October 01 - Partners

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you think they know?" Heat asked.

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

October 02. Back to Back

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

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

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

Killer blinked rabidly but his vision remained hazy.

"Killer?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Killer?"

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

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

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

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

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

October 03. Coat

"It's itchy"

"It's warm. Shut up"

"It's ugly."

"So are you. Now shut up."

"It smells funny."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looked as miserable as Kidd felt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One day.

October 04. Mask

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Demanding an answer.

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

"But I thought you were Kidd?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?" Killer asked.

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

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

October 05. Laugh

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Smart woman.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

October 06. Lipstick

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"...no?"

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

The boy shook his head no.

"It's just clothes and stuff."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

October 07. Hair

"You got taller."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Killer just shrugs, turning away.

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

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

...

Ceithir Gormaichean, Kidd still missed him.

October 08. Care

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're okay?"

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Solider Boy talks about you."

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

She shrugs.

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

"One more night still breathing."

"Hmm... Fine. Granted."

***

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

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

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

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

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

None came.

***

"What was your name again?"

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

"Why'd you save me?"

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

"You mean Killer, don't you?"

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

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

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

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

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

Kidd looked at the corpse.

"He had a gun."

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

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

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

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

October 10. Grief

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

October 11. Meeting

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Killer however...

"Out of here?"

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

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

Of Roger and his treasures.

Oh, better far to live and die

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

Under the brave black flag I fly,

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

Than play a sanctimonious part,

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

With a pirate head and a pirate heart

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

Away to the cheating world go you,

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

Where pirates all are well to do,

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

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

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

And live and die ~!

"I'm gonna be the Pirate King."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Free." Killer murmured solemnly.

Wire, Heat & Kiss looked at him sharply.

Kidd nodded slowly.

Yeah.

Free.

<><><>

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

"I want Her." was all he said.

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

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

October 12. Love Language

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thank you Killer!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

October 13. Dine

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

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

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

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

"Get out.." he growled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Never even kissed her."

<><><>

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

"...what?"

"Just was thinking about when we were kids."

"Oh?"

"When Vicky called you 2 Pump."

Killer scowled, "Figures you remember that."

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

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

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

"That's fucking gross."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ready to admit you lied?"

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

October 15. Modern

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

"You good there, Kidd?"

"The bastard has a fucking submarine."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Dare I ask?"

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

"Only 10?"

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

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

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

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

Killer just shook his head.

October 16. HighSchool

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With blankets or even a fireplace.

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

A bookshelf for the text books Killer kept finding somewhere.

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

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

"Mine now," he cackled to himself.

October 17. Sacrifice

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

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

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

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

"What's up?"

"Its gone bad..."

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

"How bad?"

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

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

"Do we have more?"

"Different fruit, but yeah."

"The other one still good?"

"Still sealed, so it should be fine."

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

Killer handed both other with no hesitation.

Kidd left the galley.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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