Aviation (Lawlu)
There were several things Trafalgar Law regretted about becoming friends with Penguin, and most of them could be traced back to the fact that the man had absolutely no concept of minding his own business.
The first mistake had been accepting his invitation to lunch during their freshman year. The second had been allowing that lunch to become a weekly occurrence, which eventually turned into a friendship, which eventually resulted in Penguin learning far too much about Law’s personal life. His third and arguably most consequential mistake had been introducing Penguin to Shachi, because while Penguin was irritating enough on his own, the two of them together possessed the collective maturity of a particularly troublesome pair of middle schoolers.
His fourth mistake, however, was considerably more recent.
It had happened on a Thursday afternoon, approximately twenty minutes after Law had finished a particularly unpleasant anatomy examination and approximately three minutes before he seriously considered throwing himself out of the university library’s second-floor window.
“She’s really nice, though,” Penguin insisted, leaning across the table with the sort of enthusiasm that suggested he had never once experienced the crushing weight of academic responsibility. “And she’s studying biomedical engineering, so you guys would actually have something to talk about.”
Law turned a page in his textbook.
“No.”
“You haven’t even seen her picture.”
“Don’t need to.”
“She’s pretty.”
“Congratulations to her.”
“She’s single.”
“Wow, how tragic,”
“She’s interested in you.”
Law finally looked up. “Then she has terrible judgment.”
Across from him, Shachi made a noise that might have been a laugh, although it was difficult to tell considering he was currently attempting to fit an entire convenience-store sandwich into his mouth. Penguin, meanwhile, appeared entirely undeterred by the conversation’s rather obvious conclusion. This was unfortunately characteristic of him. He had been trying to find Law a girlfriend for the better part of two months, and the fact that Law had rejected every single suggestion seemed only to have strengthened his determination.
It had started innocently enough. A girl from Penguin’s economics class had apparently asked whether Law was single, and Penguin, believing himself to be an excellent friend, had immediately offered to arrange something. Law had declined. Penguin had interpreted this as evidence that Law was simply too shy to pursue romantic opportunities himself, which was such an extraordinary misunderstanding of Law’s personality that Shachi had nearly choked when he heard about it.
Since then, Penguin had introduced him to three women, suggested two dating applications, and attempted to convince him to attend a singles mixer organized by the university’s student association.
Law had refused all of them.
Apparently, this was unacceptable.
“Look, all I’m saying is that you should try going on one date,” Penguin continued. “One. That’s it. If you hate it, fine, I’ll leave you alone.”
“You said that last time.”
“Yeah, but I mean it now.”
“You also said that last time.”
“You’re making this unnecessarily difficult.”
“I’m trying to study.”
“You’ve been studying for six hours.”
“And guess what? I’m still capable of having a conversation with you. Remarkable, isn’t it?”
Shachi swallowed the remainder of his sandwich and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I think he should go. It’d be funny.”
Law gave him a look.
“What? You might actually like her.”
“You don’t even know who he’s talking about.”
“Neither do you.”
“That’s precisely my point.”
Penguin sighed dramatically and dropped back into his chair. For a moment, Law entertained the possibility that he had finally exhausted the subject, but then Penguin reached for his phone, and Law knew with an almost supernatural certainty that something profoundly irritating was about to happen.
“Okay, forget her. What about this guy?”
Law closed his eyes.
“Penguin.”
“Just look.”
“No.”
“He’s cute.”
“I don’t care.”
“He’s in the photography department, and apparently he’s really into horror movies, which I know you like.”
“Penguin.”
“And he has a motorcycle.”
Law slowly lowered his pen.
“Do you have an actual reason for believing I would be interested in any of these people, or are you simply selecting random students and hoping one of them eventually sticks?”
Penguin considered this.
“Well, statistically speaking…”
“Don’t.”
“…if I keep trying…”
“I will break your phone.”
“…eventually…”
“Penguin.”
“…you’ll find someone!”
Shachi burst out laughing.
Law stared at the two of them for a long, silent moment, during which he contemplated the various ways one might dispose of a body without attracting the attention of campus security. Unfortunately, his textbook was currently open to the cardiovascular system rather than forensic pathology, so he would have to postpone that particular line of thought.
Then Penguin, evidently sensing that his continued existence depended on changing the subject, said something that would ultimately prove far more dangerous than any of his previous suggestions.
“Unless you’ve already got someone.”
Law should have ignored him.
He knew that.
There were many things he could have done instead. He could have returned to his textbook, collected his belongings, or simply informed Penguin that his romantic life was none of his business, which would have been both truthful and entirely reasonable.
Instead, exhausted by his examination, irritated by the conversation, and suffering from a momentary lapse in judgment that would haunt him for weeks, Law said, “I do.”
Silence.
It was immediate and absolute.
Shachi stopped chewing. Penguin’s expression went completely blank, and somewhere behind them, a printer began making a series of mechanical noises that sounded suspiciously like it was preparing to die.
Law looked back down at his textbook.
There.
That ought to settle it.
“You what?”
Law didn’t answer.
Penguin leaned forward so quickly that his chair scraped against the floor.
“You have someone?”
“Yes.”
“Like, someone you’re talking to?”
“No.”
“Someone you’re seeing?”
Law pressed his lips together.
He could still correct himself. There was still time to explain that he had been referring to someone in an entirely different context, perhaps a professor or a particularly competent dentist.
Unfortunately, Penguin was staring at him with the kind of expression usually reserved for people who had just announced they were secretly royalty.
“Law.”
“What?”
“Are you dating someone?”
Law looked him directly in the eye.
“Yes.”
Shachi dropped his sandwich.
“Oh, you absolute bastard.”
By Friday morning, Law had developed a headache.
By Friday afternoon, he had developed a plan.
Neither development was particularly encouraging.
The headache was a direct consequence of Penguin’s behavior following the revelation that Law apparently had a boyfriend. For approximately forty-five minutes, he had subjected Law to an interrogation that would have been considered excessive even by the standards of the most enthusiastic federal investigator. He wanted to know the man’s name, his major, his age, where they had met, how long they had been dating, and why Law had apparently decided to conceal an entire relationship from the people who had known him for nearly four years.
Law had refused to answer most of these questions, claiming that he preferred to keep his private life private.
This had been a mistake.
