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While he doesn’t believe anyone will ever be capable of fully mastering every aspect of their devil fruit power, Marco is confident he knows many things about his.
One: it doesn’t make him a bird, much to Thatch’s dismay. Even when transformed, Marco is fully human, just shaped like a bird. He can’t suddenly talk to the news coo, he isn’t suddenly attracted to a different diet and he doesn’t have any urges to migrate, lay eggs, sing, or whatever else anyone attributes to a bird.
Two: there isn’t a little bird constantly living inside of him, ready to be unleashed when he transforms. Marco is Marco. He’s not Marco and mini-Marco-the-bird.
Three: he’s a powerful pirate who has fought for a title and a place in the world, and Marco likes this. It gives him security and freedom in equal measures, lets him play with the quarry he hunts, sends the marines into shivers of fear, and he’ll never be able to give this up.
Four: when Marco finds someone attractive, he hes the urge to display,
And no. It’s not a case of the bird taking over or the bird coming out or whatever anyone has suggested to him. For some reason, however bizarre and complex and perhaps it is related to the devil fruit, perhaps not, Marco cannot temper his emotions when, well, there’s someone he’s attracted to.
As a child he would shriek and whoop in joy at whatever happiness passed him by, as a teenager he’d revel in the feeling, punch the air and laugh. As an adult, Marco has more control over how exactly the emotions come out, and whereas when he was a child he would excite over an ice cream, it’s really one specific causation now, and only ever when he is fully transformed.
It begins with a bubble in his chest as soon as the thought crosses Marco’s mind that the person he’s looking at is rather gorgeous. It bursts, prickling through his chest, and Marco’s feet twitch, finger tingling. Depending on how focused he is, Marco’s feet might stamp on the ground, flames growing as he works himself up to an entire body wiggle.
It doesn’t bother him really. It’s not embarrassing, and Marco can handle the few jokes easily. Anyone who tries to make a more severe comment ends up taking a little dip in the ocean. It’s part of who Marco is and that’s that.
Or at least, it never used to bother him, until Marco met with the marines’ secret weapon.
A general supply run turns nasty, and what should have been an easy pick up has turned into a gruelling battle. Marco’s division are pissed off, quite rightly, as the marines held nothing back in smashing their medical supplies, and Marco’s ready to call Pops in and just bury the entire navy fleet.
“We’ve been going easy on you!” one of the marine dogs shouts, and Marco supposes if he had to say one man was in charge, it would be this one. He’s still small fry compared to some of their other adversaries, and while Marco’s glad for his men to release some tension in the battle, enough is enough. He wants to get them home now.
“Oh really,” Marco comments, shifting weight to one leg and putting his hand on his hip, raising an eyebrow. “Did anything give you the impression we were taking this fight seriously?
The marine pauses, face colouring in embarrassment.
“L-listen here! You’re going to find it hard to escape now!” he screams. Marco rolls his eyes. “Meet our secret weapon, the scourge of the ocean, the devil himself, Firefist Ace!”
It’s funny, really, the way this guy is listing off their ‘secret weapon’ as if they’re in some kind of circus act. Marco nods, playing along as an act of charity but doesn’t think much more of it. He’ll believe a secret weapon when he sees it and can’t fathom why someone so strong would be hanging out with this bunch of weaklings.
“You called me away from my all-you-can-eat buffet for this?” a low voice says, and Marco feels a thrill of excitement shoot up his spine.
So far so good on the secret weapon.
The ground crackles as the man steps forward, and where he’s been hiding Marco has no idea. They’re on the beachfront of an island, pretty standard, sand giving way to dunes, no human habitation this close to the sea, and Marco is impressed this man hid himself so well from the start.
And then the bubble hits him
Oh no, Marco thinks.
He’s not even in his phoenix form and yet… there is an urge. A dangerous, this-is-going-to-ruin-my-life kind of urge. Marco swallows as the man crosses his arms over his bare chest, glaring straight at him.
“Do you even know who you’re fighting?” Ace says, directed to the marine from before. The guy pales, colours again, and really it’s impressive the range of emotion that one man can experience in such a short amount of time.
“We were told to-“ the marine begins, and Ace cuts him off with a wave of a hand.
“You drag me out when they refilled the platters, you take me away from my food, right, and expect me to jump straight in with Marco the Phoenix? Just like that.” Ace lets his hands fall to his side, sparing a glance for Marco. It’s a lazy look, one that doesn’t quite match his words, and Marco allows his arms to glisten, flamed feathers replacing skin as the urge to burst into phoenix form is almost too much to bear.
“You make me fight Whitebeard’s right hand man and want me to win because you’re too embarrassed to admit that you fucked up and picked a fight you can’t win?” Ace is literally spitting embers at the marine, and to make matters worse the rest of the fight has turned their attention to the conversation.
Marco thinks there will be a demotion in the works once Ace files whatever report he has to make. It’s true—some battles are best left untouched, and clearly this marine isn’t the smartest of them.
“I’m kidding,” Ace says, and Marco narrows his eyes. The atmosphere changes in an instant, and Marco knows everything that came out of Ace’s mouth was bullshit before. He might be pissed he got called in, but he’s not pissed to be in the fight now.
“I don’t lose,” Ace finishes, and he’s hurling forwards, practically flying through the air, propelled by flames, straight at Marco’s chest.
He’s headstrong, Marco gives him that, and unafraid to take on someone of power. It’s a reckless move though, not fully thought out, and Marco resigns himself to his fate as he lets himself transform. The hardest part of this battle is going to be the focus.
Ace misses his target as Marco flies up. He’s chased, interestingly, through what looks like a combination of sky walking and flame propulsion. Ace’s eyebrows are furrowed, but there’s an excitement in his eyes as he comes face-to-face mid-air, and Marco grits his jaw.
The urge isn’t terribly strong, not when there is a serious threat of injury, but it’s there. Marco’s first instinct, moreso than dodging the fireballs hurtling his way, is to bob his head, stretch his wings, bow his legs and-
Okay, enough of that, Marco thinks. He’s not about to start building a nest for this dude and offer up his cloaca, thank you very much phoenix form, and maybe he does need to reassess one of the things he knows about his devil fruit power. Maybe, just maybe, Marco can say he has a little bird inside of him, and that’s what’s making him go absolutely mad for his enemy. It’s easier if it’s a little creature being attracted to Ace, right?
“You’re not even focusing,” Ace comments, though he doesn’t say it in anger. It’s a fact, and Marco shrugs, letting some of his transformation fall away as they lower back to the ground.
“You haven’t shown you’re worth it,” he replies, biting back comments about how Ace has actually shown he’s worth it, just in a different way.
“Oh,” Ace says, and it’s a playful tone, a smile on his face as he lowers himself to a fighting stance once more. “And what can I do to prove I’m worthy, first division commander?”
He’s dangerous, Marco knows that much. And in the right setting probably could compromise Marco’s life. He’s in the prime of his life, strong, hidden from the world, and probably looking for something to prove, and he has the power of fire. Whoever this Ace is, and wherever he came from, Marco knows he fits the term secret weapon well.
