leaned back, crossing her arms, eyes darting between Law and Luffy again. The corner of her mouth twitched like she was dying to poke fun, but for once she held back, maybe out of respect for Jinbe’s diversion.

Luffy let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Maybe they were safe—for now.

Vivi, always the peacemaker, leaned forward a little, tilting her head. “Well, either way, it sounds like you’ve thought about it a lot. That’s admirable. Medicine isn’t easy.”

Law inclined his head in a polite nod, his fingers absently tracing the condensation on his glass. “It isn’t supposed to be. If it were easy, anyone could do it.”

Jinbe chuckled deep in his chest. “Spoken like a man who knows what he wants.”

The words seemed to hang in the air, and Luffy squirmed in his seat, fighting the urge to blurt something dumb. Because the truth was, he knew what Law wanted—or at least part of it. He wanted to be a surgeon, to build a future, to make sure Damian had something stable. And Luffy wanted… well, him. Wanted to be part of that picture somehow, even if he didn’t know what that looked like yet.

He glanced sideways, just for a second, and caught Law watching Damian again, that quiet little fondness softening his usually sharp face. It hit Luffy like a punch to the gut all over again—how much he liked seeing him like that. How much he wanted to keep seeing it.

Nami and Vivi exchanged a look, one of those silent conversations girls had that Luffy would never understand, but he felt the weight of it anyway. Nami’s lips pressed together, holding back some quip. Vivi’s eyes crinkled with a smile that was far too knowing.

Luffy tore his gaze back to his plate before either of them could say anything, shoving another bite of food into his mouth to keep busy. He was not going to get trapped in whatever scheme they were building. Not tonight.

“Damian’s very bright,” Vivi said gently, redirecting the flow of conversation with ease. “I can see where he gets it from.”

Law blinked, caught off guard, and gave a faint shrug. “He’s… a good kid.”

Luffy’s chest squeezed, because Law said it like he didn’t quite believe he deserved the credit. And if he weren’t sitting at a table with all their friends, Luffy might’ve grabbed his hand just to prove otherwise.

Instead, he kicked Jinbe under the table, just lightly—like a thank you for keeping things steady.

Jinbe didn’t react except for the faintest twitch of a smile in his beard.

Then, Zoro dropped into his seat with the kind of heavy thud that made the glasses on the table rattle. He set down the bottle of sake like it was a weapon, then eyed the plate of blackened food with a scowl that could curdle milk.

“Why’s mine the only one that looks like it came out of a crematorium?” he grumbled, chopsticks in hand but clearly unimpressed.

Nami leaned on her elbow, smiling sweetly in a way that promised trouble. “Because Sanji has a refined sense of humor. He probably made that especially for you.”

Zoro’s glare cut across the table at the cook, who was already smirking with a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“You should be grateful, moss-head,” Sanji said airily, flicking ash into the tray at his side. “I wasted my precious time on you. That’s an honor.”

Zoro’s jaw flexed, chopsticks snapping a piece of charred meat off the plate. He chewed it noisily, almost defiantly, like he was proving something to the whole table.

Luffy, meanwhile, felt his shoulders finally relax. Thank god. This was familiar—Zoro and Sanji snapping at each other until sparks flew. It meant everyone else could laugh, and he didn’t have to worry about Vivi’s pointed comments or Nami’s sly smiles or Law’s unreadable expression.

“Oi, Zoro, don’t eat it if it’s gross,” Luffy said through a mouthful of his own (much better) food, grinning wide. “Give it to me instead!”

Zoro snorted, washing down the bite with a swig straight from the sake bottle. “Back off, captain. This is mine.”

“That’s disgusting,” Nami muttered, wrinkling her nose.

But the mood shifted, the tension uncoiling as laughter trickled around the table. Even Vivi hid a smile behind her hand.

Sanji leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “If you keel over, don’t expect me to save your sorry ass.”

“Wouldn’t want you anywhere near me anyway,” Zoro shot back, but his mouth twitched like he was fighting a grin.