Penguin, who ordinarily regarded Law’s insistence on privacy as an inconvenient personality trait, had apparently decided that his sudden reluctance to discuss his boyfriend was evidence of an extraordinarily serious relationship.
By the time they left the library, Penguin had somehow convinced himself that Law was hopelessly in love.
By dinner, Shachi had begun referring to the imaginary boyfriend as Mrs. Trafalgar.
And by Friday morning, Penguin had sent Law seventeen messages demanding to know when they would finally get to meet him.
The situation was rapidly becoming intolerable.
Which was how Law found himself standing outside the university’s athletic center at four in the afternoon, watching Monkey D. Luffy attempt to balance a bottle of orange juice on his forehead.
“You’re going to spill that.”
“No, I’m not.”
The bottle slipped.
Luffy caught it approximately an inch above the pavement, straightened, and grinned with the self-satisfaction of someone who had just performed an extraordinarily impressive feat rather than narrowly avoided an entirely preventable disaster.
“See?”
Law regarded him without enthusiasm.
“Impressive. You’ve successfully prevented a problem you created.”
“Thanks!”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“I know!”
Luffy laughed anyway, which was something he did with remarkable frequency, particularly when Law was being deliberately unpleasant. It was one of the more confusing aspects of their friendship, although after nearly two years of knowing him, Law had largely abandoned any attempt to understand the workings of Monkey D. Luffy’s mind.
They had met during Law’s sophomore year, when Luffy, then a freshman, had wandered into the wrong lecture hall, sat beside him, and spent twenty minutes asking increasingly ridiculous questions about the professor’s presentation before realizing he was supposed to be in an introductory sociology class on the opposite side of campus.
Law had informed him of this.
Luffy had thanked him, stolen a piece of his breakfast, and left.
The following week, he had somehow found Law again.
Their friendship had developed from there with very little input from Law himself.
Now, two years later, Luffy regularly appeared at his apartment without warning, ate food from his refrigerator, borrowed his clothes, and occasionally fell asleep on his couch while Law studied. He knew the code to Law’s building, had met most of his friends, and had somehow managed to convince Law to attend a university soccer match despite the fact that Law had absolutely no interest in the sport.
It was, Law occasionally thought, an arrangement that benefited Luffy considerably more than it benefited him.
He had never made any serious attempt to change it.
“So,” Luffy said, twisting the cap off his orange juice. “Why’d you wanna see me?”
Law glanced toward the athletic center’s entrance, where a group of students were making their way outside, still dressed in their training clothes.
“Can we go somewhere else?”
“Why?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Okay.”
“Privately.”
Luffy looked around.
There were perhaps eight people within earshot, none of whom appeared remotely interested in their conversation.
“About what?”
Law exhaled through his nose.
“Just come with me.”
“Are we getting food?”
“No.”
“Can we?”
“Luffy.”
“I’m hungry!”
“You’re always hungry.”
“Yeah, but I’m hungry right now.”
Ten minutes later, Law was sitting in a booth at a diner three streets away from campus, watching Luffy enthusiastically demolish a plate of fries that he had somehow managed to order before Law had even removed his coat.
Law had ordered coffee.
He was beginning to suspect he would need something considerably stronger.
“Okay,” Luffy said, reaching across the table for the ketchup. “What’s up?”
Law folded his hands.
“I need a favor.”
Luffy looked delighted.
“Really?”
“Don’t sound so excited.”
“But you never ask me for stuff!”
“There’s a reason for that.” Law sighs, recalling the last time had asked Luffy for a favor and it went extremely wrong.
“What do you need?”
Law hesitated.
The plan had seemed relatively straightforward when he had first considered it. Luffy was already acquainted with Penguin and Shachi, which meant that introducing him would require considerably less explanation than recruiting a complete stranger. He was also one of the few people Law trusted enough not to deliberately make the situation worse.
Admittedly, that last point was debatable.
Still, Luffy was loyal. He was enthusiastic. He had absolutely no objection to doing ridiculous things for his friends, and he was, perhaps most importantly, unlikely to ask for anything particularly complicated in return.
All Law needed was for him to pretend they were dating for one evening.
One dinner.
A few hours of mild discomfort, followed by the permanent cessation of Penguin’s matchmaking campaign.
Simple.
“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”
Luffy stopped chewing.
Law waited.
For perhaps three seconds, the restaurant continued around them as though nothing particularly remarkable had occurred. A waitress carried a tray of drinks toward the counter, someone laughed near the windows, and the kitchen bell rang twice.
Then Luffy swallowed.
“Huh?”
“My boyfriend,” Law repeated, keeping his voice low. “I need you to pretend we’re dating.”
Luffy stared at him.
Then he laughed.
It was not a particularly discreet laugh.
A woman at the neighboring table turned around.
Law closed his eyes.
“Could you keep your voice down?”
“You’re asking me to be your boyfriend?”
“Pretend to be.”
“Why?”
“Because Penguin’s an idiot.”
Luffy laughed harder.
Law waited until he had finished, which took considerably longer than he would have preferred, before explaining the situation in as much detail as he considered necessary. He told Luffy about the increasingly aggressive matchmaking attempts, the unfortunate conversation in the library, and Penguin’s insistence on meeting the person Law had supposedly been seeing.
Luffy listened with an expression of growing amusement, occasionally interrupting to ask questions that had very little to do with the actual problem.
“So you told him you had a boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
“But you don’t.”
“Correct.”
“And now you need one.”
“For one evening.”
Luffy considered this.
“Why don’t you just tell him you lied?”
Law stared at him.
It was, unfortunately, an excellent question.
“Because,” he said eventually, “I would prefer not to.”
“Why?”
“Because then he’d start trying to set me up again.”
“Oh.”
“And because Shachi would never let me hear the end of it.”
Luffy nodded thoughtfully, apparently finding this explanation entirely reasonable.
Then his face brightened.
“Wait, does that mean I get to go on a date with you?”
Law nearly choked on his coffee.
“No.”
“But we’re gonna be boyfriends.”
“Fake boyfriends.”
“Yeah, but don’t boyfriends go on dates?”
“Not necessarily.”
“That’s boring.”
“Luffy.”
“Can we go on one anyway?”
Law looked at him.
Luffy looked back, smiling brightly, his chin propped in one hand and the other still occupied with a particularly large french fry.
It was difficult to maintain a reasonable level of irritation when someone looked at him like that.