“The last of it is loaded!” a voice calls, and Marco sighs. His job in all this was to keep the marines entertained while their remaining supplies were brought aboard. Job now done, Marco has no reason to keep picking a fight.
Or well. No easily explained reason.
“Get going back to the Moby,” Marco calls, watching from the corner of his eye as his men bound off, kicking the occasional marine out of the way. They know he’ll catch them up, and Marco waits to see how Ace will play his move.
“That’s how we’ll play it then,” Ace comments, quietly, and a thrill jolts through Marco’s stomach. “Get back to base! I’ll take things from here,” Ace directs, and there isn’t even a peep from the guy in charge.
It’s almost embarrassing how quickly the marines scramble to leave the beach, how little effort any of them put into really fighting Marco’s men, but that is the power of reputation. It's the reputation Marco’s spent his life cultivating, reputation that he’s held high and worked for, a reputation that could come undone if he started foot stomping and tail shaking right here and now.
Marco collects his breath, the sluice of waves marking the departure of his men. Neither he nor Ace move until they are both certain their respective men are gone, and Marco spends the time staring, taking in every inch of Ace’s face every freckle and wrinkle. He is young, mid-twenties if Marco had to put an age on him, and looks ready to burst. Every now and then a small burst of embers pockets his skin, glistening like stars, and Marco is almost fearful for what will happen in this fight.
“I’ve been waiting for this,” Ace says, clapping his hands together. He bends his knees, leans forward, and Marco has a moment to register the wild air around him before he’s slammed backwards.
It’s a surprise, Marco can’t deny that, and he has to suddenly reassess everything he’d learnt in their previous clash. He’d known Ace was holding back, but this is like fighting an entirely different person.
It’s fun, is what Marco realises as the hole in his side repatches. It’s exhilarating when he kicks the side of Ace’s face and flames spiral around his leg, snakes burning their way up to his belly. This is someone new, someone unknown, and Ace is giving everything he has and while Marco is keeping up, he’s not entirely comfortable.
The sky darkens around them, but they dance on, the beach littering with odd sand-glass sculptures. Marco has never been somewhere quite as stereotypically hellish as this, with heat sizzling his skin and sweat soaking the floor. There’s something primal about it, and as the sun breaks for dawn, Marco pauses and swallows thickly, chest heaving.
“You’re not giving up are you?” Ace spits. He’s no better than Marco, kneeling on the floor, winded. Fire crackles around him still, but it’s mellow in comparison. It’s lost the aggression and the anger, and almost seems like a friend, if Marco didn’t know better.
“We’re a good match,” Marco replies, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach at the comment. He means for fighting only, of course. Nothing more.
“What do you think my chances against Whitebeard are?” Ace asks, and Marco can’t help but laugh. It seems to take Ace aback, for he falls back, sitting on the sand, looking up at Marco.
It dawns on Marco that there’s no fight left in him now. They’ve fizzled, not due to exhaustion or one being too tough to overcome… there’s something else here, something that cannot be understood with fists and flames.
“Zero. I do offensive well but my main priority is healing. Pops is invested in offensive and has even more of a reputation to uphold. You wouldn’t stand a chance against him, he has plenty more reasons than you to fight.” Marco watches as Ace looks down. He lets out a laugh and then falls back, sighing.
“I didn’t think it would be that easy,” Ace says, propping himself up on his elbows to look at Marco. “I’m curious. I’ve heard Whitebeard is a great man, but all the stories on my side say how horrific and powerful he is. What makes him great?”
It’s not a question Marco would ever have expected from a marine, but Ace doesn’t seem like any regular marine. He can indulge him this once, Marco thinks, and he shakes off the remainder of his flames, quashing the urges he has.
“It doesn’t matter where a person comes from or where they are going, to Pops, we’re all children of the sea.” Marco smiles, stepping over a patch of charred sand to take a seat beside Ace.
“That’s a pretty simplistic take on life,” Ace replies.
“Maybe. But what’s wrong with wanting to provide a home for people who want to be free?” Marco says, and Ace turns to him, eyes narrowed.
“There’s no such thing as being free,” he says incredulously, as if Marco is a child. “We all have our part to play in the world, I could never be so selfish to want to be free.” He spits the word as if it is diseased, and Marco feels his stomach plummet.
This is supposed to be a simple discussion, a marine versus a pirate, and yet… and yet…
“That’s pretty much the entire point of being a pirate,” Marco says, and Ace shrugs in response, sitting a little more upright and crossing his legs. “I didn’t set sail so I could visit every island and develop a miracle cure. Maybe something like that will happen, maybe I’ll meet someone capable of that, who knows, but I set sail because I wanted to set sail.”
“You had a choice, unlike me,” Ace begins, and Marco laughs.
“Everyone has a choice, you’ve just deluded yourself into thinking you don’t. It’s not like a marine to hold a pity party, especially not to a pirate.” Marco waits, and eventually Ace speaks.
“I want to be strong enough to protect the ones I love,” he admits, and Marco nods. “I’ve exhausted my options where I am. As I am now, where I am now, I’m not going to be enough to protect Luffy.”
Marco wracks his brain for the name and thinks back to a few months ago when an almost unheard-of rookie challenged the celestial dragons for a mermaid. The crew have been silent since then, but clearly are okay, wherever they are.
“Only you can decide what to do to make yourself enough,” Marco says, and he begins to stand. He’s not Ace’s friend or therapist and he needs a good drink and a bath after that fight. “My advice would be to do whatever makes you happy and fuck the consequences.”
He looks down at Ace, dips his head, and smiles.
“Just because the world’s placed you somewhere doesn’t make it your place in the world,” Marco says, and he shifts, sand barely stirring as he takes flight.
He doubts he’ll see Ace again.
.
No pirate has ever been known for their self control, and Marco is no different. He’s always done what he’s wanted to in every aspect of his life, but never has he had to justify it to himself before.
And that’s why, after three days of trying to be rational and sensible and not chase down the marine’s secret weapon, Marco is taking a seat at an all-you-can-eat buffet.
He tried. He really tried.
“It’s pretty ballsy to waltz in here anyway, but what will people think?” Ace comments light-heartedly, and even the sight of his mouth covered in barbeque sauce does little to dampen Marco’s urge to find a bendy branch and form a nest foundation.
“Just don’t steal my food,” Ace adds, returning to his plate. He’s naked from the waist up, but there’s a marine cloak piled up on the floor. The customers, who had already been giving Ace a wide berth, seem to have spooked even more with Marco’s presence.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Marco says, and he has to admit the food is pretty decent as he takes his first mouthful.
It’s not like Marco stalked Ace down to get to this point, he wants to clarify. His division has been busy trying to restock the supplies they lost during the fight a few days ago, and Marco just so happened to be finishing up his last collection when he’d walked past the all-you-can-eat and seen Ace inside. As a man who allows fate to determine his path, Marco had taken it as a sign and entered.
Of course what he should have done is continued walking. Marco should have just gone back to the Moby, set sail far away from this island and from Ace, yet instead he is here.