Luffy beamed, glad to let the noise and bickering wash over him. For a moment, it felt like things were normal again—no probing questions, no secrets he wasn’t ready to share, just his crew being loud and ridiculous.

And maybe, just maybe, he saw the edge of Law’s lips curve upward too, watching the chaos like it was something he was finally starting to belong to.

Law's phone rang at that moment and, after a brief apology, he slipped away from the table with that tight, practiced look he always wore when the call came from home—jaw set, shoulders stiff, phone already pressed to his ear before he’d crossed the threshold into the house.

Luffy’s eyes tracked him without thinking. He could still hear Zoro and Sanji’s bickering in the background, the laughter it drew from Nami and Vivi, but it all faded into a kind of blur. What stuck in his head was Law’s expression before he turned his back to everyone: that flicker of tension, like a thread pulled taut and threatening to snap.

He must’ve been staring too long, because suddenly Nami’s voice slid into his space like a cat pouncing.

“Careful, Luffy.”

He turned his head fast—too fast. Nami was leaning forward, chin propped on her hand, her smile wicked in the way only she managed. Vivi’s eyes shone with quiet amusement beside her, and even Jinbe looked like he was pointedly pretending not to hear.

“What?” Luffy asked, defensive before he even realized it. He stuffed another bite of food into his mouth, cheeks puffing. “I’m just—uh—watchin’ him ‘cause, y’know, his phone keeps ringing.”

Nami’s eyebrow arched higher, that smile never budging. “Mm-hm. Watching. That’s one word for it.”

Vivi chuckled softly, exchanging a glance with her. “You’re obvious when you do that, Luffy. Your eyes follow him like a magnet.”

Luffy nearly choked on his food. He grabbed for his cup of water, gulping it down to keep from sputtering. His face felt hot—not from the grill or the noise, but from the way Vivi’s words seemed to hit a little too close to something he hadn’t even sorted out himself.

“I don’t—! That’s not—!” he tried, flailing for words.

But Nami only leaned closer, lowering her voice so only he could hear, her tone teasing but sharp in the way it could cut. “Relax. Nobody’s judging you.” She tipped her head toward the house, where Law had disappeared. “But maybe think about what it means that you’re the only one who can’t look away when he leaves.”

Luffy blinked at her, heart thudding uncomfortably in his chest. He wanted to argue, to laugh it off, to pretend he hadn’t heard—but the words stuck, heavy, as he turned back to his plate.

And still, against his will, his gaze drifted again toward the doorway where Law had gone, like he couldn’t stop himself.

“Two months,” Luffy blurted, maybe louder than necessary, stabbing at his food with his chopsticks as if that would underline his point. “I just got outta something two months ago. I don’t wanna start another thing. So quit it.”

That earned him a chorus of looks. Nami crossed her arms with that smirk that said she didn’t buy a word of it. Vivi tilted her head, curious but kind, like she was gently prying at the edges of his excuse. Even Jinbe raised an eyebrow, though his mouth stayed firmly shut.

Luffy felt cornered. His ears burned. He could already hear Nami winding up for another round, and Vivi looked like she had a dozen questions ready to spill. He braced himself—

“Good evening,” came a smooth, calm voice.

Robin walked into the courtyard, elegant as always, carrying a tray with a couple of bottles and glasses she must have fetched from the kitchen. Instantly, the atmosphere shifted, everyone turning their attention toward her.

Luffy seized his chance. “Robin! You’re here!” he said, his voice bright with relief. He half-stood to wave her over, practically shoving his chair back. “C’mon, sit with us. You gotta try the food. It's incredible, a delight!"

Robin smiled at him, warm and polite, before placing the tray on the table. Nami leaned back in her chair, lips pressed together in a smile that said she knew exactly what he was doing but was letting him get away with it—for now. Vivi chuckled behind her hand, and even Jinbe rumbled something that sounded suspiciously like amusement.

Luffy sank back down, grateful for the shift in focus. His heart was still pounding in his chest, but at least no one was drilling into him with their questions anymore.