Law managed it anyway.
“Fine.”
“Really?”
“One date. In public. Somewhere Penguin might see us. That’s all.”
“Shishishi! Okay!”
Law reached into his coat pocket and retrieved his phone.
“Now, there are a few things we need to establish before Saturday.”
“Like what?”
“How long we’ve been dating, how it happened, and what we’re going to tell them.”
Luffy took another fry.
“Why don’t we just tell them the truth?”
Law slowly lowered his phone.
“Luffy.”
“What?”
“The entire point is that we’re lying.”
“Oh, right.”
Law wondered whether it was too late to find someone else.
Then Luffy leaned forward, suddenly looking rather serious.
“Hey, Torao?”
“What?”
“Do I get to hold your hand?”
Law blinked.
It was an absurd question, and one he should have anticipated given the circumstances, but something about the way Luffy asked it made him hesitate.
He had expected Luffy to treat the arrangement as a joke. He had expected him to demand food, perhaps invent some ridiculous backstory, and spend most of the evening embarrassing him in front of their friends.
He had not expected him to ask permission.
“Obviously,” Law said, after a moment. “If we’re supposed to be convincing.”
Luffy smiled.
“Okay.”
“And don’t overdo it.”
“Overdo what?”
“The affection.”
“What counts as overdoing it?”
Law considered the question.
He should probably establish some boundaries. Luffy was an affectionate person by nature, and his understanding of appropriate personal space was considerably more flexible than Law’s. He had no qualms about throwing an arm around someone’s shoulders, resting his head against them, or casually falling asleep in their lap if he happened to be tired enough.
Law had experienced all three.
Frequently.
Which, now that he thought about it, was probably going to make the entire performance considerably easier.
“Just act normal,” he said.
Luffy’s smile widened.
“Okay!”
Law would later come to regret those words more than anything else he had said that week.
The first problem arose approximately sixteen hours before dinner.
Luffy [9:43 PM]
hey torao
Law [9:44 PM]
What?
Luffy [9:44 PM]
what’s our anniversary
Law stared at the message.
He was sitting at his desk, surrounded by notes for an upcoming examination, and had been enjoying what he considered a relatively productive evening before Luffy decided to involve himself.
Law [9:45 PM]
We don’t have one.
Luffy [9:45 PM]
but we’re dating
Law [9:45 PM]
We’re pretending.
Luffy [9:46 PM]
yeah so when did we start pretending
Law pinched the bridge of his nose.
Law [9:46 PM]
Three months ago.
Luffy [9:46 PM]
what day
Law [9:47 PM]
Does it matter?
Luffy [9:47 PM]
YES
Law [9:47 PM]
July 12.
Luffy [9:48 PM]
okay!!!
Law set his phone facedown.
Thirty seconds later, it vibrated again.
Luffy [9:48 PM]
what did you get me for our one month anniversary
Law [9:49 PM]
Nothing.
Luffy [9:49 PM]
WOW
Luffy [9:49 PM]
terrible boyfriend
Law [9:49 PM]
Go to sleep.
Luffy [9:50 PM]
goodnight boyfriend ❤️
Law stared at the heart for an embarrassingly long time.
Then he turned off his phone.
He did not, under any circumstances, smile.
The second problem was Penguin.
More specifically, Penguin’s reaction to discovering the identity of Law’s supposed boyfriend.
Law had anticipated surprise. He had even anticipated a certain amount of disbelief, considering Penguin had known Luffy for nearly two years and had personally witnessed the two of them argue over everything from restaurant choices to whether Law’s apartment needed more decorative pillows.
What he had not anticipated was Penguin opening his apartment door, taking one look at the two of them standing together, and saying, very loudly, “What the fuck?”
Luffy waved.
“Hey, Penguin!”
Penguin did not wave back.
His eyes moved from Luffy to Law, then down to their joined hands, then back to Luffy.
For several seconds, he appeared incapable of speech.
Law found this deeply satisfying.
“Are you going to let us in?”
Penguin pointed at Luffy.
“That’s Luffy.”
“Excellent observation.”
“Monkey D. Luffy.”
“Yes.”
“Your Luffy?”
Law frowned.
“He’s not my anything.”
Luffy squeezed his hand.
“Boyfriend, remember?”
Law closed his eyes.
Penguin made a strangled noise.
From somewhere inside the apartment, Shachi called, “Who’s at the door?”
Penguin turned around.
“YOU ARE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE THIS.”
Law considered leaving.
Unfortunately, Luffy had already stepped past Penguin and was making his way toward the kitchen, apparently drawn by the smell of food.
“Shachi! What’s for dinner?”
There was a pause.
Then Shachi appeared in the hallway.
He was holding a wooden spoon.
His expression was initially one of mild confusion, followed by recognition, followed by an extraordinary degree of delight.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
Law removed his shoes.
“Good evening to you, too.”
Shachi pointed his spoon at Luffy.
“Him?”
“Yes.”
“Luffy?”
“Apparently.”
“Our Luffy?”
Law looked up.
“Why does everyone keep saying that?”
“Because,” Shachi said, sounding almost offended, “we know him!”
Luffy, who had already found the kitchen, called back, “I know you guys too!”
“THAT’S NOT THE POINT!”
Penguin was still standing by the door.
Law could practically see the calculations taking place behind his eyes.
“But you guys are friends.”
“Astounding,” Law replied. “Two people can be friends before they start dating.”
“Yeah, but you’re, like, really friends.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’ve known each other forever!”
“Two years.”
“And you’ve been dating for three months?”
“Yes.”
Penguin stared.
Then his expression changed.
It was subtle at first, just a slight widening of the eyes, followed by the gradual emergence of a smile so thoroughly unpleasant that Law immediately knew he was in trouble.
“Oh my God.”
Law frowned.
“What?”
“Oh my God.”
“Penguin.”
“You’ve been dating Luffy.”
“That’s what I just said.”
“For three months.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell us.”
“Clearly.”
Penguin pressed both hands against his face.
“YOU’VE BEEN DATING LUFFY.”
“Would you like me to write it down?”
Shachi started laughing.
And Luffy, who had apparently found something edible in the kitchen, returned to the hallway with a bread roll in his mouth.
“What’s happening?”
Penguin turned toward him.
“LUFFY.”
Luffy blinked.
“Yeah?”