“Do you come here often?” Marco asks light-heartedly, and Ace turns to him with a grin. It’s endearing, the way he has food stuck between his teeth, and Marco lets out the smallest sigh.
“No, actually. I’m on a stopover, secret navy business. I’ll be moving on tomorrow.” Ace swallows, tongue working on the bits of food he’s left behind. “I’m on strict instruction not to exert myself. Seems they have some big plans for me when I arrive at my destination.”
“You definitely seem the type to listen to instruction,” Marco quips, taking a sip of his drink and wishing it was alcoholic so he’d have something else to blame his light buzz on.
Ace begins sucking food remnants from his fingers, and while it’s a pretty gross act in itself, Marco isn’t exactly put off by it. He catches Ace’s eye on the penultimate finger, holds the gaze, and looks away slowly when Ace is done.
He thinks Ace might be able to put two and two together.
“Do you want to come back to mine?” Ace asks, and Marco grins, throwing money on the counter and standing. He cocks his head, raises an eyebrow, and nods.
Marco doesn’t remember the route back to Ace’s hotel. If pressed, he’d probably be able to give general directions, but the walk is full of electricity, their hands brushing as they walk in silence, tension creeping between them. It could have taken them anywhere between a minute and an hour, all Marco knows is the moment Ace shuts the door behind them and pulls him close, Marco is already a fully gone man.
He sinks into Ace, hands smoothing his sides and pushing Ace back against the door. He kisses him fiercely, gasping into Ace’s lips as Ace nips ever so slightly, a sound of delight escaping the back of his throat as Marco moves to his neck, kissing his pulse. It’s strong and Marco lets his tongue lick the line of Ace’s jugular, kissing down to his collar before allowing Ace to pull him back up into a greedy kiss.
“Shall we take this to the bed?” Ace murmurs, and Marco has never wanted to transform his wings and fly them there quicker so much before. Realistically, it wouldn’t make a difference to the time and would, in fact, make the journey far more challenging but… instinct wants what it wants.
They move quickly, Ace falling back on the bed as Marco hovers over him. He wastes no time in shuffling Ace’s pants down, their shoes falling to the floor by the bed, socks soon after. It’s impolite, messy, but damn, does Marco want Ace’s dick in him now. He has no time for pleasantries.
Marco kisses the jut of Ace’s hipbone as he moves down, fingers curling around Ace’s cock. He squeezes gently, resting on an elbow to watch Ace’s brow wrinkle as he bunches his eyebrows. His eyes are tightly closed, and he draws in a sigh as Marco’s hand moves, slowly and teasing.
Those same eyes shoot open as Marco licks a circle around the head of Ace’s cock, probing the skin gently, pressure on and pressure off. It sends a ripple of pleasure through his own belly as Ace lets out a sigh of pleasure, pushing his hips up ever so slightly
“Patience,” Marco says, and then his entire mouth engulfs Ace, tongue wide as he lets Ace’s cock sink deep into his throat. He fights the urge to pull back so soon, and one of Ace’s hands grip his shoulder, mumbling his name in pleasure.
The mini-denden mushi starts ringing in his pocket, and Marco closes his eyes tightly, inhaling deeply as he moves up, saliva dripping down the side of his mouth as he returns back down to Ace’s cock.
“Ah,” Ace says, and his hand twitches in the sheets, fisting them into a ball. “Ah yes, just there,” he murmurs, and Marco obliges, swallowing thickly.
Moving up to focus on the head, Marco brings one of his hands to play with Ace’s balls, squeezing gently. Ace’s legs twitch, and he groans as Marco sucks hard, tongue flitting over his slit, and then Marco moves his hand to pump Ace’s dick.
“Fuck,” Ace says, turning his head to the side and biting his lip. He’s close, and Marco smiles as he moves faster, tongue curling, dipping his head down.
“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna come right now if you don’t stop, fuck,” Ace warns, and Marco keeps his position, humming as Ace comes in his mouth. He moves back gently when Ace is done, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and looks down at Ace.
His cheeks are flushed, chest heaving, and Ace looks down at Marco with so much warmth in him that Marco doesn’t have time to keep his impulses down. He bursts into flame, mortifyingly so, and Ace laughs, falling back on the bed.
“I was going to offer to return the favour but the denden mushi, huh?” he says, and it’s a perfect excuse for Marco to not be so embarrassingly obvious.
“The denden mushi. Looks like we’re on the move, no time for more fun and games.” Marco draws himself up, winking at Ace. “I’ll see you around.”
As he leaves, he hears Ace’s laughter echo in the room. Marco smiles, sighs, and hopes there’s some dumb fucks between here and the flagship so he can loosen some of his frustration without being too obvious about what he’s been up to.
.
“So,” Whitebeard starts, and Marco sets down his stack of papers, sighing heavily.
“It was about time something like this happened,” Marco says, taking a seat beside Whitebeard, eyes scanning the numbers on his health monitors. “We’ve been lucky to slip under the radar, though I feel Jinbe might have put a word in for us.”
“The little brat’s not trying to take over the world,” Whitebeard says, laughing. He takes a deep gulp of his drink—water, thankfully. “I’m curious as to what Big Mom did to piss him off. Kaido, I understand.”
“Some kind of marriage alliance, I’ve heard,” Marco says. “And it looks like Kaido’s about to take shit.”
“Do us proud then son,” Whitebeard says, and Marco blinks.
He’s not confused that Whitebeard knows about the request for help from Nekomamushi and Inuarashi, but that he’s being sent off. For a Whitebeard pirate to join in a fight against another Yonko… it’s a significant act.
“Your help, amongst others, has been requested. And I like that brat. He’s cheeky.” Whitebeard laughs, and Marco can’t help but agree.
While Marco had heard of Luffy before, it wasn’t until Marineford that they’d met in person, with Luffy rescuing his revolutionary brother and the Whitebeard pirates closing in on Teach. The clash was monumental, but it hadn’t shaken the world up as much as the navy had hoped, and Marco knows they have Luffy’s interference to thank for that. He helped to protect Whitebeard, they helped rescue his brother, and when Blackbeard tried to change the fate of the world, everyone had lashed back and put a stop to him.
Somewhere, on a peaceful island in the New World, Thatch could rest easy now.
“You want me to help him take down Kaido? That’s a statement,” Marco comments, and Whitebeard laughs.
“If the navy wants to think we’re forming a super alliance, even better. Blame it on an old man going senile at this age, blame it on me wanting a bit of fun, blame it on anything. I think it’ll be good for you.” Whitebeard sobers, and Marco nods. “Wano needs help, and I’m not the person to save them.”
They’ve never been able to protect everyone, and that’s been okay. They’ve always done just what they can, but Marco knows it’s not always enough. They’re pirates and selfish, true, but they’re people, good people, and Whitebeard can’t raise himself further to change the world.
It’s not his place but, perhaps, it could be Monkey D. Luffy’s.
So Marco goes, a mini-Moby sailing out with men from his division, volunteers from the entire crew (a first come first serve cap of 100 due to other overwhelming demands—the Whitebeard pirates never did anything by halves), and Izo, along with members of his division. They don’t quite know what they’re getting themselves into, but that is entirely the point.