And, with Robin there to take the spotlight, maybe they’d all forget about the way he’d been watching the doorway like someone waiting for something—someone.

Robin slipped into the seat beside Luffy, her presence calm, steadying. With a fond smile, she reached out and ruffled his messy hair. Luffy leaned into the touch, grinning up at her like a kid who’d just been given candy.

“And how’s the baby doing today?” she asked softly, her gaze dropping to his rounded belly.

Luffy caught her hand and placed it over the curve. “Pretty quiet,” he said, almost proudly. “Guess they’re saving all their energy for later.”

Robin chuckled, but before she could answer, Franky’s booming voice cut through the courtyard.

“Roooobin, my beloved! You’re finally here!”

He bounded over like an oversized puppy, arms spread wide, his sunglasses glinting under the moon. It didn’t matter that they lived together and had seen each other that morning—Franky acted like she’d just returned from a year-long voyage.

Robin turned her head toward him, her smile shifting into something softer, indulgent. “Franky,” she said, almost like a sigh, but she let him wrap her up in his theatrics anyway.

At that moment, a small shadow fell across Luffy. He looked down to see Damian standing there, his toy robot clutched tightly in both hands. The boy’s dark eyes were wide, hopeful.

“Luffy,” Damian said, his voice quiet but insistent, “where’s my Papa?”

Luffy blinked, then glanced toward the house where Law had disappeared minutes ago, phone pressed to his ear. For a second, his chest gave a strange squeeze. He bent down a little, so his eyes were level with Damian’s.

“He’s inside,” Luffy said gently, pointing with his chin. “He’ll be back soon. Don’t worry, baby Torao—your Papa didn’t go far.”

Damian seemed to weigh that, his small hands tightening around the toy robot. Then he nodded, but he didn’t move away from Luffy’s side, as if waiting for the moment Law would return through the doorway.

Luffy found himself smiling, reaching out to ruffle Damian’s hair the way Robin had just done to him. “He’ll come back,” he promised.

And for reasons he didn’t want to think too hard about, saying it out loud made him feel oddly certain.

Damian stayed pressed to Luffy’s side, leaning just slightly against his arm as if he were testing the boundary of how close he could get. Luffy didn’t push him away. Instead, he adjusted the plates in front of him and slid one closer to Damian.

“Hungry?” he asked.

Damian shook his head, still fiddling with the robot’s movable arms. His eyes kept darting toward the door.

Robin, observing quietly, set her chin on her hand and studied the boy. “He looks very attached to you, Luffy,” she said, her tone warm, but also probing.

Luffy grinned sheepishly. “He’s cool,” he replied, like that explained everything. He nudged Damian with his elbow. “Right? You’re cool.”

Damian’s lips curved upward, but he still didn’t answer, too focused on the doorway. Luffy followed his gaze and caught a glimpse of Law’s silhouette pacing inside, phone pressed to his ear. His expression wasn’t visible, but the way his shoulders tensed was enough for Luffy to know the conversation wasn’t going well.

Nami and Vivi whispered something to each other at the far end of the table, stealing glances between Luffy, Damian, and the door. Luffy pretended not to notice.

Brook reappeared, this time with a tray of drinks balanced perfectly on one hand. “Yohohoho! What’s this? Damian keeping our captain company?” He bent theatrically, lowering the tray until Damian could peek at the colorful sodas.

Damian’s eyes flicked up briefly, torn between the door and the drinks. Brook wiggled his bony fingers as if offering a secret pact. “One for you if you sit down and join us.”

Damian hesitated, then climbed into the chair beside Luffy, still holding his robot tightly in one hand. He reached for a soda with the other.

Luffy excused himself with a wave of his hand, pushing back his chair and stretching his back as he stood. Damian glanced up, but Luffy ruffled his hair and murmured, “Bathroom, I’ll be back,” before slipping away from the table.

Inside the house, the air felt cooler and quieter compared to the courtyard’s buzz of voices and music. Luffy found the bathroom easily, did his business, and washed his hands, humming softly under his breath. When he opened the door, the faint, tense murmur of a voice carried down the hall.