“YOU’RE DATING LAW?”
Luffy swallowed.
“Yep!”
“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL US?”
Luffy thought about it.
Then he looked at Law.
Law looked back.
There was a brief, terrible moment in which Law realized they had neglected to establish an answer to this particular question.
Luffy, however, seemed entirely unconcerned.
“Because Torao wanted to keep it a secret.”
Penguin’s expression softened immediately.
“Oh.”
Law stared.
What?
“That actually makes sense,” Shachi admitted.
“Yeah,” Penguin said, nodding slowly. “Yeah, I can see that.”
Law felt vaguely insulted.
Then Penguin looked at him again, and his expression became so unbearably fond that Law would have preferred the interrogation.
“Man, you could’ve told us.”
“Apparently not.”
“No, seriously.” Penguin stepped forward and gave Law’s shoulder a brief squeeze. “We’re happy for you.”
Law opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
He had prepared himself for teasing, disbelief, perhaps a few embarrassing questions.
He had not prepared himself for sincerity.
Fortunately, Shachi ruined the moment almost immediately.
“So,” he said, leaning against the doorframe, “which one of you confessed first?”
Law went very still.
Luffy grinned.
“Torao did!”
Law turned his head.
Slowly.
“Luffy.”
“What?”
“That’s not…”
“He was really nervous, too.”
Penguin gasped.
Shachi’s grin widened.
Law felt something inside him begin to die.
“He was?” Penguin asked.
“Yep! He kept looking at me all weird, and then he asked if I wanted to go out with him.”
Law stared at Luffy in absolute disbelief.
The worst part was that Luffy sounded completely sincere.
There was no hesitation in his voice, no obvious indication that he was inventing the entire conversation on the spot. He spoke with the easy confidence of someone recounting a perfectly ordinary memory, and Law realized with mounting horror that his friend was apparently an exceptionally talented liar when properly motivated.
“And what’d you say?” Shachi asked.
Luffy shrugged.
“I said okay.”
Penguin made a noise of profound disappointment.
“That’s it?”
“Yeah.”
“Law confessed to you, and you just said okay?”
“What else was I supposed to say?”
“I don’t know! Something romantic!”
Luffy considered this.
Then he turned toward Law.
“Torao, was I supposed to say something romantic?”
Law looked at him.
Luffy was smiling.
Not broadly, not in the ridiculous, openmouthed way he usually did when something amused him, but with a smaller expression that Law had learned to recognize as a warning sign.
He was enjoying this.
Far too much.
“No,” Law said flatly. “You were not.”
“Okay!”
Shachi laughed so hard he nearly dropped his spoon.
Dinner was a disaster.
Not because the food was bad, although Law had some reservations about Shachi’s decision to put pineapple in what was supposedly a traditional pasta dish, but because Luffy had apparently decided that pretending to be Law’s boyfriend meant behaving exactly as he ordinarily did, only with considerably more physical contact.
He sat beside Law at the table, close enough that their knees touched beneath it. He stole food from Law’s plate without asking, which was normal, but then offered him a bite of his own dinner, which was not. He leaned against Law’s shoulder while Penguin described an incident involving one of his professors, and at one point, when Law reached for his glass, Luffy absentmindedly caught his wrist and pulled his hand back toward the table.
“Wait,” he said.
Law looked down.
“What?”
“You’ve got something.”
Before Law could ask what he meant, Luffy brushed a small piece of parsley from his sleeve.
“There.”
Then he went back to eating.
Law stared at him.
Across the table, Penguin stared at both of them.
Shachi, who had been watching the entire exchange with the expression of a man attending the most entertaining theatrical performance of his life, slowly raised his glass to his mouth.
Law wanted to go home.
Unfortunately, he also wanted to understand why his heart had started behaving so strangely.
He decided to ignore the second problem.
“So,” Penguin said, approximately halfway through dinner, “how long have you guys actually liked each other?”
Law nearly dropped his fork.
Luffy looked up from his plate.
“Huh?”
“Like, before you started dating. Was there a whole thing? Did you guys secretly have crushes on each other?”
“No,” Law said immediately.
At the same time, Luffy said, “Maybe.”
Law turned toward him.
Luffy was chewing.
Penguin leaned forward.
“Maybe?”
Luffy swallowed.
“Well, I dunno when Torao started liking me.”
Shachi made an interested noise.
“But you’ve liked him for a while?”
Luffy shrugged.
“Yeah.”
Law’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth.
For a moment, he forgot about the dinner, the lie, and the fact that he was supposed to be maintaining a convincing performance. He simply looked at Luffy, who was reaching for another serving of pasta as though he hadn’t just said something that made Law’s entire train of thought come to an abrupt halt.
Of course, it was part of the act.
Obviously.
They were pretending to be in a relationship. Luffy was supposed to say things like that.
There was absolutely no reason for Law to feel anything about it.
Still.
“How long?” Penguin asked.
Luffy tilted his head.
“Dunno. A while.”
“A year?”
“Maybe.”
“Two?”
Luffy laughed.
“Why’re you asking so many questions?”
“Because this is insane!” Penguin exclaimed. “I’ve spent the last two months trying to find Law a date, and meanwhile, he’s apparently been dating one of our friends the entire time!”
“Three months,” Law corrected.
“THAT’S NOT THE POINT.”
Luffy laughed again, leaning sideways until his shoulder pressed against Law’s.
“You’re really funny, Penguin.”
“Thank you, Luffy. At least someone appreciates me.”
“Don’t encourage him,” Law muttered.
Luffy turned his head.
Their faces were suddenly much closer than Law had anticipated.
“You’re funny too, Torao.”
Law looked at him.
Luffy’s eyes were warm and bright, his expression completely unguarded, and for one profoundly inconvenient moment, Law found himself thinking that it would be remarkably easy to lean forward.
He didn’t.
Instead, he picked up his glass.
“Eat your dinner.”
Luffy grinned.
“Okay.”
Across the table, Shachi and Penguin exchanged a look.
Law noticed.
He chose not to acknowledge it.
By the time they left, Penguin had hugged Luffy twice, Shachi had threatened to organize a double date, and Law had developed the distinct impression that he had somehow made his situation considerably worse.
It was nearly ten when they stepped outside. The air had turned pleasantly cool, and the sidewalks were still crowded with students returning from restaurants, bars, and late evening classes. Somewhere down the street, music drifted from an open apartment window, accompanied by the occasional burst of laughter.