It’s fun, is what it is. It’s terrifying, and Marco has never felt so pushed to his limits before, but he can feel the power of the Strawhats, can feel their devotion and their love. They are a strong crew, but it’s not their physical strength that makes Marco understand that he will, one day, see Luffy as the King of Pirates.
“You’ve joined a pretty damn good crew,” Marco comments to Jinbe, and he laughs.
“Luffy has done a lot for me. He’s a good man,” Jinbe replies, and they watch the celebration across Wano, delighting in a hard battle won.
“You look like a man who has found his home,” Marco says, and Jinbe nods, a soft smile on his face.
“I’ve had many homes, and now this is where I belong.” Jinbe closes his eyes, and Marco looks over to the central hub of the party, where various people are goofing and dancing, people being people.
This is the liberation Marco’s always wanted, and what Whitebeard has fought for where he can. People allowed to be people, to live happily and peacefully.
“Ace! Look!” Luffy shouts, and Marco’s eyes narrow to where Luffy is tugging the arm of another person, Yamato on the other side. They seem to be trying to coax the person into doing something, but Marco can’t make his face out thanks to the hat he’s wearing.
It couldn’t be though, could it? There were so many battles and so many people that Marco has hardly met half of those involved in the Wano fight, and what were the chances that marine-Ace would rock up here and help? Surely zilch.
“Okay, okay, okay,” the not-marine-Ace-who-sounds-exactly-like-Ace says, and Marco nudges Jinbe.
“Who’s that?” he asks, and Marco has no doubt it’s Ace from the way his fingertips have started to ember into blue flames, an almost conditioned response.
“Ace? He’s Luffy’s older brother.” Jinbe winks. “Supposedly the navy’s best kept secret, though I’d say he’s the worst. Ace spends more time doing what he wants than what the navy wants.”
That makes a lot of sense as to why Ace would be here then, and Marco nods slowly, pretending to be thoughtful rather than desperate for Ace to notice him. He’s not as subtle as he had hoped, though, for Jinbe makes a noise of realisation.
“But you know Ace,” he says, and Marco sighs as Jinbe looks him up and down, clearly clocking the flames at his fingertips and the jiggling of his feet. “And you like Ace.”
“And I like Ace,” Marco agrees, shrugging hopelessly as Jinbe laughs. “I didn’t know he was Straw Hat’s brother though. That’s a new one.”
“He’s a good man. Puts too much on himself, and the Marineford incident crushed him. I don’t know what they did, but if Ace could have been there to help, he would have.” Jinbe sticks his hand up and waves, and Marco’s eyes widen slightly as he realises whose attention Jinbe is trying to get.
“Now those questions about the Whitebeard pirates make a lot more sense,” Jinbe says, chuckling, and Marco watches in some odd form of happy-horror as Ace waves back, mumbles something to Yamato and makes his way over. “I just thought he was tasked with taking the old man down! Now I realise it’s entirely about getting it in a different old man.”
Jinbe thinks he’s funny. He thinks he’s a comedian with that level of a joke, and he laughs, turns to Marco and laughs more. He’s still laughing when Ace stops before them, raising an eyebrow and shrugging.
“Luffy’s going to want to do some elaborate dance routine with you, Jinbe,” Ace warns. He pauses and corrects himself. “Most likely you too, Marco.”
Now, Marco might be imagining it, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he was completely off base, but Ace’s voice changes when he says Marco’s name. He says it softly, almost lovingly, and Marco feels a stir in his belly.
“I best see what my captain wants,” Jinbe says politically, though the wink he shoots Marco as he leaves is nothing short of salacious. In any other situation it would make Marco cringe, but here… well. It’s just the truth.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Marco says, and Ace kneels down, exhaling before flopping down entirely, belly to the ground and arms outstretched.
“I should have known the pineapple guy Luffy’s been talking about was you,” Ace says, and Marco rolls his eyes. “Thank you for coming to help my little brother. I hope he wasn’t too much trouble.”
It’s said so politely, almost rehearsed, and Marco smiles. Luffy’s certainly given Ace a lot of trouble in the past then.
“Not at all. I’ve enjoyed it, actually,” Marco says, and Ace smiles.
“Good. Because he’s the reason I’ve already got grey hairs, and he’s not going to stop any time soon. I hope you enjoyed a semi-peaceful life.” Ace reaches out to play with the grass beside Marco’s legs, and Marco inhales slightly, excitement coiling in his belly.
“I’m staying nearby, a small house. Everyone will be celebrating and no one will disturb us in my room,” Ace offers, and Marco nods eagerly, letting Ace take him away into the night.
The soft sound of celebration drifts through the house as Ace takes him to the back, closing the door softly. He slips his clothes off, huffing as Marco just stands, watching, taking all of Ace in.
He is gorgeous, muscled and tanned. He knows it too, for Ace laughs, reaching for the edge of Marco’s shirt.
“I want you here,” he says, and who is Marco to decline such a proposal.
Ace’s lips are soft when Marco kisses them. He presses gently, then with more enthusiasm as Ace locks both arms and legs around him, pulling him down until Marco has to catch himself on all fours. He doesn’t stop kissing Ace, though, and shifts his weight until he’s able to take his own clothes off.
“I was hoping you’d fuck me,” Ace says, and Marco’s skin prickles with excitement. “Please,” he adds, and Marco presses small kisses to his collarbone, other hand reaching between them to gently squeeze, drawing a pleased sigh from Ace.
“Your wish is my command,” Marco says, and pauses. “If you have lube,” he adds, and Ace pauses. It’s just a moment, but a long one, and then he pushes Marco off, heading for his pile of clothes.
“I don’t carry it around with me,” Ace says, pulling out an unmarked bottle. “I stole some from Jonan.”
Marco doesn’t question why Ace was in that part of the battle and, in actuality, he’s rather intrigued to be using lube from Black Maria’s own brothel.
“Come here,” he says, reaching a hand out, and Ace is quick to comply, passing the bottle over as he kisses Marco’s cheek.
Marco coats himself liberally, squeezing more over Ace’s cock. He moves his hand down, listening to the way Ace’s breath changes, where makes him screw his eyes up and how much pressure makes him bite his lip. He shudders as Marco’s fingers enter him, and his eyes snap open when Marco moves, a wildness brimming to the surface.
“I’m going to ride you,” he says, pulling away and off of Marco’s hand. He wastes no time in settling himself back in Marco’s lap, grinding down on his dick, hand reaching to cup Marco’s balls as he does so.
It feels good, heavenly almost, and Marco almost forgets the full purpose of this until Ace moves up, knocking Marco’s hand away.
“Ready?” he asks, and Marco swallows thickly, nodding. He dots Ace’s neck with kisses as he sinks down slowly, and his teeth graze skin as he’s sheathed fully, Ace adjusting for a moment before he moves.
“Ah,” Marco lets out, stomach jolting as Ace shifts. “Fuck,” he lets out, eyes searching for Ace’s, and he’s grinning, the bastard, knowing full well how Marco is feeling right now.