He didn’t need to strain to recognize it—Law.

Following the sound, Luffy slowed his steps, pausing just before turning the corner. Law’s voice was low, measured, the way it always was when he was trying not to lose his patience. But even through the muffled tone, Luffy could feel the weight behind every word.

“…I already told you, I’ll be careful. He’s fine, he’s with me.”

A pause. Luffy could almost hear the other voice on the line, sharp and insistent, even without the words.

“No, mom. He isn’t tired, I let him rest earlier. He’s happy here. I—” Law broke off, exhaling sharply, a soft curse under his breath. “You’re not listening.”

Luffy leaned against the wall, unseen. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the sound of frustration in Law’s voice held him there. He could imagine Dulcinea on the other end, accusing him, blaming him for not being strict enough, for being too indulgent, maybe even for bringing Damian to a gathering like this at all.

Law’s next words came out tighter, clipped. “If you’re so worried, you can come pick him up yourself.” Another pause, his jaw clearly clenched. “…I thought so.”

The silence that followed was filled with the hum of the refrigerator nearby and the faint laughter from the courtyard. Then the floor creaked, and Luffy realized Law was pacing, phone still pressed to his ear.

He knew he should go back outside, give Law space. But his feet didn’t move. Instead, he found himself thinking how heavy Law’s shoulders must feel, carrying not just Damian, but his mother’s constant shadow too. And for a fleeting second, Luffy wished he could take some of that weight off him.

Law’s voice grew sharper with every word, his footsteps echoing against the hardwood as he moved closer.

“—no, mom, enough. You’re being dramatic. He’s fine, nothing happened, stop trying to control every damn thing—”

The shadow of his figure stretched along the hallway, and then the doorknob rattled. Luffy’s eyes widened, realizing Law was about to walk right in. He reached instinctively for the handle and pulled it open at the same time Law twisted it.

Law nearly stumbled forward, his phone slipping from his shoulder just as he ended the call with a brusque swipe. He froze when his gaze met Luffy’s.

For a moment, the tension melted off his face. His brows relaxed, his mouth softened, and the irritation that had colored his voice seconds ago vanished under a quiet, startled calm.

They just stood there, staring at each other in the narrow frame of the doorway.

“Sorry,” Luffy mumbled, scratching the back of his neck, his expression sheepish.

Law shook his head, voice low. “No. I just…wanted to wash my hands.” He slipped past him into the bathroom, the sleeve of his leather jacket brushing Luffy’s arm as he moved.

Luffy stayed by the doorframe, listening to the soft sound of running water, the splash against porcelain. When Law stepped back out, they didn’t move away from each other immediately. The silence between them wasn’t heavy like the argument had been—it was lighter, quieter, as if both were holding their breath.

Luffy’s eyes flicked to Law’s hands, damp from the sink, then back up to his face. Law leaned against the doorframe opposite him, crossing his arms loosely.

Neither spoke. But somehow, the stillness between them carried more than any words might have.

Luffy hesitated only a second before moving. Words wouldn’t help—he’d just trip over them, say something dumb, and make things worse. So instead, he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Law’s waist.

Law stiffened, his breath catching against Luffy’s hair. For a heartbeat, he stood there unmoving, caught between surprise and instinct. Then, slowly—almost cautiously—his arms circled Luffy’s shoulders. He pulled the omega in, not tightly, but enough that Luffy could feel the weight of the tension uncoiling from his chest.

The hallway was quiet except for the hum of the bathroom’s fan and the distant chatter of voices from outside.

Luffy pressed his face into Law’s shirt, muffling a sigh. “You’re too tense, Torao,” he muttered, his voice softer than he meant it to be. “You’ll explode if you keep it in.”

Law huffed out something between a laugh and a sigh, his chin resting lightly on top of Luffy’s head. His heart was beating fast—too fast for someone who’d just been arguing on the phone.

Neither of them let go right away.