Luffy stretched his arms above his head.
“That was fun!”
Law looked at him.
“Was it?”
“Yeah! Shachi’s food was good.”
“You ate four servings.”
“Five.”
“Of course.”
“And Penguin was really happy!”
“Unfortunately.”
Luffy laughed, then fell into step beside him as they started toward the main road.
For a few minutes, they walked in comfortable silence. It was something Law had always appreciated about Luffy, although he suspected most people would find the idea of Luffy being capable of silence somewhat difficult to believe. He talked constantly when he had something to say, often about subjects Law had absolutely no interest in, but he was equally content to simply exist beside someone without demanding their attention.
Law had grown accustomed to it.
Perhaps too accustomed.
“Hey, Torao?”
“Hm?”
“Did I do okay?”
Law glanced at him.
Luffy was looking straight ahead, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket.
“With what?”
“The boyfriend thing.”
Law considered the evening.
There had been several moments in which Luffy had nearly exposed them, approximately a dozen instances of unnecessary physical affection, and one particularly unfortunate conversation about their supposed anniversary that had resulted in Penguin insisting they celebrate their fourth month together.
Nevertheless, their friends believed them.
Completely.
“You were convincing,” Law admitted.
Luffy smiled.
“Good!”
“Although you could have warned me before inventing an entire confession.”
“Why?”
“Because I nearly had a heart attack.”
“Shishishi! You should’ve seen your face.”
“I assure you, I was there.”
Luffy laughed.
Then, after a moment, he asked, “So when’s our date?”
Law stopped walking.
Luffy took another two steps before noticing.
“What?”
“What date?”
“The one you promised me.”
Law stared.
He had forgotten.
Somehow, between the dinner, the questions, and the extraordinary mental effort required to keep track of Luffy’s increasingly elaborate fabrications, he had completely forgotten that he had agreed to take him on a date.
A fake date.
For appearances.
“That was part of the arrangement,” Luffy reminded him.
“Right,”
“So?”
Law sighed.
“Saturday.”
Luffy blinked.
“Next Saturday?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
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“Unless you have something else planned.”
“Nope!”
“Then Saturday.”
Luffy’s grin was immediate and enormous.
“Awesome!”
Law resumed walking.
Beside him, Luffy began talking excitedly about possible restaurants, although his suggestions seemed to consist primarily of establishments that offered unlimited food. Law listened with half an ear, occasionally rejecting an idea when it sounded particularly unreasonable, and found himself thinking that the arrangement was perhaps not quite as disastrous as he had initially believed.
After all, it was only one date.
A few hours.
Dinner, perhaps a movie, and then they could return to their perfectly ordinary friendship.
There was no reason to make it complicated.
They reached the intersection near Luffy’s apartment building, where the traffic light had just turned red. Luffy stopped beside him, rocking back and forth on his heels while they waited.
Then, without warning, he reached for Law’s hand.
Law looked down.
Their fingers fit together with an ease that was frankly irritating.
“Luffy.”
“Hm?”
“We’re not at Penguin’s apartment anymore.”
“I know.”
“You can let go.”
Luffy looked at their hands.
Then he looked up.
“Do you want me to?”
Law opened his mouth.
The obvious answer was yes.
They had finished the performance. There was no longer any reason to maintain the pretense, and continuing to hold hands would only encourage Luffy to treat the entire situation as something more significant than it actually was.
Law knew all of this.
He also knew that Luffy’s hand was warm, that his thumb had settled comfortably against Law’s knuckles, and that he was looking at him with an expression of such uncomplicated expectation that refusing suddenly seemed like an unnecessarily cruel thing to do.
The traffic light changed.
Around them, people began crossing the street.
Law looked away.
“No.”
Luffy smiled.
“Okay.”
And because Monkey D. Luffy had apparently never encountered a situation he couldn’t make more complicated simply by existing, he tightened his grip and pulled Law across the intersection.
Law followed.
He told himself it was because the light was green.
He continued telling himself that all the way to Luffy’s apartment.
The third problem was considerably more difficult to explain.
It began the following Monday, when Penguin appeared beside Law in the university cafeteria, dropped into the chair opposite him, and announced, “I owe you an apology.”
Law looked up from his laptop.
“For what?”
“For trying to set you up with people.”
“You’re only realizing that now?”
Penguin ignored him.
“I didn’t know about you and Luffy.”
“Clearly.”
“And, like, now that I do, it actually makes a lot of sense.”
Law frowned.
“What does?”
“You guys.”
Law returned his attention to his laptop.
“Fascinating.”
“No, seriously. I was thinking about it yesterday, and there were so many signs.”
Law’s fingers paused above the keyboard.
“Signs.”
“Yeah!”
“Such as?”
Penguin leaned forward.
“Remember when Luffy got sick last semester?”
Law remembered.
Unfortunately, he remembered rather vividly.
Luffy had contracted a particularly unpleasant case of influenza during the middle of his examination period and had spent three days refusing to rest because he was convinced he could recover through sheer determination. Law had eventually confiscated his textbooks, made him stay in bed, and spent the better part of a weekend ensuring that he ate something other than instant noodles.
It had been exhausting.
Luffy had thanked him by falling asleep on his shoulder.
“What about it?” Law asked.
“You skipped that party at Shachi’s place to take care of him.”
“He had a fever.”
“Yeah, but you hate taking care of people.”
“I’m studying medicine.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“Because you actually like Luffy.”
Law stared at him.
Penguin smiled.
“And remember when he dragged you to that soccer game?”
“Don’t remind me.”
“You sat outside in the rain for two hours.”
“It wasn’t raining when we arrived.”
“You stayed when it started.”
Law looked back at his laptop.
He had an assignment due Wednesday. He had three lectures to review, a lab report to finish, and absolutely no interest in participating in whatever amateur psychological analysis Penguin had apparently decided to conduct.
Unfortunately, Penguin was not finished.
“And you let him wear your clothes.”
“He steals them.”
“You let him.”
“Because getting them back is more trouble than it’s worth.”
“And he comes over all the time.”
“He doesn’t understand the concept of knocking.”
“And you always make extra food when you know he’s coming.”
Law stopped typing.
Penguin’s expression softened.
“Look, I’m just saying, I should’ve noticed.”