Marco isn’t ashamed to say it takes him less time than usual to come, but Ace encourages him on, whispering in his ear, teeth catching the skin between kisses. Marco finds Ace’s lips with his own, kissing him deeply as he comes, hand reaching between them, palm encircling Ace’s cock as come drips from him.
With a grip on Marco’s shoulder, Ace comes, curling over until his head rests against Marco’s. He’s breathing heavily, shuddering, and Marco brings a hand up to stroke his back gently, the two of them resting in the moment.
Eventually, and with a gentle kiss and a slight groan, Ace flops back, brushing his hair away from his face as he disentangles them. He then hops from the futon, grabs a cloth from the washbasin and begins cleaning himself up. When he’s done, he offers the cloth to Marco, smiles sleepily, and gives Marco a soft kiss when he discards the cloth on the floor.
“You’re staying with me tonight,” Ace says, and there’s no room for disagreement, not that Marco would want to in a million years.
The night is cool, the battle is won, and Marco sleeps well with Ace wrapped around him.
.
Marco doesn’t really know how to handle the news. Izo is the one to tell him, rubbing his temples in exasperation.
“So they fucked up, pulled a powerful marine on board, chucked him in one of my patient rooms because it was one of the only places they could lock and… expected me to come back and deal with it?” Marco resists the urge to rub his temples too and Izo rolls his eyes.
“Pops took one look and said you’d deal with it,” he corrects, and Marco feels a headache coming on already. “He seems to think you’ll be the best person to question the marine. I have no idea why.”
Neither does Marco. Interrogation isn’t his forte, really, and he wonders if this is a way Whitebeard has thought up to get out of his weekly check up that is due in, oh, an hour.
“This is intentional,” Marco comments, and Izo pats his shoulder, nodding.
“I’m going to watch Jozu beat the idiots about a bit. Have fun with your marine!” With that, Izo is gone, and Marco has to go mop up whatever fuck up some idiots have left him.
When Marco opens the door to one of his clinic rooms, he doesn’t expect to see Ace lounging on the patient table. He jolts up when the door opens, sees Marco, and nods.
“Marco,” he greets, and Marco exhales deeply. So Whitebeard knows about this then.
“Ace,” Marco replies, pauses and narrows his eyes. “I’m not doing a doctor roleplay scenario,” he warns, and Ace laughs.
“The gloves don’t do it for me anyway,” he says, and Marco nods, grateful that he isn’t going to have to step out of his comfort zone and mix work and pleasure. It’s not that he wouldn’t, but it isn’t something he’d enjoy.
“What brings you to the Moby Dick,” Marco asks, and Ace sits up, hopping off the chair and stretching. He’s shirtless, no mark of the marines on him anywhere, and Marco swallows thickly, foot tapping the ground. He’s too tired to stop himself.
“Oh, you know,” Ace says, and he takes a step towards Marco. “It’s only fair I come to visit you once in a while.”
Another step, then another, and Marco holds his breath when Ace steps into reach. He inhales sharply as Ace brings one arm up to rest on Marco’s shoulder, the other tracing circles up his bare arm. Where Ace touches turns to blue tingling flames, the tiniest fire Marco has ever conjured, and he meets Ace’s half-lidded gaze.
“I could get behind this arrangement,” he murmurs, but then Ace winces, smiling hurriedly to cover it, and Marco feels any lust he felt moments before vanish like a bucket of ice-cold water thrown on him. “They hurt you,” Marco says, and Ace shakes his head hurriedly.
“No, honestly, it’s fine,” he begins, but Marco shakes his head, pulling back and heading to one of his cabinets.
“It’s not fine Ace. My men shouldn’t have captured you, even if you were willing, and they certainly shouldn’t have hurt you enough to leave lasting wounds.” Marco grits his teeth as he puts together a quick triage kit. He thought his brothers had more sense than to rough up a logia user prisoner so much that they still hurt hours after.
“No, honestly,” Ace tries again, but Marco is having none of it.
“We don’t treat people like that on this ship,” Marco says, just holding back his fury. “We try to do things the fair and honest way, not beat a prisoner when they’re down.”
For that’s the only way Marco could see his men making Ace wince in pain like that. They had to have captured him and tortured him for some sick reason, and it takes all of Marco’s patience to gather his supplies calmly rather than throwing shit together.
“Marco, listen to me,” Ace says, and Marco pauses, fingers grazing gauze pads as Ace’s tone cuts through his anger. “It wasn’t your men.”
The words are even worse than Marco expected. It wasn’t his men… and if it wasn’t his men, then whose men was it?
“The navy,” Marco states, and Ace remains silent. The gauze before his fingers is grabbed and Marco turns around, heart almost breaking as he sees Ace looking so defeated, head down and shoulders hunched.
“Ace,” Marco says, gesturing for Ace to take a seat. He complies, avoiding Marco’s eyes. “You don’t have to explain, but I need to know what needs treating.”
Ace is gritting his teeth, fists clenched on his knees. He’s uncomfortable, but Marco needs to know to be able to help. He’s heard of what marines can and will do, but he hopes, oh he hopes, Ace has been spared torture.
“My back,” he says, leaning forwards and shucking his shirt off. “It’s… my back.”
While Ace’s logia powers have done the best they can, there’s no hiding the fact that Ace has been shot at with seastone bullets. Marco’s seen these before and has called them barbaric, not wishing them on his worst enemies. The tip of the bullet splits off, not enough to cancel a devil fruit power entirely—for that would be too costly—but enough to make the damage known.
It brings about a slow, agonising death in most cases. For Ace? Sheltered at one navy facility or another? Marco doubts they would have let him die, but certainly he’d have become ill and needed their care.
“Do you know what it is?” Marco asks, and it’s not about the bullets or however Ace came to have them in his skin. Ace knows this.
“They wanted information that I refuse to give them. A specialist group took care of my reconditioning.” Ace looks up, eyes murky beneath his hair. He’s tired, of so many things, and Marco touches his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” Marco says. “I would like to remove the remainder of the bullets, though I need to do so without pain medication. If I numb the area, we won’t know if all of it is out.”
Ace nods, standing and looking around the room.
“Not here,” Marco says, and he takes Ace to one of the operating rooms. He connects to the denden mushi, speaking to the nurse on duty, asks for complete privacy. She says she will be on standby if he needs, wishes them both good luck, and then it’s Marco’s turn to sort out the mess on Ace’s back.
“Lie down for now, if it gets too uncomfortable just tell me.” Marco begins preparations as Ace settles down. It’s not the most comfortable table at the moment, and there’s nothing Marco can give Ace to lie more comfortably. He’ll survive, though.
Once cleaned and gloved, Marco gets out his tools and sets to work. It’s hard, though Ace does his best, muscles tense as Marco digs into the four wounds on his back, removing fragments of seastone imbued bullet until Ace is clear. The skin heals with a resounding crackle, fire purging any remnants of seastone-free metal left.
“You did well,” Marco says, and Ace lets out a shaky breath.
“Remind me never to pick an admiral as a drinking buddy again,” Ace says, and it’s a joke, an awful joke to divert the horror of the situation, so Marco gives a strained chuckle.
“I’m going to tidy up. I’ll have a nurse take you to where you’ll be staying tonight,” Marco says, hand on the denden mushi.
Ace is silent as he’s offered a soft robe and taken by the nurse. She begins chattering, handing out a bag of supplies and clothes, and Marco is thankful for his staff. They know what to do in a crisis, that’s for sure, and even if it’s just for tonight, Ace will rest.
He cleans and he discards waste, and it only takes Marco ten minutes. He is strangely nervous now, as if having Ace in his operating theatre shifted the world. Or, rather, the revelation that the navy will even go after someone valued so highly if they thought they could benefit.
“Can I come in?” Marco asks when he knocks on the door, and Ace calls out positively.
When Marco enters, it’s to an entirely different human. Ace is eating, shirtless yet wearing fluffy socks and clean underwear. He smiles, warmly, and Marco’s heart skips a beat.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Ace says, taking a bite of a sandwich. Marco fills with dread until Ace continues. “The navy are shit, I know that, and it won’t be the last time it happens. Akainu’s always held shit against me and that’s just… how it is.”
Ace shrugs.
“I stay with them because I can’t handle another Marineford,” Ace says, and Marco remains silent. He’s pieced bits together, the revolutionary’s man, Luffy, a battle Ace was kept from… and Marco dreads to think what they did to Ace during that fight.
“It’s the only thing I can do. The only thing I can control,” Ace finishes, wiping his mouth and shrugging. “Akainu isn’t so bad in comparison to what he’d do to Luffy.”
There are a million things Marco wants to say, but now is not the time. He doesn’t want to point out the glaringly obvious, that Luffy is going to have to fight Akainu at some point, as well as a string of other nasties, and that he’s probably much more capable than any other human on the planet to do so. Marco fully believes Luffy will become the pirate king, and no weak-willed man could get there.
Then again, Marco isn’t his brother. He hasn’t had to make sacrifices in his life because people have drip-fed him lies and stories. If anything, Marineford should have been an awakening for Ace, and instead the navy have turned it to poison around him.
All Marco can do is in the here and now.
“You need some rest,” he says, and Ace nods, slow. He has the weight of the world on him, both put upon and weight he is afraid to let go of.
“Here,” Marco says, folding back the bedsheet and gesturing for Ace to climb in. “You’re safe here. You can leave whenever. Tomorrow, a few days, a few weeks, Pops doesn’t mind.”
There’s just the sound of sheets rustling as Ace gets in, and Marco moves to the door. He pauses as Ace inhales sharply, and looks back with a smile.
“Can you… just.” Ace shakes his head, but Marco understands, and he catches the light switch, turning back the covers to join Ace.
“Push me off if I get too much,” Marco says, but it’s Ace who curls into him, an arm wrapping over Marco’s torso and a head burying into his shoulder.
“Good night,” Ace says, and he’s gone too quickly for Marco to reply.
Instead, Marco presses a kiss to his head and closes his own eyes, heart yearning to keep this moment forever.
As Ace sleeps, Marco lays quietly. He keeps his eyes closed, though the urge to look at Ace grows. He is almost afraid to break the moment though, so he stays, quiet and still. He also knows that, if he looks at Ace now, framed in shadow and the stillness of night, that it will be game over for him. There will be no holding back any transformation, no pretending his feelings are just innate animal instinct. If Marco opens his eyes now, every barrier he’s put up will shatter and there will be no denying all he wants is Ace to stay with him forever.
It would be simple. Ace hates the navy, is mistreated by them, and clearly wants an out. He likes Marco, is comfortable enough to sleep on the Moby Dick, and seems content to stay. Marco doesn’t want to hope, but if there ever was a turning point, it has to be now.
They’ll wake in the morning, go and have breakfast in the canteen, and Marco will introduce Ace to his family. Their morning will be full of laughter and a fresh start, a new life of freedom for Ace and a turning page for Marco.
There’s no doubt in Marco’s mind that everyone will love Ace. He’ll fit in perfectly, perhaps eventually stepping up to head one of the divisions if he wishes. There’s so much more potential and freedom here, and Marco takes a deep breath, squeezing Ace gently as he shifts to a slightly comfier position, letting himself accept he has to sleep now.
Ace is already up and moving when Marco wakes. He’s gathering clothes, shifting through a pile of plain t-shirts in the wardrobe. He moves with precision, as if he’s a man on a mission, and Marco’s stomach sinks.
“Sorry,” Ace says when Marco slides out of the bed. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Marco shakes his head. “I needed to get up anyway.”
“Thanks,” Ace says awkwardly, and there’s a space between them as big as an island. “I… thank you,” he repeats.
“Travel safely,” Marco says quietly, looking around for his glasses, refusing to try and rub away the headache that is forming behind his eyes.
“Yeah,” Ace says, sliding a blue t-shirt on. He’s got his shorts from yesterday, most likely cleaned and then dropped off by one of the nurses, and he’s lacing his boots up. “It would have been nice to stay but. Duty calls.”
He lets out a sigh of a laugh, looking down at his feet, and Marco’s heart drops to his stomach. There will be no morning tours of the Moby Dick, no laughter at breakfast. Ace cannot, will not, stay. And Marco cannot change that.
“Don’t be a stranger,” Marco says, forcing a cheer into his voice. “I’ll see you around,” he says, and he shrugs on his clothes from yesterday.
It’s not quite fleeing the room, but it’s a close call, and Marco strides down the hall, barefooted and heart pounding in his ears. He manages to get the word out that Ace is to be allowed free, no one is to bother him, and also get Ace’s boat lowered back down to the sea. He’s free to leave now, and while it burns Marco’s stomach with bitterness, it’s for the best.
Ace doesn’t want to stay.
.
They all knew that this day would come, but that doesn’t make it any easier. In the end, there’s no war, there’s no fight. There’s nothing, and Marco doesn’t know if he feels comfortable with the end. It’s all anyone could ask for, to die surrounded by loved ones, but they’d all expected an explosion, a change in the world to signify the passing of such a great man.
As it is, one morning, Whitebeard falls asleep on his chair on the main deck of the Moby Dick and never wakes up. Marco gives the final call, tears streaming down his face, for some things are just meant to be.
Immediately they change their course, heading to the land where Whitebeard asked to be buried. The word begins to spread, through the ship and through to the commanders. It takes until late afternoon for allies to hear the news, and over the next few days, as they near their destination, a fleet gathers to pay their respects.
People Marco would never have expected to show up join them, and he thanks Shanks quietly when he can no longer speak, grief welling in his chest as Shanks lays their father to rest.
“Thank you,” Marco says later, in private, and Shanks waves him off.
“Whitebeard was a great man. He leaves behind a respected legacy, and we’ll all do our part to uphold his values.” Shanks takes a sip of his drink, a dark rum punch thrown together from whatever they had in the hold. Marco drinks from his own cup, a little too eagerly, and has to wipe his mouth when he’s done.
“We knew it would come, prepared, and yet…” Marco shakes his head. “I feel lost.”