Law stared at the screen.
He had never considered any of those things particularly significant.
Luffy was his friend. Of course he took care of him when he was sick. Of course he attended his games when Luffy asked him to, even if he complained about the weather afterward. Of course he made extra food, because failing to account for Luffy’s appetite was the sort of mistake a person only made once.
None of it meant anything.
At least, it hadn’t.
Had it?
“You’re overthinking it,” Law said eventually.
Penguin laughed.
“That’s rich coming from you.”
Law ignored him.
“Anyway,” Penguin continued, standing up, “I’m glad you told us. You guys are good together.”
He gave Law’s shoulder a friendly pat before leaving.
Law remained seated.
For a long moment, he stared at the unfinished paragraph on his laptop, unable to remember what he had been writing.
Then his phone vibrated.
Luffy [12:16 PM]
toraoooo
Law [12:16 PM]
What?
Luffy [12:17 PM]
are you busy
Law [12:17 PM]
Yes.
Luffy [12:17 PM]
okay
can i come over later
Law looked at the message.
He had a lab report to finish. He needed to review the material from that morning’s lecture, and he had been planning to spend the evening studying without interruption.
He should say no.
Law [12:18 PM]
What time?
Luffy [12:18 PM]
6?
Law [12:19 PM]
Fine.
Luffy [12:19 PM]
YAY
Luffy [12:19 PM]
love you torao!!
Law stared.
It wasn’t the first time Luffy had said it.
Not even close.
Luffy told people he loved them constantly. He said it to Nami when she helped him with assignments, to Sanji whenever he cooked, to Usopp when he agreed to accompany him somewhere, and occasionally to complete strangers who did him particularly generous favors.
He had been telling Law he loved him for almost as long as they’d known each other.
Usually, Law responded with something sarcastic.
Usually, he didn’t think about it.
This time, however, he found himself reading the message twice.
Then a third time.
Finally, he typed a response.
Law [12:20 PM]
Don’t be late.
Luffy reacted with a heart.
Law set his phone facedown and returned to his assignment.
He managed to write exactly four words before realizing he had absolutely no idea what he was doing.
By Wednesday, Law had begun to suspect that the fake relationship was causing him genuine psychological distress.
Not because of Penguin, who had mercifully stopped attempting to arrange dates, nor because of Shachi, whose teasing had become so predictable that Law could largely ignore it.
The problem was Luffy.
More specifically, the fact that Luffy had not changed his behavior in the slightest.
He still appeared at Law’s apartment whenever he pleased. He still ate his food, borrowed his clothes, and occupied whatever piece of furniture happened to be closest to him. He still called Law at inconvenient hours to ask ridiculous questions, and he still laughed whenever Law threatened to block his number.
The only difference was that Law had become painfully aware of all of it.
He noticed when Luffy sat close enough for their shoulders to touch. He noticed when Luffy leaned over him to look at something on his laptop, his hair brushing against Law’s cheek. He noticed the way Luffy’s expression changed whenever he spotted him across campus, the immediate brightness of his smile, the way he would abandon whatever conversation he was having simply to come over and say hello.
He noticed, most inconveniently, that he liked being noticed.
It was an unacceptable development.
And it became considerably worse on Wednesday evening, when Luffy arrived at his apartment carrying two bags of groceries and announced that he was going to cook dinner.
Law looked at the bags.
Then at Luffy.
Then back at the bags.
“No.”
Luffy blinked.
“What?”
“Absolutely not.”
“But I bought stuff!”
“That doesn’t make you qualified!”
“I can cook!”
“You burned instant noodles.”
“That was one time!”
“You also set off my smoke alarm making toast.”
“The toaster was broken!”
“The toaster was fine.”
Luffy laughed and pushed past him into the kitchen.
Law followed, already preparing to intervene before something caught fire.
“What are you even making?”
“Spaghetti!”
Law stopped.
“Why?”
“Because you always cook for me.”
Luffy set the bags on the counter and began removing their contents, apparently oblivious to the fact that Law had gone completely still behind him.
“So I thought I’d make you something for once,” he continued. “Nami helped me buy everything. She said I should get vegetables too, but I don’t think spaghetti needs vegetables.”
Law looked at him.
Luffy was wearing one of his sweatshirts.
It was black, slightly oversized, and had a small university emblem embroidered over the chest. Law had been looking for it since Monday.
Luffy had apparently taken it home.
Again.
“You’re wearing my clothes.”
Luffy looked down.
“Oh, yeah.”
“Why?”
“Comfy.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
Luffy grinned.
“Boyfriend privileges.”
Law felt his face grow warm.
He turned toward the refrigerator.
“You’re insufferable.”
“Shishishi!”
They cooked together.
Or rather, Law cooked while Luffy performed a series of increasingly questionable tasks under close supervision, including washing the tomatoes, stirring the sauce, and attempting to convince Law that adding three additional handfuls of cheese would improve the meal considerably.
By the time they finished, the kitchen was a disaster, the sauce was slightly too salty, and Luffy had somehow managed to get flour on his cheek despite the fact that they hadn’t used any flour.
Law didn’t understand how that was possible.
He also didn’t understand why he was having such a good time.
They ate on the couch with a movie playing in the background. Luffy talked through most of it, occasionally pausing to ask Law questions about the plot, and eventually abandoned his own plate in favor of stealing from Law’s.
None of this was unusual.
What was unusual was the moment, approximately forty minutes into the film, when Luffy leaned against him and quietly said, “Hey, Torao?”
Law glanced down.
“What?”
“Do you think we’d be good boyfriends?”
Law’s attention shifted away from the television.
“What?”
“Like, if we were actually dating.”
Law stared at him.
Luffy was still looking at the screen, his head resting comfortably against Law’s shoulder, as though he’d asked something entirely ordinary.
“Why?”
“Just wondering.”
Law considered the question.
It was ridiculous, obviously. They weren’t dating. They were friends who had agreed to pretend to be dating for the sake of getting Penguin to stop interfering with Law’s personal life.
There was no reason to speculate about what their relationship might look like under different circumstances.
And yet.
“I suppose,” Law said slowly, “we’d probably argue a lot.”
Luffy laughed.
“We already do!”
“Exactly.”
“And you’d get mad when I ate your food.”
“I already do.”
“And you’d make me go to sleep early.”
“Someone has to.”
“And I’d make you take breaks from studying.”
Law looked at him.
Luffy tilted his head back to meet his eyes.
“We’d be pretty good at it, huh?”
Law forgot what he was going to say.
For a moment, he was intensely aware of the warmth of Luffy’s shoulder against his chest, the familiar weight of him leaning against his side, and the fact that Luffy was looking at him as though the answer actually mattered.
Then Law cleared his throat.
“You’re forgetting the part where you’d drive me insane.”
Luffy laughed.
“Yeah, but you like me.”
Law’s heart gave a particularly unpleasant thump.
“Unfortunately.”
Luffy grinned.
Then he settled against Law’s shoulder again, apparently satisfied.
Law returned his attention to the television.
He had absolutely no idea what was happening in the movie.
Saturday arrived with the sort of inevitability Law usually associated with examinations and dental appointments.
Their date was scheduled for seven.
By six thirty, Law had changed his shirt three times.
This was not, he told himself, because he was nervous.
It was because the weather had been unusually unpredictable, and he wanted to ensure he was dressed appropriately for the evening.
The fact that he had spent approximately fifteen minutes deciding between two nearly identical black shirts was entirely irrelevant.
At six forty-five, his phone vibrated.
Luffy [6:45 PM]
IM HERE
Law frowned.
Law [6:45 PM]
You’re fifteen minutes early.
Luffy [6:45 PM]
i know!!
Law [6:46 PM]
Come upstairs.
A moment later, someone knocked.
Law opened the door.
And immediately forgot how to speak.
Luffy stood in the hallway wearing a dark red button-up shirt, black jeans, and a pair of shoes that looked suspiciously new. His hair was as untidy as ever, and he was holding a small paper bag in one hand, but there was something about seeing him dressed for an actual date that made Law’s thoughts come to an abrupt and deeply inconvenient stop.
Luffy grinned.
“Hey!”
Law blinked.
“Hello.”
“Ready?”
“Almost.”
“Okay!”
Luffy stepped inside, looking around the apartment with the same casual familiarity he always displayed.
Then he turned back.
“Oh! I got you something.”
Law frowned.
“What?”
Luffy held out the paper bag.
Law accepted it cautiously.
Inside was a small box of chocolates.
He looked up.
Luffy was smiling.
“Nami said people usually bring flowers on dates, but I didn’t know what kind you liked, so I got chocolate instead.”
Law stared at the box.
It was an ordinary assortment from a convenience store, wrapped in slightly crooked red paper, with a small ribbon tied around the top.
He had received more expensive gifts.
He had received considerably more elaborate gifts.
Although, he couldn’t remember the last time one had made him feel quite so strange.
“Luffy.”
“Hm?”
“You didn’t have to buy me anything.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you?”
Luffy shrugged.
“Because I wanted to.”
Law looked at him for another moment.
Then he carefully set the box on the counter.
“Thank you.”
Luffy’s smile widened.
“You’re welcome!”
Law turned toward the hallway to retrieve his coat.
He needed approximately thirty seconds to remember how to breathe normally.
The restaurant was small, pleasantly crowded, and located far enough from campus that they were unlikely to encounter anyone they knew.
This was intentional.
Law had chosen it because the food was good, the atmosphere was quiet, and he had no interest in spending his evening performing for an audience.
Luffy, however, seemed delighted by everything.
He liked the little candles on the tables. He liked the paintings on the walls. He liked the fact that their waiter brought complimentary bread, and he was particularly enthusiastic about the menu, which contained approximately six different pasta dishes he wanted to try.
Law ordered for himself.
Luffy ordered enough food for three people.
The waiter looked mildly alarmed.
Law assured him it was fine.
For the first twenty minutes, the evening proceeded much as their usual outings did. Luffy talked about his classes, complained about an assignment he had forgotten to submit, and described an argument between Zoro and Sanji that had apparently resulted in someone throwing a shoe across a living room.
Law listened, occasionally contributing a sarcastic remark or asking a question when something sounded particularly absurd.
It was comfortable.
Familiar.
Almost disappointingly normal.
Then Luffy asked, “Hey, Torao?”
Law looked up.
“What?”
“Have you ever been on a date before?”
Law blinked.
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
“With who?”
Law raised an eyebrow.
“Why?”
“Just curious.”
Law considered refusing to answer, but there was something so interesting about Luffy’s expression that he found himself responding anyway.
“A few people.”
“Did you like them?”
“Some of them.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing particularly interesting.”
Luffy leaned forward.
“Did you kiss them?”
Law nearly inhaled his drink.
“Luffy.”
“What?”
“That’s none of your business.”
Luffy laughed.
“Okay, okay!”
Law set down his glass.
“Why are you suddenly so interested in my dating history?”
Luffy shrugged.
“Dunno.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Well…”
He looked down at his plate.
For the first time that evening, Luffy appeared almost hesitant.
Law frowned.
“What?”
Luffy poked at a piece of pasta with his fork.
“I was just wondering if this is a good date.”
Law stared at him.
“What?”
“Like, compared to your other ones.”
There was a brief silence.
Law had expected another joke. Perhaps a ridiculous question about whether he had ever dated someone who could eat as much as Luffy, or an observation about how expensive the restaurant was.
He had not expected that.
“It’s fine,” he said.
Luffy looked up.
“Just fine?”
Law hesitated.
Then, because he was apparently determined to make the evening as difficult for himself as possible, he added, “It’s better than most.”
Luffy’s expression brightened immediately.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Awesome!”
He returned to his food, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.
Law watched him for a moment.
Then he looked down at his own plate.
He was beginning to understand that he had made a very serious mistake.
Not the original lie, although that had certainly been ill-advised.
Not the decision to recruit Luffy, either.
The mistake had been believing that spending an evening pretending to date someone he already cared about would have absolutely no consequences.
Because somewhere between the chocolates, the restaurant, and the way Luffy had asked whether their date was good, Law had begun to realize something he would have preferred to remain ignorant of.
He didn’t want to pretend anymore.
And that was going to be a problem.
They left the restaurant shortly after nine.
Luffy was carrying a container of leftovers, although Law had no idea how he’d managed to leave anything uneaten, and was enthusiastically describing a dessert shop he wanted to visit next weekend.
Law listened as they walked, occasionally responding when Luffy asked him something, but most of his attention was occupied by the increasingly uncomfortable realization that he had spent the entire evening thinking about how much he wanted to hold Luffy’s hand.