Shanks is not an enemy, never has been. Certainly not an ally, a rival definitely, but he is a man of importance and understanding. Marco cannot help but lean on him ever so slightly, and is grateful to Shanks for allowing it.
“You’ll move on, as you always do. Are any of us truly lost when we have no real destination?” Shanks smiles to himself, and Marco closes his eyes, shaking his head.
“You always were a smartass,” he comments, and Shanks laughs.
There’s a knock on the door, and Benn opens it slowly, nodding to Marco.
“A navy ship has been spotted. It's a small one-man vessel,” he says, voice low. He’s ready to deal with it, but Marco has a good idea of who it is and their intentions.
“I’ll go,” he says, and Shanks fixes him a look. “It should be Portgas D. Ace. I believe you’re acquainted.”
“Luffy’s brother?” Shanks says, and he glances at Benn. “It’s been a while since we saw him. Call if you need back up.”
As he strides from the room and across the deck, Marco doesn’t feel anything. He doesn’t feel nerves or excitement, he doesn’t feel happy or sad, he isn’t capable of it right now. He looks down at the sea when he reaches the side of the ship, and sure enough Ace is there, on his modified one-person boat, looking up at the moon with his arms crossed over his chest.
“I’m sorry,” are the first words out of his mouth when Marco lands gently. “I’m so sorry.”
He doesn’t make a move to hug Marco, which he is grateful for. To be held by Ace right now would be to let it all out, and this is not the place for that. If he can get Ace on the Moby Dick, Marco could let go, but they have things they need to discuss before he can allow that.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Marco says. “The navy will find out. You shouldn’t be here.”
Ace shrugs.
“You’re more important than what happens to me,” he says, and Marco narrows his eyes. “I wanted to pay my respects. Whitebeard was a kind man.”
While he hadn’t spent much time with Whitebeard, Marco knows that Ace had some form of relationship with him. They’d spoken on the Moby, when Ace had decided to stick around for a couple of weeks after the bullet incident, and there were are handful of other meetings, surprise ones that Whitebeard would comment on days or weeks after they happened. He’d been fond of Ace, and while Marco had suspected it was reciprocated, it had never been his place to ask.
“I would have sailed under him,” Ace comments, and Marco swallows thickly. He’s not ready for this.
“You could have,” Marco replies, failing to keep the bitterness from his voice, even though it’s not fair. Ace shouldn’t be dealing with the acidity crawling in Marco’s stomach, nor should he be dealing with the entirety of Marco’s inability to change people and the world.
“Then I will,” Ace says, and Marco looks at him, bitterness fading to dull sorrow. He’s silhouetted against the moon, and every feature seems wild with his decision and surety. “Take me with you when you leave.”
It’s everything Marco’s wanted and more, yet he can’t. Ace cannot follow him now, for it’s out of pity and the desire to help. It’s not for himself, and Marco could never chain someone like that.
“I don’t know where I’m going yet,” Marco says, and it’s true. He doesn’t know exactly what his future holds or where his path will take him. “I don’t want to force you on that path.”
The worst thing for Marco would be to see Ace grow to resent him
Ace moves, reaching for Marco. The boat dips to the side slightly, and Marco prepares to shout out for help if they should fall.
“Please, I can’t… I can’t do it anymore,” Ace says, and Marco screws his eyes shut tightly. He feels on a tipping point, but he can’t let Ace do this. Not like this. Not now.
“No,” Marco says, and his body shudders with the effort it takes to say that single word. “No, not for me.”
Ace doesn’t say anything. He holds Marco’s gaze, eyes wet in the moonlight, and grits his jaw.
“Okay,” Ace replies, defeated, and he brings his knuckles up to brush Marco’s cheek. He pauses just before, biting the inside of his cheek, and lets his hand fall to his side.
“Okay,” he repeats, taking a step back. Ace returns to the back of his boat, flames licking his ankles, and Marco knows this is his cue for goodbye.
It’s hard, shifting to his phoenix form and pushing up, away from Ace and away from what makes him happy, but Marco’s made his decision. He has the rest of the Whitebeard pirates to think of right now. They need his guidance. Ace still hasn’t made the decision to leave for himself, he can’t use Marco or Whitebeard passing as an excuse, Marco can see that very clearly.
He has to want it for himself, and that’s why Marco said no.
Still. Marco aches as he watches Ace vanish on the horizon, and when one of his division find him, fingers stiff around the handrail overlooking the sea, they know he’s not okay.
But then again, right now, none of them are.
.
Marco isn’t sure where one person begins and another ends. Blood drips down his face, his wounds slowly healing, the last attack a barrage that ripped him almost completely apart.
“Well,” his opponent says, around the ringing in Marco’s ears. “I have to admit I am surprised you recovered from that.”
Marco spits blood on the floor, his healing spurring on as he registers who caught him from behind.
“Akainu,” he greets, disdain dripping with every syllable. “What a pleasure to meet you on the battlefield like this.”
Akainu’s lip curls, as if Marco is a disgusting degenerate. And, to be fair, he probably is to Akainu.
“You’re a stain on the world,” he spits, and Marco rolls his eyes.
“Nice to see you too, it’s been a while.” Marco grins as Akainu fixes him with a heavy glare. “I’m afraid I can’t let you go for the head. He’s a bit busy, you see, so you’ll have to deal with me.”
Somewhere, in this vast battlefield, Luffy is dealing with a bigger and nastier enemy than Akainu. He has to wrap this up, somehow, and head on over to the crux of the battle to help Chopper heal who they can. They’ve been fighting for too long for them to not start looking after patients.
Akainu wastes no time in lunging for Marco. For a usually composed man, Akainu seems to be on more of a mission than he usually is, and Marco shifts his arms to wings, wincing slightly as magma grazes him. It hurts, it always hurts, but the cool brush of healing steps in quickly, and Marco is whole again.
Oddly, there is no strategy. Akainu seems to be a man possessed, someone who was fighting before the battle lines were drawn, and Marco thinks he might actually have a chance at stopping him here and now. It would be a great achievement, for Luffy and for Ace.
And maybe…
“If you have time to daydream you have time to die,” Akainu snarls, and Marco almost laughs as he’s forced to the ground, a huge lava-riddled fist pressing his head to the ground. His head splits, both literally and figuratively, and Marco struggles to crawl back, breaking free and pushing himself upwards as quickly as he can. Even he has his limit, and he’ll be damned if he lets Akainu push him so much in so short a time.
They spar, lightly, Marco delivering what should be devastating kicks and Akainu firing magma Marco’s way. Akainu deflects, Marco heals, and it feels like they’re getting nowhere.
“I should have killed him,” Akainu says as Marco strikes. He catches Marco’s calf and, instead of pulling away, Marco lets himself be held there, lava flowing down his leg, waiting for Akainu to name exactly who Marco knows he will.
“As soon as I discovered Ace was a Whitebeard rat, I should have killed him.” He looks triumphant, and Marco feels dread curl in his stomach as his calf struggles to heal, bones fusing and melting once more, but he can’t move.