It was absurd.
They had held hands before.
Several times, in fact.
Luffy had grabbed his hand crossing streets, dragged him through crowded festivals, and occasionally linked their fingers simply because he felt like it.
Law had never thought much about it.
Now, however, the prospect of reaching for him deliberately seemed almost impossibly significant.
They stopped outside Luffy’s apartment building.
Luffy turned toward him.
“Thanks for dinner, Torao!”
Law nodded.
“You’re welcome.”
“That was really fun.”
“I’m glad.”
“We should do it again.”
Law’s stomach tightened.
“Luffy…”
“Hm?”
He could end it here.
That was what he should do.
The original arrangement had served its purpose. Penguin had stopped trying to set him up with strangers, Shachi had found something else to tease him about, and Luffy had received the dinner he’d been promised.
There was no reason to continue.
All Law had to do was tell him that they were finished pretending.
It would be simple.
Reasonable.
Entirely appropriate.
Instead, he looked at Luffy standing beneath the apartment building’s entrance light, his hair falling messily across his forehead, his expression bright with the uncomplicated happiness that Law had spent two years pretending not to find particularly endearing.
And he said, “Would you want to?”
Luffy blinked.
“Want to what?”
“Go out again.”
“Yeah!”
Law swallowed.
“Even if we don’t have to pretend?”
Luffy went quiet.
It was such an unusual occurrence that Law immediately regretted speaking.
For a moment, neither of them said anything. A car passed behind them, its headlights briefly illuminating the sidewalk, and somewhere nearby, someone was struggling to unlock a bicycle.
Then Luffy tilted his head.
“Torao?”
“What?”
“Are you asking me on a real date?”
Law looked at him.
There were several possible answers.
He could claim he’d been joking. He could explain that he simply enjoyed spending time with Luffy and saw no reason to stop. He could retreat into sarcasm, change the subject, or pretend he hadn’t said anything at all.
Instead, he took a breath.
“Yes.”
Luffy stared.
Law felt his face grow warm.
“If you want to,” he added, considerably less confidently than he would have preferred.
Luffy continued staring.
Then, very slowly, he smiled.
Not the enormous grin Law had grown accustomed to, nor the mischievous expression he’d worn throughout their fake relationship.
Something smaller.
Almost shy.
“Okay.”
Law blinked.
“Okay?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s it?”
Luffy laughed.
“What else am I supposed to say?”
Law stared at him.
Then, despite himself, he laughed too.
It was quiet, brief, and considerably more genuine than he would have liked.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Shishishi!”
Luffy stepped closer.
“So does that mean we’re actually boyfriends now?”
Law considered this.
“I was thinking we might go on another date first.”
“Oh.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Nope!”
Luffy grinned.
Then he reached for Law’s hand.
Law let him.
They stood there for a moment, fingers intertwined, while Luffy looked down at their hands with an expression of profound satisfaction.
Then he looked up.
“Hey, Torao?”
“What?”
“Can I tell Penguin?”
Law closed his eyes.
Of course.
Of course that was what he wanted to do.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I would like to enjoy approximately five minutes of peace before he becomes completely unbearable.”
Luffy laughed.
“Okay!”
There was a pause.
Then Luffy leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Law’s cheek.
Law froze.
Luffy stepped back, smiling.
“Goodnight, Torao!”
Before Law could respond, he turned and disappeared through the apartment building’s entrance.
Law remained standing on the sidewalk.
For several seconds, he did absolutely nothing.
Then he slowly raised a hand to his cheek.
“Oh,” he said quietly.
He was in trouble.
His phone rang at nine thirty-seven.
Law was halfway home.
He looked at the screen.
Penguin.
He considered ignoring it.
Then, against his better judgment, he answered.
“What?”
“YOU ABSOLUTE ASSHOLE.”
Law stopped walking.
“…What?”
“YOU’VE BEEN LYING TO ME.”
Law’s stomach dropped.
Oh.
Oh, no.
“Penguin.”
“DON’T PENGUIN ME.”
“Lower your voice.”
“LUFFY JUST CALLED ME.”
Law closed his eyes.
Of course he had.
Of course.
“He told me everything!”
Law exhaled.
“Did he?”
“YES.”
There was a pause.
Then Penguin said, in a voice considerably more dangerous than his shouting, “So let me get this straight.”
Law began walking again.
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“You told me you had a boyfriend.”
“Yes.”
“And then you convinced Luffy to pretend to be your boyfriend.”
“Apparently.”
“And you made us sit through an entire dinner believing you two had been dating for three months.”
Law said nothing.
“And now…”
Penguin paused.
Law could practically hear him smiling.
“Now you’re actually dating?”
Law stared at the pavement.
“We’re going on another date.”
Penguin made a noise that sounded remarkably like a kettle reaching its boiling point.
“OH MY GOD.”
“Goodnight, Penguin.”
“LAW.”
He hung up.
His phone immediately began vibrating with messages.
Law ignored them.
Then another notification appeared.
Luffy [9:41 PM]
hey torao
Law [9:41 PM]
You told Penguin.
Luffy [9:41 PM]
YEAH
Law [9:42 PM]
I specifically asked you not to.
Luffy [9:42 PM]
oops
Law shook his head.
Then another message appeared.
Luffy [9:42 PM]
but hey
Luffy [9:42 PM]
does this mean we get a new anniversary
Law stopped walking.
He looked at the message for a long moment.
Then, despite the headache, despite the inevitable weeks of teasing, despite the fact that his carefully constructed plan had somehow resulted in the exact opposite of what he’d originally intended, he found himself smiling.
Law [9:43 PM]
I suppose it does.
Luffy [9:43 PM]
AWESOME
Luffy [9:43 PM]
goodnight boyfriend ❤️
Law looked at the little red heart.
This time, he didn’t turn off his phone.
Law [9:44 PM]
Goodnight, Luffy.
He hesitated.
Then he added a heart of his own.
And somewhere across the city, Monkey D. Luffy undoubtedly made enough noise to wake his entire apartment building.
Law slipped his phone into his pocket and continued home, already dreading the conversation he would have with Penguin on Monday.
Still, he supposed there were worse things than admitting he’d been an idiot.
After all, he had gotten a boyfriend out of it.
A real one, this time.