“Say it again,” he says, and Akainu grips tighter, his fingers sliding through Marco’s leg entirely, ironically setting him free.
“Your rat is dead,” Akainu says, and Marco doesn’t feel anything anymore. He doesn't hear anything, he doesn’t smell anything. His senses shut down until all he can do is see Akainu, and he knows what he has to do.
Marco has never thought it possible to change the very fabric of his form, but as he transforms fully, there’s not a hint of blue. He’s white, blindingly so, and there is a small fragment of satisfaction as Akainu narrows his eyes, his magma bubbling down his shoulders in a feeble attempt to protect himself.
It’s too late, Marco thinks to himself, swelling with fire and rage and righteousness. Far too late. He’s a phoenix burning up, giving every cell of himself, and he burns as he flies to the sky. The science is lost to him, but if Marco didn’t know any better, he’d say the ash falling to the ground as he cuts upwards is the very sky itself burning from his movement.
This is for Ace, Marco thinks as he turns, wings tucking as he plummets, eyes fixed on his target. He dodges the magma hurled at him, barely noticing as he grazes clumps. He heals instantly, the magma burning up in the strength of his power, and Marco has a moment to wonder if it’s fear in Akainu’s eyes he sees before he smashes into him.
For a moment, the world is white, black, and then full of hazy colour. Marco opens his eyes in a crater, and he is struggling to breathe. Every organ feels shot, and he’s fairly certain almost every bone in his body is broken too. He’s bleeding, and to be honest it’s probably easier to catalogue the parts that aren’t open wounds, but he’s alive. And, judging by the pitiful blue flickering on his thigh, slowly, slowly healing.
Of course, even with all that power, the anger of a phoenix in full flame, it wasn’t enough to end Akainu. He’s damaged, body more magma than flesh, and in just a state as Marco, but he’s still alive.
Marco has a job to finish. He grits his teeth as he tries to push up, bones snapping into place as he uses any power he has left to just get himself moving. He can replenish blood, he can deal with whatever non-vital-at-the-moment organ failure he’s going through, but he can’t waste this opportunity.
There’s a clap on his shoulder, a soft hand curling against his skin, and Marco starts. He doesn’t need to see the person to know who it is, not from the way their fingers press into his skin or the way they exhale.
“Let me help you,” Ace says, and Marco turns to him, eyes wide.
“Ace,” he breathes, his body finally, finally , defying him. “He said… you’re-“
“Let me help you,” Ace repeats, his eyes roving to Akainu. “Let me finish this.”
Marco’s throat is dry and so he nods, coughing slightly as Ace lets go. All Ace needs is two good steps, and he’s before Akainu, silent and tall. Akainu doesn’t move, just stares, and then it’s over in swift fire.
There’s nothing to say, nothing Marco can do, and so he lays on his back, focusing on his breathing. They’re still in the midst of battle, and when Marco is healed enough to fly, he’ll make his way back to help. But, for now, it’s just him and Ace in a crater, a demon who’s haunted Ace dead behind them.
“Does it feel good?” Marco rasps as Ace returns to him, sitting down and pulling his knees to his chest.
“It doesn’t feel good,” he says, and Marco nods. “But it feels… free.”
Marco smiles, closing his eyes as his skin begins to knot back together. He feels the itch of new hair growth, the kick of his kidneys coming back to full function, and he wiggles his toes. Everything seems in working order, if achy and tired.
“Ask me again,” Marco says, and Ace looks at him, eyebrow raised in questioning. “If you want to do this for yourself and not for me. Ask me again.”
His eyes widen in comprehension, and Ace smiles, tucking his chin on his knees and shaking his head.
“I’m not going to ask you Marco,” he says, and Marco’s stomach dropped. He’d assumed, with the Akainu death and all, that Ace was done with the navy, that this was the start of his new life, free of the shackles that had been placed upon him.
“Ace,” Marco begins, and Ace turns to him, twisting until he’s practically sprawled on top of Marco, grinning in excitement.
“I’m not going to ask because I don’t need to. I’m coming with you, as an equal.” And despite Marco being covered in dirt and blood and fuck knows what else, Ace wraps his arms around his shoulders and dips down, kissing him gently.
“I’m doing this because it will make me happy. I’m not the navy’s secret weapon. I’m just Portgas D. Ace, and I love you, Marco,” Ace says, and Marco feels tears spill from the corners of his eyes as he reaches shakily for Ace, pulling him back down.
“I love you too,” Marco replies, and he laughs as the cries of their comrades ring out. “Timing isn’t the best,” he comments, and Ace’s grin turns to something feral as he pushes up, stretching out his arms as he turns towards the centre of the fight.
“Then let’s sort that out,” he says, and Marco lets flames lash up his arms in agreement. “We have a Pirate King to support.”
And if there is a slight wiggle in Marco’s step, well. He can blame it on the regeneration of his bones rather than what it actually is.
.
The night is pleasant, a cool breeze rolling over the ship. The sea is a little choppy in these parts and spray occasionally makes its way up to Marco’s window, bursts of cool nipping at his skin. He’s comfortable, and he closes his books for the night. He’s not finished, never finished, but for now, he can rest.
“We should end up at our destination in a couple of hours,” Ace says when Marco joins him on deck. The crewmen give them a wide berth, and Marco rolls his head from side to side, enjoying the stretch.
“It’s been a while since we saw Straw Hat,” Marco says, and Ace grins, his eyes crinkling. They are both far more weathered now, but the boyish gleam in Ace’s eyes has never dulled.
“I hope you’re prepared for an adventure, old man,” Ace jokes, and Marco slings an arm around his shoulder, tilting his head to knock against Ace’s gently.
“I don’t know, I fancied watching the navy’s once secret weapon try and take down the pirate king,” Marco says, and Ace scoffs.
“I haven’t been called that in decades,” he jokes, which is a lie. Marco makes the joke at least once a month, particularly in bed because it makes Ace flush. He pretends to be embarrassed but, when it comes down to it, Ace enjoys being lorded as the secret weapon when his dick’s in Marco’s mouth, there’s no two ways about it.
“Did you get the documents for Chopper sorted?” Ace asks, and he settles sideways into Marco, shuffling until he has more of Marco’s arm around him.
“Mostly. A few more pages need cross referencing, and I want to double check one of the records, but the information should be valuable. It could be what he needs for one of his latest miracle cures,” Marco says, and he lets his flames appear.
Never, in all their years together, has Marco’s flame for Ace diminished. Even now when they spend their days together and have done since Ace left the navy behind, Marco still has the urge to build a nest for them. On occasion, usually when Marco is bone-exhausted, twigs and leaves make their way to their bed, and Ace gets a good laugh out of it. He’s always cherished how Marco feels, and not a day goes by that Marco doesn’t feel lucky to have met Ace.
“The adventures never stop,” Ace says, and he leans back against Marco, the sea spray hitting their cheeks.
Marco is confident about many things in his life. He is confident that his entire soul has always been made to share a life with Ace, and he is so thankful for the years they have had, and the years they will have. Their life is far from over, and there is still so much to see and explore.
And they’ll do it together.